personal6

Chapter 24

Dance

Edmure POV

One step back, two steps forward. Arya moved like a cat but still could not touch master fencer Syrio Forel. He moved more than just gracefully. He moved with calculated precision, knowing how big of a step to take before his opponent could even start to move.

After Arya got beaten enough, it was Sansa's time. It was harder for Sansa to get into fencing than it was for Arya. It showed how much both tried. Syrio liked to trick Sansa, telling Sansa that he would hit her arms while hitting her legs and vice-versa.

"You should not be listening to my words, but look at what I do, boy," Syrio informs her.

"I am not a boy," Sansa grumbles on the verge of tears.

"Boy, girl. You are a sword, that is all," Syrio states.

"It's time for dinner, girls," I tell them. I think it is better to end it here for today. "Thank master Syrio, and let's go."

"Thank you, master Syrio," The girls did as I told them.

"So, today wasn't the day you touched him too?" I ask Arya as we walk through the halls.

"Almost. I just need to be a little faster next time," Arya exclaims.

"I still don't understand why I need to participate in this," Sansa complains.

"Because your father is the Hand of the King. He is and will be stepping on the toes of lords and knights alike. It would be too much for him to worry about your safety at the same time. So you training to defend yourself. Even if you don't overpower grown men, you still can defend yourself long enough for guards to arrive," I explain to her.

"But is unladylike to train with swords and blades," Sansa grumbles.

"Do you know how I found Syrio Forel?" I ask the girls.

"No," They answer.

"My daughter soon will turn five, old enough for basic training. He was supposed to train her. Are you saying my daughter will be unladylike, Sansa?" I challenge her.

"No, I didn't mean…." She tries to defend herself.

"Maybe not, but you did say it. Words aren't birds. When they fly, you won't be able to catch them. So next time, you should watch what you say," I reply to Sansa. "I know you don't like swords and alike, but you must do so. Think of it as a dance. Maybe it would be easier for you that way."

"Yes, uncle," Sansa responds with a low voice.

"What Syrio told you about hearing and seeing is true," I explain. "Everyone can and will lie, so it is up to you to see the truth. Next time when someone is boasting or bragging, you should see their worth with your own eyes first."

"Yes, uncle," Both girls reply to me.

"Good, now come, your father is waiting, and both of you smell," I note with a laugh.

"Uncle," Sansa yells at me.

…

The dining hall was filled with people. Most of them were the guard of House Stark and my own men. Ned lets them share the same table, even talks to them without a pretense. It is something that I tried once to imitate, but it was too much for me to remember their names and speak on the same terms.

It is something that I am envious of him. What man wouldn't fight for the lord that shared his meal with, drank wine with, and talked with? Those men were loyal and would die for Ned. I hope that my own men can be as trusted as they. Well, most of my men came from the gutter, orphans who showed some talent, and I took them and trained them personally. So I don't believe they can be bought.

"I heard there will be a tourney in your name, father. Is it true?" Sansa asks excitedly. "Princess Myrcella said that there will be a joust and a feast in honor of your appointment as Hand of the King."

"In honor of me? It is the last thing I want," Ned growled in anger, not being happy about it in the least.

"Don't be like that. The knights from all over the realm will come to participate," I interrupt Ned. "It will be a grand event, indeed."

"Will you participate too, uncle?" Sansa asks.

"Oh, no. I have to let the younger ones too have some glory," I answer. "But Samwell will, so you can cheer for him,"

"Speaking of, where is he?" Ned asks.

"Of course, he is training. He only has so much time till the tourney left," I answer.

"Shouldn't you train him, uncle?" Arya asks. "He is your squire, after all."

"I should, and I will, but I have some business with your father first," I reply and look at Ned.

Catching my look, he nods, and after finishing our dinner, we go to his solar.

Samwell POV

The mud tasted damp. It is something that I don't wish to taste again. Alas, ser Edmure commanded me to get up again and mount my horse. It was hard to get from the ground. My full-plate armor felt like boulders on my back. Dragging me down deeper and deeper to the ground. After standing up, I had to climb my horse and pick the lance and shield with hands that I didn't feel were on me anymore. I hate it all.

"Good, now that you learned how to fall, you can start to learn how to get up," Ser Edmure compliments me with the most sinister smile I had the pleasure to see.

"How about you teach me how not to fall?' I ask.

"That impossible. You will fall sooner or later. To avoid it, you would need to learn how to dance with your horse first," Ser Edmure answers with a laugh. "Do you think I train you only for the tourney? In a tourney, you will face only one opponent at a time. In an actual battle, you face everyone. If you don't fall from the first knight coming at you, there will always be a second and a third. Even if they can't flatten you, an arrow will make you fall, or a spear will kill your horse. So you need to learn how to fall correctly, not breaking your neck and how quickly to stand up before swords comes for you."

I hate it when he explains it so thoroughly, and I have to agree with him. It was the same when he taught me how to take a hit. He is a madman who enjoys my suffering, and I can't do anything about it because he is right to do so.

So, again and again, I fell from my horse, and we only stopped when my horse was too tired. At this point, I felt every muscle and bone in my body. It wasn't a pleasant experience as I was hurting in all of my body parts. I have gone through many brutal training regimes, but now I feel a new high of pain. And I hoped to finish reading the book about Ghiscari tonight.

"Well, it is enough for today. Don't look at me like that. You have a free day tomorrow, so be thankful," Ser Edmure tells me.

"Thank you, ser," I answer because I knew he would make my life worse if I didn't.

"Good, remember you should always be respectful. Words like thank you and welcome don't cost anything to say," After another of his lecture, he left me be.

The first thing I did was take a bath. No matter how tired you are, you need to clean yourself and eat before going to bed. That lesson has been imprinted in me for years now. It did help in the morning when I didn't need to wake up starving and smelling like shit. So I can take more time resting in the bed.

Eddard POV

The Hand's tourney, they call it. Nobody cares that it was more for the King and that this tourney is even happening by the King's order. If I had a say in this folly, the tourney would be over before it even began. But it isn't simple to say no to the King.

People say that the King takes a shit, and the Hand wipes his arse. It felt true now more than ever. As Janos Slynt, the City watch commander, stood here and explained why there was no peace in the King's Landing in the past few days. Excuses more than anything, but he didn't seem to lie when he told us he didn't have enough men. I have to wonder what his men are doing.

"You will get more men," I reply to the obnoxious man. "I give you twenty of my own guard and hire some two hundred more,"

"Thank you, my lord," Janos responds and leaves.

"With what gold will you pay the extra men, Lord Hand?" Petyr Baelish asks.

The Littlefinger, as he is called, Edmure had given him that name when they were little. It was a proper nickname for a man like Petyr. If you aren't careful, he could wrap you around his little finger with his sweet words and harmless smile.

"You are the Master of the Coin. Collect extra taxes from whorehouses and inns or something. It is your job to think of ways to earn gold," I respond. "The inns should be full, and streets are full of whores. Surely you can find some coin from them."

How Jon could have given this man the position of Master of the Coin I will never understand. Well, the rest weren't any better. Varys putting his mummers' show with his frightful voice doesn't help anyone. Lord Renly's threats don't really scare anyone. Grandmaester Pycelle is just a tired old man, recycling old stories.

"It seems that the Hand is better at managing the coin than its master," Renly comments with a laugh, similar to his brother.

"The sooner we are done with this folly, the better," I note with a tired and annoyed voice. "Until the morrow."

…

Harwin had the door when Ned returned to the Tower of the Hand. After ordering him to bring Jory to me, I went to my chambers and undressed the silk from myself. Getting the book from my cabinet and went through it once more. I couldn't help but wonder what I should see in it, what Jon saw, that got him killed.

"My lord, you have called for me," After some time, Jory has arrived.

"Yes, I have promised the City Watch twenty men, you may choose them, but I want the ones who can be able to be hidden," I go to the point.

"My lord, I don't understand," He replies.

"I want my men to watch how the City Watch acts, who pays them, and how many are genuinely on the streets," I explain. "It would be better if my men aren't caught doing so."

"Ah, I see, it will be done," Jory responds. "Who should lead them?"

"Alyn should be fine," I answer. "Did you find any of the men I asked you?"

"Yes, but I couldn't find anything from them," Jory replies. "Ser Hugh might know something, but he had been brusque and uninformative. It seems that he was insulted that it was me who questioned him and not Lord Hand,"

"Have you at least found something? Anything would be fine at this point," I ask, feeling desperate.

"I am sorry, my lord. The only thing I found out was that Lord Jon was healthy and was seen riding with Lord Stannis," Jory answers.

"Stannis? Do you perhaps know where they were going in these rides?" I ask.

"A brothels, my lord," He tells me. "And to meet a smith, Tobho Mott, it is said he is the best smith in King's Landing."

"A brothel? Are you sure?" I ask to make sure it wasn't a jape.

"Yes, there were few who saw them going to Chataya's, an upscale brothel on the Street of Silk," He replies.

"You can leave. I will send for you if I need something," I tell Jory. "And if you meet ser Edmure, tell him that I would like to meet with him."

"No need. I was here already," A voice replies. "As I told you before, you should make sure you are alone before discussing with others about sensitive topics."

Looking at the wall next to the cabinet, I saw it opening and Edmure emerging from there. It was not something that I would like to ever see again.