####
After Wylis, it was Robert Baratheon who jousted. But the man was never known to joust, and he even came drunk. Without a doubt, he lost. But thankfully, he didn't lose by falling, but rather points.
Brandon Stark also jousted and won rather easily that day. The man was truly amongst the best knights of the times.
With that, the day came to an end. There was a larger feast than most other days, but only the knights who had already lost ate heavily and drank hard. The knights who were to joust the next day maintained a modest diet. All except Brandon.
Seated with the Starks, Wylis was right beside Lyanna. Under the table, his hand rarely scraped against her soft thighs and teased her. She scoffed annoyedly each time, slapping his hand away.
"You'll be going against either Arthur Dayne or Ser Barristan tomorrow," Eddard informed, sitting on the other side of the table. He wasn't taking part in the joust.
"Why? I mean, how do you know that?"
"I heard the judges. They say you're too dangerous to match against squires and soft-knights. The boy you struck down—Lord Tarly's second son—he may not last the night."
"..."
Fuck! I didn't use much strength to hit him. He fell on his own.
"None here will hold it against you. Lord Tarly's another matter. Tourneys breed grudges like summer breeds flies." Eddard added.
"Why worry, Eddard?" Lyanna chimed in then, her right cheek twitching. "Wylis is lucky. Didn't he receive a maiden's favor today? Cersei Lannister, of all—A Lannister, really?"
So that's what this is about? Jealous? Annoyed? Hah, she's cuter this way.
"At least she's unmarried. Unlike a certain Prince."
"You! I had no other choice. How do you refuse when a Prince approaches you in public?" She tried to reason, and it looked genuine.
But Wylis scoffed this time. "Sure, plenty of time to think of excuses now."
Lyanna scoffed and pinched Wylis' thigh under the table to get back at him. "In any case, by the time Lord Tarly makes his move, Wylis will have his knight spurs. At that point, Lord Tarly will be against House Stark, not just a squire."
Eddard said nothing there. He wasn't a dreamer, nor an idealist. He liked to live in reality. He considered Lyanna biased since she and Wylis were good friends. But he saw it as it was. Wylis was going to make a lot of enemies in the tourney.
"Hold your strength tomorrow. Win the joust, aye—but don't leave them broken."
Wylis simply nodded. He didn't plan to kill anyone either.
####
The next day, once again, a disguised Lyanna came and won at the beginning. Later, she returned to the stands in her lady attire. After that, Rhaegar also jousted and won with loud cheers. One after another, the most notable men took victory home. Brandon, Yohn Royce, and even Arthur Dayne won. Slowly, as Wylis saw his turn approach, he already knew he'd go against it.
This time the threat was real. He was confident in his body, in his sword skills, in his archery, but jousting was different. So, as he sat in his tent, waiting for his turn, he summoned the magical screen of the Tyrant's Squire. He looked at the list of available abilities.
[Blacksmith Mastery - 1 Year
Chemistry Mastery - 1 Year
Civil Engineering - 3 Years
Cooking Mastery - 10 Days
Gunsmithing - 10 Years
Political Mastery - 5 Years
Singing Mastery - 6 Months
Kissing Mastery - 1 Month
Sex Mastery - 6 Months
Jousting Mastery - 6 Months (Discounted to 1 Month due to pre-existing Horse Riding Mastery)
Woodwork Mastery - 1 Year
Farming Mastery - 1 Year
Beast Taming - 10 Years
…
…
…
Atomic Bomb Designs - 100 Years
M1E3 Abrams Tank Designs - 80 Years
…
…
…
Mind Reading - 107 Years]
"There IS one for jousting!" Wylis exclaimed, and the price wasn't high either. "But… It's still one month out of my life."
Is it worth it? he asked himself.
Jousting wasn't a useful skill in war, after all. If he chose to buy it, he'd have to make sure he took part in every jousting tournament to win as much reward as he could. Only then the gold would outweigh the cost.
Fuck it! I'll win forty thousand gold Dragons with it.
[Remaining Lifespan - 73 Years 5 Months]
"Ugh~"
He instantly felt a warm, throbbing pain in his head. But it was subtle, not hindering his consciousness at all. Unlike the last time, when he had to grit his teeth. It felt much easier this time.
"Ah! I can… see it." He felt memories pour into his head. He noticed how his muscles twitched as if remembering the experience from the memories. His understanding of jousting started to become clear. All the right ways to hit the target and do what he intends. How to unhorse the opponent. Everything was now imprinted in his mind.
Just then, a Stark man came over. "It's your turn, Wylis."
"Let's do it then."
He donned his helmet and mounted his mighty stallion, Caliburn. This time, he didn't wait for someone else to hand him the lance. He grabbed it from the beginning and rode into the tourney field. With Cersei's favor fluttering from his right arm, he took his position at his side of the tilt rail. His opponent had already arrived, donning a beautiful Kingsguard armor.
The crier started to shout then. "Now for the moment, we all have been waiting for. When an unstoppable wall meets the sharpest of blades—Wylis of Winterfell against Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguards—Let the joust begin!"
Wylis eyed the famed Knight. He knew that the man had an eye on Ashara as well. Despite already being in his early forties.
Look at the horny Kingsguard.
But he respected Barristan. There was no hint of malice he felt from the man. When Ashara danced with him, Barristan was amongst the few who smiled at the large man getting to dance.
Yet, that didn't change anything. With mastery of jousting imprinted in his body, he still aimed to unhorse the fine knight.
Woosh!
The flag was waved.
Wylis charged forward. With aim, he soon brought down his lance, and…
Skrrrr~
What the fuck? What?!
He missed, and Ser Barristan also missed. His body reacted on its own and dodged Ser Barristan's lance from hitting his shield. But he did strike the old knight's shield, albeit softly.
Ah! How did I forget that? So what if I got jousting mastery? He must be pretty close to that level as well.
Soon, he got into position once again and charged at the mark. Caliburn's heavy hooves stomped hard on the ground. Underneath the helmet, Wylis sweated profusely, his ears deaf to the roars of the crowd. His eyes narrowed, focused, and stared at only one target.
Almost… Timing… must… match!
Bam!
"YES!" Wylis cheered aloud as soon as he felt a good contact against Ser Barristan's shield. But not only that, his lance splintered, and the famed knight lost his seat, falling from horseback with grace.
Clank!
Ser Barristan didn't even fall. He just landed on his feet, shaking his head.
Once again, Wylis got off his horse and approached Ser Barristan. Knowing how long the man was going to remain in service, it was best to forge good relations with him.
"There's skill in you, lad. Not raw strength alone, but grace and precision." Ser Barristan clasped his gauntlet with Wylis'. "Have you ever considered the white cloak?"
Kingsguard? Fuck that!
"My dream is to have a big family, Ser." Wylis respectfully declined.
"Hah. There is honor in that, no doubt. A dream worth holding on to."
Laughing, the two men removed their helmets and walked off the field. It wasn't every day you got to see knights and nobles act so friendly after losing a joust. Smallfolk liked that, and the King as well.
####
At the evening feast.
"What have you learned of him? I would know—every word, every breath. Speak!"
Ser Gerold Hightower leaned beside the King's large chair and responded. "Aye, Your Grace. The talk holds truth. He was born to servants sworn to House Stark. His great-grandmother, they call her Old Nan, has long served at Winterfell—helped birth Lord Rickard himself, and his children after him. Wylis was naught but a plump and gentle lad till his fourteenth nameday. Then came the change. Now he stands a giant among men, though none in his bloodline share that height. There are whispers, even among the Stark household, that he bears the blood of giants."
King Aerys stroked his long, filthy beard, getting annoyed whenever his foot-long nails clung at times. He eyed Wylis far in the distance at a table. "What do you make of him?"
"He unhorsed Ser Barristan, and yet the man holds him in regard. Wylis is skilled in swordplay and speech both—true, chivalrous, and strong."
As Ser Gerold understood the King's wish, he added. "Barristan asked if he would wear white. The boy refused. Said he dreams more of sons and daughters than vows and white armor."
"Hah~" The Mad King chortled, sipping some wine as if amused by it all. "So he's not a blind fool who chases folktales. That's better—A man with kin is easier to leash... they squeal louder when the fire gets close."
Not seen by the King, Ser Gerold frowned at those words.
"Ser Gerold, put the boy against the weaker knights. Let him bleed slowly, not spill too soon. I would see him face Rhaegar in the final tilt. Let us see if he is worthy of song… or fire, when facing the best jousting knight."
"As you wish, Your Grace."
Ser Gerold retreated. But he saw what the King's true intention was. That was no father fawning over his son's jousting prowess. No, the Mag King's tone told a different story. More than Rhaegar, he seemed interested in a lowborn stableboy.
______________________
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