(121-02-15) Lord Pansy Challenged
Lord Pansy Challenged
Summary: The Maiden's Knight challenges Lord Pansy.
Date: Date of play (15/Feb/2014)
Related: Freeriders and Tirocinium: http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:121-02-14-freeriders-and-tirocinium

Grand Hall - Garden Isle Manse

The first floor's main hall is grand, open room dominated by a massive fireplace and high-arched windows facing the street, protected by heavy iron bars. The white walls and polished white marble floors make it seem airy and bright. The starkness of the walls is softened by three long tapestries, depicting fantastical hunting scenes, while the marble floor is cushioned by rich Myrish rugs.

Down the center of the hall is a long, wide dining table, able to seat thirty comfortably. At the head of the table is an enormous chair of elaborately carved rosewood, with a door behind flanked by two high windows, giving a view of the sunlight gardens. Near the fireplace are smaller chairs, cushioned benches, and small tables for more intimate conversations.

Alcoves and doors at either side of the great hall lead to servants quarters, kitchens, and smaller sitting rooms. At the northwest and southeast corners of the building are square towers holding the stairs up to the floor above, where the bedchambers and other sitting rooms are found.

The manse is a flurry of activity, with men wrestling the trestle tables and benches into place, and women hurrying around to dust and polish every surface. Garvin is in a simple tunic and loose trousers, sitting in a chair on the low platform that will be used later by musicians, watching everyone work and trying hard not to interfere. He looks pale, but not too unhealthy, and he's holding a thick cup of steaming tea.

Daevon arrives with two house-guards dressed in Targaryen colours, both wearing different types of armour. Daevon himself is dressed in similar armour to as Garvin was yesterday. The first guard's carrying a lot of swords, the second a shield. "Lord Garvin," he says as he's shown in. "We need to speak. Do you wish to do this here or in the garden?"

Garvin smiles weakly to Daevon, signaling to another of the chairs on the platform. "Ser Daevon, welcome. Please, join me here. I was in the garden all morning, and I don't want to catch a chill. Would you care for some tea? I'm sure someone can bring you a mug. What would you like to speak about?"

Daevon shakes his head. "No thank you. I'm going to give you something of a demonstration, and then we're going to talk." He takes the first of the rapiers from his guard, wielding it as if it was a long sword. Using all of his strength he swings it at the guard wearing plate. The sword shatters, the guard doesn't even flinch.

Garvin sucks in a breath, visibly upset. "Dae, what are you doing? You ruined a perfectly good sword, and you could have harmed your man."

Daevon picks up the second rapier. "Would you like another example? Or would you like to have a go yourself? Can you tell me what I'm doing wrong?"

Garvin's brows furrow, and he shakes his head, looking frustrated. "Example of what? If you're trying to show me that my weapon was ineffective against heavy plate amor, I'm already quite aware. I've been stitched and poulticed and leeched as a restult, I don't need further reminding. Is this what you wanted to talk about? The fact that I'm a terrible swordsman?"

"You are not a terrible swordmsan." Daevon states. "You are naturally gifted when it comes to the blade. Did you know that I'm not? Do you know how many times I lost before I started to win? That I have spent hours every single day for the last ten years dedicated to perfecting my craft, and still you managed to beat me. Despite all of my skill, watch what happens when I use this blade." He spins and smacks a second sword against his armoured guard. It shatters just like the first. "Who's the one lacking honour here? Should I ask this man to remove his armour?"

Garvin just looks confused and more than a little frustrated. "What has any of this to do with honor? Daevon, I'm pleading with you, please stop destroying blades and hitting your sworn man without cause, if for no other reason that the sound is making me remember my own dishonor yesterday. I know I did poorly, and I know why I did poorly. I don't need this graphic demonstration to remind me just how poorly I did. Please, stop."

"Where did you dishonour yourself?" Daevon asks, pointedly. He's picking up a third blade.

Garvin presses his lips in a thin line. "It was not I who caused my dishonor, but those who made the matches, placing me against Lady Mormont. She shouldn't even have been in the contest to begin with, but that's her disgrace. But the heralds who thought it was a laugh to send the She-Bear to give Lord Pansy a beating shamed me more than any of the blows I received at her hand."

"If you felt the contest was dishonorable you had the option to withdraw," Daevon says. "But to publicly denounce those who arranged a contest in the name of the Mother. Where is the Honour in that? I have fought and been bested by women in the past. Does that taint my honour?"

"There was no honor in any of it," Garvin says, pausing to take a small sip of his tea to calm down. "That was rather the point I had tried to make. Tell me, these women you've fought and been bested by, were they entered in tourneys in the Reach, the way no decent woman would? Were you so bested in front of the entire city over which you were temporarily ruling, while its citizens laughed and jested at your humiliation? Have you spent your whole life being called a woman, because you don't wear heavy armor and win at jousts? No, I think not. You are the Maiden's Knight, your honor is never in question, nor is your masculinity."

"Look at me," Daevon says to Garvin, his voice ice cold. "See not the Maiden's Knight, but Daevon. You, Lord Garvin are a naturally gifted swordsman who made a foolish mistake. You went unarmoured and with a braavosi blade and tried to fight an opponent in full plate. That is where your error lay, not in the swordplay that occured subsequently, but in that error of judgement. Do not compete in tournaments unless you're prepared to lose. Do you think that I do not know what it is like to be jeered at? Do you think that I do not know what it is like to be accused of being a Maiden? I am the Maiden Knight. How many bones of how many hands have I broken of those who just want to check? You, Lord Garvin are a tall man, you are naturally gifted when it comes to the blade, and you have the Tyrell name as protection. Daev the squire had none of those things. Look at me."

Garvin looks away though, his face reddening. "No, you have the Targaryen name as your protection," he says. "Daev the squire may have been plagued by such tormentings, but Ser Daevon the Maiden's Knight is not. You became a knight, and the best knight in the realm. I'm not a knight, nor will I ever be. You are right though, I made an error in judgement entering the competition the way I did. It is not an error I shall make again. I was prepared to lose, for I know full well I am not the best swordsman. What I was not prepared for was the humiliation of being cut down by a woman in men's armor."

Daevon shakes his head at Garvin. His frustrations are evident. He's still holding the rapier and there's a moment where it almost seems as if he's about to shatter yet another blade.

Garvin takes a long swallow of tea, turning back to Daevon. "You never answered my question. Have you ever faced a woman opponent in a tourney, while everyone laughed at your humiliation?"

"I have been accused of being a woman at a tourney," Daevon says. "I have had those who have refused to fight me unless I provide proof to the contrary. I have had many who have claimed that I have only defeated them through trickery and deception, for how can one who looks like me possibly be a Knight? Some have said I am carried by my name and have not earned my title. I have had men spit words similar to yours at me."

Garvin's brows draw together. "Then how can you not understand how I feel right now?"

"Because it was men with words like yours who attacked me," Daevon says. "And because I am the Maiden's Knight. I champion all women, even those who are capable of defending their own honour. I have fought beside women, I have watched them die just as men do. I protect those who cannot protect themselves, and those who can have nothing but my respect."

Garvin shakes his head, still clearly confused. "I don't understand what you're trying to say. Are you here to champion Lady Mormont? Because I'm in no fit condition to answer your challenge, but even if I were, I'd not fight you over her or her honor."

Daevon shakes his head. "No, not the Lady Mormont. She is capable of defending her own honour. But you also called into question the honour of the Mother's Festival and that they allowed a woman to compete. You questioned the honour of any opponent who wore armour and would not fight you using your blade. So, I will issue you an ultimatum. You will apologise for calling down disrepute on the Mother's festival and being a poor loser or I will challenge you. If I challenge you, you may choose to fight either myself, or I will choose a champion whose fighting style is more similar to your own so that the fight can be called fair."

Daevon adds. "I will certainly wait until your wounds are healed to issue such a challenge, so you have time to consider your response."

Garvin sighs and slowly rises from the chair, wincing a little as his left hand goes to his abdomen. "The Mother Above had no part in this. It was men, the heralds who allowed Lady Mormont to disgrace a festival in the Mother's name. It was unnatural and dishonorable, and they shamed not only me, but themselves and the Mother as well. If you must challenge me for saying so, then so be it. I shall find a champion to meet you on the field of honor."

"If you choose to use a champion, and not fight yourself, I will call into question your right to wield that Valyrian Steel blade," Daevon says. "If your champion loses, I want the apology, and your sword, until such time as you learn to carry it with honour."

Garvin looks absolutely horrified, his face draining of what little color it has, and he sinks back onto the chair. "I had not expected such from you, Ser Daevon. Please leave, before I say something I shall regret."

Daevon looks at Garvin, and he does not leave. "If you are in the right, then your champion will win and you will not lose your sword. If you choose to fight yourself, then regardless of the outcome, you have proven yourself willing to defend your honour with your own blade, and so you are worthy of it. Is this not fair? I will even say, that since you called into question the use of heavy armour in such contests, that both competitors should wield braavosi blades and only armour similar to that which you wore yesterday. Is this not fair?"

Garvin turns his head away, the hand holding his cup shaking so hard, tea spills over the edge. He makes no answer, he simply sits there, seething.

"You refuse to apologise?" Daevon asks. "And you also refuse the challenge?"

Garvin continues to hold his tongue, refusing to allow himself to be goading into saying anything that he will later regret.

Daevon stands there and waits.

"You have your answer," Garvin says through his teeth, not turning toward Daevon again. "I have asked you to leave. Please do not humiliate me further by forcing me to watch you cut my men to ribbons."

"You call this humiliation?" Daevon shakes his head. "I am here because you are my friend. If anyone knows what you've endured it is I. But you do not gain honour by disaparaging others."

Garvin turns back slowly. "You question my honor. Fine, that is your right, and I have accepted your challenge. But that's not enough, is it? No, you must also question the judgement of my sword master, who presented me with his heirloom blade of Valyrian steel. You disparage not only me, but him as well. And finally, when I ask you to leave, you refuse to go peacefully. Tell me how these are the actions of a friend? If you want my sword, you may pry it from my dead fingers. I shall meet you myself, when the maesters have judged me well enough, and the battle will be fought to the death. Now for the final time, I ask you to leave, or I shall have my men attempt to remove you from my home."

Daevon shakes his head at Garvin's words. He sighs, softly. "Yes, I call into question his honour. If you wish to fight me to the death then so be it. But know that I will not kill you. It may be the Bravo way but it is not mine. I will leave then, as you request." He and his guards walk out.

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