Stephen Baratheon POV
He was really glad that his Gamer System gave him the ability to lower his stats. Otherwise, his high Strength and Agility would render him incapable of having sex with a normal woman.
Turning a woman's pelvis into salsa paste was not his idea of a good evening.
This was also the reason why he could practice hand-to-hand combat with his men on a daily basis, without accidentally fracturing their bones.
The fact of the matter was, he did want other people to see that he was special. But not at the cost of being perceived as abnormal. This was also why he has never showed his Shining Sword to anyone after the Battle for Kings Landing. Or why he went to such great lengths to hide his usual mana abilities from the world.
It was a delicate balance of impressing the viewers while also showing off only the barest minimum of what he was capable of.
So as he got surrounded by the 7 knights who'd challenged him, instead of cutting all 7 of them in half with a single mana blade, he drew a regular arming sword and took on a defensive stance.
The first attack came from behind.
One problem with being as strong as he was, was that these people didn't even appear as credible threats to his Gamer System. Thus, when the one behind him rushed forward, it wasn't his 'Danger Sense' that warned him about the incoming attack but his superior hearing instead.
He pivoted on his feet, dodging the tip of the blade by a fraction of an inch before he brought his sword up, his movement as fast as a snake, and held sword against his opponent's throat.
The young man stared the Castle Steel blade resting at his throat and gulped. But before he could say 'I yield', the other 6 pounced on him from all directions.
Swords, and spears swung wildly through the air, their armour glinting in the sun as he deflected, blocked, or weaved around their attacks with a grace and elegance that made it seem easy despite his speed not exceeding that of a normal human.
To be fair, these young knights were no slouches in combat. Under normal circumstances, they would have given formidable opponents in a melee tournament, particularly Gerold Dayne and Daemon Sand. However, such skills paled in comparison when pitted against him.
A-5-year old boy would have a greater chance of winning against these trained knights than they had of winning against him. And he wasn't saying that a boast but as simple observation.
After skillfully evading their attacks for a brief moment, he swiftly broke free of their encirclement and took the offensive, preventing them from regrouping and surrounding him once more.
His sword arm was a blur as he unleashed a flurry of lightning-fast strikes with deadly precision. Rather than aiming to kill, his attacks targeted vulnerable spots, leaving small but painful nicks and cuts that would either incapacitate his opponents or severely hinder their fighting ability.
His movements were fluid and graceful, and his sword a blur as it cut through armour and flesh alike.
Prior to the start of the fight, he had given serious thought to crippling or even killing these men for daring to challenge him like this. Not because he was bothered by their challenge itself but because of the dangerous precedent that such an action would set.
However, he decided that while killing them would definitely send a strong message, it would also damage his reputation among the Dornish people, and contradict his image as a compassionate bard prince. And in the end, he opted to spare them rather than make an example out of them.
One by one, the knights fell before him. The first succumbed to a slice to the thigh, the second left the field after being disarmed, the third yielded when a casual cut came perilously close to his eye, the fourth went down with a powerful punch to the chin, and the fifth one went down to friendly fire when he deflected a sword thrust to his shoulder.
In the end, only him, Daemon Sand and Gerold Dayne remained in the field.
He stood tall, his posture straight and his head held high. With one hand behind his back and the other loosely holding his arming sword, he wore a relaxed smile.
"You can quit now if you want." He said as his two opponents circled him warily. "You know you're not going to win. Might as well just give up and stop wasting my time."
"I cannot do that. I gave a promise." Daemon Sand said before he launched another attack at him.
It was as futile as any other before it, and Daemon Sand fell to the ground with a casual swipe of his legs. The young knight yielded once he put his sword to his throat and then it was only him and Gerold Dayne.
Even without the aid of his Observe ability, he still remembered who Gerold was, having read about him in the ASOIAF book. The one who mutilated Myrcella by cutting off her ears, causing trouble for all those involved.
Better for a person like this to go down than create problems for everyone.
Not that he planned kill Gerold. These people might like him, and they might hold slight dislike for Darkstar, but at the end of the day, Darkstar was Dornish while he was an outsider. No, killing him would definitely turn the people of Sunspear against him.
And no point in that, when he has something better planned in his mind.
"What about now? Wanna continue wasting my time? Or will you just yield already?" He asked with a relaxed stance as he casually flicked the blood off of his sword.
Gerold Dayne clenched his fist around the grip of his longsword, glaring at him with malevolent rage. "Your arrogance..." he hissed. "It reminds me of Arthur Dayne, thinking you're so much better than everyone else. Well, Arthur Dayne died, and so can you."
Without waiting for him to give a reply, Gerold threw himself at him with a series of lightning-fast strikes. He blocked or deflected those attacks for the next few moments before an opportunity presented itself and he swung his sword.
A cry of pain left Gerold's lips as the sword went flying out of his hands, courtesy to a deep cut in the webbing between his thumb and hand, that left his thumb barely hanging by some muscle and bone.
"Gerold would heal from the injury, but it would permanently affect his ability to use his thumb, rendering him unable to grip a sword with his dominant hand, ever again. It was a fate similar to Jaime Lannister's, minus the loss of an entire hand.
As Gerold fell to his knees, staring in shock and despair at the wound that would effectively end his career as a swordsman. He had built his entire identity around his swordsmanship, and now it was all gone.
He rest his arming sword on Gerold's shoulder and asked. "Do you yield?"
Gerold continued to gaze at his injured hand for the next few moments, as though he hadn't heard a word he said. Then, he slowly raised his head, his face trembling with fury and his expression twisted in rage.
Reaching beneath his clothing, Gerold drew out a knife with his left hand and charged towards him, intent on ending the fight with a final deadly strike.
He moved his head to the left, dodging the attack with the barest minimum of movements before his right hand lashed out with a punch that folded Gerold in half.
Gerold went to his knees once again, vomiting his lunch on the sandy ground of the arena. Not waiting for the Darkstar to recover, he lashed out with a kick to the chin that finally knocked him out.
With the duel finally ended, he turned to look at the crowd on the seats, or more especially, at the three judges.
"This would be my win, yes?" He answered. Asha gave him cheerful smile and a thumbs up. The Septon of Sunspear looked a bit shaken but gave him a solemn nod while Arianne gave a reluctant one.
Immediately, cheering broke out in the stands. The cheering wasn't as loud as it could've been since he'd made the Dornish people look incompetent with how easily he defeated their 7 'champions'. But people still enjoyed a good fight so they the clapped and cheered for that.
That cheering came to a slow stop as someone else suddenly entered the arena.
He turned around and saw a large broad shouldered man surrounded by 6 others walking toward him. Observe skill informed him that this guy was Areo Hotah. The personal guard of Prince Doran Martell.
Hmm… Areo definitely look far different from the bald black dude that he was portrayed as in the show.
Areo eventually arrived in front of him and gave a deep bow. "Prince Stephen Baratheon. Prince Doran Martell would like to humbly invite you to the Water Gardens to share a lunch with him."
Since he had been anticipating an invitation of this sort to arrive sooner or later, he simply nodded in response.
"Very well. I accept your Prince's invitation. Please lead the way."
—
The Water Gardens were even more beautiful than they were described to be in the texts he'd read. There was an indescribable sense of tranquility and serenity in such a place, especially with children frolicking in the pools.
His thoughts didn't linger on the scenery or the children for long however, as he was soon brought in front of Doran Martell, the Prince of Dorne.
Thanks to his Gamer System, his Shaper power was growing at a fast pace these past 2 years. And he'd finally gotten to the point where he could sense biology within a range of 10 meters around him.
This allowed him to get a sense of Doran's biology and realised that he was already affected with gout and that it was already hindering his mobility considerably as well as causing occasional bouts of pain and discomfort.
"Your sword." Areo Hotah said before he could get near the Prince of Dorne.
He thought about teasing them with how he didn't need a sword to kill all of them but felt that such an act would be needlessly arrogant and confrontational. So he simply gave a nod, took off his sword belt, and gave it to the tall Naarvosi man.
Only after that was he was finally allowed to get into the balcony and meet the Prince of Dorne.
He went to the balcony and inwardly frowned when the Prince continued to stare at the children playing in the water gardens, instead of greeting him as was proper.
He immediately realised what this was.
Calling him all the way from Sunspear to the Water Gardens. Having him wait outside and give up his weapon. And now ignoring him and making him wait for a conversation.
Doran was engaging in a game of social status, similar to how Tywin would make you wait for extended periods of time while he finished writing a letter before finally addressing you, or how Olenna Tyrell would insult you while hiding behind the facade of a feeble old woman.
It was… slightly offensive.
No one else in Westeros has tried this tactic with him, aside from that one time when the Queen 'summoned' him for a dinner in her chambers. But seeing how that ended, the Queen hadn't tried again.
His own father had no interest in playing such games, and Jon Arryn held a level of respect and gratitude for him, thus never attempted anything similar.
The only person aside from them, who held a higher position than him in the hierarchy of Westeros, was the King. Doran Martell was 'not' higher than him in the hierarchy. So to see him play a game like this was indeed slightly offensive.
"It seems that your prince is more interested in the Water Gardens than in speaking with me." He told Areo Hotah. "I shall take my leave then. If your prince wants to meet me then he knows where I'm staying."
With that, he turned to leave. Only for the Prince of Dorne to speak up as soon as he was about to leave the balcony.
"I heard about your bet against my daughter Prince Stephen. One of you against the best seven young knights of Dorne. It was a well-fought victory."
He turned and saw that Doran Martell was now looking at him, his steely black eyes staring at him with full attention.
"If I wanted to hear compliments about myself then I would've gone to a whore." He said as he walked to the Dornish Prince until he towered over the decrepit man. "You called me all the way here from Sunspear and then have the audacity to ignore me. You've not given me a chair to sit upon, nor offered me a drink. Tell me, Prince Doran, has sitting in this balcony for long hours really dulled your mind to the point that you don't even remember how to be a good host anymore?"
He knew that he was being slightly disrespectful to the prince. But it was either that, or playing the same political game as the Prince. And he had no qualms in admitting that he sucked at playing political games, So being direct and to the point would serve him better at the moment.
Doran Martell gazed at him expressionlessly for a moment before giving a nod. "Allyrion, fetch a chair for our guest. Benedict, instruct the servants to serve us some refreshments," he ordered. Doran then turned his gaze up towards him, his demeanor appearing composed and tranquil despite his Shaper power indicating otherwise. "I understand that the wager's prize was the servitude of two of my nieces to you for the next seven years. Is that accurate, Prince Stephen?"
"You're asking me as if you are unaware of everything that happens in Sunspear." He said as the guard hurriedly brought a chair for him. He situated it facing Prince Doran and settled into the seat. "What do you want Prince Doran?"
The Prince stared at him, as if studying each and every single one of his movements as he spoke. "You're surprisingly impatient for someone who I've heard so many good things about, Prince Stephen."
"I'm surprisingly patient with people who don't disrespect me in the name of power plays." He said. "So cut the bullshit and tell me what you want already."
At that moment, two beautiful maids brought them a palate filled with cheese, bread dry fruits, fruits, and other delectables along with some Dornish Red wine.
Doran waited until the servants had served them the wine in two glasses and left before he finally spoke up.
"I understand that Gerold Dayne made an attempt on your life after being defeated in that duel." Doran said, the Prince's eyes completely focused at him.
"You understand correctly."
Doran made a sound of contemplation for a moment before giving a firm nod. "He will be sent to the Wall for that. I will not allow it to be said that someone attempted to harm a member of House Baratheon under my roof."
"I do hope that you don't expect me to be grateful for removing a thorn from your side." He said as he stared back at the Prince of Dorne. "In fact, I expect some heavy reparations for that attempt on my life, since it was your daughter who put those men up to this in the first place."
Doran took a sip from his cup of tea and stared at him for a moment before he spoke up in his calm and collected voice. "Do you play Cyvasse Prince Stephen?"
He almost rolled his eyes at the change in topic, but decided to allow it for now. He also should've known that Prince Doran would be one of those guys who wants to play a game of chess while having a conversation so that they could show off just how intelligent they were.
"No."
Prince Doran raised an eyebrow at that. "Do you want to learn how to play it?"
He was about to say another 'No' when his Gamer System gave him a notification. A Quest to learn the game from Doran with some decent rewards.
So he gave a shrug instead. "It won't hurt to try."
So over the next five minutes, Prince Doran went through all the rules about the game. And he realised that the game was rather similar to Chess, even though some of the pieces and their moves were very different.
His 102 stat Intelligence immediately went to work and started creating a simulation of the game in his mind. What could he do to make the best use of his pieces. What kind of tactics will work the best with each group and combination. Which piece was the most important. So on and so forth.
By the end of his thinking session, he'd already gained the Cyvasse Playing skill.
And just like how his Lute Playing skill started at Lvl 19, due to him having prior experience with Guitar in his past life, Cyvasse Playing skill started at Lvl 11 due to him having prior experience with Chess that bled through in this game.
"Shall we start?" Prince Doran asked as he set up the game and he nodded.
"Yes."