Chapter 137: A Lesson
Arya indeed possessed an extraordinary talent for swordsmanship, but certain things cannot be mastered merely through wit or a stint on the training ground. Egger could sense he was completely outmatched after only a few seconds of facing the Red Viper because he had sparred or clashed with countless Night's Watch brothers and wildlings at Castle Black and beyond the Wall. He possessed a functional, if not elite, level of experience and combat intuition.
The girl's judgment of another's strength, however, was still stuck in the stages of reputation, hearsay, and guesswork. She knew Oberyn was better than Egger, but as for how much better, she had no inkling.
Without much hesitation, Arya traced a decent semi-circle around her opponent, her footwork light and nimble. After a small feinted sprint, she confidently thrust her wooden sword toward Oberyn's midsection.
Quite fast, Egger thought, slightly surprised.
It was indeed fast, but to the Red Viper, it posed zero threat.
"Left shoulder," Oberyn announced. With a casual flick of his wrist—clack—he parried Arya's small blade with his short wooden stick and tapped her left shoulder with the rounded tip.
The girl wore no protection, which made it tricky for Oberyn... but regardless, the weapon had to make contact to signal a hit. It was a touch-and-go strike; he had to ensure she understood what had happened, lest she refuse to concede the point.
In a duel, ensuring the opponent remains completely unharmed is far more difficult than simply winning, though fortunately, Arya's skill was still a world apart from his own.
"Ouch!"
The onlookers saw Arya launch an attack only to recoil instantly as if stung by a needle. She stood her ground, rubbing her left shoulder with her right hand in confusion. Her cry and sudden movement made the spectators tense up; if this little treasure were bruised or battered, it would be no laughing matter.
...
The girl's expression showed she was fine—the spot he tapped stung a bit, but it didn't hinder her movement. More than that, she wanted to understand how the Red Viper had managed to poke her shoulder at the exact moment of his parry.
It must have been a fluke.
Unconvinced, she reset her stance. Ignoring the worried warnings of the onlookers, she launched another assault. This time, she approached him head-on before sliding a step to the side, attacking the man's flank.
Tsk, two months truly makes a difference... Arya's attack, in terms of speed, angle, and even aesthetic grace, was quite impressive. Had Egger faced this move himself, a moment of carelessness might have left him scrambling. Yet Oberyn didn't even turn his body. He watched Arya, his hands moving in a blur to deflect the girl's thrust. Then, in a volume everyone could hear, he said: "Right shoulder."
No one doubted he was joking. Arya instinctively raised her wooden sword to block, twisting her body to hide the named target. But no matter how intensely she focused or widened her eyes, her vision blurred. With two successive thwacks, her wooden sword took two hits. As her arm went numb from the vibrations, that familiar impact landed on her right shoulder.
"So fast," even Margaery, a layman, couldn't help but marvel.
No one could clearly see Oberyn's counter-move; they could only judge what happened by the sound. Egger, however, had personally experienced this lightning-fast aggression and the shock Arya displayed after being hit again.
(I didn't expect Oberyn to be this slick with a sword. And... aside from pulling back most of the force at the point of impact, he really isn't holding much back against Arya.)
"A beautiful Water Dance, Miss Stark." Oberyn had traveled the Free Cities and recognized the style within two moves. "It is one of the styles best suited for a woman to learn, and you have already grasped its essence—you simply lack practice. Have you truly only learned for a few months? Who taught you this?"
Oberyn turned his gaze toward Egger. Had this Night's Watchman hidden his true skills last time?
"It wasn't me. I only helped her with the basics." Fearing the Prince might take an interest in him, Egger shook his head quickly, forgoing any pretense of bravado and decisively selling out the Faceless Man. "It's Kon, one of my employees, a swordsman from Lorath."
Oberyn glanced at Jaqen (Kon), seeing a plain, expressionless man with a face he didn't recognize.
"How did you do that!" Arya's indignant shout pulled the Red Viper's attention back. "You said I grasped the essence, so why did you block me so easily?"
"Simple: I am faster than you." Oberyn flashed a toothy grin at the girl. "And—grasping it is a long way from mastering it. Your foundation is solid, your moves are fluid, and being left-handed makes it easy to catch enemies off guard. Unfortunately, you are currently just mimicking the 'form.' You haven't turned what you've learned into your own. Fixed routines are useful, but they are also easier to counter."
Having her rapid progress of the last two months dismissed as worthless, Arya asked petulantly: "Then what do I have to do to improve?"
"There are no shortcuts. Practice more. Face opponents of similar strength. Keep at it, and one day you will be the finest Water Dancer and female swordsman in Westeros." He paused, his smile fading slightly. "But unfortunately, I have no interest in being your sparring partner. Challenging me now offers you almost no benefit other than a bruised ego. Do you want to go again?"
"Arya, I told you to find someone to practice with, not to find an opponent of this caliber," the normally laconic Jaqen spoke up, a rare occurrence. "Surrender quickly, lest you suffer more."
"One more time! Go slower, I can't see it!" Arya demanded crossly. "And don't poke my shoulder, it hurts!"
...
The Dornish woman watching from the side burst out laughing. The man had already said he wouldn't be a sparring partner, yet the girl was asking him to slow down and stop poking her. How was the fight even supposed to happen?
"Fine, I'll go slower." Oberyn was amused by the she-wolf's blunt request. "Next time I'll poke your foot. You're wearing shoes; it shouldn't hurt as much."
"Arya." Egger couldn't bring himself to laugh. He didn't have the noble status of Margaery or Oberyn; if something happened to Miss Stark at the Night's Watch office, the blame would fall squarely on him. "Didn't you hear the Prince? Surrender honestly!"
"Just one more!" Arya ignored the advice and closed in on Oberyn again. This time, to prevent him from mysteriously tapping her shoulder, she stopped rushing for his body. Instead, she fixed her eyes on his sword, ensuring it was where she could see and defend. Then, with a pirouette, she dodged out of the reach of Oberyn's next swing and circled around to stab the man's back.
"A quick learner, but the Water Dance isn't meant to be used like that."
Oberyn commented, no longer relying on speed or experience to bully the girl. After standing his ground like a post for two exchanges, he finally shifted his position.
...
Oberyn Martell was not just the Red Viper and one of Westeros's finest warriors; he was a Prince of Dorne, brother to the Lord of Sunspear, and one of the few who could participate in the planning and decision-making for House Martell's future. He had much to do. Touring the Night's Watch industries and visiting the office with Margaery had already wasted much of his time today. Making friends with a Stark girl might be a decent spare chess piece, but casting a wide net to make friends everywhere in hopes that some might prove useful was a typical Tyrell tactic—one he disdained to emulate.
He slowed his movements as Arya requested. Now, everyone could finally see the details of the weapons clashing. Although the girl was no longer being poked at random, she didn't feel the slightest bit of relief. She felt as though she had been swept into a storm of wooden swords. The crisp clatter-clack of wood on wood was continuous and impossibly dense. Then, a declarative shout rang out again.
"Left foot!"
Arya realized her learned techniques were useless against this high-tempo assault. She could barely track the trajectory of the attacks and was forced to pour all her energy into defense. Within seconds, her palm and forearm were numb and aching from the impacts; every block felt like she couldn't possibly stop the next. Arya gritted her teeth and held on, but upon hearing Oberyn's shout, she instinctively jerked her left foot back. Before she could complete the movement, she heard the next command.
"Right foot!"
The girl, not daring to doubt him, retracted her right foot as well. With both feet pulled back but her body not moving in reverse, her rhythm was shattered. Leaning forward, she couldn't possibly maintain her balance. Amid a gasp from Margaery, she teetered and began to pitch forward.
"Aaaah—" Arya cried out, but a split second before she face-planted, her collar was snagged. She dangled precariously, half-held up by Oberyn.
"Head," the Red Viper finished. Arya hurriedly covered her head with both arms in fright, allowing him to easily pluck the sword from her hand. He helped her up with a chuckle. "Tsk. By the rules, if you aren't hiding another weapon on you, you've lost."
This couldn't be luck... Finally, the girl recognized the chasm in skill between her and her opponent, as well as the fact that he truly didn't want to spar with her. She pouted and said honestly, "Fine, I surrender."
"If you truly want to practice swordsmanship with me, go back and tell your father Eddard to marry you into Dorne. Then everything becomes easy," Oberyn said, putting away the sword and releasing her with a laugh. "My brother has two sons, Quentyn and Trystane. Both are fine boys."
"Hmph... we'll see about that." Arya was annoyed at the mere mention of such things—Joffrey had given her a terrible impression of "princes." They were surely no good. She ran back to Egger's side and looked at him pleadingly. "Master, the Red Viper didn't know how to go easy on me! You should be the one to practice with me."
"Hah! Just a moment ago you were complaining I wasn't as good as him, and now that you've been taught a lesson, you come back to me? No such thing!" Egger glowered at the girl. "Check your shoulder for bruises first, then go eat lunch!"
While maintaining his "Master" persona on the outside, Egger was muttering to himself: Fortunately, Oberyn gave her a lesson today and took the wind out of her sails. But in a few months, when Arya's swordsmanship improves to the point where even I am not her match, what then?
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