Chapter 114

The chaos and impact caused by the assassins quickly dissipated, as if it had never happened, under the king's utter indifference.

But Davos was close enough and saw clearly enough; he couldn't forget the assassins' splendid coordination—all they lacked was a proper assessment of the king's reflexes and a bit of luck.

Slashing the coin-filled purse drew the king's attention without making him sense danger—a good move that gave the assassins on the other side the best chance to strike. Working together from that side, they could pull any king momentarily lost in thought from his horse and swiftly cut his throat.

But no one expected the king to draw his sword and slay the "thief", spraying his blood. Actually, up to that point the assassination had not failed, yet the blood startled the horse, allowing the king on it to evade the fatal blow.

"He reacts quickly." Davos heard Brienne's assessment.

"He's also very steady on horseback." Davos added. The king seemed to know he wouldn't fall from his horse; even if he didn't, he showed no sign of it.

"He's also stupid." She continued, "The king shouldn't have taken such a risk, getting caught in the crowd."

"He's just arrogant enough; his reaction just now was spot-on. I don't know if anyone could do better." Davos knew he certainly couldn't. He wasn't a swordsman; wielding a dagger or longsword might already be beyond his young son.

"Just vanity. Those shouting 'Long live the king' will eventually swindle him out of his money." Brienne sounded resentful; Davos wondered why, but was grateful she no longer spoke of Stannis and blood magic.

"Vanity combined with stupidity gets one swindled; vanity with cleverness and agility might make a king." Robert, Renly, and Loras—he had seen several kings, and aside from Stannis, none were otherwise.

To the uninformed, Loras as king appears brave and fearless, confident and composed—a fine leader; scattering gold along the way shows he is wealthy and generous, already charming to most followers.

The procession spread out along the seaside, and Brienne at that moment returned to the bride's side, standing guard solemnly.

This could not be more fitting. Ordinary male soldiers are unsuitable to guard the bride, and ordinary maids cannot protect her.

The Drowned God's priests had long been waiting on the seaside, clad in black sheepskin robes soaked through with salt, standing silently in the icy sea wind, awaiting the bride and groom.

The guests surrounded the rocky shore in a massive three-and-a-half-ring formation: the outermost ring consisted of guarding soldiers, onlookers, low-ranking crewmen barred from the second ring, and ordinary knights—a huge, disordered crowd strictly held back by soldiers, thickly spread, forming the largest ring, which Davos roughly estimated at fifteen hundred; the second ring was ship captains, notable crewmen, knights, and minor lords, mounted and watching in a semi-circle, fairly orderly, perhaps three hundred; the innermost ring held attending priests, lordly counts, retinue maids, and the king's bastard sons, with Davos, as the King's Hand, entitled to stand nearby for a close view.

The three rings were kept in order by the Iron Islanders' guard, and Davos knew what organizational skill that required.

Davos had witnessed other Drowned God baptisms, but a wedding ceremony—this was his first.

Two priests, one tall one short, dressed identically, stood in the seawater like two mummies nailed to the sea; their hair was dry, with various tiny shells tied on, seaweed attached to the ends, making it look as if seaweed grew from their scalps.

Only up close did Davos notice their robes were gray-green-blue, made of cheap coarse cloth.

The bride halted her horse at the seaside, gazing out at the ocean expressionless, while Brienne gripped her sword tightly, guarding her side, her face saying 'Keep away.'

The king leapt first from the blood-stained horse, his breeches still smeared with the short assassin's blood, reddened to black.

He seemed unaware, striding purposefully toward Brienne.

Brienne straightened her back, gripped her sword with her right hand, and proudly barred the king.

She stood half a head taller than the king, looking stronger and more ferocious.

"My dear girl can rest easy with a guard like you." The king stopped before Brienne, smiling gently, "A girl actually choosing a woman as her protector—well, though you're strong, women like you are rare. If the Iron Islands had two more like you, perhaps they'd have only queens, not just male kings."

Davos heard some nobles nearby chuckle softly.

Brienne seemed not to hear his words, stepping two paces toward the king.

"This is the Iron Islands' tradition." he heard a tall knight bearing the embroidered hand-and-lightning quartered sigil explain to him.

Davos glanced back in thanks; he hardly knew anything about Iron Islands marriage customs.

"At weddings, the bride or her family, as the rock-wife, appoints a guardian; in the old tradition only the groom who defeats the guardian may wed the rock-wife, symbolizing his raiding prowess, symbolizing obtaining a wife through raid. In actual ceremonies this has long become mere formality—the bride's brother or other close kin plays a guardian who exerts all effort to protect kin but ultimately fails tragically. Heh, this is the most entertaining part of the wedding: the guardian must first be a splendid actor, portraying both full effort and a glorious failure. In this regard the Iron Islands have many amusing tales! Clumsy Hamud tried too hard at his sister's wedding, drowning the brother‑in‑law king on the beach; thus the succeeding king bound him to a seaside rock to let the rising tide drown him slowly. Heh, there are rumors he survived the tide, for when it receded only his chains remained on the rock." He leaned closer to Davos and said.

"There are many such tales?"

"Of course. Do you want to hear about the war between Great Wyk and Old Wyk?"

"Because people die in these affairs, is that war?" Davos asked.

"This time no one died, nor did the king die. The guardian didn't slay the groom; he merely kept humiliating him, so the groom could never win nor seize the bride. The guardian is called the Wild Rav, the unfortunate groom the Sorrowful Seyn—former surname Greyain, latter surname Hol."

"I didn't expect extinct families to still have legends surfacing." Davos saw him step forward, nearly bumping into Brienne.

"Only vanished great houses are more likely to spawn legends."

Davos saw the bride still on horseback, smiling brightly at Loras and Brienne.

The tall knight chuckled he-he, eyes fixed ahead, pausing his speech as if watching a comic mime: 'Ashara's head—no, the chieftain's daughter, befitting the great king's daughter, assigning a woman as her guard—if she meant to mock King Loras, this arrangement couldn't be better. Perhaps we'll yet see a woman drown the king!'

"She won't." Davos flicked a glance at the tall knight, "She's an honorable knight; she would never kill her liege here."

"Damn, how did you become the King's Hand?" a nearby bearded noble snapped at him, "Can't you understand what Hands-free Korey says? He's no longer king, just a shameless bride‑stealer; damn, he was drowned, so he's unfit to marry!"

"But wasn't Hamud killed by the succeeding king? Did I get my story wrong?" Davos asked.

"Smuggler knight! Hamud isn't dead—at least not in our family's legend." spoke another noble, whose sigil Davos saw was a handsome swordfish.

"Smuggler knight." Though unpleasant to hear, not a single word was wrong.

"He might also be dead." Davos countered lightly.

"Whether he's dead or not doesn't matter; just remember the epithet of the king who punished Hamud—the Wrathful Urri‑King. Everyone despises him for killing in anger—he shouldn't have punished clumsy Hamud at all; damn, making his sister lose her crown was already punishment."

Perhaps Brienne will make the bride lose her crown.

The king stepped back from Brienne, straightened his garments. At that moment the Drowned God's priest shouted:

"The Drowned God bears witness!"

"Who brings the black tide, bearing the sea's salt and seaweed, sweeping in?" Brienne shouted.

"I, Loras of House Greyjoy, true ironborn, Iron Islands raider, heh, the greatest raider of the Iron Islands, here I sweep in."

"Why sweep in?"

"He wants to rape and pillage, to forge a new heaven and earth with blood, fire, and song, and to engrave names upon it."

Davos retched at the oath.

"Who stands there, foolishly trying to bar my tide?" the king roared.

"I, Brienne of House Tarth! Maiden's guardian, builder of the realm."

"Why guard and build?"

"A nature gentle as a horse, a body diligent as an ox."

The king drew his longsword.

Brienne then drew her longsword.

The two clashed with longswords on the shore, clack‑clack from one side of the shingle to the other, while the crowds on both sides shouted loudly.

The two looked as if they had already given their all, but Dai Fosi could not judge the true state of the battle.

"Are those women crazy?" Dai Fosi heard the nobles nearby chatting. "Does it look like they mean business?"

"The voice sounds real. I didn't expect a woman using a sword to be not bad..."

Bu Leini used her armor to dodge the crucial strike, then kicked You Lun with a foot, driving him hard into the shallow sea.

King You Lun burst into hysterical laughter. Bu Leini stopped advancing and waited at the side for him to climb out of the sea.

The king, soaked, sprang up from the seawater, plunged his sword into the water, and with one hand pulled off his blindfold.

That was a black eye flashing with intense malice.

He drew his long sword, stepped on the seawater, and charged at Bu Leini.

His speed noticeably increased, and his blade grew ever more tricky.

Bu Leini failed to dodge in time, tripped over a stone behind her and fell backward. You Lun burst into hysterical laughter, like a madman, and with all his strength knocked the sword from her hand, then leapt up and thrust the blade straight at her chest.

Bu Leini was wedged between the rocks on either side, able only to watch as the blade pointed at her chest.

Only a 'thud' was heard.

Bu Leini's armor blocked the blade.

"You're dead, lass! I'll rape your virginity, pillage your homeland! Hahaha!" the king laughed maniacally.

Hearty applause erupted all around.

Dai Fosi could see that Bu Leini was a good actress; she had given her all yet suffered a tragic defeat. The king was also a good actor, successfully playing a genuine marauder.