Fighting Ser Gerold, Ser Arthur, and Ser Barristan, three of the most renowned knights in Westeros, was too much for Wylis. He certainly had a large body and explosive strength, but he was no superhuman. His technique was peak, but that still couldn't counter three other knights also at their peak technique.
As the brightly illuminated throne room fell into absolute silence, Wylis took a few steps back and gauged the surroundings. There were at least two hundred men and women present. All had their eyes focused on him.
Can't use Earthbending here—Fuck!
The floor was flat marble. Any unnatural change to it could easily be seen, and it was daylight.
Shhhh~
The three knights took out their swords with a deadpan look. Though Ser Barristan did show some concern with his eyes.
This is fucking unfair!
Wylis wasn't wearing any armor. Not true armor, at least. All he had was a simple gambeson on his body and a few leather patches that were more cosmetic than armor, covering his chest and some of his thighs. The rest was just a simple cotton tunic and trousers.
"Fight, boy! Show your king the fire in your blood! Let me see if you've the strength of giants, or the squeal of stable rats!" The King roared from his high throne and laughed with sheer excitement.
It was blood-boiling. Not receiving the promised reward for the work he'd done. Not receiving the welcome he deserved. Being treated like a court jester for the Mad King's pleasure. So close to his dream of being a Knight, yet so far now.
Wylis's fist tightened, and he reached for his massive sword on his back. At six feet in length, it towered over most men in the hall. It wasn't anything special, however. Just a simple blade, cheap and already degrading.
In comparison, he was more careful of Ser Arthur Dayne. The man had the famed sword, Dawn, in his grip. Similarly, the other two had the finest swords the realm had to offer. And they were also fully covered in armor, from head to toe.
Won't come out unscathed from this.
With their backs facing the King, the three Kingsguards stood side by side, each holding their swords with two hands.
Wylis faced them, eyed the raging, laughing mad king, constantly tapping his hand on the armrest of his throne like a little kid.
He felt fear for the first time in a long time. Too confident in his martial abilities, he'd stopped taking the Mad King's madness into account. Sure, it was dumb, but he reckoned his achievements would make the man happy. He could still make it out alive with Earthbending if push came to shove, but that would mean revealing his trump card to the entire realm.
"Let us fight with honor." Ser Barristan commented, standing in the middle of the three.
Wylis just nodded and started moving. They all moved, circling each other from a distance. The size difference was so apparent to all eyes, yet none had any doubt that the game was tilted to one side unfairly.
But, growing impatient, the Mad King cackled again, clapping. "Dance for me! All of you!"
Ser Arthur moved first with absolute confidence in his stride, not an ounce of fear from Wylis' height.
"Haaa!" The Sword of the Morning grunted.
The blade came in slow, almost lazily—but Wylis knew better. He turned his body, letting it scrape off the flat of his massive greatsword, and retaliated with a brutal upswing counter.
Dayne stepped back, and Barristan filled the gap, seemingly fluid synchronization between the Kingsguards.
Barristan was quick. His strike was tight, controlled, and meant to test; his feet almost glided on the stone.
Clank!
Wylis blocked it again, then twisted his hips to shove the knight away with sheer strength.
Gerold moved to flank him, keeping Wylis busy.
That was when Wylis realized something. It was three-on-one, yet it didn't feel like that. The three famed knights weren't attacking him at the same time, but still made it seem as if they were fighting together by synchronizing their movements. That let Wylis counter them one by one.
"Take this!" Wylis roared and tried to gain some momentum. He launched a wide, horizontal slash towards all three.
Scrrrrrr!
The three Kingsguards dodged back together. But thanks to the sheer length of Wylis' blade, their breastplates received deep, long scratches.
Yet that didn't deter the three men. Their blades returned towards Wylis, launching a barrage of attacks.
Ser Barristan first lunged forward and slammed a vertical slice straight down.
Clash!
Wylis blocked it, albeit pushed back.
Ser Arthur followed and thrust forward, forcing Wylis to sidestep to save himself.
And right there was Ser Gerold waiting for him, the famed White Bull struck with breathless brutality despite his age, and directed a faint, followed by a quick diagonal slash.
"Argh!"
That one connected.
Wylis stammered back, clutching his shoulder with one hand. It stung, it bled, and the pain was palpable.
"Fuck!" Wylis cursed, quickly forcing himself to ignore the pain and hold the sword tight again. He frowned, growling like a slowly maddening beast. "Come on! That's all you got?!"
On the throne, the Mad King sneered, seemingly unimpressed by the show. Just a little amount of blood wasn't enough to excite the man.
"Enough games! Kill him!" Aerys shouted threateningly.
Wylis frowned and eyed the small hourglass in Pycelle's hand. He needed to stay standing for fifteen minutes, and… it appeared only five had passed. Less than half a quarter of the sand had fallen.
Fucking Kingsguards! King's bloody dogs!
Wylis gritted, noticing the change in the air and tempo. For once, the Kingsguard moved together and took a clear, planned formation to inflict the most damage. It was no longer a mock battle. The King had clearly demanded that he be killed.
Surrounding me now?
Barristan attacked from his right, slashing downward. Gerold, from the left, hammered a flat strike toward Wylis' hip. Dayne lunged, straight for his chest from the front.
Clang!
Wylis backpedaled fast, dodging their triple attack, though his clothes were torn from the pointy tips of their swords.
Steel rang again without a wait. Wylis blocked Barristan's strike with the hilt of his greatsword and twisted. That gave Gerold a chance, and he kicked from the side straight into his lower ribs, knocking the air out of him.
"Aaaaagh…"
Pain bloomed, Wylis felt it, overwhelmed from all sides, surrounded.
They were faster than he was, a simple matter of their body sizes. His explosive strength was useless against the three-sided attack.
Woosh!
Pinned by Barristan and Gerold, Arthur got the clearance to inflict heavy damage. The Sword of the Morning thrust his sword straight towards Wylis' neck. Although Wylis tilted his head sideways, the blade still deeply grazed his shoulder.
"Ungh… Fuck!... You three!" Wylis hissed, bleeding, adrenaline holding back the pain from overwhelming him.
Sadly, that was far from the end. Wylis only had to survive fifteen minutes, but at that rate, he feared he'd bleed to death from more wounds.
Slow rage started to overcome him. Like a madman, he swung his greatsword to gain some space and keep the three men away.
But it wasn't easy. The three Kingsguards had worked together for years. They were used to clash swords with each other, and also alongside each other. They pressed harder. The rhythm, relentless. Wylis was a storm, but they were the tide.
Woosh!
Clank!
Wylis dodged Barristan's thrust from his front.
Woosh!
"Aaaargh!"
While he dodged, Arthur swung low from his left side. The blade cut his thigh, deep this time.
Clank!
Wylis stopped Arthur from striking higher with the flat side of his blade. But that gave Barristan and Gerold the chance.
While Gerold used a faint to make him lower his guard, Barristan shifted behind him and carved his back with a long, massive slash.
"Nnnnngh! Fuck!"
Thud!
Wylis dropped to a single knee, unable to hold himself up anymore. Blood oozed from his many wounds and soaked his gambeson, as well as the dirty grey tunic. The floor turned into a filthy texture of blood and dirt.
His right thigh was wounded, and his back burned as well. His one shoulder also lay open.
Clink!
Tang!
But Wylis still held on. Not longer with two, he used one hand to swing that massive, six feet long sword, maneuvering it over his head in circles, blocking strikes from each strike. That was all he could do; there was no gap to counterattack.
"FINISH HIM!" Roared the Mad King from the throne.
Panting, gasping for breath, tired. Wylis felt as if the world grew slow around him. His muscles started to feel sore. The three knights didn't hold back; even if they did, they clearly obeyed their King and did what they could to kill him.
Clank!
A cacophony of clashes, steel against steel, rang out like broken music.
Fuck! One more year gone!
"That's it! Finish him!" Mad King mused louder.
Damn you, Aerys—There will be no Kingslayer this time… I'll do it myself.
Ting!
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