Asoiaf: I Have a Wolverine Template

Chapter 15

Chapter 15: The False Lion
...
Third POV

In the training grounds of Casterly Rock, just outside the towering gates, Galahad moved with two training swords in hand, his movements fluid and precise. He face off against Ser andros of house Brax.

Every swing of Ser Andros Brax's blade was met with quick parries and clever footwork.

Andros, a seasoned knight and one of Tywin Lannister's trusted men, had expected to overpower the young squire. But today was different. Galahad, barely sixteen, was faster than Andros anticipated, each movement sharp, his instincts honed.

The sun glinted off their wooden swords, creating brief flashes with each clash.

"Come now, boy!" Andros barked, breath ragged, sweat running down his temples. "You'll need more than fancy footwork to impress anyone!"

Galahad smiled, heart pounding. "Just getting started, Ser," he replied, the words light but brimming with confidence.

With a swift burst of speed, Galahad closed the gap, unleashing a flurry of strikes. Andros staggered, surprised by the sudden aggression. Galahad's footwork was flawless, dancing around the knight's defenses.

The wooden blades moved in perfect harmony, the squire's attacks relentless.

The other knights and squires gradually fell silent, their casual conversations fading as they turned their attention to the duel. It was not a common sight to see a squire, especially one so young, dominate a seasoned knight like Ser Andros Brax. The air around the training grounds thickened with anticipation as Galahad's movements captivated the onlookers.

What struck them most was not just his speed but the mastery with which he wielded the two wooden swords. Each blade moved in perfect synchrony, a blur of motion that left Andros struggling to keep up. Every time the knight blocked one strike, the other sword would land, knocking him further off balance. Galahad was relentless, his footwork precise, his attacks unyielding.

A final series of quick, decisive strikes pushed Andros back, and in an instant, Galahad seized the advantage. Andros staggered, his feet slipping on the training ground dirt, and with a heavy thud, he crashed to the ground. Before he could recover, he felt the sharp, unmistakable pressure of two wooden swords at his throat.

The courtyard was still, the only sound the labored breathing of Andros and the hushed murmurs of the onlookers.

"Do you yield?" Galahad asked, his breathing steady, eyes locked on the knight beneath him.

Andros exhaled heavily, the fight clearly over. "I yield," he muttered, the words reluctant but respectful.

Galahad stepped back, lowering his swords. A grin spread across his face as the onlookers erupted into cheers, their admiration clear.

Still on the ground, Andros flexed his hands, shaking his head in disbelief. The strength behind Galahad's strikes had been incredible. He'd never fought a boy with such power—or skill. Slowly, he pushed himself up, his breath still coming in heavy gasps.

How is this lad still a squire? Andros thought, unable to wrap his mind around it. In all his years of battle, he'd never seen anything quite like Galahad. The boy fought with the raw ability of a knight—no, better than that. There was something else in him, something more.

Rising to his feet, Andros brushed the dirt from his leathers, a tired grin spreading across his face despite the sting of defeat. "Well fought, Galahad," he said, offering his hand. "You're destined for more than being a squire."

Galahad gripped his hand, smiling warmly. "Thank you, Ser. But I've still got a lot to learn," he said modestly.

Andros nodded, respect in his eyes. "Aye, perhaps. But today... you fought like a knight."