It wasn't until the second week that Bronze Yohn Royce returned with his army, while Lyn Corbray had remained outside the Gates of the Moon for a full week, taunting the Lannister forces daily and demanding a one-on-one duel.
"Absolute folly," Tyrion said. "This farce sickens me. What does he want, a trial by combat?"
"His goal is to disgust you," Bronze Yohn said. "Either you crush him with your army, or you send someone to defeat him in single combat."
"If I crush him with my army, I'll become a laughingstock," Tyrion replied, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "The cowardly Lannisters, afraid to send a man to a knightly contest. It would damage our morale."
"If the man you send loses, or is killed, it will damage our morale even more," Bronze Yohn shook his head. "Do you have a suitable candidate?"
Tyrion paused, deep in thought. "This Lyn Corbray—he really is as formidable as the rumors say? Prince Lewyn was already gravely injured before he fell to his blade, wasn't he?"
Just then, a soldier rushed in, out of breath.
"My lord! Ser Uther Shett, who challenged Ser Lyn Corbray alone, has been beheaded!"
"Who is this Uther Shett?" Tyrion stood up. "Who authorized him to act on his own?"
"Uther Shett is a valiant knight..." Yohn Royce started.
"Your man?" Tyrion turned sharply to the earl. "You should keep your own people in check, my lord!" He turned to the soldier. "Take me outside to see."
Beyond the Gates of the Moon, a field of withered grass stretched out. The Heart's Home camp was set up beside the walls, the Three-Hearted Crow banner waving in the wind.
From a distance, Tyrion saw Lyn Corbray's gaunt figure standing over a corpse, wiping his sword, Lady of the Void. Runestone riders, carrying the rune-stone banner, drove their horses forward to haul the body away.
"Challenging the Vale's finest swordsman—that's a tempting prospect," Brynden Tully said, standing beside Tyrion. "If I were twenty or thirty years younger, I'd want to try it myself."
"Would you have been confident to beat him at twenty?"
"No," Blackfish admitted frankly. "His swordsmanship is decent, but the real challenge is that blade, Lady of the Void."
"To counter a Valyrian steel sword, you're best off using another Valyrian steel sword," Tyrion said. The cavalry from Runestone returned, dragging Shett's body. One knight dismounted and knelt before Tyrion.
"My lord, Ser Lyn has a message."
"What is it?"
"He wants a Lannister," the knight said, somewhat timidly. "He says his lady wishes to taste Lannister blood."
"His soft lady only wants to taste the blood from a boy's rectum," Tyrion gritted his teeth. "My army will be held up by such men?"
Bronze Yohn, Tyrion, and the others rushed out of the great tent. The group stared from afar at Lyn Corbray, standing before the Gates of the Moon Castle.
"I'll go," Timett said. "This is my war. I'll deal with him."
"Are you mad?" Tyrion nearly struck him. "Do you wield a sword? You plan to duel him with an axe and dagger? If you slip up, we're all finished!"
Yohn Royce nodded in agreement. "You absolutely cannot fight." He paused and added, "If only my second son, Robar Royce, were here. He served as a Red Guard for Renly and earned some fame in tournaments. His swordsmanship is quite good."
True, but he was dead. Tyrion almost said it aloud but swallowed the bitter words. Poor Robar Royce had been killed by a furious Loras Tyrell when Renly died.
"I'll go," Brienne pressed forward. "I can use your sword, my lord. Give me Ice. I fear him not."
Tyrion hesitated. With so many men present, sending Brienne would surely provoke discontent among his knights and invite ridicule from their opponents.
"No, Brienne," he shook his head. "This is not the place for you." He turned and walked back into the tent.
In the days that followed, challengers came daily. Ser Lyn fought only three times a day: once in the morning, once in the afternoon, and a third time at dusk.
Two more hedge knights from Gulltown came to challenge him—one died, and the other was left crippled.
Thoros of Myr, struck in the shoulder by a sword, managed to leap back onto his horse and escape thanks to his seasoned experience.
Ser Vardis Egen, Captain of the Guard to Jon Arryn, who had once met Tyrion at the Eyrie, had his sword cleaved in two by Lady Silence. Ser Corbray laughed heartily as he let him flee.
At first, challengers could fight three times a day, but soon it was reduced to twice a day, and eventually just once. Since Ser Vardis Egen's defeat, no more challengers had come forward. Each time an opponent won, the cavalry would ride around the Lannister camp, shouting: "The lady wants the lion's blood!"
"The lady wants the lion's blood." Bronn grinned, showing his teeth. "Ain't you gonna give it a shot?"
"I didn't summon you for amusement," Tyrion replied. "All these days, you've been quiet. Planning to name a high price?"
"Not exactly." Bronn slouched lazily in his chair. "I thought you'd lose your temper and send the army storming the city. Never imagined you'd fall for such a petty trick."
"I admit I'm in a bit of a bind now," Tyrion sighed. "But you know, once you start a trial by combat, there's no turning back. If we don't kill him, we become fools. Enough beating around the bush. Tell me what you want."
"I refuse," Bronn said. "I have to admit, I'd have a hard time beating him."
What? Tyrion stared into his dark eyes.
"He's the same kind of swordsman as me. I've watched his duels for days," Bronn continued. "He's agile, precise, ruthless. But he has one advantage over me—he has a fine sword, a Valyrian steel blade."
"I have one too—Ice," Tyrion said. "If you're willing to fight, I'll give you that sword."
"No," Bronn refused. "Your wife's sword is a two-handed greatsword. Only noble knights trained from childhood can wield such blades. Do I look like someone who's trained with a two-handed sword? If I'm to fight, it has to be with a one-handed sword or a halfsword, like Lady Forlorn."
That night, as they settled into bed, Sansa pressed against his back.
"My lord, why so gloomy?"
"I need to find a sword—one smaller than Ice." If I suggested reforging Ice... No, my wife would kill me, he thought.
"Let Brienne fight," Sansa suggested. "That sword isn't too big for her."
"True. I have a sword too—one that's too big for you."
...
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