Chapter 83

"So, it seems your luck has finally run out. It appears that your attempts to embarrass my House have run afoul of other parties. By the looks of things, the Lannisters and the Tyrells have seen fit to come to the aid of my family over your lot of upjumped bastards, exiles, and foreigners." Sneered Lord Alyn Harte as he gloated over the unveiled tourney bracket.

"Is that so? I think our chances are somewhat higher than you might expect, though." I responded between spoonfuls of soup.

"Has your eyesight gone, Man? Look at the brackets! You can't honestly say that you're able to just ride through Robar Royce and three members of the Kingsguard including Barristan the bloody Bold?" Scoffed Lord Harte.

"Ser Meryn Trant already had his arm dislocated by me during the Melee. Even with the Maesters patching him up, that's a weakness I can exploit. Ser Robar Royce is better with a sword than he is with a lance, and I'm confident I can handle Ser Meryn Trant. Ser Barristan is going to be difficult, I'll not lie, but then Ser Jaremy is going to have just as difficult a Quarterfinal against Ser Jaime. Even if that isn't the case, I have two other Vassals who are entered as well, triple the chances." I pointed out as Ser Robar Royce made an offended-sounding grunt of protest from next to Lord Renly.

"Bah, you can tell yourself whatever you like. We both know that this is one event you won't win at." Sneered Lord Harte.

"Perhaps that is so. That being the case, how would you like to make this more interesting? Care to make a wager on the outcome?" I questioned.

"Take your money? I'd be a fool not to. What stakes?" Demanded Lord Harte.

"Three thousand Dragons that I personally advance further in the lists than Ser Jaremy does. For each of my vassals that advances further than Ser Jaremy, I'll put up another thousand Dragons. If you're so confident that Ser Jaremy will advance further, that should be an easy five-thousand Dragons. Think about it, that's enough money to field a force of eight hundred fully-equipped Knights. Surely, you wouldn't pass that up?" I offered.

I knew he wouldn't pass that up. Lord Harte had been having problems with brigands coming down from the highlands of Cracklaw Point. The economic upturn brought on by Lord Baelish and Myself trading with the Lords there has made for tougher nuts to crack on the point than in times past, and the traditional banditry and shep-thieving that tended to go on amongst certain sections of the smallfolk in the Point had been made less profitable as a result. The Pointsman Brigands had been encouraged by the situation to look elsewhere for targets.

Invariably that meant either the lands of House Staunton around Rook's Rest, always a difficult choice given House Staunton's proximity to House Rykker of Duskendale, likely the most powerful Lords of the Crownlands after the King himself, or turning straight west. The Western route along the road from Maidenpool led through the Lands of House Harte, which had been the chosen path forward for various groups of Brigands rather than trying for a raid so close to Duskendale.

I also knew that Lord Alyn had been having trouble driving off the Brigands and that overland trade from Maidenpool had slowed to a trickle of what it had been as a result. Apparently, he'd been trying to raise a levy of mounted Yeomen to supplement his Guards only to run into issues with invoking the feudal contract. The Cracklaw Brigands, apparently, had spread some of their stolen wealth around the various members of the Yeomanry, which incentivized the Yeomen to be obstructionist. With my Dragons, though, Lord Harte could simply buy the acceptance of his Yeomanry or even just hire on Hedge Knights to bypass them.

"Done!" Blurted Lord Harte, a bit too quickly for me to relish his downfall. Mind you the fact that I knew the money represented one way for Lord Harte to solve what was turning into a large issue in his lands and that I was taking advantage of that fact meant that I probably shouldn't relish his downfall quite so much, to begin with.

"Very well. I suppose that we'll see how things go on the morrow." I nodded.

"Indeed. You had best not attempt to weasel out of any payments." Insisted Lord Harte.

"Perish the thought, though I could just as easily say the same of you." I remarked.

Lord Harte just turned on his heels and stalked away in a Huff. He made it back to his table just in time for the Cheese Course to be brought out. The name was misleading as it was really more of a Charcuterie course. I took slices from a wedge of Mozerella and another from a stick of Soppressata, though they had Braavosi names for those here, and placed them between two pieces of flatbread to create a panino.

As I ate said Panino, Lord Renly spoke up, saying, "That was ill-done."

"Whatever could you mean?" I queried.

"You know Lord Harte has been having issues with Brigandage. You specifically targeted his need to raise and equip a solid fighting force to bait him into your wager." Groused Lord Renly.

"Is the wager not competitive? Did your friends in House Tyrell not team up with the Queen's Family and Lord Harte to alter the brackets? If the Man wishes to taunt me over a rivalry when he's gained the upper hand via illicit means, then he can bloody well take the consequences!" I grumbled.

"I hesitate to point out that the involvement of House Lannister is only hearsay at this Juncture." Cut in Grand Maester Pycelle, only briefly looking up from his plate piled high with cheeses.

"Indeed, the same for that of House Tyrell." Added Lord Renly.

"I suppose that we'll just have to take Lord Harte's words as empty boasts, then? He all but named them as co-conspirators during his attempt at gloating." I scowled.

"Be that as it may, perhaps it is best not to go seeking more enemies at this juncture?" Asked Ser Robar Royce.

"Very well. I do suppose I must apologize to you, though, Ser Robar. I'm going to have to ride through you on the morrow in order to tend to my wager." I sighed.

"I do hope you don't think I'll be making it easy for you?" Intoned Ser Robar.

"I wouldn't wish you to. What I must do tomorrow will only feel right if I earn it." I confirmed.

As the night wore on, the main course was brought out, being a roasted leg of venison spiced with Black Pepper my ships had brought back from the exotic lands near Yi-Ti and traded abroad and Saffron I grew in my own lands and traded, along with Rosemary, Thyme, Garlic, and Bay Leaves. I tucked in and soon found thoughts of the difficult task ahead of myself banished by good food, good drink, and good cheer.

The dessert course was a massive chocolate cake, cocoa from my lands traded along with sugar to make the cake, local eggs and milk, along with wheat from the Reach. As the minstrels struck up a rendition of the Bear and the Maiden Fair, and Lord Stannis excused himself from the raised dais, I resolved to have one more cup of ale before turning in myself. I attracted Ser Roger Groves' attention from two tables over and he tapped Ser Loras Lothston's shoulder. The pair turned to look at me.

I mouthed that I was retiring after one last drink to them and that they should too. Ser Roger nodded at that in understanding, but Ser Loras only shook his head, gaze going over toward one of the Minstrels, a well-endowed, fair-skinned, Lass who played a three-holed flute and accompanied the Man playing the lute. He looked back at me and grinned, only for me to shrug and mouth at him not to be up all night. He nodded in return and that was that.

As I called over one of the serving girls to pour me one last cup of ale, Lord Renly simply snorted at me and said, "It appears that at least one of your vassals isn't taking your wager seriously."

"I doubt that Ser Loras is going to stay up all evening bedding the Flute-playing Lass. He's nothing if not insistent on being the best Jouster among my various vassals." I shrugged.

"And is he?" Questioned Grand Maester Pycelle.

"Ser Roger might have been able to best him in his prime, but Ser Roger has reached middle age and Ser Loras is still a man in his Prime. At the moment? A bout between them could go either way. They're still leagues beyond my other Vassals. A Rhoynish Spearman, Northern Axeman, Ironborn Captain, Lyseni Former Pirate, and a Summer Isles Archer. We're mostly a Lord Paramountcy of Islands, Grand Maester. We have little enough call for Cavalry as it is." I answered.

"Still, that must affect the odds of your wager." Remarked Ser Robar Royce.

"I suppose we'll find out on the morrow." I responded.

With that, I drained my last cup of ale and stood up, making my own excuses. Ser Roger did the same over at his table, though Ser Loras was still waiting for the next group of minstrels to take the stage so he could sweet-talk the Flute-playing Lass into his bed for the evening. I chuckled as I passed by him. I couldn't exactly gainsay his affair, not with how he'd wound up marrying a lady from the Principality of Xhala on the Island of Omburu. Sharalya was like many noble Summer Isles women in that they didn't have the same hang-ups about monogamy that the rest of us did. She wouldn't even care if he wound up fathering a Bastard tonight so long as Ser Loras came back to her when he was done.

As I made my way out of the Red Keep to Seawynd Townhouse, I couldn't help but feel like tomorrow would be the last bit of recreation I was likely to have in a good long while. There was the looming threat of Civil Strife, Baelish's schemes with the treasury that Lord Stannis and Lord Stark were attempting to untangle, and beyond all that, the eventual apocalypse with the Others. Tomorrow would mark the last bit of fun before life would take a massive turn for the serious.

I was resolved to make the most of it. Win or lose the Joust, I would at least win my wager with Lord Harte. Part of that was getting a good night's sleep before the big event tomorrow. I made it to my Townhouse without any hassle and washed up before bed. I was out like a light as soon as my head hit the pillow. I was woken up by one of the servants waking me at the time I specified. I armored up and soon was mounted on Armino, ready to joust.

Hopefully, Ser Loras acted true to form and hadn't spent the whole night awake. As I made my way over to the lists, I saw Ser Roger already armored in his plate armor and mounted on his Destrier, who he'd named Iron Jon. Jalhabar Xho and Salhador Saan were also present, though Ser Maric wouldn't be joining us as he wasn't my squire anymore. There was no sign of Ser Loras, however, and that brought a frown to my face.

"Where is Ser Loras? He should be here by now." I demanded.

"Don't worry. He'll be here. I managed to do a bit of digging on the competition and found out that Ser Loras Tyrell has brought a mare in heat to be his mount. Our Loras is currently acquiring an alternative, female, mount so he doesn't fall prey to the tactic." Placated Sallhador Saan.

"Indeed? How did you find that out?" Queried Ser Roger.

"How else? I seduced one of the maids that helps keep his mount stabled." Grinned Sallhador Saan.

"Of course you did. I'm not sure why I thought anything else." Scoffed Ser Roger.

"It could be worse, he could be drunk still." Offered Jalhabar Xho.

"Thank the Seven for Small Mercies." Snorted Ser Roger.

Just before a retort could form from Sallhador, though, Ser Loras came riding up on a new, female, mount in his blackened plate armor with little bat designs etched onto it in silver and gold etching, just in the nick of time to avoid any awkward questions.

He nodded at us and said, "Apologies for my tardiness. I assume Sallhador filled you all in?"

"He did. Now we ought to head to the lists to check in with the Tourney Attendants. King Robert should be starting us off soon." I commanded.

Ser Roger and Ser Loras formed up on me and together, we rode the rest of the way to the lists while Sallhador Saan and Jalhabar Xho stayed behind at the Pavillion to drink my wine for a bit while we checked in with the Tourney Attendants. Fifteen minutes after we'd checked in, the stands filled up and King Robert kicked us off with a booming shout.

The Sixty-Man Joust started with Ser Lothor Brune unhorsing Ser Justin Massey of Stonedance after breaking three lances against each other. Ser Justin was tougher than Ser Lothor was, but Ser Lothor was just more skilled and could land better hits. Ser Justin was able to stay on his horse for two blows, but the last one caught him flush on the sternum after Ser Lothor managed to snake it past his shield and the blow shot him out of his saddle.

I watched the bouts pass as I waited my turn, watching Lord Renly unhorse Robin Flint of Widow's Watch, Ser Harras Harlaw unhorse Lord Sebaston Farman, Ser Stevron Frey unhorse Ser Marq Piper, Lord Stannis Unhorse Lord Dagos Manwoody, Ser Marwyn Belmore unhorse Ser Harrold Hardyng, and Ser Aron Santagar unhorse Ser Forley Prester.

Before my turn came, however, Ser Roger would be up against Lord Balman Byrch at the beginning of the next set of brackets. . .

XXXX

AN: All right, here we have the rest of the Feast and the start of the Joust. Ricasso is playing this rivalry with House Harte to the hilt and managing to add in another, more private, wager on top of all the others he'd already placed down. As it happened, he made Lord Harte an offer Lord Harte Couldn't refuse, given the need the Man has to raise a decent fighting force to drive the Cracklaw Brigands off his lands.

It might be a bit of an underhanded tactic, as Lord Renly called out, but honestly? It's worth the risk. It's entirely possible for Ricasso to more than cover any lost bets made on himself to win the joust by succeeding in winning his bet with Lord Harte. He just has to go through Ser Robar Royce and at least two members of the Kingsguard to do it. Who knows? If he can get past Ser Barristan into the Semifinals, he might even get a reputation for being able to do the impossible. Probably not, but a man can dream.

At any rate, the next chapter will start with Ser Roger Groves facing off against Lord Balman Byrch.

Stay tuned. . .