Chapter 110: Night's Watch vs. The Red Viper (Part II)
Egger had only been south from the Wall for a few months. During his time in King's Landing, he had maintained a regime of light exercise, often spending two or three hours sparring with that energetic brat Arya... His technique might not have improved, but his basic physical conditioning, muscles, and reaction speeds had not regressed one bit. Having missed his initial thrust but remaining unscathed, he realized his gamble had paid off. He immediately put weight into his right hand, sinking his blade to bypass the opponent's spearpoint. He swung his light arming sword with full force—a fierce upward slash. Oberyn twisted his spear in a fluid circle to neutralize the blow and unceremoniously delivered a strike of his own.
The spear came lunging toward his face. Even without a sharp tip, Egger's instinct screamed that he was about to be run through. He reflexively raised his buckler and twisted his body; by a hair's breadth, he managed to let the spear slide past him. The spearhead tapped the small shield with moderate force, leaving Egger's left arm slightly numb. He knew his own limits better than anyone; the Watchman had no idea he had inexplicably become a target for spear practice and chivalrous restraint. He assumed Oberyn was merely being gracious. Not wanting to stop before his momentum ran out, he let out a low grunt, gritted his teeth, and pressed inward for a close-quarters uppercut.
"Beautiful!"
An inch longer is an inch stronger; a arming sword is inherently at a disadvantage against a spear. To win, one must close the distance—everyone knew this. Egger's sudden advance was an improvisation of the moment, yet it drew a burst of cheers. The common soldiers born of the soil and the half-trained low-level knights couldn't see the nuances of the exchange; they only saw Egger's lightning-fast assault, somehow penetrating Oberyn's inner reach where a spear is hardest to wield. To them, it looked as though he held the upper hand.
Had Brienne not departed, or had a master of the caliber of Barristan Selmy or Jaime Lannister been watching, they would have told the crowd with disdain: Oberyn was holding back by more than just a margin. The Watchman's offense was chaotic and riddled with openings; the only thing worth praising was his speed. Yet the Red Viper chose to ignore the countless vulnerabilities exposed by Egger's reckless aggression, seemingly intent on settling the score purely on the one thing his opponent did well: speed.
One could say Oberyn was being reckless, but it could also be seen as a master's pride. As the finest spearman of the age, he intended to overwhelm Egger in his strongest suit—meeting offense with offense to leave the Watchman speechless in defeat.
Clang! Thump!
...
Forget the common folk; even Egger himself was a bit dazed. He saw a blur before his eyes and felt two heavy impacts on his buckler and sword simultaneously. Not only was his murderous offensive halted instantly, but his momentum was shoved back half a meter, forcing him out of the range where his sword could reach Oberyn. This set of counter-moves by the Prince of Dorne won another round of cheers. The onlookers, unaware of the truth, were led into the illusion of witnessing a clash of titans, and their estimation of Egger rose accordingly.
"Come, again!"
Oberyn grinned, flashing his teeth, and once more spread his arms in a taunting gesture. Egger felt dizzy from the sheer speed of the counterattack. He wanted to find an opportunity to lose on purpose but found he couldn't even manage that. Having just warmed up, surrendering now felt undignified. He bit his lip and charged again.
Bracing his shield for protection and raising his sword overhead, he delivered a swift, powerful downward cleave. The last time Egger had used this move was against an Other. It was an ill-suited choice against a spearman, but since he realized Oberyn had no intention of harming him, the strike was delivered with full confidence and imposing spirit.
"Good!" Oberyn praised as he gracefully stepped out of the path of the cleave. While retreating, he didn't forget to flick the flat of Egger's blade with his spearpoint. Then, like a viper's tongue, the spear darted forward, flickering just inches from Egger's face before dipping down to tap the buckler once more.
(Even though this spear has no point, Oberyn could have easily taken my head just now.)
Was this the strength of the pinnacle masters of the age? Not only did he dodge and counter in an instant, but he even had the leisure to flash the spear in his face before tapping his shield—using action to tell him: If this were a real fight, you would have two extra holes in you within a second!
Even performing above his usual level, Egger was being utterly dominated!
Lose on purpose? One needs sufficient skill even to do that. If he couldn't even see the opponent's movements, what use were his little clevernesses? Gripping his sword, Egger realized how laughable his previous disdain for killing arts had been. When martial skill reaches a certain level, it truly creates a qualitative change. No matter how large a game of gold he played in the future, if a man like this came looking for his life... without a dozen Kingsguard to protect him, a transmigrator was as fragile as any commoner or cannon fodder.
(I really should practice my footwork and blade skills. I don't need to be a master, just enough to survive!) This thought suddenly surfaced, replacing his earlier dismissiveness toward personal combat prowess.
The crowd continued to roar and cheer for the Watchman's ferocious assault and the Prince's clever neutralization. In the ring, Egger was between a rock and a hard place. He saw Oberyn's intent to toy with him, yet he lacked the skill to exploit any carelessness. More embarrassingly—if he couldn't even put up a performance worth toying with, the situation would only get uglier!
The massive gap in their skill levels brought one unexpected benefit: Egger could go all out without worrying about accidentally angering or injuring Oberyn.
Drawn by the names of The Red Viper and The Other-Slayer, the crowd grew larger, the cheers and demands for action louder. Gritting his teeth, the Watchman charged once more, using his shield to push aside the blunt head of the spear. Once again, Egger forced his way into the Red Viper's personal space!
...
The crisp ring of clashing weapons and the shouts of the soldiers filled the air. Having escaped several exchanges without injury, Egger shed his mental baggage and gave it everything he had. His sword blurred into a series of afterimages, which, paired with Oberyn's even faster spear, left the onlookers dazzled.
Thrust... without a moment's rest, he moved into a slash while catching his breath... then used a breath to slam his shield into the spear to keep up the relentless pursuit. Few fought this way; for those without the skill, such a ceaseless assault usually led to broken rhythms and messy form, creating fatal openings. But for a man who had abandoned all defense, the tactic worked perfectly.
Clang! Crack! Thump! ...
The rhythmic, dense sounds repeated in the circle. How much time had passed? Thirty seconds? A minute? Longer? Egger couldn't tell. He only knew he was cycling through every sword drill he had taught Arya two months ago. Yet the gap between Oberyn and himself was far greater than the gap between him and Arya. No matter how fast, irregular, or suicidal his attacks were, the Prince of Dorne would cleanly intercept them the moment they reached their peak, simultaneously tapping or grazing his buckler with the spearhead or the butt of the shaft. The force was exactly enough to leave a mark on the wood, but not enough to crack the shield or knock it away.
The situation was as lopsided as a master teaching a pupil. Ridiculously, the crowd lacked the skill to appreciate this display of Westeros' greatest spear master intentionally increasing his own difficulty level; all they saw were two warriors entwined in a blur of combat, the air thick with the sound of clashing steel and wood.
Thump!
Egger was once again knocked back by a heavy blow to his shield. After steadying himself, he paused. He had pushed his explosive power to its limit and could not continue. He stood there panting, no longer initiating an attack. Glancing down, he saw the small wooden buckler was covered in small dents from impacts and score marks from the spearhead—90% of those marks should have been on his own body. This was restraint taken to the extreme.
The Watchman was exhausted and hurt—the skin on his left hand holding the shield had surely been rubbed raw. Though it was a superficial injury, the friction burned fiercely. He should have worn gloves. As he panted and faced Oberyn, debating his next move, he looked up to see the Prince give him a mysterious wink with his right eye.
(What does that mean? Does he want me to surrender, or keep attacking?) Egger didn't dare move. In terms of technique, he had used almost everything he'd learned in a year. He could probably last a few more minutes if he repeated his drills, but his stamina was failing.
Losing on purpose was out of the question; he needed to surrender while he still had a shred of dignity left!
"Egger! Where are you, boy?"
Through the haze of his exhaustion, Egger heard someone calling his name.
Distraction is usually fatal in a duel, but for Egger, it was a perfect escape... even if he wasn't truly distracted, he would act as if he were. Though he couldn't immediately place the voice, the timing was impeccable!
Egger put on a look of confusion, lowered his arms, and turned toward the source of the sound.
"Hmm?" Oberyn also stopped and looked in the same direction. On a small hillside dozens of meters away, a man in black, led by a brightly armored soldier of Antlers, was making his way toward the circle.
With his decent eyesight, Egger recognized the newcomer instantly: Yoren!
The wait had not been in vain; he had arrived at just the right time!
"The Prince's skill is extraordinary; it has truly opened my eyes!" Egger quickly unstrapped the buckler from his arm, fearing Oberyn might not let him go. "But the Wall has sent a man south, surely on urgent business. I must go receive my brother—I yield!"
For the first time, Egger found that surrendering could be a delightful experience. He walked to the edge of the ring, handed his gear back to the attendants, and prepared to leave.
"Since there is business, then our match ends here. We shall finish this next time," Oberyn said, leaning on his spear and watching Egger with a smile. "I wonder when the Chief Logistics Officer might be free? Why don't we meet tonight to continue exploring the secrets of spear and sword... and perhaps discuss the meaning of life?"
Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/MistaQuartz
On Patreon, you can explore Extra Chapters in advance!