Percy might've thought, given the abandon so many had partied with the night before, that the second banquet would be a quieter affair.
That proved how little he knew of tournaments. The first dinner only inflamed spirits. New arrivals heard stories from those that had been there the night before, men had found drinking buddies and fresh friends to make merry with, and in some cases love was blossoming. Or something simpler and steamier, in the case of those who'd found a favorite camp follower, offering extra coin to purchase a bit of exclusivity.
The table where their group ate was more crowded this time. It was the same set as the night before, with only Myles Manwoody remaining behind, except tonight they'd added one more to their number.
Tallad turned his head right and left. By choosing this table, Percy's group had been underselling themselves somewhat, but Tallad had eaten another two tables back on the first night mixed amongst shepherds, stonemasons, and soldiers-at-arms.
There were plenty of Hedge Knights sitting nearby tonight. Down the table, Percy even spied the ponytailed knight with dark hair and eyes that he'd nearly gotten into a scrap with. Plenty of Tallad's peers were there, the boy just struggled to think of himself as one of them.
"I was knighted less than a year past," Tallad had confessed to them. "This is all… It's very new."
Their table had more faces than it had a day prior, but the largest change was seen amongst the hosts.
Percy had noticed that almost half the seats at that table had sat empty. They were full now, all filled with Hightower faces. The Mullendores were sworn to the lords of Oldtown, a relationship that looked to be close. Mark Mullendore, the monkey-owning heir to Uplands, was sitting with a boy around his age, talking and laughing so hard that his monkey found it challenging to stay perched on his arm.
Eyes drifting toward the middle of the table, Percy picked out the man who'd ridden at the front of Hightower procession. Willas Tyrell had the central seat, his work put away tonight so he could focus on the men either side of him. Martyn Mullendore was on the left, and on the right sat the Hightower leader.
"Ser Garth the Graceful," Drey said. "He's quite famous, you know."
Apparently, Percy's staring had been noticed.
"He's the heir?" Percy asked.
"Oh, no," Drey said. "He's second in line. Third, by Dornish custom, but an elder sister means little in the Reach. I thought you might know, given the way you were eyeing him. Ser Garth is famous for holding a sword in his hand."
Drey lowered his voice, leaning closer.
"At first, it was about his skills. Now it's about what sword he wields."
Percy couldn't see anything about Garth's sword except that he was the only one at the table who kept one strung to his hip during dinner. Garth was wearing clothes fit for the occasion, spun from silk and colored in bright dyes a lowborn could never afford. Yet he kept his sword with him.
"The heir of Oldtown is a handsome man with a honeyed tongue. Wise, or so the stories say, which means he must be at least charismatic," Drey said. "He isn't the sort of man whose qualities gleam on a murky battlefield. So he came to an agreement with the oldest of his brothers and his aging father. For the good of the house, Garth will hold Vigilance."
"A poor wordplay," Tomar said. "Drey means that he carries his family's sword. Vigilance, it's called. From the forges of old Valyria."
"Real Valyrian steel?" Tallad asked. His eyes had lit up. "Then, within that scabbard…"
Percy was interested too. He heard the stories from Dyanna first, and her stories were different from the kind that were usually told. Valyrian Steel was a metal a thousand times as precious as gold, lighter, faster, and stronger than any other metal— except, Dyanna insisted, for metal that came from the stars.
She didn't paint stories of glorious warriors or great battles. She told Percy about the whispered origins of these dangerous weapons. They were born in forges powered by fire and blood, brought into being by smiths who would cross any line. Most people thought these were all myths and idle rumors. Dyanna disagreed.
Percy would've loved to study Vigilance and see if he could sense any echoes of that past. But Garth Hightower was hardly going to hand it over if he asked politely. Shaking his head, Percy returned to his meal, only to stop as he noticed something.
Garth was looking in his direction. Turning his head, Percy tried to figure out if the man was looking at him or someone nearby. The moment passed quickly enough that he never figured it out. Garth Hightower went back to what he'd been doing the whole meal prior— speaking and jesting with Willas Tyrell as if Willas was another of his sons. At points, Garth laughed so hard that he doubled forward.
Tomar was the first of them to finish his meal, leaving a collection of pheasant bones spread across his plate.
"Face me again tomorrow," he said.
Tallad, the object of his attention, froze. The huge boy had triple the number of bones on his plate as Tomar and was still eating, more meat in his hands.
"It would be an honor, m'lord," Tallad said, "but, as it were, I wasn't planning on visiting it— the field, I mean. If I were planning nothing, I'd do as you ask of course! But it is, or I already have, given my word, that I'd be somewhere. So begging forgiveness…"
"Fine," Tomar said.
His eyes turned to Drey, settling for the idea of beating the Dalt black and blue. Maybe because of that attention, Drey turned, putting an arm around Tallad's shoulders. He had to lean forward awkwardly in order to do it since the Hedge Knight was so much bigger than he was.
"Given your word, ey?" Drey closed his eyes, sniffed twice like a dog on the trail of a fox. "I smell a woman."
Tallad's jaw clicked shut. He didn't seem to know what to say, so he chose to say nothing and let the blush sweep over.
"Who is she?" Drey asked eagerly. "Found a spritely follower that you want to lock down—"
"She's no whore," Tallad said. Belatedly, he added, "Ser."
Drey leaned back slightly, palms up for peace. "Nothing wrong with a good whore. But I meant no offense. Is she a servant, then? Or maybe an innkeep's daughter? If she's the daughter of someone more worldly, say nothing dear friend." Drey lowered his voice. "Just blink twice."
Tallad didn't catch his meaning. "She sells flowers," he said. "But she's not my woman, or anything of the sort. I told her that I liked them, and she said she would show me where she picks them. That's all."
"Picking flowers with a maiden in a meadow," Drey said dryly. "I've heard stories like that before. Play your cards carefully, and there'll be an extra flower for you to pick. Hers."
"Must you always be crude?" Valena asked. "You rob my appetite."
"There's nothing to be disgusted by," Drey said. "It's all entirely natural."
"That doesn't mean you must discuss sex every other word," Valena insisted.
"If this fool gives you advice, make like your ears are full of wax," Tomar told Tallad. "He'll lead you astray."
"And should he listen to you instead?" Drey asked. "Gallant Ser Tallad has already gotten further than you, from the whispers I've heard."
"What whispers?" Tomar demanded. "What are you referring to?"
Drey looked upward, earnestly gazing on the heavens. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Tomar. If it bothers you so much, come with me in Oldtown. I can introduce you to a whole new world."
"If you even think about accepting that offer, I'll tell mother," Valena said.
Tomar cleared his throat, patting Tallad's arm.
"Be a gentleman," he said. "Chivarly will never fail you, so long as you hold true to it."
"Chivarly is wonderful whilst clothes are on," Drey said. "Once they're off, it's best to be a bit of an outlaw."
"We're picking flowers, sers!" Tallad said, red in the face and as loud as if he'd been in the cups.
Other men nearby heard the gist of his predicament and started to chime in. Plenty of people were looking on either side of them, many just laughing while others called out suggestions. Percy looked down the table, smiling, and happened to end up spotting the ponytailed knight.
Percy looked at him more carefully this time without the threat of a brawl. Other than his short fuse, the only thing Percy knew was that he had a habit of looking sullenly at the host table. He'd been doing it for almost the entire meal. Until now, when Tallad had caught his attention.
The man was already drinking, having brought his own wine in a leather bag. Around his late thirties, his nose was large and curved downward, skewed slightly to the right down at the tip. He was wearing leather that looked tough enough to stop a dagger, an outfit that must have been both expensive and uncomfortable. He was one of the most richly dressed at their table, which did nothing to alleviate natural glare.
Tyene touched Percy's hand under the table. He quit studying the stranger, enjoying Tyene's much handsomer face instead.
"I would prefer a private party tonight," she said. "With luck, I was hoping you would think the same."
When dinner ended and the true drinking started, Percy left with Tyene this time, retiring for the night.
Neither of them slept for a long while.
O-O-O
Four hours later than the day before, Percy and Tyene were back on the path to Lower Spylcreek. It was just them, since Tomar had dragged Drey off to spar. Ser Myles went with them, while Valena was overseeing the servants who were handling the washing, including the polishing of Percy's armor. The tournament began tomorrow, and without a squire, someone had to handle that kind of task.
Which left Percy and Tyene with ample time to spend in the middle of the day. They followed the road toward the village they'd visited the day before, passing a jousting arena that now stood nine-tenths complete.
"Are you sure we aren't spying?" Percy asked.
"Spying?" Tyene gave Percy innocent doe eyes that didn't fool him at all. He'd seen — and felt — the things she did the night before. "I would never. Is it a crime for a maiden to want to see flowers?"
"The timing is awfully coincidental."
"I don't know what you might be referring to."
Percy raised an eyebrow. "Our friend went to pick flowers today with a pretty young merchant he's head over heels for."
"Now that you mention it, I recall something of the sort." Tyene clapped, once. "If we were to meet them amongst the fields, how wonderful would that be? I'm a great fan of Fortuitous meetings."
"Right. Fortuitous."
Still, Percy shut his mouth and let Tyene have her fun. She was wearing a white dress that went up to her neck, her soft and delicate hands hovering next to her hips. Tyene had small wrists. Everything about her was small and cute, except for the personality she kept bottled up inside. But Percy had found himself loving that, too.
Tyene caught him looking. She smirked, raising her chin, and walked faster, linking her hands behind her waist.
They were perhaps a minute's walk outside the village wall when they heard the scream. Two more followed, hot on the heels of the first— one of them was the same woman who screamed first, the second was a deep and loud bellow.
Tyene didn't speak, just pointed, and there was no reason for her to even do that. Percy was already moving. She followed fast as she could, but he outstripped her in seconds.
The scream came from an open field nestled between the village and the forest, as wide as a football field was long. The nearest building was a two-story inn with a field for goats out back. People had joined the farm animals, forming a crowd to watch what was happening. They all looked lowborn. Nobles had their own lodgings, and most Hedge Knights had taken to the training field.
There was one Hedge Knight here. Bleeding from a broken nose, red droplets landing amongst a patch of moon bloom and poppies, Tallad thrashed against four men fighting to hold him in place, a fifth laying face down in the flowers.
Lilting Lea, the girl who'd screamed, was being dragged toward the woods. Her flower basket lay overturned by Tallad's feet.
The abductor was the same long haired knight who nearly fought Percy at the party. He was scowling as he pulled Lea away, the girl offering futile protest with limbs and words.
"Please, ser—!"
"Shut up," snarled the knight.
He had ten men total, counting the four holding Tallad and the one laying in the grass. The knight slapped Lea. When her head jerked, Tallad made a sound like a bear.
He got one of his arms loose, swung his elbow back, and may have killed one of the men holding him. The man was probably still breathing, but the way his neck snapped backwards was enough to make it a question.
"Gods damnit, I'm done!" snapped one of the others.
All of them were armed. Instead of holding Tallad, he drew steel and put his sword tip to the Hedge Knight's neck. "Move, and you'll be bleeding out of your throat like your nose."
Tallad was close to being past reason. He held himself back, barely, because there was nothing he could do. He hadn't brought his sword, and even if he had he never could have drawn it in time. The others drew their weapons, surrounding him. There were eight swords pointed at him now, with two men out cold from his efforts.
Tallad still looked ready to charge through them, results be damned, until he reigned himself in.
He had seen what none had except a few of those watching from the inn. The woods the knight was pulling Lea toward weren't unobstructed anymore.
Looping around, Percy came from behind. The knight never saw him.
When Percy was about two steps away, he spotted something on the knight's back. His jerkin was emblazoned with black butterflies. It wasn't an idle fashion choice, but a modified version of House Mullendore's sable, the tournament hosts whose territory Lower Spylcreek lay within.
Oh well, Percy thought. His fist was already moving.
The knight turned his head at the last second to see whose steps he was hearing. He caught Percy's fist in the eye socket.
He was hurled back, lost his hold on Lea, and rolled once. He clung onto consciousness. Squinting one of his eyes, he looked at Percy with murderous intent as Percy grabbed Lea, pulling her behind him.
"Do you have any idea who you've just struck?" the man asked.
All but one of the soldiers around Tallad moved toward Percy. They wore the Mullendore crest too in the form of small patches. None wore it as large or as obviously as the one Percy had laid out.
"Are you Robert Baratheon?" Percy asked.
As he got up, the man looked at Percy with a mixture of hate, disbelief, and pain across his face. It was a combination Percy was oddly used to.
When the man didn't announce himself as the king, Percy shrugged. "I think I'll be fine then."
Like he had at the party, the man grabbed his sword hilt. This time he drew it. Even though he hadn't brought his own, Percy barely gave the weapon a glance. At this range, whether he was armed or not wouldn't matter. Ask the Boneway Brotherhood.
"I'm Donnal Flowers, Ser Blackshield, with the blood of Lord Martyn Mullendore flowing through my veins." His vaguely crooked nose was twitching with rage. "I rode in tourneys before you were spat from your mother's cunt. I've ridden against Kingsguard, unhorsed great lords, and bested every fighter in my house. I'm captain of the guard, the fiercest knight in Uplands."
"And a raper too, by the look of it," someone said.
As it turned out, there had been one noble loitering near the inn. What business Beric Dondarrion had there, Percy didn't know, but he couldn't deny that the young lord was a welcome addition. His hair looked blonder as the sun caught it, accentuating his looks. Beric walked right to them, striding across the grass. He stood beside Percy in front of Lea, who was grateful to see her shield grow.
"If even a Dornishman can see your actions are dishonorable, you should be wise enough to desist," Beric said.
"Who are you to speak of me to honor?" Donnal asked. "I don't care what house you come from. This is the territory of my family, and here, our words lay the law. There is no raping. She is a thief who was happy to take my coin, only to withhold her body."
"That coin was for flowers!" Even in distress, Lea's voice carried the same lilt that earned her epithet. Betrayal ran thickly in her voice. "You were my finest customer!"
When Tyene bought from her, Lea told Percy that she sold to nobles. It had been a point of pride, which explained the pain she spoke with now.
Donnal sneered, while some of his men laughed.
"Pennies for flowers?" he said. "Who would make such a purchase? I allowed you to wait because I believed you were biding time for more coin, until I reached your true price. But you spread your legs for that nameless scum!"
Donnal flicked his sword toward Tallad, who was looking balefully at the soldier holding a sword toward him. Percy's eyes followed Donnal's blade. He knew how to handle a sword.
"I did no such thing!" Lea insisted. "I haven't taken any of Tallad's coin!"
Even though Percy understood her, she picked the wrong words. What she meant was that they hadn't slept together. Instead, Donnal took her to mean that she did it for free. He bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed.
"Kill him," Donnal told his man.
The soldier hesitated. It was brief, then he stabbed. Too late, because the gap gave Tallad time to twist aside. He was as shockingly fast as he'd been while fighting Tomar, and Tallad's boot lashed out, bashing the soldier's knee out from under him. He fell on the soldier, beating him thrice over the face, pinning his wrist so that the man couldn't raise his sword. Two of the other soldiers went toward him, the other five joining their captain. Beric drew his sword.
"This matter is out of hand!" Beric said. "If you refuse to stop, I'll be forced to stop you, ser!"
"You go too far," Donnal said. "This is not your land. You've drawn steel for a swindler. If I have to cut you down to take what I'm owed, that's what I'll do."
Beric answered with his sword. Having been on the end of it, Percy knew how quick he could be. Donnal didn't, which made the difference. They were at a similar level in Percy's estimation, but Beric came on strong while Donnal wasn't prepared.
The Lord of Blackhaven swung heavily across his body. Donnal's parry was sloppy, forcing his guard open.
Beric stepped in, cocked his fist, and smashed it into Donnal's face. Whether he'd been aiming for it or not, he hit the other eye, making it match the one Percy hit. Donnal was knocked into the dirt for a second time.
"What did he call himself again?" Beric asked. "Ser Blackeyes?"
Donnal got to his feet like a lightly-wounded bore, intent on scoring blood. Other than the two facing Tallad, his five men formed a circle with him around Percy and Beric. There was nowhere for Lea to shy back to. Percy's head swiveled, making sure no one snuck up on him, while he and Beric went back-to-back with Lea between them.
"You know the way that you keep popping up out of nowhere, wherever I go?" Percy asked.
"I've done nothing of the sort," Beric said.
"You definitely have. Do your retainers have that same power?"
"I didn't bring them with me. What of the knights you're often with? The lanky one, or that dark schemer?"
"They're training."
"More's the pity," Beric sighed. He was looking around, similar to Percy. "This may get dangerous."
"Probably," Percy agreed, although his meaning was different. For him, getting out of this was entirely possible, he just couldn't say if any of these men would be breathing at the end. The trouble Ser that Myles warned against attracting might be unavoidable, and — shockingly — it wouldn't even be Drey's fault.
"Well, I certainly can't fall here, that's all I know," Beric said. "Dying with a Dornishman at my side? My ancestors would throw my spirit straight to the hells."
"I feel like you have some issues. Do you want to talk it out?"
Beric laughed. "If we're healthy and hale after this, perhaps I will! Over lots of wine. We'll need that for the pain."
"Maybe you will," Percy said. "I don't plan on getting hurt."
That was the trigger. Taking it for a boast, one of the men aimed to skewer Percy's chest. He turned sideways so the man pierced the air instead. Percy grabbed the man's wrist, turning his back to the man's body, and threw him. It was like a judo throw, only instead of good technique, Percy just used extra strength.
At one point, the man's feet were more than ten feet in the air, but that only lasted a second. Percy swung him down on one of his friends, using an entire person as a weapon. Both of them screamed, one because his shoulder had been torn from its socket, and the other because a screaming man's legs had just smashed into his head.
Percy dropped to his knees. His left hand grabbed the sword of one of the men he'd downed. With his right hand, he grabbed Lilting Lea's dress, pulling her down with him so that the sword aiming for her neck missed. Lea screamed. So did the man who tried to kill her, because Percy wasn't so merciless this time. He put his borrowed blade straight through the soldier's knee, ending his ability to use that leg.
In an instant, three of the five were beaten. The last of the soldiers had gone for Beric the moment the young lord attacked Donnal. Beric had taken a cut on his shoulder from that, not deep enough to slow him down, and carved the man's throat in reply. Tallad was still clashing with the two in front of him, a frantic fight in which both sides, simultaneously, looked to be narrowly hanging on, one mistake away from falling.
With his men occupied, crippled, or slain, Donnal was briefly alone. He and Beric only exchanged two blows before his solitude ended. A voice cried "Uncle!" and Percy jumped in to stop a new sword from taking Beric through the back.
Martin Mullendore wasn't armored, he was dressed leisurely, but those he was accompanied by were more equipped. Percy thought they were other Mullendore men, until he caught the insignia on bits of armor they wore. Fresh from sparring in the field, these were Hightower swords.
"What is the meaning of this?" someone bellowed.
Percy had a suspicion before he saw him, striding forward in perfect dress. Tall and handsome, a thin beard across his face, Garth Hightower ordered Mullendore men as easily as his own. At his hip, of course, was the hilt of his sword. Part of Percy wished he'd draw it, just to get a glimpse of Valyrian Steel.
Of course, that was a terrible idea, and he silenced the irresponsible voice inside his head.
The flower field looked like chaos, with men groaning and bleeding amongst the stems. Lea ran to Percy's side, feeling safest there, meanwhile it took five Hightower men surrounding Talld to make him slow and stop. He'd been fighting in a craze.
Ignoring Beric completely, the Bastard of Uplands was the first to take a knee, lowering his head toward Garth.
"They've wronged me, ser," Donnal Flowers said. "On your good name, I beg you… grant me justice."