Chapter 127
TYRION LANNISTER POV
"For being the centre of attention of the whole Westeros. This place is certainly very peaceful." Tyrion commented as he went past shelves after shelves of books from Lord Bolton's own private library.
It has been a week since he arrived in Dreadfort and since then, he had walked with Giants, talked with Children of the Forest, rid on the back of a direwolf, played with the children of smallfolk and done an innumerable number of things that he would have once thought to be impossible.
And even if he had yet to meet Lord Bolton himself, he had still found a great many things about Dreadfort and the Winterhold city. Things that made him want to stay in this place rather then go back to the shithole known as Kings Landing.
"I did not know that we were the Centre of attention of the whole Westeros." Mance Rayder replied as he sat in a comfortable sofa and read a book on the history of the North and the Long Night.
A grim book if Tyrion said so himself.
"Making Glass. Producing enough food to feed the whole North and some of the Vale. Producing enough Steel weapons to arm a few armies of your own. Making roads that could challenge the Valyrian roads of the old and put the Royal road to shame. Having the greatest warrior of the realm. Producing books 3 times cheaper than the books produced by Citadel and the Faith. Are you really that surprised that the Bolton lands are the topic of almost every conversation in the Red Keep these days?" Tyrion asked he finally found the book he had searching for and sat down on the sofa opposite to Mance.
In the past week, he and Mance had developed a steady friendship of sort. And though Mance had still not told Tyrion anything about his own past, he still trusted Mance almost as much as he trusted his brother Jamie.
And hadn't that been a surprise. After living in Kings Landing for so long, he was surprised to find that he still had it in him to trust other people.
"If you put it that way, then I suppose I'm not." Mance said while turning the page of his book "Live here in Dreadfort for long and you forget that compared to this place, the outside world has become stagnant and resistant to change. But then again, I suppose that is one of the charms of this place."
"One of the charms indeed." He said with a smile that signalled the end of their conversation as they both went quiet and started reading their books.
At least they did until a stable boy came running in the library and informed them that Lord Bolton was here.
Tyrion quickly walked out of the room, following the servant at a fast pace while Mance limped behind at a leisurely pace.
The servant led him down the stairs the past a corridor until they came out in the back Courtyard where the sound of Clashing blade could be heard from.
When they reached the courtyard, he could see a huge crowd made of guards, scholars, maids and guests looking forming a huge circle around someone that he couldn't see due to his height.
"Move aside. Let me in." He said as he pushed people out of the way and forced his way in on the circle.
The people gave him irritated glace but he paid them no mind and finally pushed his way at the front of the crowd where the sight in front of him took his breath away.
Because in front of him, Varko was clashing blades against a youth who could be none other than Lord Bolton himself if the cheering around him was to be believed.
"Is that Lord Bolton." He asked the maid beside him who was looking at the youth with unconcealed lust.
Oh, he might have been able to fuck the maids in the castle by showering them with gold but he doubted that he would ever win their hearts like this.
He was not tall enough. Not beautiful enough. Not strong enough.
And he was definitely not a swordsman who could dance circles around Varko, the greatest warrior of the 7 kingdoms.
Because that's exactly what Lord Bolton was doing right now.
A single look at the spar and you could tell that Varko was in the backfoot and struggling to keep up with his lord who was as fast as the wind itself and as nimble on his feet as a cat with the reflexes to match.
Varko was breathing heavily and beads of sweat were flowing down his chin.
It was hard for him to believe that this was the same Varko who had fought and bested his own brother twice in the past few years.
But with how fast Lord Bolton was on his feet, it was not really that hard to believe.
The two swordsman disengaged from each other and while Varko was left panting, struggling to catch his breath, Lord Bolton walked around his opponent like sizing a prey. His steps easy on the ground. His pose perfect. And the with which he carried and twirled the blunted sword might have you mistaking it for a thin needle.
The whole thing was strange because even to his untrained eye, he could tell that Lord Bolton was not nearly as skill as Varko who had perfect control over his twin blades.
But what Lord Bolton lacked in skill he made up with his fast speed, his unnatural strength, his nimble footing and his inhuman reflexes that allowed him to dodge any counter attack form the Greatest swordsman of Westeros.
Their was a lull of silence as everyone in the courtyard went silent. The wind blew his hair. And then both the swordsman charged back into a fray of metal and steel. So fast that he was having a hard time comprehending the battle.
Tyrion, along with the whole crowd watched enraptured as the battle went on for what seemed like hours even though in reality it merely lasted a few minutes before Varko finally became so exhausted that he put up his guard just a moment too late.
That was all Lord Bolton needed and with a resounding thud, Varko fell to the floor and laid there, painting like a man starved for breath.
The silence was deafening.
And then Varko spoke the two words.
"I yield."
And the castle erupted into cheers.
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