The ship moved across the sea. On the deck, a light breeze stirred the golden quartered battle banner. The black warhammer and crowned stag, the red three-headed Dragon, the gray-white running Wolf Pack, and the blue-and-white freedmen breaking their shackles all rippled in the wind.
Sunlight poured over the sea and sky, and the view was enough to make a man drunk without wine. Gendry liked the dolphins that swam alongside the warship, cutting through the waves like silver javelins, and he liked the flying fish that flashed past from time to time.
At the bow stood two men who set the tone for the whole ship: one old, one young; one in white armor, one in black; a lord and a sworn man; a king-to-be and a White Knight. They stood together at the prow, chatting and laughing. Both were drinking unsweetened lemon water. Lemons were costly, and lemon water was quite popular among the nobles of Westeros, for this world was, after all, a magically altered, jumbled sort of medieval realm.
Gendry, "the Storm," "the Breaker," "the Swordbreaker," and "the Demon of the Blackwater Rush," was in the prime of youth. His experience at sea could not compare with the "legendary long-distance runners" Viserys and Daenerys. Storms often rose over the Narrow Sea, yet those siblings had crossed it dozens of times as children, fleeing from one Free City to another. Their luck had been astonishing. Fortunately, Gendry did not get seasick, and he was an excellent swimmer.
"Barristan the Bold," Ser Barristan Selmy, drank a cup of slightly bitter lemon water. Beside Gendry, he had to face his own old age all the more directly. Crow's feet had crept around Ser Barristan's pale blue eyes, and hair once bright as sunlight had turned snow-white. He was old now. A knight in his sixties was considered long-lived in the Seven Kingdoms, where even kings rarely reached such an age, let alone a man like Barristan, who had been wounded so many times.
"Ser, what was your youth like?" Gendry asked Ser Barristan. Barristan was a living relic of Westeros, a man who had gone from boy hero to aged knight.
"My past?" Ser Barristan smiled. "My past is written in the White Book."
The Book of the Kingsguard, usually called the White Book, recorded the deeds of every Kingsguard who had protected the king over nearly three hundred years. It was kept on the floor reserved for the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard in the White Sword Tower of the Red Keep. On the top floor of that tower, under the gaze of the Seven, each Lord Commander was responsible for writing and updating its pages. Every member of the Kingsguard had one page to record his life and deeds.
"It must be a splendid page," Anguy the Archer, red-haired and freckled, said with envy. As a fellow man of the Marches, he greatly admired Ser Barristan. Gendry had brought Anguy, Lothor Brune, and Robar Royce on this journey. Jon Snow, Harry the Arse, Guyard Morrigen, and the others remained in King's Landing.
"My father also said you were one of the most legendary Kingsguard," Robar said respectfully. Knights of the Vale were always seen as honorable and dependable warriors. With their firm faith in the Seven, it was only natural for them to revere this living legend.
"Perhaps not the most legendary, but I am certainly one of them," Ser Barristan said after a moment, his smile tinged with bitterness. "My name and deeds may take up the longest entry in the White Book. The earlier part was written by Gerold Hightower, the White Bull. After the Battle of the Trident, I became Lord Commander, and the rest I wrote myself."
"Eldest son of Lord Lyonel Selmy of Harvest Hall. In his youth, he served as squire to Ser Manfred Swann. At the age of ten, wearing borrowed armor and disguised as a mystery knight, he anonymously entered the tourney at Blackhaven, where he earned the name 'the Bold,' though he was ultimately defeated by Prince Duncan the Dragonfly, who knocked off his helm. At sixteen, he anonymously entered the winter tourney at King's Landing. After soundly defeating Prince Duncan the Small and Ser Duncan the Tall, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, he was knighted by King Aegon V Targaryen himself. Later, in the War of the Ninepenny Kings, he slew the last Blackfyre, Maelys the Monstrous, in single combat. He also defeated Romelle Longspear and Cedrik Storm, the bastard of Bronzegate. At the age of twenty-three, he was recommended to the Kingsguard by Lord Commander Ser Gerold Hightower..."
Ser Barristan recited it calmly, yet even in an ordinary tone, his deeds were enough to stir the heart.
Barristan's story was dazzling. Twice the effort and twice the talent had forged the legend of Barristan the Bold. Beyond his tourney victories at Silverbridge, Maidenpool, Oldtown, Storm's End, and King's Landing, where he was often champion, there were also his great feats in battle: slaying Maelys the Monstrous, the last Blackfyre, in single combat; rescuing the Mad King Aerys II during the Defiance of Duskendale despite taking an arrow in the chest; destroying the Kingswood Brotherhood and killing Simon Toyne; fighting at the Battle of the Trident beside his Kingsguard brothers and Prince Rhaegar, suffering sword wounds, arrow wounds, and spear wounds before being pardoned by King Robert; leading men against Old Wyk during Balon's Rebellion; hearing the king's will with Eddard and crossing the Narrow Sea after King Robert's death to read it aloud...
Gendry listened closely. Ser Barristan did not mention the tourney at Harrenhal, not only because he had lost to Rhaegar there, but perhaps also because that tourney had led to the deaths of countless lives.
"But I do not advise you to take this path," Ser Barristan said. "It is hard and full of thorns. You must spend your whole life serving an honor that is both elusive and priceless. When I became a White Knight, I gave up my right to inherit Harvest Hall, and the maiden who should have married me wed my cousin instead. A White Knight needs no lands and has no children. For our whole lives, we serve only the realm."
Ser Barristan looked at Anguy, Robar, and the other young men. "The first duty of the Kingsguard is to defend the king from harm and threat. A White Knight also swears to obey the king's commands, keep the king's secrets, give counsel when the king requires it, remain silent when he does not, serve at the king's pleasure, and defend the king's honor. Most important of all, you must cast aside your own desires. In my eyes, you are still boys. You do not yet understand the weight of that word, desire."
Ser Barristan looked over their young faces: Anguy, fiery and eager; Lothor, silent and loyal; Robar, the noble youth in bronze armor. His advice was sincere. Ser Barristan rather liked these young men in Gendry's service. They all had real talent. They were good steel. Every young man Gendry had raised up was impressive. It was only that the Storm himself shone too brightly, making the others seem less dazzling.
Lust, ambition, greed. The best of the White Knights could restrain themselves, uphold their duties, and die with swords in hand. The fallen ones joined the Game of Thrones one after another.
"I certainly couldn't do it," Anguy said quickly, waving a hand. "I still like sharing joy with girls too much."
Lothor remained silent, but his silence said the same. He was the future king's trusted man. He had no need to join the White Knights and live like an ascetic. Only Robar Royce listened with real seriousness. He had truly considered joining the Kingsguard. If Gendry had not suddenly risen, he might have joined Renly's guard.
"Enough, Anguy. You were never made for it. If I hadn't kept you under strict watch, you'd have spent every golden dragon on women sooner or later," Gendry said mercilessly.
Anguy grinned. What young man was not fond of women?
"Yes, the trial of lust. How difficult it is to overcome," Ser Barristan said, not offended. Prince Lewyn Martell had secretly kept a paramour, and Ser Barristan and his sworn brothers had known of it, but they had guarded their brother's secret. As for Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer, his lust and adultery had stained the glory of the White Knights as deeply as his kingslaying, and Cersei had even borne him three bastards. Even Ser Barristan himself had once held a foolish dream. Lady Ashara.
"The Kingsguard are the finest knights in all the Seven Kingdoms," Robar said with longing.
"They were once, but not today, lad. Now I have only one young brother left, Ser Balon. I once fought beside the Sword of the Morning, Prince Lewyn of Dorne, Gerold Hightower the White Bull, Ser Oswell Whent, Ser Jon Darry, the Kingslayer, and others. But afterward..." Ser Barristan's voice faltered. "Those brothers died one after another. King Robert should never have pardoned the Kingslayer, and the sworn brothers who joined later betrayed their white cloaks."
Ser Barristan could hardly continue. When he fled, those brothers of his had mocked him in the Red Keep, and their skill did not deserve the name of true knights.
"Now there are Meryn Trant, Boros, Mandon Moore, the Hound, Ser Preston Greenfield..." Gendry said. Some of those White Knights had died in the riots, some had drowned, and the overall quality had been poor. One was even in Braavos watching over a little girl. "They really were rather lacking."
"I must restore the glory of the Kingsguard and keep that name from sinking any further," Ser Barristan said. This was one of the greatest tasks left to him in his old age.
Robar murmured the shining names of that generation of Kingsguard with yearning. "The Sword of the Morning. He was powerful. The White Bull was legendary too. As for Prince Rhaegar, my father said he was very charismatic, but also a mystery."
"He was indeed fearless, and a close friend of Prince Rhaegar. As for the White Bull, he was the oldest among us." Ser Barristan's face twitched slightly when he heard Rhaegar's name. "No one could question Rhaegar Targaryen's courage, but he rarely entered tourneys, and he did not love the sound of steel on steel the way King Robert, the Kingslayer, or the Wild Wolf did. He was gifted in many things, and loved the harp more than the lance. He never took joy in fighting."
Lothor and the others had heard more than enough tales about that legendary prince, the prince hidden in the mist.