Game of Thrones: Knight’s Honor

Common sense dictated that of all the events in the Tournament, the Team Competition should typically follow the Knight Competition. In some cases, the Team Competition wasn't even held, replaced instead by a simulation of the Knight Competition.

This Tournament, however, deviated from tradition. The Team Competition was scheduled after the Archery Competition, and the participation criteria were relaxed to the extreme. Essentially, as long as one was human and armed, they could register.

Moreover, in a sharp departure from the past, where participants were restricted to using wooden or blunt weapons provided by the organizers, King Robert announced before the event began that real, sharp-edged weapons could now be used.

Historically, the Team Competition had already resulted in the most casualties of any event due to the use of lethal blunt weapons like warhammers and flails. Now, with the introduction of sharp weapons, the potential for casualties was certain to increase exponentially.

Rumors quickly circulated through the streets of King's Landing that King Robert intended this bloodshed as a sacrificial celebration for the birth of his heir. Though it was clear to those in the know that this rumor was spread by Targaryen loyalists, many people believed it, and the belief was widespread.

As a result, many who had initially signed up for the Team Competition withdrew, citing various excuses. The number of participants dwindled from several thousand to just over a hundred before the competition began. However, new participants joined, swelling the ranks back to 400 or 500. Most of these new entrants were warriors from prominent noble families of the Seven Kingdoms.

Observers quickly concluded that the major nobles were using this Team Competition to display their strength to King Robert. A new dynasty meant a new order, and the balance of power between old and emerging factions was shifting. Each noble family sought to secure its place in this new hierarchy by demonstrating its might before the new king. In essence, this competition had become an extension of the year's power struggles in King's Landing.

For the ordinary citizens of King's Landing, the spectators who traveled great distances to witness the Tournament, and those dreaming of fame, the altered Team Competition was thrilling. They understood that participants would fight with unparalleled ferocity and that the bloodshed would surpass anything seen in previous years. The anticipation turned to excitement as they gathered early around the fighting arena, constructing high platforms to secure the best view of the impending spectacle.

At House Tyrell's temporary camp outside the arena, Lynd was being assisted by his squire in donning a full suit of guard's leather armor. He also swapped his usual pair of swords for a one-handed sword and a short dagger.

In his experience, the combination of a long and a short weapon allowed him to fight at his full potential. While this style was effective for one-on-one duels, it left him vulnerable to attacks from behind in a chaotic melee. Fortunately, his extraordinary senses provided a reliable defense against sneak attacks. Additionally, he wouldn't be fighting alone—several Tyrell warriors would accompany him, offering support and creating openings for him to dispatch their opponents more efficiently.

Once he was fully equipped, Lynd secured his pet, Glory, in a specially-made cast-iron cage. Ready to leave the tent and meet with his comrades to discuss their strategy, he was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps.

Garlan and Vortimer entered the tent, their expressions grim, followed by several attendants carrying pieces of metal plate armor.

"Hurry up and change him into this so he can get used to the weight of plate armor," Vortimer ordered the squires, offering no explanation.

The squires swiftly removed Lynd's leather armor and began outfitting him with the finely crafted plate armor. Each piece was carefully adjusted to ensure it wouldn't restrict his movements.

"Lord Garlan, Lord Vortimer, what's going on?" Lynd asked, puzzled by the abrupt change. "Why are you putting me in plate mail? I thought only leather armor was allowed in the Team Competition."

Garlan and Vortimer exchanged uneasy glances before Vortimer finally answered, his tone heavy. "We just received news. King Robert, on a whim, decreed that participants must wear heavy armor and use weapons with sharpened blades for this competition."

Lynd was stunned. What had been intended as a display event had now been turned into a lethal gladiatorial contest.

The use of real weapons in such a chaotic melee would undoubtedly lead to a surge in casualties, and the level of carnage would surpass that of previous Team Competitions. Lynd realized that this event would be remembered by future generations as a bloody and brutal spectacle, frequently cited in chronicles for its unprecedented savagery.

Yet, Lynd couldn't recall any tournament from his past life that was this violent, leaving him to wonder if this was the result of the butterfly effect. He quickly dismissed the thought; the ripple effects he had caused should not yet have been significant enough to alter events on this scale.

While Lynd wrestled with his thoughts, Garlan and Vortimer interpreted his silence as shock, which they found understandable. After all, they too had been stunned when they first heard the news. It was easy to imagine how overwhelming it must feel for the participants about to enter the bloodbath.

"You don't need to worry too much. If you find yourself overwhelmed on the battlefield, just withdraw. Don't waste your life on a pointless bloodbath," Garlan said, his tone almost pleading as he gave Lynd permission to retreat if necessary.

He motioned for an attendant, who approached carrying two finely crafted steel swords. Garlan placed them on a low table beside Lynd.

"My brother Willas forged these swords for me with great care. They were meant to be my personal weapons when I came of age, but since you need them more now, I'll let you use them for the time being."

Lynd said nothing, picking up one of the swords to examine it. Drawing the blade, he scrutinized its surface. It lacked the distinctive scaly patterns of Valyrian steel, which immediately confirmed that it wasn't forged from such rare material.

Still, despite being made of ordinary steel, it was anything but average. Tyrell's craftsmanship was evident in the quality of the blade. The steel used was clearly superior to most, and while it didn't rival Valyrian steel, it came close.

However, there was a drawback. Both swords were standard half-swords, much lighter than the broad-bladed half-swords Lynd was accustomed to wielding. Their thinner blades also made them more prone to breaking when used to block powerful strikes.

That said, the swords had their advantages. Their sharpness could penetrate most plate armor of average thickness, a feature that played to Lynd's strength in exploiting his opponent's weaknesses.

"Have the others been informed of the rule change?" Lynd asked.

"Everyone knows," Garlan replied with a solemn nod. "This Team Competition has completely deviated from the norm. It's no longer just a standard group event. There are... other elements involved that I can't fully understand right now. Even so, House Tyrell cannot afford to lose this competition too badly, no matter what. Because of that, the lineup has been changed. The people you selected were replaced by my father's Lord's Guard, led by Ser Salif, the captain of the guard."

Vortimer added, "While Ser Salif's swordsmanship isn't quite at my level, it's not far behind. And since he personally trained the Lord's Guard, I believe they'll work well together in combat. You don't need to worry about the team's combat effectiveness."

The change was good news for House Tyrell but bad news for Lynd. With the Lord's Guard in command, authority would undoubtedly rest with Ser Salif. Those guardsmen would prioritize their captain's orders over cooperating with Lynd, leaving him to fend for himself in both offense and defense. The danger he faced would increase significantly.

Although Lynd wanted to protest this decision, he knew his position gave him no leverage. If he couldn't overturn the decision, he had to find a way to shift the situation to his advantage.

"Can I form my own team and not join the Lord's Guard under Ser Salif's command?" Lynd asked.

"Why?" Garlan looked at him in surprise. "You'd be safer with the Lord's Guard."

"No, he's better off going solo," Vortimer interjected, agreeing with Lynd's proposal. "If he joins the Lord's Guard, it'll affect their coordination. Worse, if anything goes wrong... well…"

Vortimer trailed off, but the implication was clear. Both Lynd and Garlan understood he was referring to the unspoken practice among nobles of using outsiders as scapegoats for failure. Lynd would be an easy target for blame.

Garlan said nothing, his expression conflicted. As a member of the noble class, he was well aware of such practices but felt uncomfortable having them pointed out so bluntly.

Lynd, meanwhile, hadn't considered this possibility at first. His primary concern was avoiding interference from the Lord's Guard. Now, after hearing Vortimer's warning, he realized he needed to perform exceptionally well in the competition to ensure no one could pin failure on him. Anything less, and he risked becoming the perfect scapegoat.

As the conversation lapsed into silence, the attendants finished outfitting Lynd in his plate armor. They had him test his movements to ensure the adjustments were correct.

Since his safety was on the line, Lynd didn't hold back. He performed a series of challenging movements, followed by precise sword strikes. Noticing minor issues with the fit, he instructed the attendants to adjust the breastplate and shoulder armor. He also requested two additional straps for the gauntlets to ensure they wouldn't come loose during combat.

After testing the armor again, Lynd nodded in satisfaction, feeling confident in its readiness.

"This suit of plate mail belonged to my nephew," Vortimer said, his gaze lingering on the armor now worn by Lynd, his voice tinged with a mix of sentiment and detachment. "He was killed during the Usurper's War, and the armor came into my possession. You urgently need it now, so I'm lending it to you. But once this is over, make sure to clean it thoroughly and return it."

"Isn't this suit of plate mail a gift to me?" Lynd asked, raising an eyebrow, his tone half-joking.

Vortimer gave him a blank look, one that made Lynd feel almost foolish for asking.

Lynd chuckled awkwardly and quickly shifted the topic. "Everyone else has been replaced. Why not me?"

"I made sure to keep your spot," Vortimer replied, his voice serious. "I hope you don't hold it against me for putting you in harm's way."

"Hold it against you? No, of course not," Lynd said with a sincere smile. "This is exactly what I wanted. I should be thanking you."

For Lynd, this Team Competition was a rare chance—an opportunity to rapidly elevate his social standing. King Robert's sudden rule change suggested he had taken a particular interest in the event, which all but guaranteed that the King himself would be watching.

If Lynd performed well, there was a strong possibility he could be knighted on the spot by Robert Baratheon, much like Jorah Mormont, who had been knighted by the King for his valor during the rebellion in the Iron Islands.

Notably, Robert had bypassed Lord Eddard Stark in knighting Jorah, an act seen as discourteous to Eddard but indicative of Robert's disregard for protocol when he was impressed by someone. Lynd admired this approach, as he too needed to bypass the entrenched rules and traditions of power to advance. Figures like Robert and Littlefinger exemplified this mindset, showing that breaking the system was sometimes the only way to climb within it.

Thus, Lynd's gratitude to Vortimer was genuine. The man had handed him an invaluable opportunity.

After securing the two swords lent to him by Garlan at his waist, Lynd meticulously checked his equipment one final time to ensure everything was in order. Satisfied, he left the tent and headed to the open space near the edge of the fighting arena, where the Lord's Guard was already assembled.

Beyond the Tyrells, representatives of other major houses—Lannisters, Arryns, Tullys, Martells, and more—were gathered, their numbers uniform: 21 participants, including their leaders. This number seemed to reflect a limit imposed by King Robert.

Alongside the great houses, several martial nobles had also fielded their own smaller teams, typically consisting of seven or eight individuals each. The total number of participants exceeded 600, yet the vast size of the arena, originally designed to accommodate thousands, made it feel far from crowded.

Although everyone had arrived, there was no sign of the competition beginning. It felt as though the event was waiting for something—or someone.

At that moment, Ser Salif approached Lynd. His expression was neutral, but his tone was anything but friendly. "Kid, I don't know what connection you have with Vortimer, or why he's so insistent on putting you into this mess of a competition. But let me make one thing clear: when the fighting starts, if you find yourself in danger, no one will step in to save you. Certainly not me, and not the Lord's Guard. You'd do well to withdraw right at the beginning—save yourself the trouble of dying in this meaningless bloodbath and tarnishing the name of House Tyrell."

Lynd responded with a calm smile, offering no retort. Instead, he quietly walked away. Rather than stand with the Lord's Guard, he positioned himself apart from the group, drawing attention as he stood alone among the participants.

A sudden commotion rippled through the crowd. People murmured and then parted to clear a path. Emerging from the dispersing throng was a towering figure wielding a warhammer and wearing a helmet adorned with the antlers of a stag, flanked by a retinue of House Baratheon soldiers.