Chapter 109: Night's Watch vs. The Red Viper (Part I)
"So, it is the legendary 'Other-Slayer.' I have heard much of your fame!" Oberyn gave his spear a casual twirl, then smiled as he leaned on it, sizing up the new opponent who had been shoved into the ring. "Hmm, it seems the rumors aren't entirely fabricated; you certainly don't look like a man of Westeros."
"I hail from west of the Sunset Sea." Since he had been pushed out, there was no sense in turning tail and crawling back into the crowd. Losing to Oberyn was no disgrace, but if he lacked even the courage to try, the reputation of the Night's Watch would rot further. After a flash of quick thinking, Egger decided to state his position first: "I have no quarrel with the claim that Dornish spearplay is supreme! But since I am in the ring, I naturally wish to learn... do you have a blunt sword? The lighter, the better!"
"A blunt sword?" A Dornish soldier immediately assumed Egger was posturing. "See if you can even touch the hem of my Prince's cloak first!"
Oberyn was nearing middle age and lacked the hot-headedness of the younger men. He shook his head. "You may choose any weapon or armor that suits you. If there's nothing here, you can send that lad of yours back to fetch your own. There is no need for practice blades."
Not a chance. Egger carried a sword, but for a half-baked swordsman like himself, there was little difference between a blade he'd used a few times and a standard practice sword. "The Prince may not know, but the primary enemies of the Night's Watch are wildlings. In terms of martial skill, they are little different from ordinary peasants; the only real trouble is their numbers."
...
The mind always grows sharper with use. Since leaving the Wall with Tyrion to start his business in King's Landing, Egger had developed the habit of keeping his mental gears preheated and ready. He wouldn't panic or draw a blank when surprises occurred. Standing in the circle for only a few seconds, he had already thought of several ways to end this encounter gracefully.
"One thousand Night's Watchmen must defend against nearly two hundred thousand wildlings beyond the Wall. On average, that's one Watchman for every two hundred opponents," Egger exaggerated the figures slightly. "Almost every skirmish between the Watch and the wildlings begins with us being heavily outnumbered. Therefore, our training focuses entirely on offense with no regard for defense—only by quickly dispatching the enemy in front of us can we immediately move to rescue a comrade or face the next foe before being surrounded."
It wasn't a total lie, but in truth, wildlings rarely dared to swarm rangers unless they had set a deliberate ambush; otherwise, they usually fled the moment they saw black cloaks in the distance. As long as they stayed away from the Wall, the Watch wasn't bored enough to go around slaughtering villages—usually, the two sides minded their own business rather than living in the constant state of war imagined by the people of the Seven Kingdoms. Occasionally, they even traded for necessities.
"And so?" Oberyn nodded. He truly knew nothing of the Night's Watch; no Martell had ever been forced to take the black.
"So, the fighting style of the Night's Watch is generally quite uninhibited. We are constantly in a state of war and have no concept of 'sparring'; we only think about how to kill." Egger was talking nonsense with a straight face, betting that none of the soldiers present actually knew the garrison of the Wall. "The Prince's martial skill is unrivaled, and you are not like the wildlings we usually face. Furthermore, I am a logistics officer... with live steel, I wouldn't dare boast about whether I could mark you, but I fear my own weakness. If I get flustered during the duel and injure myself, I won't be able to fulfill the duties the King has entrusted to me."
One does not strike a smiling face. Egger was both flattering him and admitting inferiority. Oberyn had no grudge against the Night's Watch, so he had no reason to make things difficult. He smirked and granted the request. "Get him a blunt sword."
...
With that, Oberyn tossed his own spear to a Dornish soldier in the crowd and made a gesture. Soon, a blunted practice spear was tossed back. It was an unwritten rule of sparring: if one side chose an unsharpened weapon, the other side couldn't play dumb. It was a form of chivalry in the age of cold steel.
Despite the current war, it was largely a time of peace, and people were still willing to observe moral codes.
Egger took the sword and declined the armor offered by the organizers, taking only a small buckler to protect his vitals before taking his stance in the center of the ring.
Against an agile opponent like the Red Viper, wearing heavy armor while being less skilled was simply asking for a beating. As for Oberyn... he appeared casual and irreverent, but as one of the true rulers of Dorne, he was a very clear-headed man. Egger hadn't raped or murdered his sister, and he was the only Night's Watch attaché in the camp; Oberyn wouldn't be so reckless as to cause a major incident in an informal spar.
If Oberyn wanted to hurt him, no armor would help; conversely, a small buckler was perfectly sufficient. Of course, judgment was just judgment. For safety, Egger had exerted the effort to get both sides onto blunt weapons and had preemptively explained his all offense, no defense style as a safeguard... now, he could let loose.
The Night's Watch is all offense, and we only kill rather than spar? Total nonsense. But facing a master like the Red Viper, trying to use the basic, mainstream parry-and-riposte techniques taught by Alliser and Gared would result in him being beaten until he couldn't find his own teeth. If you can't defend, don't defend. He was betting that a master as arrogant and self-assured as Oberyn wouldn't take advantage of the obvious openings a novice like him left on purpose.
"I only wish to experience the Dornish spearplay. I ask the Prince to show mercy!" Egger gripped his sword and stood opposite Oberyn, saying something that sounded like a polite formality but was actually his only sincere thought.
(Admit defeat internally, trade a few moves using my most practiced attacks, find the right moment to lose or surrender on purpose, and avoid the pain.)—That was Egger's entire plan.
Simple to say, but in practice, he truly didn't know where to start. Facing the Red Viper for a few seconds, Egger found he didn't even know how to strike. The Prince just stood there, his expression relaxed, his hands busy twirling the spear like a staff. He seemed full of openings, yet in reality, he gave no opportunity to attack.
Egger was almost certain that no matter what angle or movement he chose, he would be met with a storm of counterattacks and mockery. At that point, it might be hard even to lose on purpose. Brienne, who had stood in this spot minutes ago, likely felt the same.
This was a true top-tier master. After less than ten seconds of staring, Egger felt like a nameless henchman in a martial arts movie facing the protagonist. He even had the fleeting hallucination that if I strike, I die; if I don't strike, I still die. He wished his small buckler were several times larger so he could hide behind it completely. Cold sweat broke out on his back, despite the fact that it was still summer in the Vale!
...
"Go on, Other-Slayer!"—Typical onlookers looking for a show.
"Hit him! Show this Southron the strength of the North!"—This came from a Northerner, as Northmen habitually treated those in black as their own.
"Don't dawdle, you're wasting everyone's time!"—This was an impatient soul who likely knew nothing of combat; only a complete amateur would think the observation and testing phase before a fight was a waste of time.
After a few seconds of observation, Oberyn had a rough measure of the Watchman: trained, not a total fraud, but roughly at the level of a competent sellsword. The only interesting thing was that, despite his vast travels and experience, Oberyn couldn't figure out where this man was from. Was he truly from somewhere west of the Sunset Sea, as he claimed?
The man in front of him looked quite dashing. I wonder if he's straight? Oberyn gave a charming, wicked smile and gripped his spear, spreading his arms as if to offer a hug. "Come then. You move first."
Egger had no idea the Dornish Prince had suddenly developed a bizarre interest in him. He only saw that his opponent's chest was wide open—finally, a real opening. If he didn't act now and Oberyn grew impatient, he would likely suffer for it!
He was here to lose, not to win. To hell with it—go!
His left leg slammed into the ground, kicking up dust as Egger lunged forward.
Thanks to the organizers for picking a truly light sword; thanks to his custom high-end black clothes for not hindering his movements... without a single piece of leather armor on him, this thrust made Egger feel as fast as a lightning bolt.
...
The interest in Oberyn's eyes shifted slightly toward seriousness. He didn't join these spars among soldiers just for fun or out of madness; he had goals. Against irrelevant opponents, he would play around, toy with them, and send them away. But if he faced a Lannister, he would beat them senseless. Not only would he strike hard, but he would make sure everyone saw he was targeting them, hoping to provoke them into calling for reinforcements. If he could draw out Gregor Clegane... that would be for the best.
Unfortunately, after standing in the ring for a while, the Lannisters grew fewer and fewer until they vanished entirely. Instead, a seemingly famous Night's Watchman arrived—Oberyn had seen Egger being grabbed and pushed out. Against such an innocent bystander, the Dornishmen naturally held no enmity. Trading a few moves and knocking him down or letting him surrender would be enough.
But this fellow is surprisingly fast!
Oberyn instinctively pivoted and slid to the side to dodge the thrust, while simultaneously using the tip of his spear to flick Egger's blade, cleanly parrying the strike. At this moment, if he swung the spear, he could easily knock Egger over with the butt end. But the sheer speed of the Watchman's strike gave him a taste of real combat. Oberyn decided to ignore the man's lack of defense and play for a few more moves.
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