Game of Thrones: Knight’s Honor

"Use your best strength and let me see the most magnificent two-sword swordsmanship from Westeros!" In the small manor near the east gate of New Barrel, Vortimer Crane drew his longsword from his waist, addressing Lynd, who stood across from him.

Though his expression remained impassive and his tone calm, those familiar with Vortimer could detect a hint of dissatisfaction with the bear hunter before him. This sentiment stemmed from Vortimer's temperament; he valued calmness and seriousness, traits exemplified by men like Lord Randyll Tarly. Lynd, with his flair and ostentatious demeanor, was far from that ideal. Vortimer had little patience for the notoriety of the Bear Hunter's Song or the bold claim of being the master of the most magnificent two-sword swordsmanship in Westeros.

Despite his personal distaste, Vortimer prided himself on separating private feelings from public responsibilities. When a close friend recommended Lynd as his knight's squire, Vortimer had already resolved to accept. Yet, his personal bias lingered. He now saw an opportunity to curb the arrogance of this boastful bear hunter, to prove that in the presence of a true knight, self-taught swordsmanship was insufficient.

Lynd realized his earlier remark had rubbed Vortimer the wrong way, but he felt no regret. He would make the same statement again without hesitation, for it wasn't directed at Vortimer but at Garlan Tyrell, who stood nearby.

In the tavern earlier, Garlan had projected an air of composure and maturity far beyond his years. However, this maturity seemed more a performance than a reflection of his true self. Garlan admired boldness and grand gestures, and Lynd's pride in his swordsmanship struck the right chord. During their return to the Tyrell encampment, Garlan's reserved demeanor had melted away. He became an eager and inquisitive boy, bombarding Lynd with questions—especially about the tales glorified in the Bear Hunter's Song.

Lynd responded with unvarnished truths, omitting the exaggerations of the ballad. He recounted the real number of foes he had vanquished and explained how he had leveraged traps and strategy to win battles. Far from being disheartened by the lack of romanticism, Garlan appreciated Lynd's honesty. This candidness, while endearing to Garlan, likely contributed to Vortimer's belief that Lynd was prideful yet fundamentally straightforward.

Raised in the sophisticated circles of the Queen of Thorns, Garlan had absorbed lessons on managing subordinates. He understood that slightly tempering the confidence of an arrogant individual made them more pliable, much like taming a spirited horse. After reaching the garrison, he eagerly requested to see Lynd's legendary two-sword technique firsthand.

Yet Garlan's youthful exuberance betrayed him. His eagerness made his true intentions transparent, easily discerned by Lynd and others. Still, Lynd paid little mind to Garlan's machinations. Even if Garlan hadn't requested the display, Lynd would have sought a duel with Vortimer on his own terms. Unlike Vortimer, who aimed to humble Lynd, the bear hunter viewed this duel as a chance to measure his own skill.

Though Lynd had slain numerous enemies, they were rarely formidable opponents. Most victories relied on external advantages, leaving him uncertain of his true prowess. He had once sought a formal duel with Joel, another master swordsman, but Joel declined, reasoning that a win held no gain and a loss would be humiliating. Now, with Vortimer Crane—a swordsman of equal renown—willing to spar, Lynd seized the opportunity with enthusiasm.

Lynd approached Vortimer, drawing his two broad-bladed half-swords. He assumed the Peacekeeper stance: legs slightly bent, body poised, and eyes locked on his opponent. Every fiber of his being exuded the presence of a predator, coiled and ready to strike.

At this moment, Lynd immersed himself entirely in the memories of the Peacekeeper's form, becoming its embodiment. His demeanor transformed, and a palpable, bloody aura—a distinct remnant of the battlefield—radiated from him. The change was so profound that even Garlan Tyrell, watching from the sidelines, felt its oppressive weight. Instinctively, he took a step back, visibly shaken. Standing beside him, Joel also felt the force of Lynd's aura. His expression hardened, and he unconsciously stepped forward, positioning himself protectively in front of Garlan while his hand hovered over the hilt of his sword.

Compared to Garlan and Joel, Vortimer, standing directly opposite Lynd, bore the brunt of this overwhelming presence. The intensity of it struck him tenfold. Initially determined to discipline the brash young man, Vortimer instead found himself confronting a formidable opponent. His grip tightened on his sword, and he summoned his own warrior's aura, unleashing a force that clashed with Lynd's. The collision of their wills electrified the space, locking both men in a silent battle of dominance, their minds shifting to pure combat readiness.

In that instant, Vortimer acknowledged something remarkable. Though he had yet to assess Lynd's actual skill with the blade, the sheer force of the young man's presence had already surpassed that of most warriors and knights he had encountered. Among the warriors he respected, only battle-hardened veterans like Barristan the Bold could exude such an aura. Among the younger knights, perhaps only the monstrous Gregor Clegane stood above Lynd in raw intimidation. Vortimer couldn't help but wonder how a hunter, someone with limited experience in the chaos of war, could possess such a presence.

Both men attempted to break the other through the force of their aura alone, seeking any crack in the opponent's composure. Yet their wills were evenly matched, neither giving way. The resulting stalemate held them motionless, radiating tension that gripped the courtyard.

Although it was night, the activity in the Tyrell garrison ensured the courtyard was not empty. Guards on patrol noticed the duel and stopped to watch. Those already resting were drawn out by the growing murmurs, forming an ever-growing crowd. Attic windows creaked open, and curious figures gathered to peer down at the scene below.

To the casual observer, the sight was anticlimactic. Instead of a dazzling display of swordsmanship, they saw Vortimer and a young man with twin swords standing still in exaggerated poses, their confrontation almost absurd in its lack of motion. But those close enough to feel the tension knew better. They sensed a stifling pressure that made their thoughts sluggish and left their limbs heavy, even if they didn't fully understand its source.

Just as many began to lose interest and retreat to their rooms, the standoff broke. Lynd and Vortimer moved almost simultaneously.

Vortimer lunged, his longsword cleaving downward with a speed and force that suggested nothing could withstand it. Lynd, however, had no intention of meeting the strike head-on. Fully aware of the disadvantage of blocking a two-handed knight's swing with his own one-handed swords, he relied instead on his agility. As Vortimer's blade descended, Lynd shifted, his feet gliding with an almost supernatural smoothness to evade the strike. Simultaneously, his wide-bladed half-swords flicked forward in a fluid counterattack aimed at Vortimer's chest and waist.

Vortimer, anticipating this maneuver, twisted his body with practiced precision. His blade's momentum curved seamlessly into a second strike, this time arcing toward Lynd's lower back. The move was bold, risking an exchange of injuries, but calculated in its execution.

Lynd, however, had already analyzed the situation. He knew that at their current distance and with Vortimer's speed and reach, the longsword would land its blow before his own could connect. Calmly, he accelerated forward, stepping in with the force and speed of a charging horse. The sudden closing of distance disrupted Vortimer's rhythm, forcing him to retreat swiftly.

The duel intensified as the two opponents darted around the courtyard at speeds that seemed almost inhuman. Each attack—slicing, thrusting, and cutting—was met with an equally deft dodge or parry. Their weapons blurred as they targeted vital areas, but neither could land a decisive blow. The air between them was thick with the sound of steel cutting through the night.

The spectators watched in rapt silence, captivated by the sheer intensity of the fight. Even the least perceptive among them could sense the stakes: a single misstep could mean instant death. Garlan and Joel, who understood the motivations behind the duel, found themselves overwhelmed by the ferocity of the exchange. It felt less like a sparring match and more like a deadly clash between mortal enemies.

Despite their equal speed and agility, the contrast in their styles was stark. Vortimer's movements were methodical, rooted in the disciplined techniques of a knight. Every step was efficient and purposeful, designed to exploit openings with precision. Lynd's style, in contrast, was fluid and flamboyant, resembling a masterful dance.

Only someone like Joel, with his exceptional mastery of swordsmanship, could discern the subtle intricacies of Lynd's two-sword technique. Lynd's blades moved with a deceptive rhythm, their arcs almost unnatural, attacking vital points from angles that seemed impossible to counter. These maneuvers left Vortimer perpetually on the defensive, forced to evade rather than retaliate. The flow of their movements, while appearing balanced to the untrained eye, was controlled entirely by Lynd. From the start, he held the advantage, and unless something drastic occurred, it seemed inevitable that Vortimer would lose.

Just as Joel became certain of Vortimer's impending defeat, Lynd's pace faltered ever so slightly. The lapse was almost imperceptible but enough for a seasoned fighter like Vortimer to exploit. In a swift upward strike, Vortimer forced Lynd into a defensive retreat. Lynd reacted by crossing his twin blades downward in an attempt to absorb and redirect the momentum of Vortimer's longsword.

However, the sheer power behind Vortimer's attack proved overwhelming. His strike broke through Lynd's guard, sending the twin blades wide, though the move also slowed the trajectory of Vortimer's weapon. The tip of the longsword skimmed past Lynd, missing him by a narrow margin as he deftly avoided the blow.

Vortimer's maneuver left him overextended, exposing a glaring vulnerability. It was an opening that would allow Lynd to finish the fight decisively. Yet, to the astonishment of everyone watching, Lynd chose not to capitalize. Instead, he stepped back, creating distance, and adopted a defensive stance with his blades raised.

"No need to continue—it's a draw," Vortimer declared, his breathing slightly uneven as he sheathed his longsword. His expression softened into one of satisfaction as he looked at Lynd. "Starting tomorrow, you will be my knight's squire. I will teach you what it truly means to be a knight."

With that, Vortimer turned, bowed politely to Garlan, and dismissed the gathered crowd with a gesture before heading alone to his quarters. His commanding presence ensured the onlookers quickly dispersed, though murmurs filled the air as small groups lingered to discuss the duel. The brief yet dazzling exchange left them awestruck.

Most speculated about Lynd's origins, puzzled by how someone so young—barely fifteen or sixteen—could possess swordsmanship that rivaled a master like Vortimer Crane. The most prevalent theory was that Lynd was a noble's bastard son.

It seemed plausible; only a great lord could afford to employ a true swordsmanship master to train a bastard child. After all, legitimate noble offspring often focused more on courtly knowledge and diplomacy than perfecting combat skills.

Another popular theory was that Lynd hailed from Starfall, the ancestral seat of House Dayne. The legendary Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, was rumored to have mastered two-sword techniques, leading some to associate Lynd's skill with Dayne's legacy.

However, this notion was quickly dismissed. Those familiar with the history of House Dayne clarified that Arthur Dayne wielded Dawn, the family's ancestral greatsword, requiring two hands to use. The myth of his proficiency with dual blades stemmed from misconceptions surrounding his singular prowess with Dawn.

Amidst the speculations, a few correctly identified Lynd as the Bear Hunter immortalized in the bard's songs. According to the ballads, the Bear Hunter was a formidable warrior who could cut down enemies as effortlessly as reaping crops. Yet even those who guessed the truth hesitated to fully believe it. Lynd's youth and lean build contradicted the image conjured by the songs—a towering, rugged figure of raw strength.