Over a hundred banners danced with the wind, waving high with pride. There was an entire field of pavilions along the river with a knight's shield hung at every door. As far as the eye could see, men, women and children crowded the fields.
The tourney grounds were bustling with life. Every seat in the stands was full of spectators with endless more people watching from the ground. The entire city had come to see the Hand's Tourney. It was a once-in-a-lifetime event, after all. In the field, archers from across the Seven Kingdoms and even the rest of the known world had gathered to compete for the grand prize of ten thousand gold dragons, an amount which would change any commoner's life.
Edric Storm, among them, stood out immediately. He wore rather basic black garments, covering his left hand with a black glove. In his hand, he held his goldenheart bow with a beyond calm expression. Though his choice of clothing didn't stand out, his appearance did.
Tall, muscular and rather cute with long dark hair, deep blue eyes, slightly puffy cheeks and large ears common to members of House Florent. He was in a weird state between man and boy… his physique said he was a man but his boyish face still reflected his youth and inexperience.
Joffrey Baratheon sat up slightly once he noticed who it was, fidgeting with his fingers as he frowned upon him. Edric, glancing around, noticed his expression and grinned slightly before turning away.
Jaime Lannister met eyes with Edric Storm, nodding with a slight smile. 'The balls of that boy… this will be more interesting than I could have hoped.'
"Why is your bastard here?" Cersei Lannister questioned, glancing at Robert Baratheon with a disapproving glare.
"My boy has come to compete." Robert answered like it was the most obvious question in the world. "Why else?"
"King's Landing is not as safe a place as Storm's End for your bastard." Cersei Lannister remarked with a threatening tone.
"Threaten him again." Robert Baratheon sat up slightly, his blue eyes showing more life than usual. The atmosphere of the crowd certainly helped him restrain himself. After a moment of silence from Cersei Lannister, Robert relaxed. "Why can a man not celebrate the achievements of his son?"
"You care more for your bastards than… our children." Cersei Lannister scoffed, making a disgusted face. "What does that say of you as a father?"
"Our children? If Joffrey was not raised by your teat and could manage something impressive, mayhaps I would be more fond of him." Robert Baratheon countered, chugging down on his cup of wine before slamming it down and standing up. "What are you all waiting for? Begin the bloody contest before I piss myself!"
"..." Cersei Lannister rolled her emerald eyes, standing up and walking away.
Edric Storm stepped forward towards the more regal side of the crowd, taking out a pouch of white powder and filling up his left hand with it. Gathering it between both of his hands, he looked up and raised his voice as he spoke;
"Everyday is a blessing and opportunity to improve. It may be difficult at first… but one must take the strides to better their life, no matter how difficult those strides may seem at first. Whatever is difficult tends to be the most beneficial for you, in the end."
"Most of all…"
He raised his arms, spreading them apart like an eagle's wings, as he threw the powder into the air and blew it higher up.
"Don't forget to… Strive For Greatness!"
He smiled, observing the bewildered crowd, some of which had powder fall onto them, before turning around.
"Did you… practise that one, m'lord?" Bryce questioned, raising a slight eyebrow. "It seems that you made them dislike you."
"I've always wanted to do that." Edric Storm nodded, shrugging his shoulders. "It's just a bit of chalk, nothing more. They won't die from it."
Meanwhile, on a slightly further away side of the stage, Sansa Stark watched Edric's Lebron-James-esque chalk toss with a look of confusion before turning to Littlefinger.
"Why did he do that… and who is he? Do you know?"
"He is full of himself." Arya Stark remarked.
"One of Robert Baratheon's bastards, Edric Storm… a controversial figure in recent times. Though, to say he was never controversial before would be far from the truth. Born out of wedlock between His Grace and a lady of House Florent, he is the sole bastard that Robert had to acknowledge." Littlefinger stroked his beard, observing Edric Storm with a slight frown. "If he had no notable skills, then perhaps he could have lived out a simple life… but he seems to have chosen glory. Do you see the bow in his hands?"
"It's golden…" Sansa replied, nodding.
"A goldenheart bow, made of wood which can only be found in the Summer Isles. It is precious to their people and it is considered against their ways to trade any form of goldenheart to outsiders. However, it is known that Edric Storm won his golden bow after hitting a target from two hundred paces and defeating one of their princes. With that, he was also proclaimed the champion of a great archery contest in Storm's End at the age of ten."
Sansa Stark's deep blue eyes widened slightly in awe as she glanced at Edric Storm for a second time. "Did he really?"
"Two hundred paces?" Arya Stark raised an eyebrow in doubt. "No one can shoot from that far away, forget hitting the target."
"The feat has since been exaggerated by His Grace and spread across the Realm, so I've heard. The true number was likely closer to a hundred and some paces." Littlefinger smiled, nodding slightly. "Impressive, nonetheless. He was the champion of that contest without a doubt."
"How long ago was that?"
"A year and some moons."
"He's only one-and-ten?" Sansa couldn't believe it. "You're lying."
"Some boys grow quicker than others." Littlefinger remarked, his gray-green eyes darkening slightly as Edric Storm. "Some are gifted with greater height, size, strength, agility, speed and instincts than the rest… blessings from the Warrior, as they say. I suppose he took after his father in that regard."
"The King? He's fat." Arya Stark bluntly stated, shaking her head.
"Once, he was called the Demon of the Trident… ah, Lord Eddard." Littlefinger sat up, smiling as Eddard Stark approached and made space for him to sit. "A pleasure to see you, as always."
Eddard Stark frowned slightly, sitting down between Littlefinger and his two daughters.
"Are you not excited to see Edric Storm, the finest archer in the Realm, perform? All in your honour, no less."
Eddard Stark shook his head, taking a deep sigh. "You know my stance on this tourney."
~
As I adjusted my left glove hiding Raiden's mark and prepared for the first round, an individual with an extravagant feather cape approached me directly. He had jewels on his neck and wrists, making him quite colourful. In contrast, his skin was rather dark. On his back, he had a quiver full of arrows and a distinguished goldenheart bow, similar to my own.
"That bow is not yours to hold." The dark-skinned man looked up at me, standing quite a few inches shorter. He had a fierce look in his eyes.
"And who are you to decide that?" I raised an eyebrow, glaring back.
"Prince of the Red Flower Vale, Jalabhar Xho. Tell me where and who you stole it from…"
"I am Edric Storm… and I won this bow from one of your kind. The Prince of the Isle of Gold granted me his bow after I bested him at a hundred and thirty paces." I stood my ground, tilting my head. "If you have a problem with it, you can bet your bow against mine as well. The better archer gets both."
"One goldenheart bow isn't enough for you, is it?" Raiden Shogun observed with a slight smile.
What can I say? I'm a hustler.
"... You. You are the King's bastard." Jalabhar Xho's eyes widened before he lowered his head slightly. "I've heard much about you, Edric Storm. Forgive me for my harsh words."
"Seems like the bet is unnecessary." I stated, turning away. Sometimes I preferred it if people kept the same energy, even if that meant they openly disliked me for the rest of time. Two-faced people gave me the 'ick', as modern women would say.
There would be no lack of them here.
"I look forward to competing against you." He replied.
"Yeah."
This archery contest only had slightly better competition than the previous archery contest, leading to me dominating it pretty effortlessly. It was at the hundred pace round where only one other person remained, a guy called Anguy. He was a future member of the Brotherhood without Banners… also someone who wasted all his ten thousand gold dragons on drinking and women.
Now, those women better be goddesses for him to be spending THAT much on them. Oh, and the drinks had to have been nectar of the gods, right? Riiight?
Probably not. Foolish people and their money part ways pretty quickly.
I met his record of a hundred paces, pushing it to one hundred and five. He still hit it and turned to me with a slight smile. "You think you can beat that?"
"You're a great archer." I remarked, nodding in approval. Despite his bad spending habits, he was exceptionally good with the bow. A prodigy, even.
I turned around… beginning to walk further and further away.
"Have you given up?" Anguy shouted, keeping his smile. He seemed certain that I had walked away.
"No… not at all!" I shouted back, preparing my bow. "I've just found my range!"
His eyes widened as he muttered something. I could hardly tell.
After a chat with the organiser, he agreed to my new range. If I missed, Anguy would win. If I hit the target, Anguy would have a shot to beat me at that range…
I stood at the opposite side of the field, my back almost against the stands. The length of which I estimated to be about two hundred metres… over two hundred and sixty paces. I readied my feet, replicating textbook form perfectly. The wind suddenly rose in ferocity, blowing in the surroundings and dancing to the left. My hair moved with it, though I was barely affected by it.
I raised my bow with my right hand and loaded an arrow with my left, pulling back the string all the way back.
I focused on the target… and let the arrow sing.
The wind pushed forward, soaring with it.
Whooooooooooooooooosh… thud!
The arrow struck gold, landing at the very centre.
Anguy dropped his bow.
"My nephew, Edric Storm! Truly the finest archer in the Realm… no, the finest archer that has ever lived!"
One clap sounded from Renly Baratheon… followed by some more… until there was a roar of applause. I raised an eyebrow, looking all around me. Was it really that big of a deal? I thought everyone thought archery contests were the boring parts of tourneys.
I bowed gracefully, in the end, smiling slightly. Even I felt a bit touched by their applause.
Meanwhile, Anguy ran up to me, catching his breath as soon as we met face to face. "How in Seven Hells… did you do that?"
"Practice, practice… and more practice." I shrugged my shoulders. "I live by the bow."
The Sniper perk certainly helps.
"Live by the bow? You are the bloody god of archery!" Anguy looked up to me. "I concede, you've won without a doubt."
"I try my best." I smiled, nodding. "You're a great archer, too. I wouldn't mind having a guy like you around."
"What do you mean?"
"Well… true knights do tend to have men at arms and skilled companions in their party." I stated, stroking my chin. "I'd pay you nicely, too."
"... That is a very tempting offer." Anguy admitted, nodding. "I'll consider it."
"I could give you lessons on how to improve." I added, patting his shoulder. "It's ultimately your decision, though."
We exchanged nods and I moved onto the side where Robert Baratheon was sitting.
"Greetings, Your Grace." I bowed my head slightly. "I hope my presence here isn't too intrusive. After I heard of this tourney… I just couldn't turn away."
Robert laughed, shaking his head. "You are welcome to be in King's Landing for however long you wish, let that be known!"
"That's good to hear. Speaking of the tourney… I don't want to redeem my earnings quite yet since I believe it would be better to do so after it ends."
"How so?" Robert questioned.
"I'm not finished winning."
I replied, grinning slightly. Obviously, there was a chance that I could lose. However, I learned to have supreme confidence in myself. It's what all the greats of all time had. Even when they weren't THAT good, they deluded themselves into believing that they were the best… until they were.
That was my interpretation of Mamba mentality, anyway.
"That's my boy!" Robert laughed, gulping down another cupful. "You learned to swing that warhammer properly yet?"
"I've been practising, yeah." I nodded. "What about it?"
"Kingslayer, bring me my warhammer!"
I looked up, raising an eyebrow. 'His warhammer? The one that crushed Rhaegar Targaryen's armour to pieces?'
Jaime Lannister turned and walked away, taking his sweet time. Meanwhile, I looked around and stood in silence, accidentally meeting the weird look from Cersei Lannister. It didn't seem like full-blown hatred to me… there was something else. Was she impressed by my display?
"Joff, have you been practising?" I questioned, meeting eyes with him.
"Practising?" Joffrey Baratheon frowned slightly. "What must I practise?"
"A shame, I was thinking maybe we could have a rematch… see how far we've come. By the looks of it, I'd beat you even worse than before. Guess you didn't learn anything that day." I shrugged my shoulders.
"I do seem to recall you being struck down by a lance in the back. How many days did it take you to rise?" Joffrey Baratheon countered, smiling slightly. "Was it seven? I had thought you were dead, bastard."
I naturally had a distaste for Joff… something I couldn't quite hide. Could you blame me? He's one rotten kid, through and through.
"Five. Five days." I corrected, tilting my head. "Though, unlike you, I used my fall to motivate my rise. That's why I'm going to win this melee while you're going to be the same old golden shitstain you were a year ago. That's just the difference between you and I."
"... Are you, now?" Joffrey Baratheon looked quite offended, trying to chuckle the insult away. "Do you even meet the requirements to participate in the melee?"
"... Let's not talk about that, alright?" I smiled slightly. "A prodigy shouldn't be brought down by his age."
"Even if, by some miracle, you win… you'll still be the same bastard from Storm's End. You'll have more gold, sure, but you will stay as a nobody. No titles, no lands, no inheritance…"
"Oh, brotherly-rivalries never cease to be amusing." Renly chuckled while Robert Baratheon sat back, finding it amusing.
Cersei Lannister turned to her son, tapping his shoulder. "You shouldn't be affected by a bastard's words, you are the prince while his words are as worthless as the dirt. Taking him seriously will only make him win."
"Though, you're wrong about the lands and titles part. I got a nice piece in Storm's End. As for titles, I already have one. The finest Archer of All Time, both in looks and skill. Truthfully, I don't need to inherit anything because I'm more than capable of making a fortune for myself."
"As for you? You were born with everything given to you. That's hardly a brag, Joff. If I were you, I'd have some shame talking down to someone who strives to make the best out of themselves-"
"Here it is."
Jaime Lannister returned, Robert's warhammer in hand. He held it in both hands… though it looked like it was heavy, even for him.
"Was I interrupting something?" He questioned.
"Kingslayer, give my boy the bloody warhammer." Robert Baratheon stood up for the first time in a while.
"Which boy?"
"Whichever boy can lift it… you ought to know which one." Robert Baratheon chuckled, knowing damn well which one it was. Though Joffrey Baratheon should be decently strong for his age thanks to genetics, he was no warrior. "Go on."
Jaime Lannister glanced at Joffrey Baratheon before walking down the stands and presenting the warhammer before me. Joffrey Baratheon looked genuinely hurt… I almost felt sad for him. Almost.
"Careful, it's heavy."
"I can tell."
I reached up and grasped it with both of my hands, taking it down to chest-level. I stepped back a little and started testing out some swings. It was fucking HEAVY… the heaviest weapon I'd ever touched. Though, with both hands, I was able to swing it pretty well. Even with one hand, I was able to wield it somewhat. It was highly straining, however.
When I smashed it against the ground to take a break, it left a crack.
"This warhammer is... pretty heavy," I remarked, taking a deep breath. 'How in Seven Hells does he use this thing in battle, for hours on end?'
"Most men can't even hope to lift it!" Robert Baratheon, however, seemed more than impressed. He laughed, turning to his side. "Ned, do you remember when you tried? You could barely lift it with both your hands."
"... Edric is your son, without a doubt." Eddard Stark acknowledged, nodding with a slight smile.
"Edric, you will be strong enough by the time that you are a man-grown." Robert Baratheon stated proudly. "At last, someone who I believe is worthy enough to wield my warhammer has arrived! I had begun to believe that it would be collecting dust for decades to come… to think that it would be one of my sons who would emerge to claim it."
"Claim it?" I raised an eyebrow. "I…-"
"It is yours now and that is not for dispute!"
There was no debating him… I knew it and didn't bother trying. Besides, Robert's warhammer stood at the peak of all weapons that weren't magic-forged (Valyrian Steel).
"Alright… I'll take it." I shrugged, grasping the handle and keeping the warhammer standing against the ground. "So-"
"You will use it to win the melee, am I understood?" Robert Baratheon instructed, suddenly acting like my father.
"... Sure." I sorta lied. I wasn't practising the bow to such an extent just to have it as a side skill to whip out for fun.
"Now prove yourself worthy of it to the Realm."
I nodded, turning away.
'Jeez, talk about putting more targets on my back. Oh wait…'
I briefly paused. "Ser Jaime, do you remember what you said to me a year before? About performing notably in a melee or joust?"
"I haven't forgotten." He answered back. "The offer remains on the table, if you were wondering."
"What's more notable than winning the melee of the Hand's Tourney?"
"If you become the champion of the melee, I will knight you myself."
"... Sounds like a deal to me."
And so, I walked off with Robert's warhammer. There was more at stake now…
~
After the archery contest, there was a break leading up to the melee (more time for Robert to boast and hype me up, all of a sudden he was a supportive dad). I made use of that break to go back to my ship and get everything ready. Though, as I made my way there with my companions, we were interrupted.
Someone ran up to my party.
"Edric!"
"Eh-" I turned around, noticing that voice… my heart almost jumped. It was Alysanne. "Alys… it has been too long."
I walked forward, embracing her as she did me. It was a rather tight embrace… I ended up taking in her sweet scent. She had the same sweet smile, long brown hair and pretty brown eyes as before. I felt more joy in that moment than I did winning any archery contest, was that strange?
One part of my mind had been wondering if I'd ever see her again, given what her father said. I was afraid of losing her… that's something I wouldn't deny.
"The lovebirds reunite." Rolan rolled his eyes, chuckling.
"Look at you, all grown up." Alysanne chuckled, letting go and pinching my cheek as she tip-toed up. "You still have the face of a boy, though."
"And you look like a grown woman."
She really did mature, being fifteen years old and going onto sixteen within a few months. She had a more lady-like physique with long legs and a more visibly budding chest than before. The Gods had almost been kinder to her than they were to me.
"That's a lot of staring you're doing for just a friend." Alysanne pouted, glancing away and then meeting my eyes.
"Sorry-..." I chuckled, glancing away. "I think it makes up for your staring, though."
"One is considered rude and perverse while the other is called appreciation." Alysanne countered with a cheeky smile. "Guess which one yours was?"
"I think it depends on who's doing the looking, doesn't it? I'd imagine you'd be rather upset if I didn't look at you."
"Mhm… I suppose-"
"Why don't you two find a bedchamber?" Rolan interrupted, stroking his chin. "We have a melee to prepare for first, sadly, so that will have to wait."
"Right… did you see the archery contest?" I asked Alysanne, switching up the topic.
"Of course, I knew you'd be in King's Landing the moment I heard the Hand's Tourney included an archery contest. I doubt you'd want to miss easy gold on such a stage. Though… how you performed was a whole different matter. You're like a legendary figure from the Age of Heroes come again."
"That's… high praise." I chuckled, scratching my cheek. Was I blushing? Being compared to a hero and having that come from someone I like, no less… I suppose it was only natural that I felt that way. "I'd love to catch-up but the melee is in just a few hours, if not less."
"That's fine, don't burden yourself with me… though I do have a present prepared for you after."
"You do? I'll be waiting until then."
She was accompanied by her father, who gave me a weird look. I didn't know if he liked me or not. He turned with Alysanne, fading out into the crowded streets.
"Right, let's get going."
I went to the ship and got everything I needed, returning to the field and making myself a camp at the closest available space. I then looked for the best horse money could buy but all the worthy destriers were already bought off. I asked many knights to borrow theirs but almost all of them were participating in the events or just didn't want to give their horses away.
In the end, Arthur, Rolan and I had to get lesser horses.
It was rough but there was nothing that could be done.
"Dorian, I entrust the camp's security to you." I smiled, stepping back. "Keep any nosy bastards out."
"I only know one nosy bastard." Dorian remarked, balancing a dagger on his index finger. "Such a shame I will not be a witness to your performance… but I do hope for the best."
"I see that gold-ridden look in your eyes… you'll be asking for a payrise, won't you?" I stroked my chin.
"Not if you agree to one." Dorian replied, tossing his dagger into the sky and catching it on its way down. "If you believe I am worth it, then you are free to do so."
"That sounds like a trick answer to me…" I replied, raising an eyebrow. Surely, he'd want more given the opportunity?
He gave me a strangely warm smile… it was almost frightening seeing him make such a facial expression.
"My mind desires gold but my heart wishes for glory. Like you wish to be the greatest knight, I also have the foolish dream of being remembered for something. Your pay is already the best I'd find… so it is hardly an issue."
"You think you'll find that glory following me?"
"Without a doubt. You have that fire in your eyes… the fire of ambition which burns within all great men. Though, these great men and heroes tend to die too soon. They fail to complete their grand ambitions, falling into the grim void of death and fading away as just another fool in a book." Dorian stated wholeheartedly, sheathing his dagger. "I've chosen to protect your fire."
If he was lying, his speech skill had to be 100.
"I appreciate you." I nodded, turning away. "I really do."
"Actions always speak louder than words, Edric Storm. Act… speak later. Just like you said you'll win the melee? Do it first before you make yourself look like a fool."
"Okay." I chuckled, nodding. "I got it."
~
"Arthur, Rolan, ready to make waves?" I asked, hopping on my horse. "If things get rough, we can always help each other out. Just… make it look unintentional."
"Sounds like a plan to me." Rolan nodded, grinning slightly. "Though, what happens if it's just us three left?"
"Then may the best man win." I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "Arthur, you in?"
"... If your opposition is fighting with honour, I would not intervene." Arthur replied, tilting his head.
"But…"
Arthur smiled slightly. "If they are fighting dishonourably, then we will fight dishonourably as well."
"That's my finest friend, right there."
I pat his shoulder, riding onward a little as I looked at the field. It wasn't too large, filled with fifty knights all ready to bash each other's heads in. The competition was superior to the melee at Storm's End by a sizable degree. There were seven members of House Frey, all likely teaming up with each other. Yohn Royce and Thoros of Myr were here as well… I could tell Arthur was still stinging from his defeat.
Even though it was a free for all, there weren't any explicit rules against aiding another fighter. So long as only one remained standing at the end…
I was determined to be that one fighter, no matter what. I was loaded with twenty throwing knives, half a hundred arrows, Robert's warhammer, my goldenheart bow, dagger and a refined castle-forged longsword. I also wore a complete set of heavy black plate armour, coupled with a black helmet with golden stag horns reminiscent of the Demon of the Trident. Since I knew the Hand's Tourney was approaching sooner or later, I had it prepared just for this moment.
Before long, Robert Baratheon ordered for the melee to start… and it did.
Almost fifty horses charged onto the centre of the field, followed by lances breaking and some individuals being unhorsed. I remained at my corner, observing everything with caution. I took out an arrow and fired at an charging knight's horse… piercing straight through its skull.
If I couldn't have a good horse, no one could!
Yes… I am that petty.
My smirk soon faded when over half of the contestants seemed to narrow in on me. No, seriously… they all locked onto me. I thought I was being paranoid but the fact that they ignored each other to charge me was proof enough.
Without wasting much time, I fired onto the horses to the middle and used their fall to make an opening. I felt bad for wounding those majestic mounts… but I knew I'd feel worse if I got lanced by twenty men at once.
That… sounded weird.
I focused everything on the center of their unorganised formation, collapsing it completely as I fired five consecutive arrows which led to five mounts falling. They closed into a tighter formation, making up for the falls. Though, that left open space to the sides which I intended to use. I hurried my horse to my left and kept shooting - Dothraki style.
"Mounted archery!?"
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
One by one, the closest mounts collapsed and I freed myself from their attack.
I grinned… this was going to be too easy.
But only for a moment.
An angry knight had stood up and thrown a spear… nothing to worry about, right?
Pierce!
My eyes widened as I looked down and noticed a whole spear in my poor, poor horse's ass…
Yeah…
My horse was finished.
The horse reared up, almost dropping me to the ground if it weren't for my saddle keeping me locked in. Then the poor horse fell to the ground after a groan of pain. I, too fell, as a result. I knew I didn't have much time before some dickhead would be aiming their lance down on me so I hurried up, breaking free from my saddle, putting my bow on my back and grabbing Robert's warhammer.
I looked up, focusing on the approaching knight.
I had been right.
The lance aimed straight for my chest… and was just moments away.
I threw myself to the side, barely dodging the brunt force of the attack.
Then, another came… but I was more prepared.
Time seemed to slow down for a moment.
BANG.
I stepped to the side, smashing Robert's warhammer straight into the knight's leg.
In sheer pain, he screamed and threw himself off the horse. It was a Frey… he began rolling on the ground. Before I could finish, another was charging at me. Before long, they would be repeatedly charging at me without a single break. I'd fall eventually if I let that happen…
Then there were the knights I had dismounted… I was surrounded on the left side of the field, as much as I hated to admit it.
I wasn't going to have a nice time.
I managed to dodge the ensuing lances, though I didn't do much to counter them. With the speed and strength of destriers, you were fortunate enough to dodge their charge… forget attacking back.
I didn't train with throwing weapons without reason, however.
A revelation hit me in the middle of battle… as I drew a throwing knife onto the next knight.
Ch… bang.
Straight in the eye…
The horse collapsed near my feet, leaving the knight helpless. I raised my warhammer with both hands… but then I realised that a few of the knights had circled back. I was going to be pincered from front and back if I didn't move out of the way.
I charged to the right side of the field, met with five knights blocking the way. They had various blunt weapons, all with the purpose of breaking into plate armour. I took note of all their sigils… though I didn't have much time to contemplate them as they charged towards me.
Now, what could I possibly do with several horses turning to yeet me in the back and a whole formation keeping me from going forward?
I didn't know.
No matter where I looked, I was surrounded.
Then again, if I could dodge the horse charge… that would open up a lot of space and give me time.
So I turned back and aimed to dodge another round of charges… but my luck ran out. They tightened the formation, leaving no space for me to dodge anything.
CRACK…
The blunt lance crashed against my plate armour, sending me straight to the ground.
I did my best to evade but it was almost a clean blow.
"Maul the bastard till he screams 'yield'!"
One of the Freys commanded, charging forward with a flail and smashing it against my leg. I raised my hands to defend my face but I couldn't do much more than that. There wasn't enough space to swing my warhammer effectively nor could I do so with five people ganking on me at once… it felt like I had lost already.
Unfairly, at that.
That was the part that pissed me off the most. I didn't lose to better, more skilled men… no. I was going to lose to these fucking cowards who couldn't face me one on one for longer than ten seconds.
Losing like this…
My body felt pain. My blood was boiling. My heart was racing with fury.
I wanted to break them.
And so… I grasped my warhammer despite all the beating. They attacked my arm straight on with a flail, smashing the spikes right against the hand. I didn't give a fuck.
I was going to break this fucker's leg.
WOOSH!
I used all the strength I had and swung the warhammer straight into one of the knight's legs.
Or… where his legs were.
He stepped back, laughing.
"He's got some fight in him, still!"
More joined in on the attack, surrounding me from head to toe.
I felt pain everywhere. However, that pain didn't hurt as much as my disappointment did.
There… was really nothing I could do but scream the words 'I yield'.
But… I didn't want to.
After all of that confidence… all of that hard training… was this all it amounted to?
I refused to accept it, as foolish as that was.
"Rise…"
I heard her voice, high in the sky.
Everything turned dark… except her purple radiance, shining with thunderous brilliance. She offered her hand, standing high above all else. The shadows around me seemed so insignificant…
"If you are so stubborn as to harm yourself further, then fight… fight and emerge as the victor!"
'… Give me the power to stand and fight.'
I raised my hand, reaching out.
"You already have the power to crush your opposition… you only need to unleash it. Let go of your doubts and you will see what it is that I've given you."
'My doubts…?'
"You have yet to lose." Raiden Shogun stated, her hair dancing with the wind. "These shadows looming over you are lesser men. They cannot hold you."
Lightning cracked… the wind grew fierce… I heard the sea rushing onto the world…
"Let your heart rage like the wind, let your blood boil like fire, let your blows strike like lightning…"
"Become the Storm!"
'Become… the storm.'
How could I deny my Shogun's command?
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM.
A thunderous wave of vivid purple lightning struck me, scattering every last cunt standing over me.
Although it struck me, I didn't feel pain. Lightning sparked around me as I picked up my warhammer with ease and held it in my left hand like it was made of hollow plastic. It was light as air.
I held it in both hands, grasping it with all the raging fury in my heart.
I felt reborn…
I felt power.
Sheer fucking power.
The power to dominate…
The power to crush every last one of them.
I am the Storm.
I am the Storm…
I am the Storm!
'No one can beat me.'
Lightning cracked across the entire city… and the real battle had begun.