Ser Balon fought until he was sweltering in his plate armor, and all he could smell was leather and sweat. He lost his mount somewhere in the half-hour mark, by a pair of unmarked knights who wrestled him down to the ground. He’d made sure to break a few of their bones for it. After that, the world had narrowed down to the man opposite him. Until the next one and the one after that came.

The latest one, a knight wearing the three thunderbolts of Leygood, was quick and skillful with sword and shield, but green as summer grass. He fell for a trap any man who’s ever fought for his life would’ve seen through, and got his feet kicked out from under him.

He watched as the knight was taken away, grumbling about luck. The midday sun was high in the sky by now, and sweat was running down his face, tickling at his eyes. He opened up his visor for a moment to wipe it off. Scanning around the field, he spied Ser Loras still ahorse, twirling his sword through the air like a knight of legend, downing men twice his size with blows to the head, all white and shining in his silver armor. He watched as a giant of a man on foot faced down a mounted knight, his two-handed great sword bashing down onto the other man until he was off his horse with a broken shield, yielding from the ground.

Without a horse, Balon knew he had to keep away from the muck and mud of the center of the field. He slid down the visor back into place and set off. He stayed on the sides, skirting the larger groups of knights clumped together like a pack of starving dogs waiting for weak prey, until he spotted a worthy foe skulking by the fences and stepped up to meet him.

The knight turned on the balls of his feet and lifted his longsword in salute as he approached. Good, Balon thought, finally a fight between proper knights. The man was of height with him, only less broad on the shoulders, and jet black hair peeked out from under his helm. He wore only ringed mail over boiled leather, and displayed no sigil from any house Ser Balon knew, only a shield with black and white stripes. It was likely he was a hedge knight, but Balon knew honor and valor could not be bought with gold.

“May I have your name, ser?” Ser Balon asked.

“I’m no ser, my friend,” the man said with humor in his voice. “But I feel they might just make me one if I beat a knight of the kingsguard, no?”

Ser Balon felt a small smile coming to his face. “Come try your luck, then.”

xxxxx

Loras was the first of my men to go down. He had been the people’s favorite so far, with his fancy footwork and overexaggerated sword techniques, but when you come up against a man like the Ser Lyle Crakehall, all you get with moves like that is a mouthful of mud and a bruised ego. It didn’t matter much. He had a good showing, coming up to the last five, and I knew jousting was really where he most stood out.

“What do you know of Ser Lyle, uncle?” I asked.

“The Strongboar?” Jaime stepped up next to where I sat, his golden hand gleaming from where it rested on his sword. “I squired at Crakehall when I was younger than you. With his uncle, Lord Sumner. They breed them tough there, and Ser Lyle is one of the toughest I met. All you’d want in a knight.” People don’t give enough credit to Jaime, but he can be sharp sometimes. He already knew why I was asking. “Strong, loyal, brave. Terrible sense of humor, though,” he finished with that grin of his.

I hummed, considering. To the side, Lord Tywin was looking at me, and he nodded as well. He clearly approved where this was going. “Thank you, Ser Jaime.” He grunted and moved back to stand behind me.

I turned to the field again, searching for Ser Balon, and found him already locked in battle on the far side of the grounds. I didn’t recognize who the other knight was, but I knew just from watching him move that it would be a close fight. Every time my knight pressed on, the man weaved out of the way and tried for quick slashes against joints, or swipes of the sword against Balon’s head.

They were completely different warriors with clashing fighting philosophies. My kingsguard stood centered and solid as if he were made of marble, betting on an impenetrable defense and striking hard and fast in counters. This other man made fighting an art; he was nimble and deadly like a tiger. He didn’t prance and played like Loras did, yet there was a beauty in his every move. He seemed to glide around Ser Balon, dodging and side stepping and parrying every strike of his great morningstar.

In the end, their duel turned into a battle of attrition. But between a heavily-armored man with stamina like Ser Balon had, and a man with mail as his only protection, my knight needed only one strike to land. And he did, a blow against the man’s longsword which he couldn’t redirect quite well unbalanced him, and then Ser Baelon had piled on, bashing him with his shield until the man went down.

By the time it was over, Ser Lyle Crakehall had defeated and stood waiting for the victor.

I quickly turned to Tywin before the final two could engage. “I want to talk to that lad, Lord Hand.” I pointed to Ser Balon’s opponent being helped out of the field by a few squires.

“The hedge knight?” Lord Tywin frowned. “You’re not thinking…”

“Not as of yet,” I told him. “You can hardly judge a man solely by his sword-waving skills. But it pays to have good fighters around, no?”

He grunted. “As you say, Your Grace.” He called out one of his red-cloak captains and whispered a few orders.

Depending on who the hedge knight was and where his allegiances laid, he could be a good addition to my Kingsguard. And even if he didn’t fit the profile of the men I wanted, I could still have him as a household knight or a simple sellsword.

Back on the field, I caught the first . Crakehall went on the offensive first, pressing with quick swipes of his massive sword that threatened Ser Balon’s head. The kingsguard gave ground slowly, weaving out of the way where he could or getting his shield on the way when he couldn’t. I could hear the thwack from all the way on the stands each time sword met wood.

Suddenly, Ser Balon feinted left and quickly stepped into Ser Lyles’s guard, then smashed the morningstar into the Westerlander’s leg. A normal man would’ve gone down right there despite the armor covering his thigh, but as Ser Jaime said, they breed them tough there in Crakehall, and the knight only buckled with the blow. He seized his chance and his greatsword cut down on the shaft of the morningstar, cutting it cleanly in half.

Before the kingsguard could retreat, Ser Lyle was on him, relentlessly beating down on him with overhead strikes, then swipes and lunges and thrusts on every side. Ser Balon had unstrapped the shield from his arm and was holding the shield two-handed now, blocking left and right. The battered shield groaned with the impact of each strike, and wood chips and splinters flew out like blood spraying from a wound. Until the next blow split the shield in half.

I thought it was done then, but the sword had caught on the wood, and Ser Balon was quick to throw all his weight back and yanked the shield to the side. Both the greatsword and the shield were thrown away with the force of Ser Balon’s pull, and both warriors just stood there across each other, panting and unarmed.

Before they could jump on each other and start wrestling on the ground, I jumped to my feet. “Enough!” My voice cut through the quiet of the crowd, who’d been watching the savage fight in stunned silence. “Enough,” I said again.“I will not have two of the finest knights of the realm tangling in the mud like dogs.” Both of them seemed ready to protest, before they realized who had said the words. They made their way nearer the royal stands and knelt.

“I assume your approach to rewards remains unchanged, Ser Balon?” The knight stoically nodded. “Very well. What about you, Ser Lyle? Ask me for a boon, and if I can grant it, I shall.”

The Strongboar, who was already on his knees, managed to bow even lower. “Then, Your Grace, I would ask for a place in your white cloaks. Been tired of lazing ‘round since the war, might as well do the next best thing, eh?”

I didn’t hide my smile. Sometimes when you are king, you don’t even need to scheme and plot to get what you want. People just double over and beg to let them help you. “It would be an honor, ser, to have you in my Kingsguard.”