Kapitel 34: Chapter 34: Beating Up the King
Lynd's pause drew a collective sigh of regret from the surrounding audience. The staggering toll of 87 fighters who had fallen to his hand—spanning almost every noble house save House Tyrell—had left an indelible mark. Notably, all the Tully fighters, including their leader Ser Dalton, had met their end at Lynd's blade, as had every Arryn fighter except for two who were injured by others and forced to retreat.
While many of Lynd's kills were the result of opportunistic strikes against fighters already engaged with others, this was not seen as dishonorable. In fact, such tactics were common in the arena; the distinction lay in Lynd's unparalleled effectiveness. Somehow, he always managed to find his mark amidst the chaos, escalating his tally far beyond anyone else.
The crowd, anticipating Lynd to reach the grim milestone of 100 kills, was stunned when he suddenly halted. A wave of disappointment rippled through the arena, with some spectators even shouting for other participants to confront him. Yet, the grisly scene surrounding Lynd—a field littered with the bodies of his victims—was enough to freeze the bravest fighters in their tracks. Even the harshest taunts from the onlookers couldn't compel anyone to step within ten meters of him.
In the Tyrell family's temporary camp, the members of House Tyrell were similarly stunned. While tales of lone warriors facing overwhelming odds were not unheard of, witnessing someone like Lynd cutting down nearly a hundred opponents singlehandedly, as though harvesting wheat, was unprecedented. Lord Mace Tyrell stared at the scene in disbelief before finally breaking his silence. "What was his name again?" he asked, turning to Garlan.
"Lynd. Lynd of White Holdfast," Garlan replied, reiterating the name as he recounted Lynd's origins, ensuring his father would not forget it this time.
Upon hearing that Garlan had recruited Lynd from House Crane into House Tyrell's service, Mace launched into effusive praise, momentarily forgetting the presence of Vortimer, Highgarden's master-at-arms, who stood behind him. It wasn't until Maester Mollos discreetly tugged at his robes that Mace caught himself. Looking sheepishly at Vortimer's impassive expression, he quickly added, "Your niece, Meredyth Crane, has settled in Highgarden, hasn't she? She's about the same age as Margaery. Margaery could use a lady companion. Let Meredyth be her lady companion!"
Vortimer, recognizing this as an effort to smooth things over, replied without hesitation, "Yes, my lord. It is an honor for Meredyth to serve Lady Margaery."
With that, Lord Mace refocused on the battlefield, where conflicting emotions churned within him. While he was elated by Lynd's prowess, he couldn't help but voice a concern: "If that Lynd faces His Grace, will he use lethal force as well?"
Garlan and Vortimer, familiar with Lynd's temperament, exchanged uneasy glances before responding hesitantly, "I don't think so…"
Meanwhile, in the arena, the number of combatants had dwindled to fewer than a hundred. Except for Lynd, every remaining participant bore injuries. Even King Robert had not escaped unscathed—his helmet was dented, with one antler missing, though he seemed unbothered. If anything, the King appeared invigorated, his warhammer still swinging with relentless force.
While others had withdrawn or been incapacitated, Lynd stood in stark contrast, surrounded by a grim sea of corpses. His lethal efficiency made the rest seem woefully inadequate, as most fighters had only managed to injure or incapacitate their opponents.
King Robert, leading the remnants of his Storm's End guards alongside survivors from the Vale, Riverlands, and the North, focused his efforts on eliminating the remaining Lannister soldiers. The Tyrell Lord's Guard, however, had fared poorly.
Out of their original numbers, only nine emerged alive. Ser Salif, who had earlier vowed not to assist Lynd, had been struck in the head by a warhammer early on and was now clinging to life. Without a clear commander, the guards had been overwhelmed, scattered, and ultimately defeated.
On the opposite end, the fighters from House Martell displayed remarkable cohesion. Despite facing repeated assaults by dozens of warriors from lesser houses, the six surviving Dornishmen fought with precision and unity, holding their ground and even turning the tide against their attackers. It was clear they were likely to emerge victorious from this melee.
Elsewhere, a few surviving nobles, either out of desperation or ignorance, ventured toward Lynd. Oblivious to the carnage he had wrought, they soon joined the ever-growing pile of corpses at his feet, bringing his kill count to 94.
After more than ten minutes, the two main battles in the arena reached their conclusions. Despite their superior equipment and veteran experience, the Lannister fighters could not withstand King Robert's relentless siege and were ultimately forced to retreat from the arena. Their withdrawal thinned the crowd surrounding Robert, leaving only three warriors by his side. Judging by their emblems, one was from House Karstark in the North, and the other two bore the sigil of House Templeton from the Vale's Ninestars. The noble lineage of these warriors was evident in their finely crafted armor.
On the other side of the arena, the Martell warriors had overcome their adversaries but at a heavy cost. Two of the six had fallen, and the remaining four were grievously injured. Exchanging glances, they made a silent agreement to avoid Lynd entirely and instead charged at King Robert.
The three warriors near Robert moved to intercept the Martells, unwilling to allow anyone to approach the King. However, they severely underestimated the unyielding determination of the Dornishmen. Three of the Martell warriors fought with reckless abandon, willingly trading their lives to bring down the three noble defenders. With their sacrifice, the lone surviving Martell fighter pressed forward, his eyes fixed on Robert. It was clear to everyone in the arena that he intended to take the King down with him.
The crowd gasped in alarm as they realized what the Martell fighter was attempting. The Kingsguard and the Gold Cloaks rushed into the arena to intervene, but before they could reach him, Robert Baratheon met the charging Dornishman head-on.
Like an unstoppable force, Robert deflected the scimitar with his warhammer-armored right arm and seized the warrior's throat with his left hand. With a brutal twist, he snapped the man's neck and tossed the lifeless body aside.
"What are you doing? The competition isn't over yet! Who gave you permission to enter? Get out!" Robert roared at the Kingsguard and Gold Cloaks now entering the arena. His voice reverberated with authority, halting them in their tracks.
Relieved that Robert had dispatched the threat, the intruding guards retreated, leaving the arena. Now, only two combatants remained: Lynd and King Robert. A tense silence fell over the crowd, broken only by the distant murmurs of spectators.
Robert Baratheon, now gazing at his final opponent, studied Lynd with a serious expression. His eyes swept over the battlefield littered with bodies, and the weight of the moment sank in. Despite being focused on his own fight, Robert had heard the roaring cheers of the crowd throughout the melee. Tales of an unstoppable warrior cutting down nearly a hundred men had reached his ears, and now, standing before Lynd and the carnage surrounding him, he realized those tales were no exaggeration.
Meanwhile, Lynd observed Robert, his mind racing. This was no ordinary foe. Robert Baratheon, at the height of his power, was a force to be reckoned with—far removed from the indulgent king of later years. His heavy armor, fortified by a specialized inner weave, had shrugged off nearly every attack during the battle. Only a dented helmet bore testament to his injuries, but even that had not slowed him down.
Lynd's half-sword, crafted from a rare material, was sharp and durable, but its ability to penetrate both layers of Robert's armor was uncertain. A failed strike would leave Lynd exposed to Robert's overwhelming counterattack. Worse, Lynd knew that harming the King, even unintentionally, would seal his fate, tournament rules or not. The stakes left him hesitant, the idea of withdrawing from the fight crossing his mind.
Yet Robert seemed to sense Lynd's wavering resolve. Without giving him a chance to retreat or speak, the King charged forward with his warhammer, forcing the fight to begin.
Seeing Robert barrel toward him, Lynd set aside his doubts and entered a focused combat state. Gripping his half-sword tightly, he launched himself at Robert, fully committed to the clash.
As Robert closed the distance, he swung his warhammer in a powerful horizontal arc aimed at Lynd's midsection. Anticipating a dodge, Robert prepared for a follow-up strike, ensuring no avenue of escape. But Lynd's response defied all expectations.
In a stunning maneuver, Lynd released his grip on the half-sword and leaped high into the air, curling his body to evade the sweeping hammer. The warhammer whooshed harmlessly beneath him, and before Robert could adjust, Lynd used his full strength to lunge at him mid-air.
Lynd's sheer bulk and strength drove his feet into Robert with incredible force. Though the King's armor absorbed the brunt of the impact, the momentum sent Robert sprawling. His heavily-armored body slammed into the ground, and the weight of his helmet caused his head to strike the arena floor with a sickening thud, aggravating the earlier head injury. Momentarily stunned, Robert lay unable to rise.
Lynd, prepared for the landing, rolled deftly to dissipate the shock of his leap. In one fluid motion, he regained his footing and sprinted toward the downed King. Wasting no time, Lynd delivered a vicious kick to Robert's arm, the one clutching his warhammer. The force of the blow snapped the King's arm, eliciting a scream of pain.
Seizing the opportunity, Lynd straddled the injured Robert, pinning his uninjured arm underfoot while leaving the broken one immobilized. He raised his fists and began hammering them down on Robert's head, his iron-plated gloves pounding relentlessly. Robert's attempts to resist were futile; his handsome face quickly swelled, blood streaming from fresh wounds, as Lynd's strikes drove him into a semi-conscious haze.
"Enough! Warrior of House Tyrell, I think you've proven your point."
The sharp clang of steel accompanied Jaime Lannister's voice as his longsword descended, resting lightly against Lynd's neck. Lynd paused mid-swing, his fists trembling with exertion, before slowly lowering his hands. He turned to meet Jaime's stern gaze, panting heavily as he assessed the threat. Judging that Jaime wasn't aiming to kill him but merely to end the fight, Lynd obeyed. Rising carefully, he stepped back from Robert, maintaining his composure despite the sword at his throat.
As the tension shifted, Ser Barristan Selmy and the remaining Kingsguard rushed to their fallen King. Lynd, meanwhile, stood motionless, awaiting the next move. Some among the crowd began to stir, with several moving toward him to attempt an arrest. Jaime, however, intervened, blocking their path with a warning gesture.
The arena fell silent, the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone. None had expected the group competition to end like this—with the King bloodied on the ground and his would-be opponent under threat of execution. Whispers rippled through the audience, while in House Tyrell's camp, anxiety hung thick in the air. Lynd was one of their own, and the consequences of his actions could be catastrophic.
"What are you waiting for? Arrest this man who dared to strike the King!" Queen Cersei's voice, sharp with fury, pierced the tension as she strode toward the center of the arena, flanked by her attendants. Her command stirred immediate unrest among the spectators.
The Queen's order tarnished what had been an extraordinary spectacle in the crowd's eyes, leading to murmurs of discontent and even boos from some. To them, the drama of the competition had been marred by her heavy-handed interference.
The Gold Cloaks immediately stepped forward to seize Lynd upon hearing the order. Jaime Lannister moved to intervene, but the command had come from Cersei, and that moment of hesitation held him back.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein