The Sword Trial

"Use your full strength. Let me see this most splendid twin-sword style in all Westeros." In a small manor near New Barrel's eastern gate, Ser Vortimer Crane drew the longsword at his waist and spoke to Alden, who stood across from him.

His face was calm and his voice even, but anyone who knew him could hear the displeasure beneath it.

That had much to do with Vortimer's character. He admired sober, serious men, men like Lord Randyll Tarly. Alden seemed too flamboyant for his taste, both in the spread of the Bear-Hunter's song and in that boast about possessing the most splendid twin-sword style in Westeros.

Still, Vortimer kept private feelings separate from public decisions. He rarely let likes and dislikes determine important matters. The moment his friend recommended Alden as a squire, Vortimer had already decided to accept him. What moved him now was only a private impulse: he wanted to teach this overly proud Bear-Hunter that before a true knight, whatever strange twin-sword skill he had learned from who knew where was nothing.

Alden knew he had said the wrong thing in front of Vortimer, but he did not regret it. Given another chance, he would say the same words again, because they had not been meant for Vortimer. They had been meant for Garlan Tyrell.

In the tavern, Garlan had acted steady and mature, not at all like a boy who had only just entered adolescence. Yet that maturity felt more like imitation and disguise. Beneath it, he still held the feelings and fancies proper to a boy his age. In his eyes, certain legendary figures ought to be dazzling and proud. Alden's arrogance about his own swordwork matched that taste exactly. The road back to the Tyrell camp had made that clear.

On the way, Garlan abandoned the composure he had shown in the tavern and became a child full of questions. He asked Alden one thing after another, especially about the battlefield scenes in the Bear-Hunter's song. Alden did not give him the song's exaggerated account. He told the truth instead: how many men he had actually killed, how he had used hunter's traps, and what had truly happened.

That honesty did not disappoint Garlan. It made the boy appreciate him more, and it also affected Vortimer's view of him. The older knight concluded that Alden might be too proud, but at least he was honest.

Garlan, raised from childhood as a noble and shaped by the Queen of Thorns, had naturally learned a little about managing subordinates. Pressing down an arrogant man's confidence could make him easier to control, much like a knight taming a spirited horse. So after returning to camp, he was eager to ask to see Alden's so-called finest twin-sword style in Westeros.

But Garlan was still only a boy. However good his education, he could not keep every thought from his face. When he made the request, his intentions were written plainly enough for Alden and the others to see through at a glance.

Alden did not mind Garlan's little scheme. Even if the boy had not suggested it, Alden would have found another way to make himself and Vortimer Crane cross blades. Vortimer wanted to teach him a lesson and grind away his pride. Alden wanted to measure his true strength through a duel with Vortimer.

He had killed many enemies before, but those enemies had not been strong, and he had relied heavily on other conditions to dispose of them. None of that could serve as a reliable measure of where he stood.

He had also considered asking Joel for a formal match, but Joel refused on the grounds that winning would gain him nothing and losing would look terrible. Now another swordmaster, one said to be Joel's equal, had offered to fight him. It suited Alden perfectly. Even if Vortimer had not demanded it, he would still have gone all out.

Alden stepped forward and drew the two broad hand-and-a-half swords at his waist. He settled into Peacekeeper's basic stance, knees slightly bent, body lowered, eyes locked on Vortimer. In that posture, he looked like a fierce beast ready to spring.

In that instant, Alden drew his whole body and mind into Peacekeeper's combat memories. It was almost as if he had become Peacekeeper himself, and the air around him changed. A bloody force that belonged only to battle and killing spread from him.

The pressure was strong enough that Garlan, standing at the edge of the yard, felt it clearly. It frightened him into taking a step back. Joel, beside him, was affected as well. His expression turned serious. Without thinking, he stepped forward to shield Garlan, and his hand moved to his sword hilt.

Compared with Garlan and Joel, Vortimer bore the full force of Alden's warrior presence. He felt it ten times more sharply than anyone else. In that moment, he abandoned the idea of merely instructing the boy. Facing Alden as a true opponent, he tightened his grip on his sword. His own battle-hardened presence rose in answer and collided with Alden's as he entered a genuine fighting state.

Vortimer still did not know how good Alden's swordwork truly was, but in sheer presence alone the boy already surpassed most warriors and knights he had ever met. Among those he knew, only old soldiers and veteran knights who had seen many battlefields possessed such force, men like Barristan the Bold. Among the younger generation, only Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain, stood above Alden in that regard. It made Vortimer wonder how a hunter's son, with little experience of war, could carry such a savage edge.

Both men tried to suppress the other through presence, searching for the slightest flaw. Their pressure matched evenly and neither gained any result, leaving them locked in a silent standoff.

Night had already fallen, but many Tyrell guards were still patrolling or standing watch around the camp. Their eyes were drawn to the duel in the yard. Men who had been sleeping heard the stir and came out to look, and soon more and more people gathered at the edges. Even the windows of the upper rooms opened, with several heads leaning out to watch from above.

What they saw, however, was disappointing. Their master-at-arms, Ser Vortimer Crane, and a young man with twin swords simply stood there motionless in their stances. From a distance, the scene looked less tense than absurd.

Only the few guards closest to the duel truly felt the two powerful forces covering the open yard. They did not understand the source of that pressure or even what it was. They only felt their thoughts slow and their bodies grow difficult to control.

Just as many onlookers began to lose interest and consider returning to bed, Alden and Vortimer moved almost at the same time.

Vortimer lunged forward, bringing his longsword down in a straight cut. The force of the stroke made it seem able to split anything in its path.

Alden had no intention of meeting it head-on. He knew strength was his weak point. More than that, a one-handed guard with a sword could not stop the full chop of a two-handed knightly blade. Trying would only break the sword and kill the man behind it.

So as Vortimer struck, Alden had already chosen his answer. His footwork shifted quickly, and his body slid aside as if over ice, avoiding the descending blade. At the same time, his broad hand-and-a-half swords moved one after the other, following his steps and cutting toward Vortimer's chest and waist.

Vortimer seemed to have expected the first attack to miss. As Alden moved away, he also stepped to the side and twisted his body. The force of his sword did not fade. Under precise wrist control, the blade drew an arc through the air and attacked Alden's lower back, as if he meant to trade wound for wound.

Alden, who stood inside the exchange, knew better. Vortimer's movement, the length of his sword, and the speed of the attack meant Alden would be hit in the back before his own blades reached Vortimer.

He did not panic. His feet drove forward like a charging horse, sending him straight toward Vortimer and closing the distance even further. Vortimer responded just as quickly, pulling back.

So the two men moved through the yard with footwork beyond ordinary men, shifting, dodging, and changing attacks with every step. Their weapons constantly altered angle and line, each strike aimed for a vital point, yet every attack was avoided by the other's movement. They traded blows with frightening intensity, but not one blade landed.

The spectators fell silent. Even the dullest among them could see how fierce the fight had become. One careless instant would mean a strike to a vital point and death on the spot. Even Garlan and Joel, who knew why the two were fighting, had the illusion that the men before them were mortal enemies.

Both fighters were swift and agile, but anyone with even a little understanding of swordplay could see the difference in their movement. Every one of Vortimer's steps followed proper knightly footwork: simple, direct, and brutally practical. Alden's movement, by contrast, resembled an intricate dance. With the sway of his body and the attacks of his twin blades, he looked like an accomplished dancer, beautiful to watch.

Only a swordsman as skilled as Joel could see how treacherous Alden's twin-blade style truly was. His swords always attacked from impossible angles, going straight for vital points and leaving the opponent no real defense except evasion.

The rhythm of moving and attacking was being led by Alden. Vortimer was reacting to him. From that point of view, Alden had held the upper hand from the beginning. If nothing changed, Vortimer might truly lose the bout.

Just as Joel thought Vortimer was likely to lose, Alden's movement slowed by a fraction.

Vortimer seized the chance. His longsword rose in an upward diagonal cut, forcing Alden to shift away while crossing both swords downward to slow the blade's ascent.

The strength in Vortimer's sword was enormous. It knocked Alden's blades aside, but its own momentum faltered just enough to give Alden time. The point swept past his face.

At that moment, Vortimer's motion seemed too large and an enormous opening appeared. If Alden attacked then, he might very well defeat him. Instead, to the confusion of those watching, Alden retreated quickly, opened distance, and raised both swords into a defensive guard.

"No need to continue. We will call it a draw." Vortimer breathed lightly, sheathed his longsword, and looked at Alden with satisfaction. "From tomorrow onward, you are my squire. I will teach you properly what it means to be a true knight."

With that, he turned, bowed to Garlan, signaled the onlookers to disperse, and went alone toward his room.

Vortimer possessed real authority there. Once he gave the order, the crowd scattered. Their minds, however, had not yet recovered from the brief and brilliant duel. Men gathered in small groups and whispered, most of them debating who Alden could possibly be. A youth of fifteen or sixteen with swordwork comparable to Ser Vortimer Crane's was enough to stir anyone's curiosity.

Most guessed that Alden must be the bastard of some great house. Only a great lord could hire a true swordmaster to teach a bastard properly. Legitimate heirs of great houses did not need swordsmanship quite so desperately; they had noble knowledge and rulecraft to learn as well.

Others guessed he might come from Starfall, because rumors claimed Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, had been skilled with twin blades and therefore House Dayne might possess some high twin-sword art.

That guess was soon rejected. The claim that the Sword of the Morning was skilled with twin blades was pure rumor. From beginning to end, Ser Arthur had used Dawn, the ancestral blade of House Dayne, a greatsword that required both hands to wield. Somehow, from that truth, the rumor had grown that he also mastered twin blades.

Among all the wrong guesses, a few did name the correct answer: Alden was the Bear-Hunter from the singers' tales. After all, the most famous twin-sword master in the Reach at the moment could only be the Bear-Hunter. In the song, Alden was already described as a fierce warrior who cut men down as easily as grass.

Yet even those who guessed right could not be certain. The Alden before them was too young, and his body was nothing like the powerful figure they imagined when they heard the song.

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