Chapter 392: The Archery Tournament (Part 1)
The first day of the archery tournament was dedicated to registration and preliminary rounds. Its primary purpose was to allow information to spread and ferment, ensuring that no one who wished to participate would miss the opportunity due to poor communication. The entry fee was a single copper penny at the registration desk; after proving one could handle a bow by firing a few arrows, the applicant was successfully registered and through to the next stage. The barrier to entry was so low it was practically non-existent. Once the preliminaries were finished, those who wanted to practice could stay on the grounds, while those who didn't were free to head back and sleep in their huts.
The second day marked the official opening of the tournament. The venue was a massive open space within the outer town's industrial zone, originally used as a storage yard for ore and coal. This previous function ensured the grounds were extremely spacious yet spartan: there were no vast clusters of pavilions, no shining armor, no tall warhorses draped in gold and silver, and no countless nobles or knights with bright banners snapping in the wind. Aside from the pre-existing perimeter fence—meant to keep residents from sneaking in to steal coal—there was only a semi-circle of simple benches hastily pieced together from wooden slats the day before.
It was perhaps the shabbiest tournament in the recorded history of the Seven Kingdoms, yet for the Gift—long a desolate no-man's-land—and the Mountain Clans and New Gift folk who had never seen such an event, it was an unprecedented spectacle. Hard conditions and the threat of the White Walkers had left everyone physically and mentally exhausted. When an event finally arrived that allowed people to temporarily forget their sorrows, their enthusiasm far exceeded Egger's expectations. Despite an announcement for order's sake that only the friends and family of competitors could enter as spectators, the guards had no way of verifying who was related to whom... and in a sense, if one person from a tribe entered, the rest of the tribe considered themselves kin.
Thanks to the novelty and relentless promotion, the turnout was anything but shabby. Thousands packed the perimeter; the benches could only seat a hundred or so, leaving the rest of the audience to stand or bring their own seats. The air was thick with the clamor of voices; the atmosphere was electric.
In sharp contrast to the barren field was a conspicuous high platform at the edge. It wasn't a VIP gallery for the Night's Watch leadership, but a display stand—raised over two meters off the ground, with a canvas roof and wooden windbreaks. Upon this sturdy little stage stood a long wooden rack, where seventy-seven Lightbringer arrows, assembled onto superior shafts and gilded with gold, were arranged vertically in perfect order. They faced the crowd, shimmering brilliantly under the torchlight. A full dozen soldiers stood guard beneath the display. Coupled with the legends and anecdotes regarding their origins and the arduous forging process circulating through the crowds, the arrows felt mysterious and epic. No spectator could resist stealing an extra glance at them.
The competition consisted of a single event: archery. Due to the lack of facilities, there were no mounted archery or moving target events. The rules were simple: fire an equal number of arrows at targets of the same size from the same distance. The person with the most hits after a full quiver would emerge victorious. Cash prizes were awarded to the top twenty; the top ten would win the right to hunt Others with Lightbringer in the final battle. Naturally, the most lavish rewards went to the top three: they would not only gain usage rights but could also choose one of the seventy-seven Lightbringer arrows to keep as private property and a family heirloom!
Of course, the fulfillment of these promises was predicated on the conclusion of this war.
There were few dashing heroes from the songs to be seen. Instead, the field was crowded with contestants of all ages, genders, and attires. Most were Mountain Clansmen and New Gift folk wrapped in various styles of animal furs. Their interest in honor or fame was secondary; they were mostly there for the prize money and the legendary Dragonsteel arrows said to vanquish the Others. The second-largest group consisted of the soldiers of Queenscrown in black armor—either from the Logistics Department or genuine Night's Watch brothers. At Egger's request, even Jon Snow at Castle Black had sent several of the order's best marksmen to bolster the event. Finally, the most conspicuous—and those who actually looked like they belonged at a tournament—were a group of visiting competitors. Beric Dondarrion's party, who had followed Egger to the Gift and spent days cooped up in their rooms, wouldn't miss this chance to kill boredom. They wore their finest, most colorful garments, parading about and shamelessly boasting that the championship belonged to none other than their master archer, Anguy. On the other side, a small group of Winterfell guards had also registered. As elites chosen to escort their Lady and young mistresses, they were among the finest soldiers of the North... though their primary mission remained looking after their young lady.
Indeed, unable to withstand Arya's stubborn persistence, Egger allowed... or rather, could find no excuse to forbid her from competing. This tournament was open to anyone—there were even thirteen-year-old youths and female contestants among the New Gift folk, such as Jon Snow's rumored lover, Ygritte. Since there was no reason to stop her, the only thing to do was remind the Winterfell soldiers to do their duty.
While the field was a cacophony of noise, Egger sat in the stands at the edge, surrounded by soldiers, content to be a spectator. As the owner of the entire Lightbringer set, he certainly didn't need to compete for the right to use what was already his. Some might say that even without seeking a rank, he could have entered just for practice or to warm up.
True as that might be, he knew exactly where his archery skills stood—not bad, but only just enough to avoid embarrassment. It would certainly not add to his glory or give him anything worth boasting about.
To package oneself as a hero only to fail to place in a competition would offer no benefit; it might even invite contempt and ridicule, leading people to doubt other aspects of his reputation. At this critical juncture, he refused to take any risk where the danger outweighed the gain.
Hosting rather than participating in a tournament—among transmigrators or story protagonists, he was likely an outlier.
However, even sitting in the stands, Egger was not entirely idle. Myrcella had taken Arya's seat while she was competing and was now sitting beside him, whispering further suggestions. Over these past few days, the little princess was clearly pulling out all the stops to catch his attention. Egger could empathize with the underlying reason: much like when he was first sent to the Wall as a recruit and didn't want to be chosen as a ranger to patrol beyond the Wall, he had done everything possible to showcase himself before the Lord Commander and the officers. This little princess likely had no desire to accept the fate of staying quietly at Winterfell as a ward, only to be married off as a bastard daughter to some obscure hedge knight when she grew up.
He, as it happened, was a great man with the power to change her situation and someone she could actually reach. After he showed a few gestures of kindness and she gauged his character, he had naturally become her liferaft—the only chance to change her destiny.
Although he had guessed why Myrcella was suddenly being so proactive and close, Egger couldn't bring himself to be wary of a princess who, while perhaps not knowing everything under the sun, was intimately familiar with Westerosi history, knew the customs of the Seven Kingdoms, was full of wit, and most importantly, had a good heart. In fact, he was almost inviting her to bother him.
Another lady, however, was far less welcome.
"The Lord Commander truly has a way with things. I never thought the gods-forsaken Gift would one day see such a lively and joyful scene," Asha Greyjoy complimented him from two rows away. "Since Theon arrived at Queenscrown, this is the first time I've seen him so energetic, with a smile on his face—thank you for giving my brother this opportunity."
The Daughter of the Kraken and her long-lost brother had become rivals the moment they reunited in Queenscrown—bickering upon meeting and having a massive row every three days, until everyone in town knew of it. But blood is thicker than water; after some time, the siblings seemed to lose the energy for fighting and had likely reached a secret truce. Their relationship wasn't close, but it was no longer so explosive.
She was a prisoner on one hand, but on the other, she was the sister of Theon Greyjoy, the Queenscrown Archery Instructor. Theon, as an officer of the Night's Watch and a participant in the tournament, had earned Asha a seat in the relative's section.
Now, having the chance, she was determined to speak to Egger even with the guards between them.
Egger knew exactly what Asha was going to say next. Although ignoring a lady was rude, he truly had no desire to engage.
"You flatter me, Lady Greyjoy."
Her carefully prepared opening met with a cold response. The feeling of being snubbed was unpleasant, but Asha had braced herself. She gritted her teeth and continued: "I hear the situation at the Gorge is tense. I am willing to go there and face the dead to redeem myself. I swear by the Drowned God, I will not run!"
"Lady Greyjoy, I truly do not wish to remind you again: you are a prisoner of the North, not a Night's Watch recruit."
"Yesterday you threw that criminal clan chief there! Why him and not me!?"
"Because he took the black," Egger sighed. "I have already allowed you to wear only leg irons and even come out daily for air—do me a favor and stop trying to steal our sworn brothers' livelihood, won't you?"
"Steal your gods-damned livelihood!" The anger she had suppressed for months finally erupted. Asha stood up from her seat and shouted at Egger. "I'm not even asking for freedom anymore! I just want something to do! 'Only leg irons,' you say! How do you have the face to say that like it's a great mercy? With these irons on, I can't even spread my legs to have a man! Do you know what that feels like? No, you don't; you've never been shackled in your life!"
The outburst was sudden and caught everyone off guard. Myrcella's face turned crimson at the shameless confession, and the surrounding guards were somewhat stirred—clearly, if a woman like Asha wanted a man, no one would care if she could spread her legs. Egger frowned in displeasure. What, did she decide logic wasn't working and decided to throw a tantrum? Did she think this would work on him?
He coughed once to settle the scene and spoke in a low voice: "Lady Greyjoy, if you had taken the time to learn about me, you would know... I have indeed worn shackles, on the very road that brought me to the Wall to become a Watchman. As a prisoner, I was much more well-behaved than you. Today is the Queenscrown Archery Tournament; I have no wish for meaningless arguments with you. Your brother has already taken the field. Either sit down and watch the competition properly, or leave and return to your room. If the irons make it difficult for you to move, I have plenty of men here who can assist you."
The rest of the massive field was unaffected by this small disturbance. In the center of the clearing, Theon Greyjoy, wearing a clean new black cloak and looking full of vigor and pride, took his position with his bow. Seeing that Egger was unmoved by either soft or hard tactics, Asha clenched her fists and finally sat back down with a resentful huff, watching the competition in silence.
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