Game of Thrones: Path of the Hungry Bear

Mid 281 False Spring

I felt a great deal of schadenfreude at the uncomfortable looks on my sons faces as King Aerys II Targaryen verbally abused me for my inability to tamp down rebellion in my house, berating me for my mercantile ways producing unfilial sons. Feel every ounce of bereavement you ungrateful weasels. Galmar looked fit to take the Black to restore the honor of House Mormont.

As for me, the barbed words of the monarch rolled off me like water off the otter's back. Bro came here because he suspects his son of wanting to do what my sons did, but in actual battle instead of sports. I'd say he lives in a glass house, but replacing the Red Keep with a glass version would bankrupt the kingdom.

The people at the table with us timed their laughs well whenever Aerys implied he cracked a joke and only one person was sent off in tears for laughing at something that sounded like the king joking but was actually him just being insane.

I absorbed the insults and laughter and carried it with me into my lance the next day. As a long time unbeaten champion I had preferential placement for this five day event. I could have jousted in the final days and ensured a closer chance at victory in this event where five hundred knights would participate. I chose instead to make a statement and had the organizers place me first. When the event began I had a passable crier announce me, then I posed my challenge to the five champions of the event riding for the honor of Lord Whent's daughter. To make my challenge I simply needed to tap my lance to the presented heraldic shield of one of the champions. I tapped all five of them, starting with that of Ser Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard.

My choice set the crowd to chattering as I would need to complete my challenge back to back, risking losing my mount and my armor should I grow too weary even if I should get past the biggest hurdle of the bunch in the form of the experienced warrior and tourney champion. At this time the Kingsguard were exemplars of their order, a gathering of the best knights in the realm.

Oswell wore a helmet emblazoned with black bat wings, I'd worn my big bearhead pauldrons for this clash and it's possible that my shouts of 'Daubeny' in during tilt threw him off because the he took my lance on his chest with barely any resistance and the thunderous pounding of the head on his breast sent the man straight to the turf.

The audience didn't cheer for my victory, but instead gasped as they learned the truth of how I bring the thunder. Oswell remained motionless on the ground, clapped like never before, and I began to believe I'd killed the past his prime knight until he raised one hand up and the crowd cheered like he won the event.

The other Whent knights cast furious gazes upon me. One would think their desire for the smoke would wane after my showing, but they understood not. I am the smoke. Something Oswell, the best of them, learned first hand.

Four thunderous thuds later and I stood the only champion of the event, and all further challenges had to come to me. I put my supernatural physique, over a decade of training and experience, and my power as a greenseer to use becoming one with my horse and the path of victory. The only restraint I showed in this event was pulling my blows just enough to not outright slay the man on the other end of my tourney lance.

Every knight who thinks he's someone in the Seven Kingdoms attended this tourney and signed up for this event. Thousands were turned away allowing only an elite crop of proven winners onto the lists. With every thunderous collision I proved their place in a world with me in it.

Losers.

I wondered if eventually the competitors would stop the crier from announcing their names and deeds and either forfeit or take the pounding in silence, but each and every competitor gave me another stone to build my temple. They also gave me time to cool off with some cold water or swap horses. The frogmouth helmet, glorious protection that it is, might as well be an oven, and many new users experience panic attacks because of its coffin-like user experience.

Nice of them, but I still chose to rail them harder than they'd ever felt regardless of their generosity.

Those who witnessed that first day of competition called it the Day of Thunder, and that night at the feasting even Aerys couldn't find a harsh word to say about me, and I found myself invited for a post feast meeting with Lord Walter Whent, who personally led me through his megastructure home to his private solar, a lord's office. Whether this was the room's intended purpose or the typical grandiosity of Harrenhal making any old room appropriate for such a place I knew not.

The man plied me with his finest wine and inquired about my health after such a taxing display of power and skill. I took off my shirt and showed him the minor bruising I suffered and showed off my full range of motion and several bodybuilding poses while I was at it. Mesmerized or horrified I cared not. Whent made his offer.

He begged me to skip back to the end of the list and offered me the prize so long as the winner of the tourney sans my participation chose to forego it, he also offered me a modest value for missing out on ransoming the armor of and horses of my competitors, as well as all the 'company' I may desire during my stay at Harrenhal. It was a queer offer, especially so as any lord would be ecstatic at such a display of masculinity and domination at their tourney. It was the stuff of legends. His wording of the other finalist choosing to forego the prize let me know exactly how rigged the final day of competition was.

Rhaegar was no tourney champion. People spoke of his dedication to the martial path, but the man did not ride in prior jousts, nor partake in melees. Despite his supposed skill, Rhaegar was a summer knight, and this conversation confirmed for me my suspicion about his famed victory.

I closed my eyes and let my mind wander through streams of possibility, something that already guided me to this offer and confirmed that if I chose to bow out now, Lyanna would ride on the next day of the tourney and Rhaegar would Rhaegar, AKA fucking up a done deal coup for some Stark quim. All would fall as I desired and they'd pay me for it too. This is real winning, Great Jon. Maybe one day I will allow you to take notes on the topic.

I opened my eyes again and smiled widely at Walter, "I won't insult you by refusing such a generous offer." I nodded in agreement, "But let's talk about your daughter."

"I was unaware that you are looking for a wife, Lord Mormont." Walter's face twitched at the change in direction of the conversation.

"My new friend," I grinned at the man with so much riding on Rhaegar's victory, "I'm not talking about marriage."

Walter Whent went red in the face at my insinuation, but we both knew the man had more on the line than his daughter's future.

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You guys can all thank God I'm not a contracted Xianxia writer, because then this story would have at least a half dozen tournaments and they will all be even longer than this one as I'd introduce every NPC and cheapen the drama with all sorts of bullshit. Mother fuckers would have eyes but not see Mt. Tai.

I'm pretty sure Part 8 or 9 will be the end of this tourney, and since I don't like repeating arcs in a story, we won't see another this drawn out again.

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