In early 299 of the Conquest Era, beneath the clustered White Towers and on a balcony overlooking the garden, Gendry and Barristan watched the knights below swing their blades.
The duel currently surrounded by lords, knights, and squires was between the Blackfish and the Bluecoats.
Gendry valued the old knight highly. Barristan was a legendary knight, unmatched in both skill and character, battle-hardened and experienced in high-level political maneuvering. He could serve as a commander in his own right. Ser Barristan also knew countless stories from Westeros's past, like a living history book and a walking trove of gossip. The history and tales known to someone who had lived through them were often far subtler and more detailed than what a maester could provide. Maesters did not stand within politics, were not figures of high rank, and above all, maesters did not understand war.
Clang! Clang!
From the garden below the balcony came the clash of blades, steel striking steel. The Blackfish and a young knight from the Vale were dueling in the garden, surrounded by white statues. Though old, the legendary knight remained hale and formidable. Dressed in a red-and-blue cloak and gray chainmail, the Blackfish soon pressed forward like a breaking wave, knocking aside the young knight's sword and denying victory to the Bluecoats who represented the Vale.
"Ha!"
The young knight in the sky-blue cloak wore an embarrassed look as he picked up his blunted sword and shield and withdrew in frustration. Then the other knights began to stir, eager to try their luck. Ser Brynden was a famous knight. Defeating him in a longsword duel would do wonders for a young man trying to make a name for himself.
Tournaments and victories in war were the best paths for a knight to rise, especially when challenging a knight known throughout the world.
"Ser Brynden won," Gendry said to Ser Barristan. Tournament combat was different from a trial by combat. It placed more emphasis on honor and direct confrontation. If this had been a trial by combat, the young Bluecoats knight could naturally have circled around and used his stamina advantage first. But Vale knights were Vale knights, after all. They preferred charging head-on to acting with cunning.
"I fear the Vale knights will not accept defeat so easily. They are proud knights," Ser Barristan said with a frown.
Sure enough, the Vale swordsman Ser Lyn Corbray could not resist stepping forward. The young swordsman was slender as a longsword, yet extremely dangerous, with long hair the color of rust. Lyn drew his blunted sword in challenge, and the Blackfish drew his as well. Their blades danced into a blur, and everyone shouted their approval.
"Lyn!"
"Lyn!"
"Blackfish!"
Far fewer people shouted for the Blackfish. After all, the matter with Lysa remained a barrier between them. It was destined to become a shadow that House Arryn and House Tully could never fully dispel.
"It seems knights are more popular than blacksmiths." Gendry looked down at the noisy Vale lords, knights, and servants, all of them watching with bright-eyed excitement. The influence of the Andal invasion on Westerosi culture had made knights the main force in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms, and knightly culture had become part of the broader culture. Aside from places like the North, the Iron Islands, and Dorne, which had not been deeply permeated by Andal culture, the other kingdoms all held knightly culture in high regard.
Gendry now felt that King Robert's spending on tournaments was not entirely useless. Everyone enjoyed a spectacle. The excitement of a tournament and the king's generosity helped his reputation and made people love him, though the debt only grew larger and larger, and his spending showed no restraint.
"Prince, a tournament knight is not a knight of war. These knights will come to understand that. I have seen hundreds of tournaments and far more wars than I would ever wish to remember. No matter how strong, how swift, or how precise a knight may be, so long as he is human, he has limits," Ser Barristan said as he watched the swordsmen duel.
"Ser Barristan, ordinary knights naturally have limits. But before Dragons, before so many impossible things, I believe you will find that the world's limits reach far beyond what you imagine," Gendry said to the old knight. He himself was breaking through the limits of a warrior.
A knight's strength was finite, but the power of Bloodline and magic could let a man stand beside gods.
After the Tides of Magic, the laws of Westeros would shift from low magic to high magic. The age of magic was coming. Unearthing the secrets of Bloodline and faith, and breaking past the limits of humanity, was not impossible. Those strange and unpredictable magics were something Gendry had no choice but to face. He knew that at least Crow's Eye might already have found an opportunity to surpass human limits.
"Magic is a sword without a hilt. It cannot be controlled. Besides, every faithful man and woman would curse magic," Ser Barristan warned him, because everyone knew the secret of magic lay in blood for blood and fire for fire, and Lord Bloodraven reeked of magic.
Gendry smiled but did not reply. Instead, he compared the weapons being used below.
"In a narrow space, a scimitar's length becomes a disadvantage," Gendry said to Ser Barristan as he watched the Blackfish and Lyn clash. This was something he had worked out from his own battles. If the space was too tight, a scimitar was hard to maneuver. It was better suited to broad, sweeping strikes.
Gendry touched the Dragonbone-hilted Valyrian steel Arakh scimitar at his waist. This weapon was best for hacking and killing. From horseback, it could leave deep, long wounds on an enemy. Added to Gendry's height, long reach, and immense strength, his blade swept across the battlefield like a hurricane, overwhelming skill with raw power.
"Take a look, Ser." Gendry drew his scimitar and handed it to Ser Barristan for a closer inspection. The old knight's hair was snow-white, and deep crow's feet lined the corners of his pale blue eyes, yet age had not bent his straight back or dulled his exquisite skill.
Ser Barristan held the scimitar. It had a Dragonbone hilt and a black blade, rippled across its surface in a deep, muted black, the color of most Valyrian steel weapons. In the hands of a truly skilled master Smith, the ripples could also be made gold or red, though the difficulty would increase greatly.
A Valyrian steel weapon with golden ripples would shine brilliantly on the battlefield, and gold was also one of the colors of House Durrandon and House Baratheon.
"As expected of a Valyrian steel weapon. It is lighter than I imagined, just as the legends say. No other metal in the world can be forged this thin while still retaining such deadly power. These ripples are the marks left by countless hammer blows during the forging," Ser Barristan said.
"Prince Gendry, you have two choices." Ser Barristan handled the scimitar for a while, then returned it to Gendry. "The first is to melt this blade down. The Qohorik are our allies, and they could forge a new Valyrian steel sword from it. But Arakh scimitars are even rarer than longswords, so that would be a shame. The second is to obtain another Valyrian steel sword, but that would be far too difficult. Many great lords do not even have one."
The most common Valyrian steel weapons were longswords and daggers. Valyrian steel axes and scimitars were extremely rare. Caggo of the Windblown Company possessed one such scimitar, and it was said that the treasures of House Celtigar included a Valyrian steel axe. As for the most precious Valyrian steel armor, none had yet appeared in the world.
"That's true. This Valyrian steel Arakh scimitar is rarer than a sword, and I can't bear to melt it down. A blade is a blade. It represents slaughter, while swords and warhammers seem more common, and better able to represent kingship. If only I could get a few more Valyrian steel swords." Gendry's voice was filled with intense longing.
When it came to Valyrian steel, forging it was inferior to buying it, and buying it was inferior to stealing it. This Arakh scimitar was the spoils he had gained by killing Bloodbeard. If Gendry could get his hands on one Valyrian steel blade, then finding another two longswords was still possible.
"Then I wish you good luck. After all, many people now call you Lucky Gendry, Gendry the Lucky." Ser Barristan laughed heartily. In Gendry's tone, Valyrian steel sounded as common as onions. If House Royce, House Lannister, and House Hightower heard such confident words, they would be furious. All of their Valyrian steel weapons had been lost. Tywin had sought out impoverished houses in the realm at least three times, offering great sums to purchase their Valyrian steel swords, but he had been refused every time. Great houses were willing to marry into House Lannister, but when it came to ancestral swords, there was no room for negotiation.
"Lucky. Favored." The old knight felt that Gendry truly might succeed. Gendry's fortune was astonishing, and the speed of his rise rivaled the Conqueror's. In the future, he might really gather many Valyrian steel weapons. Even now, the equipment Gendry already possessed, the Valyrian steel scimitar and the double-curved Dragonbone longbow, was already far beyond extravagant.
"There don't seem to be many Valyrian steel weapons openly seen in the world today?" Gendry asked Ser Barristan. After all, the old knight knew this history best.
"Valyrian steel swords are rare treasures. Only a few thousand have survived to this day, and about two hundred of them are in Westeros. Some ancient noble houses would never allow their weapons to be seen at all. It is common for Valyrian steel weapons to be lost. The Dragonlord's Blackfyre and Dark Sisters, and House Lannister's Brightroar, have all vanished without a trace. Under such circumstances, many nobles are even less willing to reveal news of their heirlooms lightly," Ser Barristan said.
Gendry nodded. Valyrian steel was a limited treasure numbering only a few thousand pieces, and many of its owners kept it hidden.
Gendry knew that Blackfyre might be somewhere across the Narrow Sea, while Dark Sister had likely followed Bloodraven and been buried somewhere in the snowy wastes beyond the Wall. If he could obtain a Valyrian steel longsword, those two would be the finest choices. Lamentation, Truth, Vigilance, and Brightroar were all lost swords as well. Since the art of making Valyrian steel had been lost, Valyrian steel weapons now depended entirely on a house's legacy and luck. Even a minor lord like Mormont had one, while great houses like House Arryn and House Tyrell had none.
"Valyrian steel, dragon eggs, and those distant kin of the Dragonlords..." These were among the most precious treasures in the Known world. Naturally, the more he had, the better. Gendry also had a detailed list and clues in hand, and he intended to keep watch over each one. Blackfyre, Dark Sister, Valyrian steel armor, and those lost dragon eggs.
While the two of them chatted idly, the duel below had reached its fiercest point. Ser Lyn was, after all, young and strong. His shifting rhythm and layered swordsmanship began to overwhelm Ser Brynden, until a loud clang forced the old knight back, ending the bout in defeat.
"I've lost," the Blackfish said with a bitter smile. Lyn, meanwhile, raised his blunted sword and displayed it proudly.
"Lyn! Lyn!" the Vale knights and squires shouted in excitement, their lances and scabbards clattering together.
"House Tully's reputation is truly in ruins this time," Ser Barristan Selmy said with a sigh as he looked at the defeated, bitter-faced Ser Brynden on the field.
"As for the treason, we can only claim publicly that Littlefinger was behind it, and pass over Lysa's part as lightly as possible. Otherwise, it will damage Lord Jon's reputation. The Vale lords have agreed to this as well. It is best for everyone," Gendry replied. For honor, and for what little friendship remained between the Fish and the Eagle, they would endure it for the greater good.
Gendry looked at Ser Brynden, the old knight who was still so fierce, and felt the misery of a house struck by misfortune. From now on, he feared the Vale lords, or perhaps any other great lords, would no longer marry into House Tully. Their reputation had fallen even further.
"Lysa's love for Littlefinger was poison. Lysa loved her Littlefinger. No, it was the little girl in her heart who loved him, not the Lady of the Eyrie." Ser Barristan sighed. He had seen too many wars born from misguided love. Prince Rhaegar had fallen in love with Lady Lyanna, and tens of thousands of innocent people had died for it. Daemon Blackfyre had fallen in love with the first Daenerys, and when he could not marry her, he launched a rebellion.
"This matter ends here. I have already sentenced Lysa to death. But in the future, what everyone wishes to hear is that Lysa had no improper relationship with Littlefinger after her marriage. She was the innocent Lady of the Eyrie, no matter what happened before she wed. She simply loved her child too much, was deceived by Littlefinger, and offered up a single tear." Gendry stood tall and straight, like a sword. A sharp sword.
For the sake of honor, Lord Jon had paid too much in the end. But this was also what the Vale lords demanded.
"As High as Honor." Ser Barristan nodded. Even an ordinary lord could hardly withstand such a scandal, let alone House Arryn, an ancient Andal royal house that clung most fiercely to honor. Worse still, it concerned their beloved old Lord Jon.
"Prince, regarding your title, why do your letters not bear the name Baratheon?" Ser Barristan asked. Gendry's letters carried only the words "Heir Gendry."
"I have a new idea, Ser. From now on, there will be no Targaryen on the throne, and no Baratheon either. Only a new house name." Gendry looked at the old knight. Since House Baratheon had once replaced House Durrandon, there was no reason his own new house could not replace House Baratheon.
"Just as House Justman did in the Riverlands long ago? No wonder you are in no hurry to be crowned," Ser Barristan said, understanding at once.
Benedict Riverwood had originally been the bastard son of House Blackwood and House Bracken, and later became the founder of House Justman. According to Maester Yandel, he was often treated coldly when he was young, but he still went on to become a great knight known as Ser Benedict the Bold, the same epithet as Ser Barristan.
House Blackwood and House Bracken were the first to support this bastard of two bloodlines. Later, Benedict spent more than thirty years gradually destroying the other petty kings of the Riverlands before crowning himself king. After becoming king, Benedict the Fearless was praised as Benedict the Just, and because of that, he took the name and founded his own house, House Justman.
"Since I am the new Breaker, the new Dragonlord, and the new Storm King, then naturally I need a house name that encompasses both the past and the present."
Ser Barristan could not help nodding. A new house would indeed help mend the kingdom's long years of division, display the new king's Glory, and proclaim the union of dragon and stag.
House Baratheon looked fractured now, and Princess Daenerys would certainly have no objection. People were drawn to beauty. That was one of life's truths. Gendry was the favorite of this age, bearing both the ferocity of a warrior and the radiance of a Breaker. He was the Storm, and every girl lost her heart to him.
"The road ahead is long, Ser Barristan. I need this crown, but the crown means responsibility. You may think the wars between the lords are terrible now, but the future we face will be darker and far more frightening," Gendry explained to Barristan.
"I am at your service," Ser Barristan promised. He believed the young man before him possessed an extraordinary charm, enough to overcome every hardship.
The Long Winter, the Long Night, the Dragon, the Mage, the Faceless Men, and Crow's Eye, who was like an evil god. Only after surviving all these trials would Gendry become the true, one-of-a-kind king.
The Storm should be Fearless and conquer all, just as Durran once declared war against the gods in the heavens.
...
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