Game of Thrones: Knight’s Honor

For Tyrion, staying in Casterly Rock, especially in the presence of Lord Tywin, was an unending torment. The memories of Tywin's relentless cruelty loomed over him, resurfacing with painful clarity in his mind.

One memory that stood out was the time Tywin had appointed him as sewer official, effectively turning him into the laughingstock of the Lannister household. The mockery wasn't limited to the castle walls. Even the Lannister branch families and their vassals openly scorned him. Their derision emboldened the Smallfolk of Lannisport to join in, giving him the cruel nickname, "Monkey Demon." Their disdain was unbearable.

He felt as though the entire Westerlands had turned against him. Mocking eyes seemed to follow him everywhere, their silent ridicule cutting deeper than words. Even the very air around him felt oppressive, suffocating him like invisible hands clasped over his nose and mouth. No place offered refuge from the prejudice—none except the brothels of Lannisport.

The urge to leave gnawed at him relentlessly. He feared that if he stayed any longer, the bitterness and humiliation would drive him to madness.

When he finally approached Lynd Tarran with his request, the knight paused thoughtfully before responding. "Why do you think I can take you away? Don't forget, I'm only a knight."

Tyrion, desperation tinging his voice, replied quickly, "Because you are Lynd Tarran, the Chosen One ordained by the Faith of the Seven."

Lynd raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in his tone. "Do you think Lord Tywin cares about the title of Chosen One?" He didn't wait for a response before continuing, "You are now the first heir of House Lannister. Do you think Lord Tywin will let you out of his sight?"

Tyrion's frustration spilled over. "He doesn't see me as any kind of heir. In his eyes, I'm nothing. The only heir he has in mind is Jaime."

Lynd tilted his head slightly, his voice calm but firm. "But Jaime Lannister is a Kingsguard, and Kingsguards are forbidden to marry, have children, or inherit family titles."

Tyrion retorted bitterly, "He can make Jaime resign from the Kingsguard…"

Shaking his head, Lynd interrupted, "I may not know your brother Jaime well, but it's clear to anyone that he takes his position as Kingsguard very seriously. If Lord Tywin could have made Jaime resign, he would have done so long ago."

Tyrion fell silent, his usual quick wit unable to summon a response. The weight of Lynd's words seemed to settle heavily on him.

With a note of seriousness, Lynd leaned in slightly. "And you've misunderstood something important. Whether or not you are Lord Tywin's chosen heir doesn't matter. What matters is that by law, you are his heir. If someone decides you must inherit, then you will."

Tyrion's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean…?" His voice trailed off, his face a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

Lynd's tone was measured, yet firm. "According to the inheritance laws of the Seven Kingdoms, you are Lord Tywin's legal first heir. No matter how much he despises you, that fact cannot be undone." He fixed Tyrion with a steady gaze. "If Lord Tywin were to die suddenly, you would become the Lord of Casterly Rock and the Warden of the West, regardless of what anyone in the Westerlands thinks of you. That is an unchangeable reality."

The implications of Lynd's words hung in the air. "Tyrion, you're clever. You must already have an idea of what would happen in the Westerlands if you suddenly found yourself in that position of power."

Tyrion's expression suddenly shifted, his face growing serious as he asked Lynd, "Have you heard something?"

"No, I haven't heard anything," Lynd replied evenly. "I've just made some inferences based on common sense." He stopped there, refraining from pushing Tyrion further into unease. After a pause, he allowed his tone to lighten. "And have you considered that following me might limit you in many ways? For example, drinking is strictly forbidden in my barracks. The salary I'd give you wouldn't even cover daily trips to the brothel. And more importantly, I wouldn't pay you a salary at all. You'd have to pay me to keep you by my side."

Tyrion leapt up from his chair, his voice sharp with indignation. "What? You've gone too far! Aren't we friends?"

"Yes," Lynd nodded calmly, "and it's precisely because we're friends that I'm treating you this way. There's a saying in my hometown: even close brothers should settle their accounts clearly. If that's the case between brothers, how much more so between friends?"

"No fun! It's no fun staying with you!" Tyrion fumed, muttering as he stormed out of the tent."

As Tyrion exited, Lynd called after him, "If you want to improve your current treatment, I suggest you repeat what I've just told you to Lord Tywin. That might make him realize your importance and treat you accordingly, rather than continuing to see you as a sewer official and ignoring you."

Tyrion paused briefly, his back to Lynd, before quickening his pace and disappearing from view.

After Tyrion left, Lynd turned his attention away from the conversation. He didn't dwell on the moment, nor did he indulge in thoughts of power or scheming. Instead, he picked up a copy of The Nine Voyages and began reading. The book was part of a trove of rare texts he had discovered in Faircastle, along with First Men rune tablets that no one had yet deciphered. The Ironborn, more interested in gold and glittering treasures, had overlooked these literary artifacts, leaving them intact. Lynd had claimed them all. He'd sent most of the collection to Tumbleton with Nymeria, keeping only this particular set for his personal amusement.

The book chronicled the maritime adventures of Corlys Velaryon, the legendary Sea Snake. The chapter he was reading detailed Corlys's second great voyage, where he crossed Yi Ti, the Leng, the Bleeding Sea, and eventually reached the Shadow Lands of Asshai.

Though the writing was somewhat dry and lacked literary elegance—resembling instructions more than storytelling—the content conveyed the grandeur and danger of the Sea Snake's journey.

"Huh?" Lynd muttered as he turned the page, preparing to close the book after finishing the account of the second voyage. Something caught his eye—a name that piqued his interest: Elissa Farman.

The reference was brief, a single sentence attributed to Corlys Velaryon: "I know that must be Elissa Farman's Sun Chaser. I swear on the name Velaryon, I'm absolutely certain."

The words revealed little, but the excitement in Corlys's tone was palpable. Lynd could sense the thrill of recognition, as though Corlys were a fan meeting an idol. This piqued Lynd's curiosity even further—what kind of person was Elissa Farman, to inspire such admiration from a navigator whose own name was etched in history?

Intrigued, Lynd leaned back in his chair and began flipping through the book again, scanning for more references to Elissa Farman.

His focus was interrupted by the sound of footsteps outside the tent. Moments later, Jon and several others entered, bowing as they stood beneath the lifted tent curtain. "My lord," they greeted.

Lynd glanced up from the book, his gaze sharpening as he took in their appearance. All of them bore injuries, some minor, others more severe. His attention lingered on Balin, whose left arm hung limp, clearly broken. Lynd's brow furrowed. A broken arm would likely prevent Balin from participating in the upcoming tournament—a significant blow.

Though he knew his subordinates' strengths well, the sight of them in this state surprised him. These men were not ordinary soldiers; they were among the finest fighters in the Seven Kingdoms. Balin, in particular, had proven himself time and again, honing his skills through countless battles in brutal fighting pits. Lynd doubted even Nymeria could defeat Balin in single combat.

"No, I just told you to go get Dacey back. Why did you get into a fight?" Lynd stood up and looked at the group.

Jon, his face full of frustration, explained, "We were on our way to get Dacey, but then the garrison in Lannisport got in our way. And if that wasn't enough, the Mountain—Gregor Clegane—showed up with his men, looking for a fight. Of course, we weren't just going to stand there and take it, so we fought back."

"The Mountain?" Lynd froze for a moment, then turned his gaze to Balin. "Your hand was broken by the Mountain?"

The usually silent Balin nodded, his expression showing no sign of pain despite his injured hand. Then, as though sensing that his response needed clarification, he added in a thick accent, "That guy's hand was also broken, and I bit off one of his ears."

To prove his point, Balin reached into his pocket and pulled out an ear, placing it in his palm and holding it up for Lynd to see, as though it were a trophy of war.

"Where are the others?" Lynd asked, his tone still serious. "Were there any casualties among our people?"

"They all suffered minor injuries, but no one died," Jon replied. He paused briefly before continuing, "The garrison in Lannisport lost a few men, though, including someone named Lantell—probably a Lannister from a side branch."

Lynd exhaled heavily, rubbing his forehead, then turned to Dacey. "And you? What was the reason for your conflict with Lord Royce Coldwater?"

Dacey, her expression innocent, answered, "I was just walking along when he stopped me for no reason and started yelling at me. He said, 'You're a liar, all your battle records are lies, and you're all a bunch of liars too.'"

Hearing Dacey's account, Lynd said nothing for a moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he delivered his verdict: "Dacey will be punished with six lashes. The others will receive three lashes each. Afterward, go to the military healer to treat your injuries."

"Huh?" Jon blurted, stunned. "My lord, I understand punishing Dacey. She left the barracks without informing you and caused trouble. But why are we being punished? We were only following your orders."

Lothor, Balin, and the other knights nodded in agreement, their faces showing confusion.

Lynd's gaze swept over them as he explained, "I'm not punishing you for clashing with the Lannisters. However, Dacey is being punished, and as her comrades, you cannot simply stand by without consequence. This is what they call sharing joys and sorrows."

Hearing this, Jon and the others were left speechless. Reluctantly, they turned and went to find the executioner.

Once they were gone, Lynd returned to his tent and resumed reading.

Meanwhile, Glory, the giant beast, had also returned to the outskirts of the camp. Before entering, it encountered a group of Lannisport garrison troops on the road. The leader of the group halted his men on a small hill outside Lynd's camp, seemingly hesitant to approach any closer.

When Glory appeared suddenly beside them, the soldiers were stricken with fear. Panicked, they abandoned their position and fled toward Lannisport Castle, scrambling over one another in their rush to escape. Each man seemed desperate to avoid being eaten by the enormous creature. Glory, left standing there, tilted its head in confusion.

The clash between Lynd's cavalry patrols and the Lannister garrison caused quite a stir, drawing everyone's attention as they eagerly awaited the responses of the Chosen One, Lynd, and Lord Tywin.

Though it was clear to all that Lord Tywin's status far outweighed Lynd's, no one dared to look down on the Chosen One. Lynd was backed by the Faith of the Seven, enjoyed the favor of the Lord of the North, and had the unwavering support of House Tyrell in the Reach. Even King Robert had repeatedly expressed his fondness for Lynd. In many ways, the two sides were considered evenly matched.

What added fuel to the fire was the outcome of the skirmish: Lynd's men had injured the Mountain, Gregor Clegane, the infamous mad dog loathed by all. The Mountain had been seriously hurt, his arm broken and one of his ears bitten off. This unexpected result brought secret satisfaction to many, including some lords and nobles of the Westerlands, who couldn't help but smile behind closed doors.

Ironically, as the focus of the realm fixated on Lynd and Tywin, the two individuals who had actually sparked the conflict—Dacey Mormont and Royce Coldwater—were utterly overlooked. Even Yohn Royce, the Lord of Runestone and head of House Royce, showed no intention of intervening on Royce's behalf after hearing that his relative's actions were sparked by sheer arrogance.

In an unexpected turn, both Lynd and Tywin chose to adopt a cold-shoulder approach. They ignored the chatter of the outside world and refrained from any public discussions or responses, acting as though the incident had never happened.

Their approaches to handling the situation were equally pragmatic. Lynd had all the participants flogged, while Tywin took it a step further and ordered his men to be caned.

With such decisive actions, the conflict that had drawn so much attention quickly lost its momentum, leaving those who had been hoping for a prolonged feud sorely disappointed.

Yet, the realm's ever-curious busybodies soon found something new to discuss.

A riot erupted in the cells where prisoners from the Iron Islands were held. Euron Greyjoy, brother of Balon Greyjoy, had incited a group of nobles and Ironborn to revolt. The prisoners attacked their wardens, seized weapons, and made a desperate rush to the docks of Lannisport. There, they captured a longship and escaped.

The incident infuriated King Robert, but Lord Tywin was even angrier. The incompetence of the Lannisport garrison, unable to suppress a disorganized group of panicking prisoners, was an embarrassment. That the Ironborn not only escaped but also managed to steal a ship was a humiliation to the Lords and Nobles of the Seven Kingdoms.

Compared to the disgrace of this incident, the earlier skirmish between Lynd's men and the Lannisters seemed insignificant.

The aftermath was swift and ruthless. The guards in the cells holding the Ironborn prisoners were tripled, and over a dozen key officers of the Lannisport garrison were hanged at the docks as a stark warning. Control of the garrison was handed over to troops from Casterly Rock, who began a thorough reorganization and retraining of the entire force. Sandor Clegane, the Hound, another feared member of House Clegane, was put in charge of the operation.

Two days later, the tension in Lannisport began to ease as longships from Oldtown arrived at the docks. Men from House Tyrell, House Hightower, and House Redwyne disembarked. With their arrival, the last of the great lords attending the victory feast had finally come.