GOT: The Dangerous Traveler 5
Lyn Corbray IV
Year 281 AC – Harrenhal
Lord Whent did not want the tournament to be interrupted, so it was decided that the Trial by Combat would take place in a couple of hours, before the banquet that would conclude the first day of the tournament.
Lyn listened to the discussion on the opposing side as he left the hall, while also hearing his father's constant complaints.
Brandon was arguing with Rickard.
'Who will they send against me?' Lyn wondered with a smile.
Lyn was not a madman, and for that reason, everything related to this trial displeased him. The young man never expected the problem with the Mormonts to escalate so much, nor that Prince Rhaegar would so blatantly take sides. In his eyes, Dacey Mormont's vagina was definitely not worth all these troubles and inconveniences.
Apparently, the rumors were true; Rhaegar Targaryen was using this tournament to get on the good side of the Paramount Lords. Wasn't that rather inconvenient?
Now the question was whether Rhaegar would go so far as to even provide the Mormont House with a champion. The best warrior the North had was probably some Umber, or maybe Brandon Stark himself, but Rickard would never risk his son. On the other hand, Rhaegar had Arthur Dayne at his service. He could even get Barristan Selmy to fight on his behalf.
'The duel itself is exciting to think about,' Lyn thought fleetingly. He was a simple man; he would try to take advantage of this unpleasant situation.
Lyn Corbray was escorted to a room inside Harrenhal. It was an improvement compared to his tent, but the man felt restricted. He was under watch, after all, and had been forced to leave his weapons in his tent.
A question lingered in his mind.
'Should I escape?'
Lyn was confident in his ability to escape, but he would have to leave everything behind. The idea was not very appealing. Sooner or later, Lyn wanted to explore the world—specifically, magic. He knew he had a significant talent thanks to his "travels" and possessions. But he wanted to do it on his own terms, not be forced to flee with nothing.
But his life was at stake. Against Jorah, he would never lose, but… against Arthur Dayne? He was not sure.
Lyn had already defeated Daemon Blackfyre, but this was different. Lyn had fought Daemon hundreds of times before winning. While all those battles had served to brutally enhance his combat skill, his victory was not solely due to that. Lyn had come to know Daemon better than Daemon knew himself. Any slight movement from Daemon would be predicted by Lyn. Lyn knew how many times he breathed before making a heavy strike, how his muscles tensed, and how often Daemon blinked. Against Arthur Dayne, a warrior of the same caliber, he wouldn't know any of that. The same applied to Barristan Selmy.
Lyn estimated his chances of victory against either of them to be around fifty percent—perhaps forty. That was too low, far too low when his life was on the line.
All this conflict was based on the assumption that he would face one of the two. But… would he?
'Why… am I trying to figure this out otherwise?' Lyn thought. He had attempted similar things before, with partial success. But he had never worked under such pressure.
Lyn took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Instantly, he felt his consciousness, or something similar to it, traveling—though he had no clarity as to where. After a few seconds, Lyn opened his eyes again.
"Then… let the gods decide," Rhaegar said, seated next to Lord Whent.
Lyn's eyes turned to the sky, and he could see that not more than two hours had passed. There was still plenty of daylight. His eyes then shifted toward his opponent.
Standing before Lyn was Barristan Selmy, known as Barristan the Bold, a knight of House Selmy.
Barristan was tall, with pale blue eyes tinged with sadness. He was a man just over forty years old—mature, but not old. His hair was long and dark, and his features were attractive, though nothing exaggerated. He was tall, very tall. He wore his plate armor, along with the white shield and cape of the Kingsguard.
However, despite facing such an opponent, Lyn's eyes widened at another, much more significant detail. In Lyn Corbray's hands was Lady Forlorn—the sword of House Corbray, a Valyrian steel blade.
Barristan Selmy studied his opponent for a few seconds, while Lyn Corbray did the same. After those seconds passed, Barristan charged toward Lyn with a speed that seemed unnatural for his body.
Barristan's sword snaked toward Lyn's side. However, the young man, half the Kingsguard knight's age, skillfully moved his sword to block the blow.
Barristan did not relent and began unleashing a quick and efficient barrage of attacks. Lyn, despite an initial difficulty in adapting to the pace, managed to block them all without being in real danger. Barristan was fast, but Lyn could react to all his strikes.
After his fruitless efforts, Barristan feinted an attack and launched a swift thrust. Lyn was already expecting it, his eyes locked onto the Kingsguard's own. He sidestepped and, with far greater speed than he had used in the fight so far, swung a cut toward Barristan's throat.
Barristan quickly stepped back while bending his body to avoid the sword's edge. The man managed to protect his face, but the cut grazed part of his jaw, drawing a few drops of blood.
"So, the great Barristan Selmy bleeds," Lyn Corbray said with a broad smile. At the same time, gasps of shock that had been held back by the gathered crowd erupted throughout the area.
Rhaegar watched the fight with growing concern. What would the young prince do if his move resulted in losing the most capable member of the Kingsguard?
"You're good, lad," Barristan Selmy commented, his face heavy. There was a hint of admiration, along with guilt and sorrow, in his eyes. "I don't know what circumstances brought you here, but I must give it my all. It is my duty."
"I expect no less, Ser Barristan."
After the exchange of words, the fight resumed with Lyn blocking or dodging Barristan's attacks while trying to seize opportunities for a clever maneuver.
Over time, it became clear that Barristan had slightly superior skill and strength, but Lyn was much faster. Both warriors had experience—Barristan with greater quantity, but Lyn with far greater quality.
'An opportunity!' Lyn thought and made a bold move to stab Barristan. Unfortunately, the knight moved at the last second, and the weapon aimed at his heart instead pierced his shoulder. At the same time, Lyn felt something run through his stomach.
Barristan winced in pain but drove his sword in with force.
Blood stained Ser Barristan's white armor as Lyn vomited blood over his shoulder and cape.
"Well… shit," Lyn Corbray said with blood in his mouth, and his eyes opened in his room.
He looked around, confused, but then calmed down. One never truly got used to "dying."
"But I was close," the young man whispered. "Let's go again!"
Lyn Corbray had four more fights with Barristan Selmy but then decided to rest. Though his body was in perfect condition, he couldn't enter such a combat with a tired mind. Thus, as time passed, he found himself once again before Barristan the Bold.
The fight began with a clash of swords that reverberated throughout the field. Barristan, with firm and solid movements, seemed to want to take advantage of his experience to subdue his opponent from the first instant; that experience was nothing more than a chimera. His blows were accurate, but Lyn, with the swiftness of a feline, dodged them with ease, sliding his body gracefully and launching quick, unpredictable attacks.
The crowd held its breath, for the spectacle was worthy of the greatest tournaments in Westeros. Barristan was striking hard, but his opponent was evading him effortlessly, taking advantage of every opening, every weakness, and beginning to forge a slight advantage.
"Corbray has the speed of a dragon in flight!" remarked Jon Connington to Rhaegar's side in a fawning tone.
The battle continued for long minutes. Barristan tried with a couple of spectacular moves to disarm his opponent, but Lyn anticipated each move, sliding to the side and responding with a precise slash towards Barristan's defense. Each time the veteran knight tried to close the distance, Corbray leapt backward with agility, gradually stripping him of his ground.
Barristan Selmy felt strange. It seemed that some of his movements were predicted by Lyn. Those were the reactions other members of the Royal Guard had when they trained. It was not a common occurrence, but they did it occasionally, so each had a mild understanding of the other. Barristan, however, had never faced Lyn Corbray.
The crowd was murmuring, and sweat was beginning to glisten on the foreheads of both combatants. Barristan, still maintaining his composure, seemed to slow down, while Lyn remained agile and accurate. Finally, after a particularly quick exchange, Barristan made the mistake of leaving his flank exposed.
Lyn knew well what occasion this was. He would not fall back into the trap that had gotten him killed twice already. The young Corbray made a feint of attacking towards the center, however, at the last minute he took a step to his right while adjusting his sword even further to the left.
The side step that Barristan took to his right; Lyn's left, was useless, as Corbray's sword dug into his flesh, and it was not in his shoulder. At the same time, Barristan's sword could only graze the side of the man's stomach, and the armor simply deflected the cut.
The crowd was silent for a moment, as everyone expected the veteran knight to get up and continue fighting, as he had done so many times before throughout history. But Barristan Selmy, raised his head, staring at his young opponent. His gaze almost held a relief that only Lyn was able to see.
Lyn sensed that in that hall there was only he and Barristan. No one else was present.
It was getting harder and harder for Barristan to stay on his feet, having to use his sword to keep from collapsing.
"Well played," Lyn said in a whisper, and Barristan nodded. Thereupon the young man pulled Lady Forlorn from the Bold One's chest; stained with his blood, and the royal guard collapsed to the ground.
"Bring forth a maester! A maester!" suddenly shouted Rhaegar in agitation. The expressions of all the nobles were very diverse.
The greatest knight of his time...had he died in a trial by combat due to a farce? To stupidity? That was the end of the greatest knight?
'In the end we are but meat' thought Lyn as she stared at Barristan. His face expressed no emotion whatsoever. He should feel happy, but... he felt a little empty. This was the first time Lyn had really risked his life in combat. All his challenging fights were in dreams; Jorah Mormont could not be called a worthy opponent, but Barristan Selmy was a different level.
Arthur Dayne watched the scene with disbelief and sadness, while Ashara, with the same disbelief and sadness, though the latter for her brother more than for herself, rested her hand firmly on Arthur's back.
Lord Whent, seeing that everyone was still transfixed, beckoned to Rhaegar. Deep down the man was probably happy; for Barristan Selmy to die in a duel under his roof was something that would go down in the history books.
"The crown declares Lyn Corbray... innocent and free of all punishment" Rhaegar said, and the shouts after Barristan's death died died down, giving way to much whispering.