53 Birth of a Myth

The Great Tournament would have seven events in honour of the Seven: archery, throwing, racing, a free-for-all melee, mock team battles, duels between distinguished fighters from the melee, and the joust. Events such as throwing would have multiple competitions, such as light and heavy throwing objects. As for mock team battles, the victorious team would be divided into duellists to decide the grand victor.

Since Edric's vision became far grander than even Harrold Arryn had ever hoped, Edric chose to contribute some of his wealth to the prizes. As they were going to have a tournament at such a time... he decided to make it one to remember. 

...

Whooosh...

Crunk.

Loras' lance broke against Edric's armour, dropping him to the ground for the third time on a row. He remained on his back for quite a while, looking up at the sky. This jousting business... it had never been his strong suit.

Meanwhile, almost the entire court looked on. 

"Loras is a skilled lance, indeed." Harrold Arryn remarked. "He may even be the finest in all the Seven Kingdoms."

"Edric hasn't properly practised jousting since he left Storm's End for the Hand's Tourney," Arthur added, shaking his head. "Mainly because he sees no use for a lance in a real battle... when he has his bow. Though, I will admit that Loras is the best amongst us regarding jousting."

"I've seldom heard of a joust with bows." Tyrion japed. "Though I suppose His Grace prefers winning battles over competitions."

"You've at last crawled out of the brothels, imp," Renly remarked, observing his small stature. "I could've almost missed the sight of you."

"It seems to me that Lannisters aren't very welcome around these parts anymore." Tyrion cracked a slight smile, savouring his cup of wine. "Men seem to forget that I was the one who surrendered Casterly Rock and provided the Lannister fleet along with all the swords I could for the invasion of the Iron Isles."

"When it was all lost, you did," Renly said, shaking his head.

"The siege could have lasted an extended period of time... given that Casterly Rock is quite impenetrable." Tyrion shrugged. "Which may have led to most unfavourable events, Lord Regent. Though, I will save you the effort of thinking about that and instead say that I've only come here to honour His Grace. I have nothing but admiration for him."

"... Of course." Renly chuckled in a doubtful tone.

"Is it unlawful to be a good bannerman these days?"

"No... yet it is difficult to see you as one."

"Appearances can be deceiving," Tyrion remarked. "He spared my brother when more than half the Realm wanted his head."

"Is His Grace planning to get up from the ground today?" Oberyn remarked with a laugh. "Or did the Knight of Flowers kill his will to joust?"

Edric sighed, slowly getting off the ground.

'I'm a fraud without Hyper-Focus when it comes to jousting...' He thought, chucking at himself. 'Built like Javalee Mcgee... big for nothing.'

"Do you wish to take a break, Your Grace?" Loras asked, taking on a sympathetic expression as he removed his helm and rode towards him. "We've exchanged quite a number of tilts today... I believe that was the thirtieth one." 

"Nah..." Edric shook his head, his blue eyes glowing with flaming competitive spirit. "I'm just getting started. However, if you're getting tired, I could always swap you out for another Kingsguard. I wouldn't want to wear you out before the actual tournament."

"... No, I'm well enough. Almost as good as fresh."

"No excuses when I knock you off, then." Edric chuckled, kicking his lance off the ground and grasping it from the air. "Just know that I'm not leaving on a loss even if it takes all day."

"... Your persistence is admirable, Your Grace."

"Except it won't take all day. Just the next tilt."

"We'll see."

Edric mounted his horse with confidence, taking a deep breath. 

"How many times do you plan to lose... in a row?" Arya questioned from the stands. "Have you ever even jousted before?"

"Shut up... I have." Edric glanced at her. "A couple of times."

"Looks to me like it's your first time with a lance. You're embarrassing."

"I think you're doing quite well... just falling a little short of winning," Margaery added with a sweet smile. "I'm sure His Grace would win consistently against easier opponents."

"Thank you for your honesty, Arya." Edric nodded, ignoring Margaery. "You are right... this is quite embarrassing. I need to be better at hitting Loras with this wooden stick."

'Let me cheat... a little.' Edric thought. 'Loras is getting a bit too cocky.'

Edric proceeded to use Hyper-Focus for the next seven tilts, knocking Loras off with perfect accuracy each time. He made it look so easy that Loras began to question his own skills... and if Edric had been trolling him the entire time. Alas, that was not at all the case. He was just a Hyper-Focus merchant with the lance.

After that, he continued jousting Loras and the other good jousters in his service... until midnight.

...

Edric gathered his Kingsguard before the tournament for a speech.

"They say that some of you are too young, too inexperienced. Some say that the Kingsguard have taken a colossal fall from grace... that it is a shadow of its former, honourable, prestigious and skilled self. They say that the Kingsguard of old would simply walk over you."

While Edric spoke, he paced around them with his hands behind his back.

"... I say they are all wrong!" Edric turned to face them. "If you were who they say you are, you'd be dead or dismissed already. I have taken you all through the fires of hell, forging knights worthy of the white armour you wear. All those intense training sessions that would break lesser men and the battles that would kill them... you have survived, emerging stronger than before!"

"Now... it is time to let the Realm know who you are, to prove me right for having chosen you as my Kingsguard!" Edric raised one hand dramatically, seemingly grasping the sky and closing it into a fist. "Etch your names into their hearts! Snatch victory from every fool who believes themselves more worthy than you! Bring glory and honour to not only yourselves, but your house, sworn brothers and King!"

"Engrave your very names into the annals of history... so that they may never be forgotten for so long as there are men who draw breath!"

"Go out there... and win!"

Suffice to say, the morale of the Kingsguard was at an all-time high as the Grand Tournament began. All five of them had joined their swords in a circle under the most enthusiastic Ser Arthur, swearing absolute victory. 

"For the King!"

He shouted loud and clear.

"For the King!"

The rest followed his chant, raising their swords to the sky and splitting apart.

~

The archery event had been open to pretty much everyone who showed the capacity to fire an arrow and was willing to participate. However, Edric substantially increased the initial qualifier difficulty by placing it at eighty paces, shaving tens of thousands off in the first round. As the rounds progressed, the distance increased to a hundred and five.

By then, only three competitors remained standing. 

Anguy, Balon Swann and... Rhaerra Aeraellis.

Edric was leaning forward at this point, observing the competition closely. Anguy looked to be stretching his luck a little while he knew Balon Swann could fire from a greater range. Rhaerra... she was the only uncertainty. The longbow in her hand seemed exceptional, quite unlike anything he had ever seen before. It was black and scaled, strong yet flexible.

A hundred and ten paces...

Anguy missed by an inch while the other two struck their mark.

A hundred and fifteen paces...

Whoosh.

Balon Swann missed - just barely.

Edric took a deep breath. Surely the woman would miss as well?

As Rhaerra took upon the most textbook shooting form he had ever seen, she drew the bowstring all the way back and fired without hesitation. The arrow went soaring and...

Struck dead-centre. 

The crowd cheered at the result as the champion had been decided at a rather high one hundred and fifteen paces. In recent history, only Edric's own showing at the Hand's Tourney could eclipse this display of accuracy and range.

Edric's eyes widened slightly. As much as he wanted to dislike the result, she had very much won... and impressed him. Not only did she beat the best archer in his Kingsguard, but she also did it while wearing a mask. He could only stand up and announce her as the champion of the archery contest.

"I wish to congratulate Rhaerra Aeraellis on her wonderful display of skill with the bow. It was a spectacle, indeed, one that had me on the edge of my seat. The other finalists impressed as well... no doubt, they would have easily been champions in other archery contests." Edric smiled with charisma, addressing the crowd before turning to Rhaerra. 

"My lady, how would you like the possibility of doubling your earnings... and challenging me at a range of three hundred paces? If I miss first, you win without firing."

"Three... hundred?" Rhaerra questioned, raising an eyebrow beneath her mask. She chuckled, observing his expression. "How about a thousand paces? If you can hit a target from that range on the first attempt, I'll surrender the champion's purse to you and gift you a dragonbone longbow worthy of a mythical archer."

"A thousand paces... is that woman mad?" Renly raised an eyebrow. "Even for you, Edric..."

"And if I miss?" Edric questioned.

"I'll have the armour you wore against the Vale's Mountain Clans."

"What an odd request." Edric tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "You want my old armour?"

"It is a mark of history." She nodded. "I would not mind adding it to my collection. That is... if you accept the challenge, Your Grace. I would not blame you for walking away. After all, what mortal person could possibly strike true from such a range - let alone on the first try and at your young age? Only a being blessed by the Gods could achieve such a feat."

Edric grinned a little. She had flipped his way of restoring his Kingsguard's honour against him by posing a seemingly impossible challenge. Not only that, but she also stoked the fires of his pride as the best living archer and brought his claims of being the 'Chosen Son of the Seven' into question.

If he withdrew or failed, it would not look too well... but if he won... 

It would be the ultimate feat.

A feat that would forever mark him as the greatest archer to ever draw breath and someone who could only be blessed by the Gods.

"What a stupid challenge," Arya remarked. "Let her have the win and move on."

Edric took a deep breath, slowly standing up. It looked like no one believed it was remotely possible - even for him. 

"It's a clear attempt to swindle you of your armour," Harrold remarked. "There's no reason to bite on the bait, Your Grace..."

"Well... I'm not forcing your hand." Rhaerra shrugged. "It's only a fun little challenge. A way to prove yourself... or not."

"You think a thousand paces is a challenge for me?" Edric questioned, turning to Arthur with an air of confidence. "Ser Arthur, ready my bow. I will show every man, woman, and child present a miracle to remember."

"... Yes, Your Grace." Arthur bowed his head. "I have faith that you will succeed."

As Edric walked down to the archery contest grounds, he had to take a long walk away from the target. Then, the archery contest overseer had to measure the exact distance of a thousand paces, which took quite a while. Eventually, it was marked, and Edric stood directly on it.

'North of seven-hundred and fifty metres...'

Edric thought to himself, readying his goldenheart bow as a strong wind blew over him. He planted his feet and took the perfect position he had trained with countless times.

'I'm stretching my luck a little.'

He closed his eyes, channelling Storm Magic. The strong wind suddenly calmed completely as if it had never existed. He slowly opened his eyes and narrowed on the target like an eagle that had found its prey.

He prepared an arrow and held onto its end, placing it against his bowstring. Then, he began to pull back with all his strength - rapidly. Lightning sparked on his body and cloaked the arrow.

Whoosh.

After pulling as far back as he physically could, he let go without a moment's of hesitation and heard his goldenheart bow crack in response.

The force behind the arrow was so strong he could hear the air blow like the wind. It soared into the skies - swift as lightning. In hardly a second, it reached the target... and exploded right into it.

Only silence followed for several seconds as everyone let the moment sink into their hearts.

Edric had hit a target from a thousand paces.

What came after was the sound of raging, deafening applause from lowborn and highborn alike. Edric walked forward, observing his goldenheart bow with dismay. They had been through a lot together... but its chapter in his life seemed to end as he outgrew it, just like the armours he had worn before.

'You've served me well.'

Edric lowered it and went ahead to confront Rhaerra, who had prepared a pitch-black dragonbone bow that was almost as large as Edric himself. It was inlaid with golden patterns that shone under the light, depicting myths he did not recognise. Its majesty, the aura that the bow had... it seemed to be one of a kind. Magical, even. A bow that had seen the test of time...

"They say that this great dragonbone longbow once belonged to a peerless, god-like, archer from the Golden Empire of Yi Ti who could eclipse the sun with his arrows alone," Rhaerra remarked. "Since his death thousands of years ago, it hasn't known a single person who could wield it effectively... and has remained little more than a collectable. Mayhaps this legendary bow has found a worthy owner today?"

Edric grasped it and was thoroughly mesmerised.

"Indeed... it has."