Chapter 69: Champion of Melee
King's Landing
POV of Domeric Bolton
"I bet 100 dragons on my sworn shield," Domeric said before taking a bite from his ice cream.
"The one with the Weirwood Sigil and two swords," Littlefinger said mockingly as if humoring a little child, which Domeric admittedly was. Even if only in body and not in mind.
"That's the one." He nodded.
"A fine swordsman no doubt. But why would anyone bet on him when they could bet on someone like the Mountain? Or better yet, Ser Barristan the Bold or Ser Jamie Lannister… the Kingslayer?"
"Because I believe that my sworn shield is better than them," he said as the King finally shouted at the men to start fighting and the melee started as 40 men jumped into the arena and started attacking anyone they met.
It was chaos incarnate and even someone very skilled could get injured if they're not aware of their surroundings.
But unlike the nobility of Westeros, Varko had spent 5 years in the fighting pits, fighting against numerous opponents more times than he could remember.
So, it would be an understatement to say that Varko is in his own specialty when fighting in melee combat.
"How bold," Littlefinger said. "To say that your sworn shield, a man of unknown origin, is better than the best swordsmen in Westeros. Are you sure you're not merely boasting?"
"Are you sure you're not afraid of losing 100 gold dragons?" He asked challengingly as Varko destroyed man after man down in the arena.
Littlefinger hesitated for a moment upon witnessing how good Varko actually was but a single smug smile from Domeric did the trick.
"Very well then. 100 dragons on the Mountain."
"Add my bet as well." Tyrion Lannister shouted from his seat behind them. "100 gold dragons. On my brother Jamie. And somebody, bring me some more of this… Snow Cream?"
"Ice Cream," Domeric replied helpfully while watching from the corner of his eyes as the Royal children greedily ate the Ice Cream they were supplied with, and King Robert drank wine which was filled with Ice.
With the Royal Patronage, he was sure that establishing the Ice Cream Business in Kings Landing would be easy.
"Ice Cream! Girl. Bring me some Ice Cream." Tyrion shouted and the girl who was giving the Ice Cream came to give it to him.
"A fascinating and delicious thing. This Ice Cream." Littlefinger admitted. "Makes me wonder why no one ever thought of selling Ice before this. Are you sure you don't want to partner with me in this business venture of yours? I am also interested in your other inventions."
Left unsaid was the fact that if Domeric didn't ally with Littlefinger in these highly profitable business ventures, then Littlefinger do everything he could to make sure these business ventures of Domeric failed one way or another.
"I wouldn't mind your help if you're really all that interested in these business ventures." He nodded "But only in Kings Landing. As I doubt that your influence reaches as far as Dorne or the various cities in Essos."
He didn't mind giving some profits to Littlefinger. After all, he could always visit Littlefinger and take back what was his.
"I still don't understand how you're able to transport so much Ice all the way from North to Dorne without it melting," Tyrion stated.
"Ice packed densely in a wooden container and sprinkled with some salt takes far more time to melt than normal ice." He said with a shrug "And even if more of it melts the further down my ships go south, the costs are easily redeemed as Ice Cream is more expensive down in the Southern areas due to how hot it is there."
"Talking about business while watching a melee. You're truly a strange lord, Lord Bolton." Littlefinger drawled but his eyes held a hint of respect.
"You're someone who has reached the position of The Master of Coins despite coming from very humble beginnings. I could say that you're plenty strange yourself Lord Baelish."
"To strange people and their strange alliances then," Littlefinger said and raised his glass while he did the same and they cheered.
"100 gold dragons," Tyrion growled as he threw a purse in between them. He looked down and noticed that Jamie Lannister had just been defeated by Ser Barristan Selmy while Varko fought against the Mountain. After a short and fierce bout, he won by knocking the Mountain out by striking his head with the pommel of his sword. Repeatedly.
"It seems that I've lost as well," Littlefinger said and gave the 100 dragons to him.
At this point, even if his champion lost against Ser Barristan Selmy, he would still gain 200 dragons as his champion went further than theirs. Not that he really cared about such paltry sums.
He still sat and watched as Varko traded blows with Ser Barristan Selmy again and again in a whirlwind.
He knew that Varko was as good as the best swordsman in Westeros but 'knowing' something and actually seeing it happen in front of himself was something else entirely.
Of the two swordsmen, he could tell that Ser Barristan was slightly more skilled than Varko. But Varko more than made up for that with his duel-wielding, speed and sheer brutality.
After a slight bout of attacks, Ser Barristan fell in defense, parrying, blocking, and dodging Varko's blades until at last, he couldn't and Varko disarmed Ser Barristan Selmy.
The arena was silent for a moment. After all, no one had expected a Knight with an unknown sigil to defeat 'The Mountain' and 'Ser Barristan Selmy' one after another in the Melee.
Then as if a dam broke, all the smallfolk started cheering at once while the nobility followed a moment later and started clapping as well.
By the end of the day, Varko was 20,000 gold dragons richer, and he had set up a business partnership with Petyr Baelish with a magical contract signed by Petyr that would subconsciously force him to adhere to the agreement and not try to steal from him.
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