Game of Thrones: Knight’s Honor

"What's wrong with him?" Willas asked Lynd, his gaze fixed on the Dorne contingent. He had noticed the Red Viper sitting listlessly atop his horse, showing no interest even in his paramour's attentions, exuding a palpable sense of emasculation. Something had been amiss with Oberyn for the past two days. He had spoken to Lynd a few times before this apparent change, but the Dorne men-at-arms, who hadn't overheard their conversations, remained oblivious to the cause.

"He's just been dealt a heavy blow," Lynd replied, his tone indifferent, though his words were deliberately vague, revealing nothing of substance.

It was no surprise Oberyn was in this state. For most of his life, he had yearned for a Valyrian steel weapon, only to find no trace of one. Meanwhile, Lynd possessed not one but two Valyrian steel greatswords, each imbued with magical power. How could Oberyn not feel the sting of this disparity?

What broke him further was Lynd's revelation that he had another piece of Valyrian steel armor under construction. Oberyn's composure shattered completely at that moment, and his spirits hadn't recovered since—his mood remaining somber even now, as they set off for Godsgrace Castle.

"Ser Lynd, did you spar with him that day?" Garth Hightower asked as he approached, a hint of expectancy in his voice.

The truth was, Oberyn hadn't been the only one caught off guard during the sparring. Garth and his companions, who had faced Oberyn the previous day, had also underestimated him. Though they were aware of his reputation and strength, they had been swayed by stories and rumors that framed his prowess as reliant on poison. They hadn't expected his sheer skill with the spear to surpass their assumptions.

The result was a crushing defeat, a blow to the knights of The Reach, tarnishing their pride. Yet they clung to a sliver of hope: if Lynd could fight and defeat Oberyn, they might salvage their dignity.

Lynd dashed their hopes with a shake of his head. "That day, I did not fight the Red Viper. He and I both know each other's strength too well, so there was no point in sparring." His gaze shifted to Garth. "If you want to restore your pride, do it yourself, Ser Garth."

Garth shrugged, not bothering to argue. Instead, he began to consider his chances in the upcoming jousting competition, hoping luck might allow him to reclaim some honor against Oberyn.

Meanwhile, Lynd turned his attention to Willas, who was lost in thought. "Was the meeting with Prince Doran not a success that day?" he asked.

"No, it went very well. Prince Doran is a very..." Willas trailed off, searching for the right words to describe the prince but unable to settle on any.

Lynd didn't interrupt, instead surveying the procession and the surrounding forest with a detached eye, ready to address any issues that might arise. After a long pause, Willas finally spoke. "I didn't understand why my grandmother described Prince Doran that way before, but now I think I do."

"The snake in the sand theory?" Lynd prompted.

"Hm." Willas nodded. "At the Water Gardens, I did most of the talking. Prince Doran only interjected once or twice. It felt like I had control of the negotiation, but after leaving, I realized he had been guiding my every thought and word. Each of his comments was like a string pulling me in his desired direction. He's truly a terrifying man."

Willas's expression reflected his unease as he recalled the encounter. He took a swig from a flagon of Arbor Island wine handed to him by a retainer, seeking to calm the strange emotions the memory stirred.

"Lord Willas," Lynd said, his tone measured, "you're very clever—smarter than most your age—but the trouble with clever people is that they overthink things. You don't need to understand Prince Doran completely. All you need to know is whether your ideas gain his approval. Did he reject your proposal for a peace treaty with Dorne?"

"No," Willas replied, shaking his head. "He agreed quickly, but he wasn't optimistic. He set a precondition: one-third of the Lords of Dorne must agree before he'll actively promote it." Willas paused, then turned a suspicious gaze toward Lynd. "Ser Lynd, do you not think highly of my peace proposal?"

"No," Lynd answered bluntly.

Willas blinked, momentarily stunned by the directness. "Why not?" he asked.

"Does it matter what I think? Instead of worrying about my opinion, you should focus on building relationships with the nobles of Dorne—especially Prince Oberyn," Lynd advised. "He has immense prestige in Dorne. If he agrees to support you as a lobbyist, it should be easy to secure the backing of one-third of the Lords."

Willas considered Lynd's words, realizing their validity. He guided his horse toward Oberyn's contingent, determined to act. Lynd, watching him, directed Garth and Jon to accompany and protect Willas, while he himself approached a middle-aged knight riding within the crowd.

"Ser Lothos," Lynd greeted the middle-aged knight with a slight nod.

The knight, momentarily surprised by the unexpected address from Lynd, the captain of Willas's guard, hesitated before returning the greeting. "Ser Lynd, what can I do for you?"

"I heard during my time in The Reach that there's a powerful wild horse roaming near the outskirts of Godsgrace, one that no one has managed to tame yet. Is that true?" Lynd inquired.

Ser Lothos, a sworn knight of House Allyrion, appeared thoughtful. He was a man who had recently returned to Godsgrace after a period of recovery at Sunspear, where illness had delayed his original errand. Now accompanying the procession back to Godsgrace, he found Lynd's question intriguing.

Without responding immediately, Ser Lothos began unfastening the leather armor on his chest. Pulling aside the layers underneath, he revealed a large, sunken horseshoe-shaped scar that spanned nearly his entire chest. The imprint of the hoof was clear, the uneven surface betraying bones that had not properly aligned after healing.

Adjusting his clothes again, the knight spoke, "At the time, I was wearing a wrought iron breastplate. The beast kicked me, shattering the plate and breaking my ribs. I thought I was dead for sure, but Mother Rhoyne blessed me and spared my life."

"Mother Rhoyne?" Lynd asked, pausing in mild surprise. "Ser Lothos, are you an orphan of the Greenblood?"

"Yes," Lothos replied with a nod, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Does Ser Lynd also consider us impure?"

"No," Lynd replied evenly, shaking his head. "It's simply a coincidence. On the ship to Dorne, I read a book about the crossing of the Nameless Sea by the ten thousand ships. It described your people, the Greenblood Orphans, as a branch of the Rhoynar who still uphold their ancient traditions."

The Orphans of the Greenblood, Lynd knew, were a unique group in Dorne. Neither the native Dornish nor the orphans themselves considered the two groups to be the same. Descendants of the Rhoynar warriors who had crossed the sea with Queen Nymeria, the Orphans preserved the traditions of their ancestors, venerating the Mother Rhoyne and resisting cultural assimilation with the Dornish.

Lynd recalled how, after their migration, the Orphans built floating houses and rafts on the Greenblood River, where they had since lived. They made their livelihood by trading goods and maintained an austere image, though their wealth, acquired through control of over 80% of the Greenblood's waterborne trade, was substantial. The term "Orphans of the Greenblood," used derogatorily by the Dornish, carried a sting akin to the word "gypsy" for the Roma in Lynd's previous world.

"I thought your people always followed the old traditions and would never..." Lynd began, trailing off.

"Never leave the raft and become a knight?" Lothos interrupted with a cold, sharp smile. His expression shifted when he realized his tone might seem rude, and he softened, adding with a meaningful undertone, "Meat attracts wild dogs, and weapons are the only way to deal with them."

Although the knight's words were cryptic, Lynd understood their implication.

While outsiders often associated the Orphans with poverty due to their plain clothing and simple rafts, those with insight knew the truth. Beneath their humble facade lay great wealth, which also posed a significant risk. The elders of the Orphans, fully aware of the danger, had chosen to adapt their traditions for the community's survival. They sent their children to serve as squires to knights of various houses, eventually allowing them to rise as knights themselves. These knights, once placed within noble houses of Dorne, provided influence and protection for the Orphans, ensuring their wealth and way of life were safeguarded.

The matter of the Greenblood Orphans was a heavy one, so Lynd chose not to dwell on it. Instead, he redirected the conversation, asking, "Are there many people in Godsgrace trying to capture that wild horse?"

Ser Lothos nodded. "There are many people, but they aren't trying to capture just one—they're after two."

"Two?" Lynd echoed, momentarily stunned.

"Yes, two," Lothos confirmed, then paused before asking, "Ser Lynd, are you interested in the wild horses?"

"Yes," Lynd admitted without hesitation.

Lothos regarded Lynd with a meaningful expression. "You may have the opportunity to catch them, but it will be difficult for you to take them away."

"What do you mean?" Lynd asked, puzzled.

"You'll understand when you reach Godsgrace," Lothos replied, offering no further explanation.

The group traveling from Sunspear moved at a leisurely pace, more like tourists than an army. They followed the riverside road along the Greenblood River heading west, starting each day only after the third arrow in the morning and stopping early to set up camp. Their slow progress allowed prostitutes, sideshow troupes, and various merchants to mingle in the camp. Some Dornish knights even visited the Greenblood Orphan rafts docked along the river to seek entertainment at the brothels.

While the Dornish contingent bustled with activity, the camp of The Reach remained notably quiet. This wasn't because they lacked the desire to indulge like the Dornish, but because they were afraid to.

Every evening, once the camp was set up, Lynd enforced strict defensive measures. He arranged the camp according to proper military rules and ensured that every regulation was followed. Prostitutes and vendors were not permitted to enter the camp. Even the Red Viper himself couldn't set foot inside without Lynd's explicit approval. Guard duty was divided among the knights, and patrols were constant, with Willas under close protection at all times. This disciplined approach sent a clear message to the Dornish: The Reach didn't trust them to safeguard Willas.

The Dornish found this offensive, but they couldn't openly protest. The Red Viper, however, remained unbothered. He and his companions continued their revelry as usual, drinking and playing late into the night. One evening, they even hired a circus to perform just outside The Reach's camp, and later sent prostitutes to tease the soldiers stationed at the perimeter.

The soldiers of The Reach endured the provocations, except for one knight on patrol who succumbed to temptation and sneaked off with a prostitute for a quick rendezvous in a nearby tent. When Lynd learned of this, he didn't immediately punish the knight. This led the other knights to assume he would turn a blind eye.

However, Jon and those who truly knew Lynd understood otherwise. They recognized that Lynd's silence was a sign the punishment would be even more severe.

True to form, the next night Lynd paid for the services of all the prostitutes accompanying the group and enlisted the help of a pharmacist from the Greenblood Orphan boat houses. The knight who had broken the rules earned himself an infamous nickname: Robert Flowers, the man who could fight against a hundred.

This unconventional and humiliating public punishment effectively quelled any restlessness among The Reach's ranks. Lynd's reputation as a strict and unpredictable leader became deeply ingrained in the minds of his soldiers. Even the Dornish were taken aback, shuddering at the thought of Lynd's peculiar methods of discipline.

After this incident, the Red Viper himself grew more restrained, wary of what Lynd might do if provoked further. Though confident in his strength, Oberyn understood that if Lynd decided to act, neither he nor the surrounding Dornish knights would stand much of a chance.

Thus, the group continued their journey, progressing steadily for thirteen days until they finally arrived at Godsgrace Castle.