Game of Thrones: Knight’s Honor

As Lynd observed the activity in the tavern, the Dornishmen, who had been drinking and carousing boisterously, abruptly halted their revelry. Their attention shifted to Nymeria, and in unison, they rose to bow respectfully.

Perhaps because of Nymeria's imposing height, Lynd remained obscured behind her, unnoticed at first. It wasn't until the Dornishmen straightened and lifted their heads that they caught sight of him stepping out from behind her. Their faces registered surprise—a reaction strikingly similar to Nymeria's earlier astonishment upon meeting him.

The cause of their surprise was evident. Lynd's appearance was peculiar, to say the least. He was equipped with four swords—two of which were Knight's longswords conspicuously strapped to his waist. If not for Lynd's tall stature, those longswords might well have scraped the floor.

However, the expressions of some among the Dornishmen betrayed not just curiosity about Lynd's unusual attire but also recognition of his identity. Those who knew him exchanged whispers with their young leader, quietly explaining who he was. The leader's eyes brightened with intrigue, fixing on Lynd as though regarding a novel and entertaining spectacle.

Despite their hushed tones, Lynd's extraordinary hearing allowed him to catch snippets of their conversation.

Without hesitation, Nymeria strode directly to the young Dornishman and confronted him. "You came here because you knew Tywin planned to attack me, didn't you?"

"I've heard some rumors, though I wasn't certain," the young man replied, his tone languid as he straightened in his armchair. His gaze shifted to Lynd. "Lynd the Bear Hunter—the name that's been circulating through every tavern in The Reach lately. Did the Lord of House Tyrell send you? He has an interest in this region too."

"I am here under orders to suppress bandits only, Prince Oberyn," Lynd replied with an ease that betrayed no deference.

Oberyn's brow arched slightly. He was unsurprised at being recognized but seemed intrigued by Lynd's calm indifference toward him.

"How many men have you brought?" Nymeria interjected abruptly, stepping back to place herself protectively between Lynd and Oberyn. Her wary tone suggested she anticipated trouble.

Oberyn gestured to the gathered Dornishmen in the tavern, counting almost twenty of them.

Nymeria frowned. "With so few men, how do you plan to help me deal with the invaders?"

Oberyn shook his head dismissively. "I didn't come here to fight the invaders. If necessary, I'm here to take you south by boat."

Nymeria's temper flared. "I'm not going to Dorne! I am the Lady of Tumbleton!"

Oberyn let out a derisive laugh. "A Lord who cannot even protect their own lands?" His expression grew serious as he continued, "You know how critical Tumbleton's location is. It borders the Westerlands, The Reach, and the Crownlands, with the Stormlands and Riverlands not far off. No ruler would permit a powerful Lord to control such a pivotal region. After the Dance of the Dragons laid waste to Tumbleton, it was never rebuilt—not because House Footly lacks the will, but because the great Lords around it won't allow it."

Nymeria's frustration boiled over. "Then let it remain abandoned!"

"You don't need to shout at me," Oberyn replied coolly, gesturing toward King's Landing. "Your enemies are over there, cousin."

"Shut up! I'm a Footly, not a Martell!" Nymeria retorted fiercely, her tone laced with resentment.

The Red Viper looked at Nymeria with calm intensity. "You carry the blood of House Martell in your veins, ever since the day you were born. Deny it all you like, but that will never change the truth."

His words struck a nerve. Nymeria's expression darkened as her anger receded, replaced by a cold, steely demeanor. Her voice turned icy. "Get out. Leave my lands now. I don't need your help for anything—I only want you gone. Return to Dorne immediately."

It was clear to the Red Viper that Nymeria was serious. She wasn't bluffing; she truly wanted them gone. The lazy air he had maintained until then dissipated. His presence turned sharp, dangerous, like a viper poised to strike.

The tension spread throughout the room. The Dornishmen stood as one, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons, ready to act at Oberyn's command.

Lynd, unfazed by the sudden escalation, crossed his arms and gripped the hilt of his sword, assuming the opening stance of the Banished Knight's Swordsmanship. If he was to use Tumbleton as a base, it was only natural that he would defend its lord.

As Lynd made his move, Oberyn's gaze shifted from Nymeria to him. A sudden and unfamiliar sensation overtook the prince—an instinctual awareness of danger unlike anything he'd felt before. It was as if the faintest wrong move would summon death itself.

The rest of the Dornishmen felt the oppressive air of looming death, though they couldn't pinpoint its source as keenly as Oberyn could. Nymeria, standing in front of Lynd, remained oblivious to the shift in atmosphere. She only noticed the nervous expressions on the faces of Oberyn and his men, puzzling her.

Oberyn didn't act rashly. Instead, he raised his hand, signaling his men. They visibly relaxed at the gesture, releasing their weapons. One by one, they silently exited the tavern.

After they had all left, Oberyn followed suit. As he passed Nymeria, he paused briefly, looking up at her. "You'd be wise not to rely on the people hiding in that valley. They've been bait from the beginning—Jon Arryn's trap. If you make direct contact with them, King's Landing will have all the justification it needs to act openly, rather than the covert measures they've used so far." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "I'll leave a team near Bitterbridge. If you—"

"No," Nymeria cut him off firmly. "There are no 'ifs.' Even if I die, I will die in my own land."

Oberyn said nothing more. He strode away, but as he passed Lynd, his gaze lingered on the warrior briefly. His eyes drifted to the snarling Glory at Lynd's feet as he left.

"Why aren't you leaving yet?" Nymeria asked, her tone grumpy as her gloomy expression remained. Though the Red Viper had left, her mood had not improved.

Lynd, unperturbed, replied calmly, "My lady, you have not yet agreed to let my men station inside your territory. I need your decision so I can determine my next steps."

Nymeria's eyes narrowed with disdain. "Is this how House Tyrell plans to annex my territory? By pretending to clear out the bandits?"

"Of course not," Lynd replied with a shake of his head. "If the Tyrells truly intended to take over your lands, they wouldn't need to act at all. They could simply wait for the chaos here to spiral out of control, then intervene under the guise of restoring order. After all, the Tyrells are your feudal lords. And, if I recall correctly, a collateral branch of House Footly holds a position in Highgarden. Should anything happen to you, it would be natural for the Tyrells to support them in inheriting Tumbleton."

As he spoke, an idea formed in Lynd's mind—a bold and unsettling one. Perhaps the Tyrells would use this very method against Tumbleton in the future. After all, as he remembered it, Tumbleton had almost faded from relevance within a little over a decade. Any influence it wielded in that time seemed entirely tied to the Tyrells' interests.

If Nymeria were still the Lady of Tumbleton in that future, such subservience seemed unlikely. Someone of her stature and bearing wouldn't fade into obscurity. With her striking appearance and commanding presence, she would surely be as renowned as Brienne the Beauty. No, it was far more plausible that by then, Nymeria had met an untimely end.

Nymeria didn't notice the subtle shift in Lynd's expression as these thoughts crossed his mind. Instead, she was focused, analyzing his words carefully. Despite being the bastard daughter of Prince Lewyn, she had been raised with the same discipline and education as any of his legitimate children. This upbringing had sharpened her political instincts, and it didn't take long for her to recognize the likelihood of Lynd's scenario.

Lynd broke the silence in a measured tone. "Please be assured, even if such a plan is feasible, the Lord Tyrell is unlikely to pursue it."

Nymeria frowned, her skepticism evident. "Why wouldn't he? You're not Lord Tyrell—how could you know his mind?"

Lynd answered with composed eloquence. "Maester Mollos, one of the Lord's advisors, once proposed that you marry the Lord's second son, Ser Garlan Tyrell. The idea was dismissed entirely because of your Dornish blood."

Nymeria's expression darkened further. His words struck a nerve, and she turned to glare at him sharply, her anger brimming beneath the surface. It was clear from her expression that if Lynd dared to press the matter further, she wouldn't hesitate to throw him out.

However, Lynd was unaffected by Nymeria's glare and continued with calm resolve. "In my opinion, that rejection was just an excuse. The real issue is one of concerns."

"Concerns?" Nymeria asked, her puzzlement evident. "What concerns? Dorne?"

"Of course not. The Iron Throne," Lynd clarified. "It took House Tyrell a year to mend the damage caused by his perceived disloyalty during Robert's Rebellion and to regain the Iron Throne's trust. Were he to seize such an important location as Tumbleton now, how would His Grace Robert perceive it? What about Lord Tywin, the Stormlands, or the Riverlands? Roses are delicate things—they require careful cultivation and patience. That's why the last house you need to guard against is House Tyrell."

Nymeria remained silent for a long time, absorbing Lynd's analysis. Eventually, she regarded him with a strange expression, suspicion clouding her features. "You claim to be a hunter by trade. So how is it you know all of this?"

Lynd smiled faintly. "You're not the first to ask me that, but I've grown tired of answering. Every time someone does, I end up spinning another excuse. I've created so many that even I can't keep track of them, and they're riddled with holes. It hasn't caused me trouble yet, but it's more of a nuisance than I'd like."

Nymeria's eyes narrowed further, her confusion mixing with curiosity. "You trust me enough to share all of this? Aren't you afraid I'll tell someone?"

"These things aren't secrets," Lynd replied evenly. "And even if you did share them, who would believe you? Besides, I think honesty is the best policy between partners. If I'm going to be stationed here for several years, we should start with mutual understanding."

Nymeria looked down at him, her tone turning skeptical. "And you're so confident I'll let you establish a foothold here?"

"I can't think of a reason why you wouldn't," Lynd said with a casual shrug.

Nymeria stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she said, "I need time to think about it."

"That is your right, my lady," Lynd replied with a slight nod. "Once you've made your decision, just send someone to inform me."

With that, Lynd turned toward the tavern's exit. Just before crossing the threshold, he paused, looked back, and said, "Prince Oberyn gave you good advice earlier—about not contacting the people in the valley. I share his concern. It seems like an obvious trap."

"I understand," Nymeria replied, her tone calm but resolute.

Lynd studied her reaction. From her composed demeanor, he surmised she had already suspected the truth about those people, which explained her decision to remain in close proximity without engaging with them. Deciding there was nothing more to add, he left the tavern, mounted his horse, and began his ride toward the outskirts of Tumbleton.

This unplanned visit to the ruins of Old Tumbleton had yielded significant results. Not only had he made contact with its lord, but he had also encountered the legendary Red Viper of Dorne.

As he passed through the wooden fence wall of Tumbleton, heading toward the dense forest where his men were stationed, Lynd suddenly reined in his horse. He dismounted and turned toward a small hillock nearby. Standing atop it, as if waiting for him, was the Red Viper. Lynd called out, "Prince Oberyn, it seems you've been expecting me. May I ask what this is about?"

Red Viper descended the hill, steel lance in hand, his tone casual but laced with intent. "Two things. First, I want to know if you have any plans to harm Nymeria. Second, I want to see if the so-called First Swordsman of the Seven Kingdoms lives up to his reputation."

Lynd froze, puzzled. "First Swordsman of the Seven Kingdoms? I wasn't aware I held such a title."

"It's what your admirers have started calling you. After all, legends rarely rise from the ranks of commoners." The Red Viper chuckled lightly, his gaze shifting to the small shadowcat at Lynd's feet. "Is this the gift from the female shadowcat in your story?"

"Yes," Lynd answered with a nod.

"A beautiful creature," The Red Viper remarked, his tone carrying a hint of envy.

Lynd reached down to stroke Glory's head, a soft smile forming. "Yes, he's a fine little companion."

Red Viper stepped closer, his sharp gaze locking onto Lynd. "This is the first time we've met, but I sense you're a man of honor. Now tell me, will you harm Nymeria Footly?"

"Of course not," Lynd responded without hesitation.

The two men stared at each other in silence for a long moment before the Red Viper spoke again, his voice measured. "I believe you, Bear Hunter."

With that, he stepped back, twirling his lance. "Now for the second matter. Fight me."