Leo stood over his defeated opponent, but his expression looked off.
He'd just figured out exactly who "Reb" really was.
The second Reb had yelled "I yield!" in panic, the voice had slipped—raw, unmasked. That was when Leo flipped up the dented visor and got a good look at the face underneath.
Blood streamed from a split eyebrow, one cheek was already swelling, but Leo still recognized her.
"Reb… Brienne… How the hell did I miss that?" he muttered under his breath, the pieces snapping together.
If he wasn't mistaken, this was Brienne of Tarth—the "Beauty."
Brienne, daughter of Lord Selwyn Tarth of Evenfall Hall on the isle of Tarth in the Stormlands. His only child and heir.
Yeah. Reb was a woman.
She was huge—taller and broader than most men—with a plain face covered in freckles, buck teeth, a wide mouth, and straw-like hair. Flat-chested, no curves, nothing that screamed "lady." Most people just called her ugly.
From childhood she'd been mocked for her size and looks. She once tried dressing like a proper noblewoman and only got laughed at harder. Some cruel bastards even nicknamed her "the Beauty" as a joke.
But the gods had given her one hell of a consolation prize.
That massive frame came with raw strength and a natural gift for fighting. Under the training of Ser Goodwin at Evenfall Hall, she'd become one of the best warriors in the Stormlands—maybe the entire Seven Kingdoms.
In the original story she entered the melee at the Bitterbridge tourney for Renly's coronation, fought through a field of 116 knights, and took down the final champion—Loras Tyrell himself—to win the whole thing. Renly was so impressed he made her one of his Rainbow Guard.
Later she beat the Hound in single combat, dragged Jaime Lannister across half the realm as a prisoner, and then spent years chasing Sansa and Arya because she'd sworn an oath. She lived and died by knightly honor.
Her loyalty was ironclad. Her sword arm was elite.
And right now, Leo had just sat on her chest and punched her helmet like a blacksmith working an anvil.
The system didn't care about any of that. The second he won, it dumped over six thousand EXP straight into his bar.
15,163 / 19,200
One solid fight away from the next level.
"More EXP than the Hound gave me," Leo muttered, watching Brienne limp off the field. "Makes sense—she's the one who actually beat him in the books…"
Then he remembered how the show fight went. Brienne had won by going straight for the Hound's weakest spot—his burned face.
Leo instinctively glanced down at his own crotch and felt a phantom chill.
He also couldn't stop thinking about the last few seconds of their bout—how he'd tackled her, mounted her chest, and rained punches down on her visor while the whole crowd watched.
A young, unmarried noblewoman getting pinned and pummeled by a stranger in front of hundreds of people… yeah, that had to sting.
Even with the helmet and the fake name, she had to be mortified.
Leo pushed through the crowd and followed her.
She ducked into a small tent. He stopped outside, cleared his throat, and called in politely.
"Hey… it's me—Neo, the guy you just fought. Mind if I come in?"
A loud crash came from inside, like someone had tripped over something in a hurry.
A moment later Brienne's muffled voice answered, deliberately low. "Come in…"
Leo stepped inside. She still wore the dented helm, visor down.
"Look, you don't have to hide it," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know who you are… Brienne. I just wanted to apologize."
She slowly lifted the visor. Her blue eyes—bright as sapphires—stared at him with a complicated mix of surprise and embarrassment.
"Why apologize?" she asked, voice still a little rough from the fight. "You didn't do anything wrong. It was a fair match."
Leo winced. "I… uh… sat on you. And punched your helmet. A lot. In front of everybody."
Brienne's face flushed bright red under the blood and bruises. She coughed awkwardly and looked away.
"It was a melee," she muttered. "No need to apologize. Just… drop it."
Her voice grew quieter. "Actually… could you do me a favor?"
"Name it," Leo said immediately. "I owe you one."
She finally met his eyes again, studying his face for a long second before she spoke.
"I came to this tourney without my father's permission. Could you… keep my identity to yourself? Please?"
Leo grinned and thumped his chest. "Already done. As far as anyone out there knows, they just watched Ser Neo beat some free-rider named Reb from the Stormlands. End of story."
Brienne let out a long breath. "Thank you."
Leo pulled a small jar from his pouch—the ointment he'd bought in King's Landing for bruises.
"Here. This stuff works great on swelling. And… for what it's worth, you're the toughest opponent I've faced so far. Your swordwork is incredible."
Brienne looked up sharply, those sapphire eyes widening.
"Really?" she asked, almost shy.
Then her expression twisted again. "But… I'm a woman. Doesn't that seem strange? Training and fighting like a knight?"
"Not even a little," Leo said firmly. "Back in the Great Tang Empire we've had famous female generals and lady knights who defended their country with blades and honor. Their names are still sung centuries later."
He shrugged. "Man or woman—doesn't matter. If you've got the talent and the will, you train. Anyone who mocks you for it is either narrow-minded, jealous, or just not as good as you."
Brienne stared at him, something shifting behind her eyes.
"Do what you want to do," Leo finished. "Be yourself. Live your life loud and proud. That's what actually matters."
She didn't answer right away. For a long moment the only sound was the distant roar of the crowd outside the tent.
Then Brienne looked at him again—really looked—and for the first time since the fight, the corners of her mouth twitched into the faintest, most uncertain smile.