"Get lost! You idiots—what the hell do you think you're doing?!"
At that moment, Robert Baratheon's furious roar rang out. Immediately after, the bruised and blood-covered king was seen standing up with Ser Barristan's support. His face was swollen, his nose crooked, blood streaking down his features as he glared angrily at the Gold Cloaks.
"Who gave you permission to barge into the tourney grounds?" he roared. "You pack of fools—do you have any idea what you've done? You've ruined a match of supreme honor! You've shamed me, shamed every participant here! Put those damn weapons away, now!"
The Gold Cloaks all showed looks of fear. One by one, they sheathed their weapons and retreated from Lind's side.
Jaime Lannister also withdrew the longsword pressed against Lind's neck and walked back to Queen Cersei.
Cersei screamed furiously, "Have you lost your mind? He was trying to kill you just now!"
"Shut up, woman!" Robert shoved Ser Barristan aside and stood firmly on his own, striding up to Cersei with rage blazing in his eyes. "This is a matter between warriors. You are not allowed to interfere! You should crawl back to your chambers and look after the children—stop causing me trouble!"
Then he turned his glare on Jaime Lannister."What are you waiting for, Kingslayer? Take your sister back to the castle right now. Don't let her continue disgracing me here."
Being shouted at so rudely in front of so many people inside and outside the tourney grounds made both siblings' faces turn extremely ugly. At the edge of the field, Lord Tywin's expression darkened as well—but he did not step forward to defend his children. Instead, he quietly gave a few instructions to the man beside him and had those words passed along to the twins.
After hearing Tywin's message, Jaime and Cersei glanced at their father, then at King Robert. Without saying a single word, they left the tourney grounds one after the other, taking the Red Keep guards and the Gold Cloaks with them.
Once the Lannister siblings were gone, Robert turned around and looked at Lind, who was picking up the two hand-and-a-half swords from the ground and sliding them back into their scabbards.
In a deep voice, Robert asked, "What's your name, warrior of House Tyrell?"
"Lind! Bear-Hunter Lind!"
Before Lind could even answer, people from Highgarden shouted it out loudly. Warriors from other cities of the Reach—those who had heard the Song of the Bear-Hunter—also began cheering, calling out Bear-Hunter Lind's name.
"Bear-Hunter Lind," Robert nodded. "So you're not some nobody after all. I'll remember you—Bear-Hunter Lind, the man who defeated a king."
He strode up to Lind, grabbed his arm, and raised it high, shouting at the top of his lungs:
"Cheer for our champion—War King Lind!"
"War King! War King!"
The cheers rose and fell like waves around the tourney grounds, gradually spreading throughout the whole of King's Landing.
Although Lind had won the group melee, the Tyrell nobles did not look happy at all. After Lind returned to camp, he barely had time to remove his armor before being brought straight into the main tent.
Judging from the expressions on everyone's faces inside, it wasn't hard for Lind to guess that this wasn't a celebration. They had summoned him to question him—perhaps even to condemn him.
Before Duke Mace Tyrell could speak, a noble beside him spoke up sharply, questioning him first.
"Do you have any idea what you've done, Lind of White Village?"
The noble deliberately emphasized Lind's origins, clearly hinting at his low status. Yet Lind showed not the slightest sign of panic or fear. Instead, he replied calmly:
"Of course I know what I've done. My lord—are you confused? Didn't I just win the group melee of this tourney for House Tyrell? It happened only moments ago, and you've already forgotten? Or has your memory truly deteriorated to this extent?"
"Pfft!"
Garlan Tyrell couldn't help laughing out loud—but immediately realized how improper it was and forced the smile down, tightening his expression.
"Damn it, of course I know we won the group melee!" the noble snapped angrily. "But you dared to lay hands on the king—"
"Wrong," Lind cut him off directly. "My lord, I think you've misunderstood. I did not lay hands on the king. I merely struck a warrior who was participating in the group melee."
Then, with an indignant expression, Lind turned to Duke Mace Tyrell and questioned him.
"Duke, I remember very clearly that it was you who ordered me to take part in the group melee—and you told me to win, no matter what. And now, I have achieved victory. I brought honor to House Tyrell, earned the respect of all the nobles, and even gained the respect of King Robert himself. Tell me—was I wrong to do so?"
Faced with Lind's questioning, Duke Mace Tyrell found himself momentarily unable to answer.
It was true that Lind's actions against King Robert had nearly dragged House Tyrell into danger—but the duke could not say that Lind was wrong.
Just as Lind said, he had perfectly carried out the task given to him. He deserved praise and reward, not interrogation and blame. If Duke Tyrell said Lind was wrong, then who would be willing to serve House Tyrell in the future? The vassals gathered in this tent might not openly rebel, but from then on, they would certainly no longer give their all.
At the same time, Duke Tyrell recalled how, on his way back to camp, he had received congratulations one after another from nobles across the Seven Kingdoms. Even House Stark of the North had sent someone, hoping he could dispatch a representative to discuss matters with the leader, Benjen Stark.
This level of attention was something he had never experienced in the past year. And clearly, the shift in attitude from the new dynasty's nobles all stemmed from Lind's victory in the group melee.
The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that Lind should not be questioned or blamed. That realization only deepened his confusion over why he had suddenly decided to summon Lind for accountability in the first place—and how he should now smooth things over.
Seeing his father trapped in an awkward position, Garlan took the initiative to step in.
"Bear-Hunter, you're certainly not at fault," Garlan said. "Your performance in the group melee was outstanding. We actually called you here to ask what reward you would like. After all, you've established prestige for House Tyrell across the Seven Kingdoms and won great honor. Such a great contribution must be rewarded."
As he spoke, he turned to the noble who had accused Lind earlier.
"Ser Iz, I believe you've misunderstood my father's intentions."
"Yes, yes! Ser Iz must have misunderstood," Duke Tyrell quickly echoed.
Since a way out had been offered, Lind naturally wouldn't continue pressing the matter. He bowed respectfully to Duke Tyrell and said:
"It is my honor to serve House Tyrell. As for rewards, I would never dare to ask on my own. I trust that House Tyrell has its own standards for rewarding merit. I will obey the family's arrangements in all things."
Duke Tyrell put on a dignified air and said, "Rest assured, House Tyrell will never be stingy when rewarding those who have rendered great service. You may return and rest now. After such a chaotic battle, you must be exhausted."
Hearing this, Lind bowed and withdrew, preparing to return to his own tent.
"Wait!"
Just as he was about to step outside, Garlan stopped him. When Lind turned back in confusion, Garlan pointed at the swords hanging at Lind's waist.
"I believe you should return those two swords to me now."
Lind smiled, removed the swords, and offered them with both hands.
"Our victory in the group melee owed much to the pair of swords you lent me, my lord. I was actually planning to clean them first before returning them to you—"
Garlan took the twin swords firmly and handed them to a servant beside him, then shook his head repeatedly.
"No, no! Cleaning them would ruin their value. Do you know what these are? These are the swords that nearly achieved a hundred-man kill in the tourney! From today on, they'll become legendary divine weapons. I'm going to preserve them properly."
Hearing Garlan's words, everyone in the tent couldn't help laughing. The tense atmosphere instantly eased.
At that moment, Fotimo added, "Don't clean my armor either. Just take it off and send it to me as it is."
"Yes, my lord," Lind replied with a smile.
After leaving the main command tent, Lind walked toward his own tent. Along the way, whether they were Tyrell warriors who had fought beside him or men who had remained in King's Landing since the War of the Usurper, all of them stepped forward to salute him. The looks in their eyes were filled with awe.
Lind's strength had been deeply etched into their minds by this tourney. Even though his current status was still just that of a knight's squire, they treated him with the same respect they would give to a great lord.
Using exhaustion as an excuse, Lind persuaded everyone gathered outside his tent to leave. Then he had his assistant, Raul, help him remove all his armor. As Fotimo had instructed, the armor was not cleaned and was sent directly to him.
When only Lind remained inside the tent, he didn't rest immediately. Instead, he released Glory from the iron cage.
Though Glory had only been confined for a short while, it had already become somewhat irritable. Bite marks and cracks covered the iron bars of the cage. Once released, it was clearly angry at being locked up and even bit down on Lind's wrist.
However, it didn't use any force—more like holding his wrist in its mouth, expressing its displeasure.
Lind soothed it for quite some time and fed it until Glory finally calmed down completely.
Only then did Lind lie down on the simple wooden bed. As he stroked Glory, he allowed his body to fully relax, recovering rapidly from exhaustion.
Although he had appeared to kill his enemies with ease on the tourney field, in truth both his body and mind had been pushed to their absolute limits.
While his focus had been razor-sharp during the battle, he hadn't felt it. Now that he had returned to camp—to a relatively safe place—his tension finally released. The mental fatigue and physical damage caused by overexertion surfaced all at once, leaving him no choice but to lie there and recover slowly.
Fortunately, that extreme exhaustion and soreness didn't last very long. Once his body and mind adapted to the backlash, he returned to a normal state—though his movements were noticeably slower than usual.
Even so, he didn't get up. His attention was now fully focused on the energy bar of the golden finger inside his mind.
Before entering the group melee, Lind had checked the energy bar's progress. At that time, it had still been about one-quarter short of full. But now, the energy bar was completely filled.
This seemed to mean that he could obtain new power from the golden finger.
Yet soon, confusion set in.
After the energy bar filled up, nothing happened. The bar remained exactly the same—as if it were just decoration. Full or empty made no difference at all. No matter how much he focused his mind on it, there was no sign of activation.
This made Lind wonder whether his golden finger could only be used once—the time it fused the Peacemaker with him.
But he quickly rejected that idea. He could feel that his golden finger was far more complex than that.
After thinking for a moment, something occurred to him. His gaze fell on the box inside the tent that stored the dragon bones.
He remembered that he had once accidentally discovered that dragon bones could cause a reaction in the golden finger's energy bar. After that, he had conducted various experiments, trying to see what changes the dragon bones might bring.
In the end, he found nothing—aside from the scorching aura flowing from the dragon bones into his body, causing the golden finger to flicker continuously. There had been no other reaction.
Now that he thought about it, he began to suspect that the activation condition for a full energy bar might be related to the dragon bones' reaction.
With that thought, he endured the soreness in his body and dragged the box of dragon bones to the bedside. He then instructed his assistant Raul to guard the tent and not let anyone disturb him. Only then did he open the box and place his hand on the dragon bones.
Just like before, a scorching aura spread from the dragon bones throughout his body. The energy bar began to flicker again. He focused his mind on the flickering bar—but the result was the same as before. The energy bar remained unchanged.
Realizing things weren't as simple as he'd imagined, Lind felt a bit disappointed—but not discouraged. He still believed the dragon bones were related to activating the energy bar; his method was probably just wrong.
Just as he was about to stop the test and remove his hand from the dragon bones, he suddenly noticed something different about the energy bar.
The change was extremely subtle—so subtle that it would have gone unnoticed without intense focus. Faint shadows had appeared at both ends of the energy bar. As time passed, those shadows grew clearer, eventually forming two human silhouettes.
One silhouette was blurry and indistinct, as if constantly shifting shape. The other was extremely clear—a person wielding two swords.
Once the two silhouettes fully formed, Lind tried focusing his mind on them. At the same time, new information appeared in his mind.
It turned out that these two silhouettes were choices offered by the golden finger.
The blurry silhouette represented an unknown power—drawing a new hero from among the other Glory Battle Souls, granting him a new character's strength and mastery over a new weapon.
The other silhouette—the one holding twin swords—represented granting him another dual-sword wielder, enhancing his ability with twin blades and pushing his dual-sword swordsmanship to an even higher level.
...
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Here are a few fan-fic titles that I've recently uploaded on my Patreon:
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(End Chapter)