The Stronghammer - CH - 19 (Patreon)

As the day of King Viserys’ wedding to Alicent Hightower drew closer, the air around King's Landing buzzed with anticipation. Banners were being raised, pavilions built, and noble lords and ladies from across the Seven Kingdoms poured into the capital for the grand event. The streets were alive with color, the smell of roasting meats, and the excitement of the people. But for Robert Stronghammer, the days were filled with something much different—grueling practice.

Robert had never been a jouster. The sport, while popular among the nobility, had always seemed to him more a game of prestige than a true test of a warrior. As a man who had faced real combat, who had broken bones with his warhammer and felt the sting of steel in battle, he had little interest in such displays. Yet, now, it was necessary. Jousting was his only ticket into the wedding of the king, where he would have the chance to infiltrate the Red Keep and complete the Legion’s mission.

From dawn until dusk, Robert practiced his jousting technique. His mare, Mya, was a swift and powerful beast, and she responded to his commands with grace and speed. The bond between them was strong—Mya had carried him through many adventures, and her strength would be crucial in this tournament. But Robert knew that even with a fast horse and powerful build, jousting required finesse, something he lacked.

Fortunately, the knights of the Blackstone Legion were there to help him. Though none of them were jousting champions either, they knew the tactics well enough, and they drilled Robert relentlessly. Every tilt down the makeshift lists set up in their hidden courtyard was a lesson in precision, balance, and timing.

“Keep your lance steady!” Holden Cross barked from the sidelines as Robert charged down the lane, aiming his lance at the target.

Robert gritted his teeth, adjusting his grip on the long weapon, but the tip wavered just as it made contact, striking the edge of the target and glancing off.

Holden shook his head. “Your strength is working against you, Robert. You’re too eager to hit hard. Focus on control.”

Robert slowed his horse at the end of the lane and turned her back toward the group, frustration evident on his face. “I can crush a man’s skull with a hammer, but I can’t hit a target with a bloody lance. This is ridiculous.”

“It’s not about brute strength,” said Ser Samuel Storm, one of the more experienced knights in the Legion. He stepped forward, adjusting the position of Robert’s lance in the saddle. “Jousting is about precision. A well-placed strike can unseat a man just as easily as a powerful blow. You need to treat it like a dance, not a brawl.”

Robert huffed but nodded, understanding that this was part of the process. Though jousting was not a skill he’d ever valued before, it was a necessary evil now. He needed to master it, at least well enough to win his first few matches in the tournament. The further he advanced, the better his chances of receiving an invitation to the king’s wedding—and an opportunity to carry out the Blackstone Legion’s mission.

Day after day, Robert repeated the drills. His body, already conditioned by years of battle, adapted quickly to the new movements. He practiced riding in full armor, learning to balance the weight of his lance and shield as Mia thundered down the jousting lanes. His strikes, while still occasionally too forceful, began to find their mark with increasing frequency.

The knights of the Legion, though not jousters themselves, helped him study the craft. They reviewed the techniques of famous jousters, taught him the strategy of reading his opponent’s movements, and even worked with him on feints and counterattacks that might catch a more seasoned jouster off guard. It was not a natural fit for Robert, but his dedication to the cause—and his desire to succeed—drove him forward.

In the evenings, after hours of exhausting practice, Robert would sit with the knights, nursing bruises and fatigue. They would speak of the mission, of what awaited him in the Red Keep, and how important it was that he succeed. He often found himself thinking about the assassination, the task that loomed ahead. Yet, for now, his mind had to be on the tournament.

The night before the tournament, Holden Cross approached Robert as he was tending to Mia. “You’ve made great progress,” he said, his voice carrying a rare note of approval.

Robert stroked Mya’s mane, feeling the steady rhythm of her breath under his hand. “I hope it’s enough.”

Holden nodded. “It will be. The tournament is not about being the best jouster. It’s about standing out, making enough of an impression to be invited into the Red Keep. That is where the real test begins.”

Robert looked up, meeting Holden’s gaze. “And when I’m inside?”

Holden’s expression darkened slightly. “When you’re inside, we will tell you who your target is. But remember, Robert—this is about the greater good. The path may be dark, but the destination is what matters.”

Before Robert Stronghammer could enter the tournament, he realized he needed a squire—someone to assist him with the armor, lances, and the small but crucial tasks that would keep him focused on the joust. He wasn’t looking for someone to serve him permanently, just someone for the duration of the tournament. Someone reliable, with a quick hand, but who wouldn’t ask too many questions.

It didn’t take long for Robert to find the right person. Tyson, the son of Ser Samuel Storm and a local prostitute, fit the bill perfectly. Though Tyson’s parentage marked him as a commoner, he had been around knights and warriors his entire life, watching from the shadows and learning their ways. Samuel Storm hadn’t fully claimed Tyson as his son, but he had kept an eye on him from a distance, making sure the boy was fed and sheltered.

When Robert approached Tyson, the boy was eager for the opportunity. The promise of coin sweetened the deal, but it was more than that. Tyson had grown up wanting to prove himself, and working as a squire for a knight like Robert offered a chance to get closer to the life he had always watched from afar.

“You’ll help me with my armor,” Robert explained, “and you’ll swap out my lances during the joust. If I advance far enough, I’ll see that you’re rewarded. But this is no permanent thing, Tyson. You do this well, you’ll get your pay and can go on your way.”

Tyson nodded eagerly, understanding the terms. “I’ll do whatever you need, ser. I’ve been around knights all my life. I won’t let you down.”

From that day on, Tyson joined Robert in his training. He watched closely as the knights of the Blackstone Legion worked with Robert, offering advice and adjusting his techniques. Though Tyson was young, he was quick with his hands and keen of mind, learning what was needed to properly prepare Robert for each tilt. He helped Robert don his heavy armor with surprising efficiency, his small but nimble fingers fastening buckles and straps faster than most experienced squires.

In return, Robert taught Tyson what he could about the basics of fighting, passing along simple but effective lessons. Tyson was no knight-in-training, but he learned to handle a sword well enough to defend himself, should the need ever arise. More importantly, Tyson was learning the mindset of a warrior—the determination, the focus, and the discipline that came with the role.

As Robert’s practice continued, he grew more confident in his ability to face the knights of the tournament. His jousting improved daily, and with Tyson by his side, everything became smoother. The young squire was attentive and sharp, knowing when to fetch a new lance or when to offer water. The two of them developed a silent understanding, communicating with looks and nods rather than words.

By the time the tournament approached, Robert felt prepared for whatever challenge lay ahead. Tyson had proven himself invaluable, and with his help, Robert was ready to face the best knights the Seven Kingdoms had to offer.

“Do you think you’ll win?” Tyson asked one night as they prepared for the final day of training.

Robert smirked, tightening the straps on his gauntlets. “I’ll go as far as I need to. I don’t need to win, just to get inside that castle. But if I win… well, that wouldn’t hurt either.”

Tyson grinned, excitement lighting up his young face. “I think you’ll win, ser. No one trains as hard as you.”

Robert clapped the boy on the shoulder. “Just keep doing your part, Tyson, and we’ll both walk away from this richer than we started.”

With his new squire by his side and his confidence growing, Robert was now ready for the tournament. He would face knights with names and titles, men who had built their reputations on the tourney field. But Robert had fought real battles, survived true wars, and now he had the backing of the Blackstone Legion. With Tyson aiding him, Robert felt certain that no knight in the Seven Kingdoms could stop him from reaching his goal.

As the wedding day of King Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower approached, King's Landing underwent a transformation. The streets were filled with people from all corners of the Seven Kingdoms, eager to witness the grand event. Banners of different houses fluttered in the wind, and the city buzzed with the excitement of the celebration and the upcoming tourney.

The tourney itself was set to be a grand affair, lasting three days. The first day would feature archery, spear-throwing contests, and various other displays of skill, including singing, dancing, and other entertainments. The second day promised the chaos and excitement of the grand melee, where knights would battle in a free-for-all, and the third day was reserved for the jousting—the most prestigious event of all.

Robert Stronghammer, known across the Seven Kingdoms for his prowess, was naturally among the knights selected to participate in both the melee and the jousting. His reputation had spread far and wide, and as soon as he arrived, his name was whispered among the nobles and commoners alike. Many noble families sought to have their sons squire for him, viewing it as an honor and a stepping stone to greatness.

But Robert had already chosen Tyson, the son of Ser Samuel Storm and a local prostitute, to assist him during the tournament. Tyson, despite his low birth, had proven himself reliable and capable. This choice, however, stirred discontent among the noble families, who saw it as an insult that Robert—a renowned knight—would select a commoner over their sons.

"Why did you take a common boy as your squire?" one lord demanded during a gathering before the tournament. "There are many worthy sons of noble houses who would jump at the chance to serve you."

Robert, never one to mince words, answered bluntly. "Tyson's not my squire, not in the way you're thinking. He’s here to help during the tournament, that’s all. I don’t have the time to train anyone full-time, especially not right now."

His response didn’t entirely quell the murmurs of discontent, but it silenced the more vocal complaints. The nobles grumbled amongst themselves, but none dared challenge Robert’s decision outright. After all, Robert Stronghammer had a reputation not just as a knight but as a man who did what he thought best, no matter what others believed.

As the tournament began, the city’s attention shifted away from the controversy and toward the spectacle itself. The first day was filled with laughter, music, and feats of skill. Archers hit impossible targets, spearmen threw with deadly accuracy, and singers enchanted the crowds with their voices. It was a day of celebration, and spirits were high throughout the Red Keep.

Tyson, for his part, did his job without drawing too much attention. He helped Robert with his armor, prepared his weapons, and made sure everything was in place for the coming events. As the two of them moved through the tournament grounds, Tyson couldn't help but marvel at the grandeur around him. He had never seen so many lords and knights gathered in one place, nor had he imagined being so close to them.

"You nervous?" Robert asked Tyson as they prepared for the melee the following day.

Tyson looked up at him, surprised by the question. "A bit, ser. It’s a lot to take in."

Robert chuckled. "Just remember your job. Don’t worry about the rest."

Tyson nodded, feeling a bit reassured. He admired Robert's calm demeanor in the face of such grandeur and chaos. To Tyson, this tournament was the biggest event of his life, but to Robert, it was just another battlefield.

The second day brought the grand melee, and it was a fierce competition. Knights from across the realm clashed in brutal combat, and Robert Stronghammer, true to his reputation, cut through the ranks with precision and power. His strength and skill were on full display, and Tyson could see why Robert was so feared and respected. Every time Robert felled an opponent, the crowd roared in approval.

As Robert emerged victorious in the melee, the nobles watched with admiration and wariness. Despite the grumblings about his choice of squire, none could deny his prowess on the battlefield.