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The grey sky hung low over the Red Door house, a shroud of mist that seemed to press down on the stone courtyard. Viserys Targaryen, his silver-white hair damp with sweat, adjusted his grip on a blunt iron sword. He was a lean, lethal figure, a stark contrast to the sturdier, barrel-chested man facing him.
Ser Roland Lake stood ready, his surcoat with the crossed warhammers faded from sun and salt. He held a blunt training spear, its length a silent threat. Nearby, Syrio Forel and Moro watched with folded arms. To them, this was not the graceful "needlework" of the Water Dancer; it was the Iron Storm—the brutal, grinding reality of the Westerosi battlefield.
"We focus on the foundations, Your Majesty," Roland said, his voice echoing in the enclosed space. "Foot combat, the weight of the shield, and the endurance to outlast a man who wants to see your heart on his blade."
Viserys nodded, shifting his weight.
In the Eyrie, Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon had spent years under Jon Arryn's tutelage, forging their skills through a decade of daily drills. Viserys did not have a decade. He was a latecomer to the forge, and he had to use his one day as if it were three.
Traditional knightly training was a tapestry of disciplines—horsemanship, hawking, the harp, and the joust. But in the stone maze of Braavos, horses were a luxury without a purpose. Roland and Viserys conducted a "beggar's version" of the discipline, stripping away the courtly frills to focus on the raw mechanics of killing.
"Strength is the bone, but endurance is the soul," Roland shouted, lunging forward.
Unlike the Water Dance, which relied on unarmored speed, knightly combat was a game of "tin cans." Wearing full plate and a heavy shield turned a man into a fortress, but it also made him a furnace. The heat and the weight were enemies as dangerous as any blade.
Viserys met the spear with his shield. The clang of steel on wood and iron was a pleasant, rhythmic violence. Roland used the spear's reach to keep Viserys at a distance, the wooden shaft whistling as it darted in feints and thrusts.
Viserys felt the sting of a dozen impacts. His arms grew heavy, his breath coming in ragged gasps inside his helm. But as the session stretched into its second hour, a change occurred. His Insight talent began to stitch the world together. He stopped thinking about the spear and started feeling the rhythm of Roland's breath.
"Faster!" Syrio called from the sidelines. "Even in iron, you must be like the water!"
Viserys began to maneuver, using his superior Agility to compensate for the weight of the armor. He played the game of Tian Ji's horse racing—using his "Krypton-gold" attributes to be faster than any knight and stronger than any Water Dancer.
He lured Roland into a series of aggressive thrusts. The knight, older and burdened by his own armor, began to flag. His strikes grew lower, his movements less precise. Viserys saw the opening with his five senses before his mind could even name it.
He ducked a side-thrust, charged forward with his shield raised, and slammed into Roland's chest. The shield splintered, sending shards of oak flying. With a fierce forehand chop, Viserys's blunt sword struck Roland's side, sending the spear clattering to the stones.
Roland sat heavily on the ground, his face guard flipped up as he gasped for air. "The Warrior blesses," he said with a wry, exhausted smile. "I can train a first-rate warrior, but I can no longer beat one."
He looked at Viserys with a profound respect. "You have a physique that shouldn't possess such power, Your Majesty. You are a handsome youth, not a burly brute, and that will be your greatest weapon. They will underestimate you until your sword is through their ribs."
"I am the sum of my senses," Viserys said, dropping the broken shield. "My eyes, my skin, my ears. I see the intent before the strike."
"Good," Syrio added, stepping forward. "Observation is faster than thought. But remember, the road is long. Humility is the shield that keeps a knight from falling."
Viserys wiped his brow, his mind already calculating the next "Krypton" investment. He had the mines of the Courtesans and the talent of the ancient blood. He would surpass the limits of men, pushing his attributes until he was no longer a King in exile, but a force of nature.
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