[Dorian's POV]
Clever Myr, ever so entranced in learning and the finer arts of the world. Anything regarding glass, they were the finest at producing. The most useful of all were Myrish eyes that could allow a man with one eye to see as far as a falcon. Dorian had bought his many years ago, treasuring it as a second eye.
It was the place that had taken a young Raerra's heart, drawing her into the world of art. Though Dorian himself never cared much for painting, he had allowed her to explore her interests freely. He had no desire to give his daughter the life of a caged bird, as he had been in his youth.
Because of this decision, her talents blossomed and took Myr as it had once taken her. The worth of her paintings was frighteningly great, easily eclipsing his own gains as a sellsword in recent years. It seemed rather silly that his service would be less valuable than some decoration… but a truly rich man tends to spend his gold on whatever he fancies. One could find a sword in any corner of a street, yet an artist so refined was as rare as dragons.
Though, Dorian hadn't come here to admire his daughter's fame and talents, no... he came to meet some old friends.
He walked through the streets in a long black cape, covering his face in a veil of shadows. It was night, yet many of the inns shined with lantern lights. After asking around, he discovered where it was that he had to go.
Soon enough, he saw the banner of the Stormravens flying high over an expansive inn that stood five stories high. It once was a blue raven flying high over a blue tide on a white field. During his leadership, Dorian had changed it to a crimson-red raven on a black field, soaring over a blood-red tide. Since then, it has remained unchanged.
A burly guard was standing outside, his arms crossed and alert.
As Dorian approached, the guard observed him remove his hood.
"Be ye seekin' to join up with the ol' mighty Stormravens? Yer lookin' like a dodgy pirate. We like pirates around 'ere."
He spoke a broken common tongue that simply made Dorian smile.
"Most certainly."
"Come roight in. The Captain will test yer."
It seems that the common member does not recognise me, Dorian thought as he walked in; how terribly sad.
He walked in as if he were just another recruit, but that illusion shattered swiftly as a familiar face immediately recognised him.
"Captain-General!"
It was one of his former up-and-coming, bright-eyed recruits. Though, he was not nearly as bright-eyed anymore and wore the look of a man who had seen many battles. His golden captain badge spoke to that.
"Captain-General?"
"Is that bloody Dorian-Daggerhand?"
"The Dorian?"
In the blink of an eye, Dorian had garnered the attention of every man on the first floor. Though some had not recognised him by face, his reputation clearly stuck around well past his tenure. He looked to the side, watching a couple men run up to the next floor.
This will be fun, Dorian thought.
"Jace, you're a high-ranking officer now?" Dorian grinned, showing his sharp teeth. "Colour me impressed."
"Aye, I am the master of ships. A captain." Jace nodded firmly, smiling with pride as he pointed at his badge. "I never thought that you'd ever come back again."
"And yet, here I am." Dorian spread his arms wide. "In all my loveliness and undying charm."
"I take it you came with reason."
Dorian kept his grin.
"Why, of course. I've come to take back my beloved Ravens."
"Is that a challenge to Malleo?" One sellsword whispered, though Dorian could hear him clearly.
"I don't think he'll give up the seat of Captain-General, not even to him. Malleo is too proud."
Malleo, Dorian's brilliant former third-in-command, stormed down in his lavish Captain-General attire. He was covered in gold and rare, colourful, gemstones. It was like seeing the incarnation of a rainbow. Dorian recalled his old uniform being far more fearsome and less colourful.
"You look like the richest clown in the Known World." Dorian mused, not even bothering to conceal his distaste. "Is that what you've spent my treasury on, jewels?"
"It is a better choice than silver-haired whores who leave you in an hour." Malleo smiled, looking ever so confident. Dorian saw through the facade like a thin veil. "Why have you come scuttling back like some rat, Dorian? Can't find a home?"
"You've gained a Captain-General's pride. Pray tell me, where is the man I named my successor?"
"He fell down the stairs in a drunken brawl and broke his neck. Most unfortunate occurrence."
"Sounds like quite the coincidence. You see, there is a reason why you were third-in-command." Dorian stepped forward, and the guards around Malleo drew their swords. Dorian stopped, though he did not show a drop of fear. "How many men are in the Stormravens these days?"
"One-hundred and twenty-three." Jace replied without hesitation.
"Is that it?" Dorian questioned, looking around. "When I resigned, the Stormravens were a mighty sellsword company of seven hundred men. Treasure chests full of gold, manses in every coastal Free City, every man armed with fine-forged steel, a fleet of twenty galleys and a fearsome reputation that was only second to the Golden Company."
"What are you now? A jest. The likes of the Stormcrows and Second Sons piss on you."
"... So?" Malleo questioned. "You've come here from the grave to bring us back to your 'Golden Age'?"
"Precisely. Surrender to me, and you can have your old position returned to you. A more fitting station for a man of your talents, we can both agree."
"Keep dreaming." Malleo stepped behind his men, using them as cover. "The Stormravens belong to me now."
"Do they?" Dorian looked around and saw many eyes seeking to deny it at a moment's notice.
"Forgive me, Dorian..." Jace stepped to Malleo's side, behind him. This made the Captain-General smile. Dorian kept his grin, which unsettled the Captain-General's smile.
"There is nothing to forgive, captain."
Malleo's eyes widened as a sword was drawn for him and stabbed deep into his chest. Blood poured out of his mouth as he gathered the strength to glance back. It had been Jace who stabbed him.
"You... traitor-"
"For the Stormravens."
Immediately, half the inn turned against itself as swords were drawn from one corner of the room to the next.
"You dimwitted fools." Dorian removed his cloak and tossed it into the air, revealing a figure armed to the teeth with daggers and knives. "Would you rather fight and die for a corpse or be led to a life of fortune, gold and wealth? The choice is yours, my Stormravens. I do not mind butchering half of you if that is what it takes."
"Conversely, any man who pledges himself to me may have one of Malleo's jewels as a golden promise for the riches to come."
Dorian's charm and equally unsettling nature won over everyone except a scarce few of Malleo's closest men, all of whom Dorian personally executed with one dagger throw to the head each.
"Right." Dorian dusted himself off. "Now that the rank of Captain-General has returned to me, all of you shall prepare to sail. We're going on a trip to Volantis."
"What of our contract to Myr, Captain-General?" One of the Serjeants questioned. "They've bought us for five years, and only one has passed since then."
"Piss on that contract. We have more important things to do."
~
[Arthur's POV]
Ser Lyn Corbray stood outside of the White Sword Tower, arms crossed. Arthur, not even having broken his fast yet, looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
"What brings you here, Ser?"
"I want you to defeat that... scum."
"... You mean Valaegor?" Arthur blinked. "Naturally, I will do my best. I am not a person who is keen on losing. Though, you truly didn't have to wait out here to say that."
Arthur's eyes widened in surprise as Ser Lyn removed Lady Forlorn from his belt and presented the sword to him.
"... If it aids you, I ask that you 'borrow' Lady Forlorn a second time." He hesitated in saying that, clearly. "Defeat him with it."
"..." Though Arthur wanted to reject him and say that he already possessed his own Valyrian Steel longsword, Arthur accepted - knowing how much it meant to him. Lyn Corbray wouldn't ask him of this unless he absolutely had to. "I will."
"Thank you." Lyn Corbray nodded. "I know only you can best him. After all, the Hound fears fire like a rodent fears cats. If that bastard were to win-"
"I will avenge your defeat." Arthur nodded, carefully adding Lady Forlorn and her scabbard to the right side of his belt. It felt strange having two swords. "You may rest at ease."
"You better." Lyn Corbray turned away. "My honour rests on your shoulders."
Edric had given him the morning to himself, which led to Arthur getting a good warm meal before requesting a spar after a little practice. Edric refused, stating that a spar against him would not prepare for a poleaxe. Instead, he offered one of the knights in his service who was proficient with such weapons.
Arthur would boldly attempt to use both longswords, though it was an entirely different matter against an armed opponent with a longer-reaching weapon.
His left hand was not as good, and the act of using both in a fluid motion required immense coordination. He did not know any stances, either. It was pure instinct, driven by what he knew of swordsmanship.
As time went on, his upcoming duel with Valaegor loomed. He decided to take a break and gather his strength.
...
Before the match, quite a number of ladies would offer their favour to Arthur, though he would courteously reject them all. Although favours were innocent enough to the point where married ladies and maidens might grant them to knights as a playful gesture, he found it difficult to choose, for he could only take one. It was less of a headache to simply reject them all.
That is, until Sansa Stark offered hers. A white ribbon with the grey wolf of House Stark.
"Ser Arthur, I ask that you take my favour to this duel."
Arthur exchanged looks with the lady, briefly falling into her deep blue eyes. He felt hard-pressed to object. It was a favour from a lady of a Great House, the eldest sister of a lord paramount. If anything, it would be quite rude to reject it, even if he had done so with courtesy.
"I shall wear it with honour." Arthur chose to take it from her soft grasp, smiling.
"May the Gods, both old and new, guide your sword to victory." Sansa nodded with a slight smile. "May my favour also grant you protection and good fortune against your vicious foe."
Arthur nodded. "I am sure it will."
Though their conversation had been brief, Arthur felt as if Sansa had been more... refined. He didn't ponder on the matter for too long, however, and focused on what awaited him.
Brienne and the Hound would face each other first, in a match that Arthur could only call inspiring. The Hound was stronger, but Brienne was just as tenacious and refused to fall easily. It was a duel that lasted a whole fifteen minutes, leaving the Hound with marks and wounds. The brawl was enjoyed by all, especially the smallfolk who liked fights that ended in the dirt with fists hammering at faces.
After that... it was time.
~
Arthur approached Valaegor, who slid his poleaxe across the ground - cutting a line along the way. After they were near sword distance, he raised his poleaxe and rested it on his shoulder. The dust behind him clouded some of the crowd.
"Look at you, all knightly." Valaegor mocked with a grin. "A sword from the weakling I humiliated and a favour from a pretty little lady. What else do you have with you on this quest, good Ser? Some companions to carry your weapons and cheer your heart? All you're missing is the princess."
"... Would that be Edric Storm?" Valaegor suddenly chuckled as Arthur remained silent. "Oh, I see."
"While you mock my King, you seem to have forgotten he had you shaking in your boots like a leaf in a storm with a simple raise of his hand."
"It was the lightning-"
"Or that time you conceded like a frightened child when faced with him in the melee."
"Hmph." Valaegor chuckled in jestful fashion, though he definitely looked angered by the taunt. Arthur could feel it. "Hide behind your princess all you like, but he won't be saving you today. There is no horse to fall on me. No interventions, no one to protect you. Just you and me, man to man. Our steel and nothing more."
"The other day, you questioned if you have no equal in this land."
"Aye, I did." Valaegor nodded. "What of it?"
"Then duel me with the sword at your side."
"Ridiculous." Valaegor laughed, shaking his head. "That would be playing to your advantage."
"Are you saying that you are an inferior swordsman?"
"Don't you wish to defeat me at my best?" Valaegor questioned. "Besides, I don't have Valyrian Steel."
"Sounds like an excuse. If you wish, I could lend you mine."
"Why don't you try wielding those two longswords against my poleaxe? I'm sure you'll have a good time."
"Very well." Arthur drew Nightfall and held it in both hands. "It seems to me that you believe yourself an inferior swordsman. That is understandable."
"Are these duels not meant to reflect battle? If I wanted to kill you, would I put down my greatest weapon to tickle you with a sword?"
"It seems that convincing you otherwise is pointless."
"Let's get to the part where I beat you to the ground."
"As you wish."
Valaegor dashed back and swung his poleaxe at Arthur's side with great strength and speed, forcing Arthur to block. As the two weapons clashed, Arthur felt the sheer force behind the blow. It was small wonder why he could bash into plate so easily. He had faced worse, however. Edric's swings would often feel like a blow of thunder.
As Valaegor pushed forward, Arthur withdrew.
The two would exchange attacks, with Arthur using it to measure Valaegor thoroughly. How far he could swing, how fast, the way he would attack…
Unfortunately, he was quite unpredictable in every sense of the word. He would alternate his attacks frequently, feinting, pausing, striking slow and faster.
He pushed Arthur to the defensive, using his range and covering the gaps in his armour perectly. Yet, despite being unable to damage him, Arthur deflected and dodged every blow. They were at a stalemate.
This same dance would continue on for ten minutes until Valaegor caught Arthur off guard and thrust his poleaxe's pommel right into his jaw full-force. It was so swift of an attack that he had scarcely seen it.
He stumbled back while Valaegor advanced, raising his poleaxe high in the sky. He had aimed for the head…
Clang.
Arthur shifted his head slightly, lessening the blow.
Though, he was still dazed.
Valaegor followed up with a swing to the side of his armour, tossing him to the ground.
"So that's all you amount to, huh. I expected a flare of that magic trick you used."
Valaegor stepped forward, aiming to swing down on him.
I wonder… how you do it, Arthur thought, growing weary. How could you endure so much, yet keep fighting?
"Arthur." He heard his voice. "You're embarrassing me. Not a single hit on this pompous silvery ass? Come on, get back on your feet. You made all those promises and yet this is all it amounts to? Where is your honour? Are your words meaningless?"
Sure enough, it was just his imagination.
He managed a glance to Edric who rose from his seat. He hadn't spoken a word.
I want to win…
It seemed as if everything around him was inconsequential, vanishing into nothing. He looked around in confusion. What was this illusion? He looked ahead, seeing the Iron Throne instead of the stands. Edric began descending from it.
The court was empty of everyone else... it was just them.
"I have dishonoured you," Arthur admitted grimly. "I..."
"You have not lost yet, nor have you won," Edric spoke as he reached him, his wild hair swirling around his golden crown. "So, how have you dishonoured me? The only way you can dishonour me now is by lying on the ground, waiting for it to end. You don't seek to quit, do you?"
"No... I seek to win."
"Then fight." Edric offered his left hand. "Stand up and fight! Let your heart rage with flame, burning away your doubts. Show him your resolve, fury, courage and might as a warrior!"
Yes… Your Grace.
Arthur forced himself up, accepting his hand.
His body erupted with newfound strength, as if he had been lit on fire. The back of his left hand momentarily glowed with a strange marking before vanishing. The illusion faded and he found himself at the very same predicament.
He didn't think... he acted.
Arthur rolled out of the way, sword in hand.
Valaegor only struck the earth.
"Looks like someone woke up."
Arthur felt great pain but fought through it, glaring at his opponent. With this new surge of strength, he felt like he could do anything. And so, he left Nightfall to his right hand and drew Lady Forlorn.
"You're not my little brother." Valaegor chuckled. "You can't dual-wield. Even if you could, you're not getting past my armour before I crush you-"
Arthur flashed forward without a word.
Valaegor swung his poleaxe to Arthur's left side, forcing him to block with his weaker hand. He did so, advancing forward. Valaegor managed to break past the block and curl around to hit Arthur on the back - yet he kept advancing - past his defence and swung Nightfall into Valaegor's plate armour.
SCREECH.
It cut through the plate like butter, along with the mail and leather beyond - making a gash across his stomach.
Valaegor dashed back in a hurry.
"What in Rh'llor's name..."
Arthur dashed forward to swing Nightfall, which glowed as dark as the night.
Valaegor chose to ignore what his eyes had witnessed, swinging his poleaxe at Arthur at the perfect time, clashing their weapons.
Shhhh...
Clang.
Valaegor paused in bewilderment as his poleaxe had been cut... clean through!
He could not retreat fast enough, watching as Arthur dashed forward and cleaved through the centre of the shaft.
"What sort of fiendish blade is that?" Valaegor rapidly retreated, as if he were running for his life. He saw the fallen Lady Forlorn and ran to her like a soulmate he dearly missed.
Arthur stepped slowly, letting him take the sword.
"Desperation has led you to accept my offer," Arthur remarked, pointing Nightfall at Valaegor. He felt absolutely calm despite the fire that burned within. "We can duel on equal grounds at last, as knights."
"Indeed..." Valaegor nodded, regaining his confidence. He seemed to have an endless supply of it. He raised Lady Forlorn to the skies, and it soon lit with R'hllor's flames - glowing. "I am R'hllor's champion, his knight, a hero who will burn through the darkness."
"Then we shall see whose God is mightier."
"Whose God, you say? Your Gods are Seven." Valaegor questioned.
"There are Seven and One."
"You've become offly religious!"
"In my heart and soul, I can only acknowledge one God; the one that I see with mine own eyes. The God that hears my prayers, grants me strength when I am weak, gives me courage when I fear, protects me when I am surrounded and gives me reason as to why I live. He is the God that shoulders the weight of the Realm and smites down those of ill will in his divine might."
"Your God gave you a flicker of a flame; my God gave me this dream. His might, his unwavering spirit, resounds with this very sword!"
"Nonsense… I let you speak your piece out of respect, but all I heard was mud on the wall."
"Then allow this sword of mine do the talking."
CLANG.
CLANG.
CLANG.
A terrible yet beautiful sound erupted across the tourney grounds as Ser Arthur and Valaegor clashed their Valyrian Steel blades. Neither relented, neither weakened. It was a greater sight than any of the previous clashes, eclipsing Arthur's own duel against Ser Lyn and Ser Lyn's duel against Randyll Tarly.
While Arthur's blade could cut through plate like butter, Nightfall had met its match in Lady Forlorn. Valaegor realised this and used Lady Forlorn as his trusted shield, displaying swordsmanship that Arthur never knew he possessed.
They were equally matched...
For a long, long, long time...
Thirty minutes would pass by, and not a single eye would be drawn away from the fight, entranced in the dance of flames. One black as night and the other as radiant as the sun. It seemed as if Nightfall would burn at times, drawing from Lady Forlorn's flames and thinning them. Arthur would burn through some of Valaegor's armour while Valaegor would cut through the gaps in his armour. Each wound piled onto the next...
The end had neared.
"Why don't you give up..." Valaegor removed his helmet, tossing it at Arthur.
Arthur batted it to the side with one swing, his vision growing blurry as his eyelids battled to be shut at last.
"I have not... and yet my body... has."
He dug Nightfall into the ground, trying to stand on it.
Yet, the strength in his body faded at last...
"Despite everything... I've lost."
He fell first.
"No, you only fell first..." Valaegor spoke. "You've beaten me, fair and true... you are the greater warrior..."
Valaegor fell only a few seconds after.
"... Ser Arthur."
...
Arthur would be forced awake not soon after, finding himself in Edric's presence. He knelt down beside him, his deep blue eyes giving him strength.
"Seven Hells, who taught you to be so stubborn?"
"You... did, Edric... you did."
Arthur struggled to speak, closing his eyes with the clearest smile he could manage before falling into a deep slumber.