The Gold Cloaks, seeing the King arrive, stopped their training and assembled to pay their respects. Witte also walked over to Robert and bowed. In Westeros, only prisoners, criminals, and slaves knelt on both knees. For nobles, the highest normal form of respect was to kneel on one knee. In daily life, male nobles would simply clench their right fist and place it in front of their chest while slightly bowing.
Robert, at this time, was still very strong, but his belly had already begun to bulge slightly. Servants brought three chairs and placed them on the high platform of the Tournament Grounds for the King and his family to sit. The seven Kingsguard stood on either side. Witte and the Gold Cloaks stood in the training field, waiting to see what Robert wanted.
"Witte!"
Hearing Robert call his name, Witte stepped out of the crowd and stood before him.
"I heard from Barristan that your martial skills are almost on par with his?"
Hearing Robert mention this, Witte didn't need to be modest and truthfully said, "In swordsmanship, Ser Barristan can still use his height and reach to his advantage and defeat me. But with the Lance, those advantages aren't as obvious. I've been fortunate enough to win a few times."
Robert naturally knew about magic. He had come this time because he heard that Witte was already comparable to Barristan in martial skills alone. In this world, honor was still earned through force, so he came to confirm it and brought Prince Joffrey along to set an example.
The Gold Cloaks beside them had seen the two of them sparring before and thought Barristan was letting Witte win. Now, hearing it from Barristan himself, they found it hard to believe. The other six Kingsguard, including Jaime, were even more disbelieving, and some of them even laughed.
Robert heard the laughter from behind, and he was already displeased with them; now they were mocking his own younger brother.
"Witte, you've heard them. Many people are questioning you now. How will you prove your skills?"
Why should I prove anything to them? Witte figured Robert probably wanted him to become famous.
Witte opened his attribute panel:
Name: Witte Baratheon
Age: 11 years old
Attributes (Adult Average 100): Health 400, Magic 1400, Stamina 200. Body Skills (Max Level 100): One-Handed Weapons 35, Two-Handed Weapons 31, Block 20, Archery 15, Light Armor 33, Heavy Armor 10. Magic Skills: Destruction 56 (Intermediate), Restoration 40 (Intermediate), Alteration 40 (Intermediate), Conjuration 22 (Apprentice), Illusion 13 (Novice), Alchemy 22, Enchanting 12 (Skill Bonus). Life Skills: Speechcraft 82, Lockpicking 40, Pickpocketing 40, Sneak 40, Smithing 66. Free Points: 23 Talents: Dragonborn, Broken Item Space, Magic Affinity.
Witte's stat allocation, aside from enhancing Health, was almost entirely focused on Magic. Warriors were a dime a dozen, while mages were rare. Who would want to be a warrior when they could be a spellcaster? His gaze swept over the few Kingsguard, and he spoke two names:
"Ser Boros, Ser Meryn."
These two were exchanging glances. They were the ones Cersei had arranged to be here. They had some martial skills, but they were far from the standards of the Kingsguard. Their character wasn't up to par either, only loyal to Cersei. They were bought with money, and it was perfect for Robert to give them a lesson.
In the whole world of Game of Thrones, fools would be abandoned by their families when they were young and wouldn't grow up. Therefore, only those with normal or intelligent minds could reach adulthood, but there was one exception: Cersei Lannister.
Boros and Meryn, upon being named, puffed out their chests and walked into the training grounds with smiles. The three of them each took a training sword without an edge from the side. The Gold Cloaks automatically cleared the arena, and other Gold Cloaks were running in to watch the fun.
Boros gestured with one hand for Meryn to step aside. Meryn walked to the center, drew his sword, and then sheathed it again.
"Ser Witte, the Kingsguard cannot remove their armor. You should put on your armor first." He looked around at the crowd, who were all nodding, feeling very chivalrous.
"I have never had armor made, so I have never worn armor until now."
Witte was wearing pants underneath. He wore a yellow, single-breasted, long-sleeved robe with embroidery. The hem of the robe reached his knees, and his chest was embroidered with his crowned stag sigil, which was what nobles usually wore.
Holding a large book in his left hand and raising his sword towards Meryn with his right,
"I'll be wearing this, and I'm calling out both of your names. This isn't a turn-based fight; it's me against the two of you!"
Everyone watching gasped in astonishment. Witte looked taller and more robust than the average ten-year-old, but facing two Kingsguard at once was still unbelievable.
Boros and Meryn felt deeply insulted by this, especially since he wasn't wearing armor and was holding a book. They turned to Robert, who was smiling.
"Keep it friendly, and the three of you begin," Robert said.
With the King's approval, Boros and Meryn, seething with anger, vowed to knock the boy to the ground and cover him in mud. The three of them drew their weapons and stood ten paces apart, ready to fight.
"We'll let you make the first move," Boros said.
"You said it yourself," Witte said, happy to hear the offer.
Witte's stamina attribute now gave him twice the strength of a normal adult. He hadn't used his full power during his training sessions with Barristan, focusing only on learning and applying techniques. But against these two, he wouldn't hold back.
He bent his knees slightly, leaning forward. With a powerful push off the ground, dirt flew up, splattering onto the faces of the onlookers. He charged towards Boros at an incredible speed.
So fast! They had anticipated that Witte, without armor, would rely on agility. They had even let him attack first. They had experience, but they hadn't expected him to be this fast!
In the blink of an eye, Witte was in front of Boros. Being short, he could only use the momentum of his charge to jump up and thrust at Boros.
Boros dodged to the right, intending to parry the thrust. But Witte changed his move mid-air, switching from a thrust to a parry, using his sword to block Boros's. He then used the force of his landing on Boros's shoulder to push off, flying towards Meryn.
The force of that push was immense. Boros lost his balance and stumbled backward, falling to the ground. Meryn, who had been running to support Boros, suddenly found himself the target. He didn't have time to change his stance and could only parry. However, he had underestimated Witte's strength.
After clashing swords with Meryn, Meryn was knocked back two steps. Before he could regain his footing, Witte slashed at him with another blow, forcing him to parry again.
Witte's attacks were swift and powerful. Each strike forced his opponent's sword aside, exposing a weak point. However, the training sword wasn't sharpened, so the blows only produced sparks when they hit the armor.
The onlookers watched as Meryn's defenses crumbled, each parry revealing a weakness. Witte had several opportunities to drive his sword into Meryn's helmet's visor slit, but he didn't. Instead, he circled Meryn, deflecting his defenses with one strike, then landing a blow that sent sparks flying off Meryn's armor.
Boros arrived to assist. Seeing him, Witte jammed his sword into the gap between Meryn's sword and his gauntlet, twisting to disarm him. Then, he turned to attack Boros.
Meryn's sword flew from his grasp; he had lost.
Boros had just witnessed Witte's attacks on Meryn. The training sword couldn't penetrate the armor, so he could simply absorb the blows, using his adult strength advantage.
Witte's next attack was a diagonal slash.
So, he wants to go head-to-head, eh? Fine!
Both men switched to diagonal slashes simultaneously. The two swords clashed with a resounding clang.
Boros stumbled back a step, his hands numb. Witte's second strike followed immediately, a heavy overhead chop. Boros barely managed to raise his sword to block. He was nearly forced to his knees, and realized Witte was wielding the sword with only one hand, yet the blow still carried such power.
Witte didn't change his move, still using his right hand to slash down from above! Powerful, consecutive heavy slashes! It numbed Boros's arms, forcing him to defend without being able to change his moves.
The people watching saw Boros retreating from a standing position, being forced to one knee by Witte's sword, then forced to sit on the ground. The entire Tournament Grounds echoed with the clang of steel, and some looked at Robert. This was the Hammer Technique, wasn't it? The Baratheons had always favored heavy weapons.
Another slash came down on Boros, who was sitting on the ground, and with a loud bang, the sword in his hand broke. Witte dodged the fragments and looked at the one-inch blade left in his right hand.
After all, it was a Training Sword. That it could withstand so many heavy blows showed the Red Keep's blacksmiths were skilled.
The fragments also hit Boros, but he wasn't harmed, wearing a helmet and Armor. He saw his opponent looking at the broken hilt.
"A chance!" Sitting on the ground, he used his remaining strength to stab at Witte's neck with his sword. He didn't care about hurting anyone in the competition anymore.
Actually, Witte had been watching him out of the corner of his eye. Tilting his head, he dodged the stab. His left hand separated the big book in the middle, using the book to clamp the sword blade, and with a twist, he took Boros's sword.
Witte threw the broken sword on the ground, breathing slightly. Holding the book with the sword clamped in it, he walked to the high platform where Robert was sitting. He released the book, twirled the sword in his right hand, and then powerfully thrust the sword into the ground, brushing the dust off his clothes.
"I won."
The Gold Cloaks in the arena let out a huge cheer and whistled.
Robert laughed heartily, Barristan was also smiling, and Jaime's eyes were shining, eager to try as well.
....
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