Lord Selwyn Tarth
"What do you say, Steffon?"
Selwyn Tarth leaned against the stone balustrade of one of the balconies that afforded a view of the Rock's main practice yard.
He didn't bother watching the rest of the bout, instead focusing on the wide-eyed expression of his liege lord.
Selwyn wasn't particularly talented in the field beyond what was expected of him as a stormlord, but he knew who would be the winner of the spar after the first few exchanges
Steffon took a moment to answer, his eyes glued on the fighting.
"I say you should have let the boy try the melee." He chuckled. "Seven hells, Selwyn. Are you sure the boy's your son? I would've taken him for a dothraki warlord had he not had your blond hair."
Were it anyone else who said it, even jokingly, Selwyn would've taken it as an insult. But despite what many thought, his friendship with Steffon Baratheon went a long way back, back before the time his lord left Storm's End to be a page in King's Landing where he would become close with Lord Tywin Lannister and King Aerys.
"He's not ready yet, my lord." Selwyn turned back to the yard.
Below, the kingsguard and his son met in a fierce clash of swords, a whirlwind of slashing and stabbing that looked like a stage presentation so fast were their movements.
"Look at his feet. Galladon is quicker than Ser Gwayne, and—"
—and stronger," Steffon cut in as Galladon pushed the kingsguard knight back with a powerful blow. "By the Warrior the boy's strong."
He watched the bout with a feverish focus for another moment before he nodded to himself.
"But I take your meaning. Strong and quick he may be, he's too green. Right there, see. He still falls for a good feint. His speed is the only reason Gaunt hasn't ended the damn thing."
Say what you will about the Baratheons, but they knew their way around a fight.
Steffon himself had been a monster in his youth. Selwyn could well remember his lord's furious charge into the enemy line at the Steptones after his father's death. And it seemed Steffon's keen eye for martial matters had not aged a day.
Down at the yard, Galladon finally overextended himself enough for the knight to fully capitalize on it.
Even then, Selwyn let himself smile. His chest swelled with pride. Which lord could say that his fifteen year old son held his own for almost three minutes against an experienced knight of the kingsguard?
Steffon hummed in approval. "A good showing by any measure, Selwyn. You've got yourself a champion in the making there to be sure."
The Lord of Storm's End turned to him, one hand coming up to worry over the dark beard that covered his jaw.
"But a great spar won't make much of a difference when your boy sits in front of him. Tywin doesn't much care for… well, for anything that doesn't concern his house."
"I understand, my lord."
Unlike what he had told Galladon, Selwyn hadn't spoken to Lord Baratheon about his stunt as the mystery knight. There was no reason to explain anything beyond asking for the meeting.
"And you trust him enough to risk angering the Lannisters?" Steffon raised an eyebrow. "Tywin is a prickly man, and sending a boy in place of the house's lord will be taken as an insult. I never took you for a fool, my friend."
There it was. Selwyn chuckled. How could he explain to someone who didn't have a son like Galladon the wisdom of trusting your reputation to a fifteen year old boy?
"With respect, my lord, but fool is the father who raises an untrustworthy son." Selwyn smiled down at the sight of Galladon speaking amicably with Ser Gwayne. "If I must trust him with the future of my house, then I must trust him with this too."
xxx
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On another balcony, a tall, broad-shouldered man watched as the son of an unimportant house spoke with a knight of the kingsguard.
His sharp blue eyes flashed with interest.
That had been the most impressive showing he'd seen in years, even accounting for the two young men fostering with him, and he gathered the boy couldn't be older than sixteen.
Looking around, he realized very few of the lords and ladies in the balconies surrounding the yard had glimpsed the display of fighting proficiency.
More's the pity.
Then again, there was something to be said about getting in early in a promising investment. Or cutting it at the root, depending on how it seemed to be developing.
It was too early to act on it, of course. Many up-and-coming young men had shone too bright in their youth, only to end up burning out before making it into manhood.
Few were the men whose talent truly flourished into primacy. But those that did, well... They became something special. Something more than regular men, their names spoken in whispered reverence all across the land.
No, nothing to do yet. For now, he would simply keep a close eye on this Tarth boy.