"Are there tourneys in Nightshade, ser?" Gerion asked Ra from behind him. For some unknown reason, the younger Lannister brother had chosen not to participate in the grand tourney himself.
"In some regions," Ra answered with a firm nod as the jousts continued directly in front of them.
At the present moment, Nightshade was divided into various distinct regions and states, each governed by their own elected warden who helped manage the local areas.
This administrative structure made the regions within Nightshade incredibly diverse, with distinct cultures and even entirely different languages shifting from one territory to the next.
Positioned high above these regional elected warden was the Astral Senate, a grand governing body comprised of wise centaurs and clever goblins who crafted the overarching laws for Nightshade as a unified country.
The esteemed members of this Senate also functioned as supreme judges for any legal disputes that might arise across the land.
Meanwhile, a dedicated peacekeeping force consisting of a wide array of cooperative species worked tirelessly to ensure order, known to all citizens simply as the Vanguard.
The Senate even possessed the formal authority to request direct assistance from the custodians or any of the seven powerful daemons if a critical matter ever required their terrifying strength, though such dire occasions remained exceedingly rare.
Ra silently contemplated all of these intricacies, carefully comparing how efficiently things operated back home in Nightshade with the fragmented feudal system currently ruling Westeros while Gerion continued speaking.
"You must have won many of them, ser," Gerion commented.
A small, knowing smile formed on Ra's face at those curious words.
He and his brothers shared a deeply ingrained habit of holding competitive battle arenas among themselves, and as the oldest brother, Ra held the duty to win every single one of those encounters, a responsibility he had successfully upheld to this very day.
"Every single one," Ra concurred smoothly with Gerion.
Down on the field, Ser Jorah Mormont managed to unhorse Ser Jason Mallister after breaking two heavy lances against the formidable Lord of Seagard.
"Perhaps you could allow me to visit your land one day," Gerion finally said, voicing the true desire he had been harboring this entire time.
Ra let out a quiet sigh and turned his head to look at the Lannister directly.
It was entirely evident that Gerion was not nearly as cunning or discreet as his older brother Tywin, though it was highly unlikely that Tywin himself would have been capable of hiding his true intentions from a custodian.
That transparent honesty was the exact reason Ra had formed a favorable impression of Gerion, and he was honestly considering the man's bold request.
"Why exactly do you wish to visit Nightshade?" Ra asked the Lannister. His golden orbs locked instantly onto the bright green eyes of the man sitting behind him.
Gerion suddenly felt an intense sensation, as if Ra was standing directly inside his head, effortlessly reading every single one of his private thoughts like a scholar skimming through the familiar pages of a book.
He was not wrong in his assumption, as the custodian was currently employing legilimency to pry directly into his surface thoughts.
"House Lannister used to possess a magnificent Valyrian steel sword by the name of Brightroar," Gerion started.
By now, Ra already knew the exact motivation behind the request, so he smoothly broke eye contact and returned his gaze to the continuing jousts below.
Gerion let out a quiet sigh of relief when he felt the intrusive pressure fade, his head finally feeling entirely like his own again.
"I had originally thought of sailing straight into the ruins of Old Valyria in the hopes of retrieving it," the young Lannister added softly. "But that was before I noticed the unique metal used to forge your armor and your halberd."
"And you wish to commission a new sword crafted from that very same metal," Ra interrupted the man, concluding the lord's true intentions with a low, knowing hum.
Gerion cast a quick, cautious glance toward Tywin, who had been completely unable to overhear their private conversation since they had been speaking in low voices, and nodded his head in firm confirmation.
"I apologize, but Nightshade has been strictly closed to foreign powers for a very long time," Ra rejected Gerion's request gently. "And it may easily take ten or so years before the borders are finally opened up to the outside world again."
Nightshade had rarely ever allowed nobles from foreign nations to set foot upon their sacred grounds, a strict isolationist policy that was set to continue until the highly anticipated arrival of their royal family.
Gerion opened his mouth as if to beg for a special exception, but he paused, carefully considered the weight of the rejection for a moment, and ultimately closed his mouth in silent acceptance.
That was the exact moment when the final match of the grand jousting tournament was loudly announced.
It was to be Ser Jorah Mormont against Ser Jaime Lannister.
Ra noticed that Jorah looked intently toward a certain pretty girl in the stands, tenderly kissing a blue cloth favor tied securely around his arm before finally donning his heavy steel helmet.
"A lady's favor, eh? I think I will be happily drinking with the king's own gold tonight," Ra said out loud this time, raising his voice just enough for Robert to easily overhear him and look back over his shoulder.
"Ah, gods. Do not make me root for the Kingslayer now," Robert muttered out loud, his booming voice carrying a heavy note of frustration.
A low, irritated growl escaped the king's lips the moment the very first lances shattered against the shields.
Both Ser Jorah and Ser Jaime remained firmly rooted to their heavy warhorses, riding as if they were completely at one with the powerful beasts beneath them.
Their eyes stayed locked onto each other in an expression of mutual respect and warrior recognition.
"Come on!" Robert shouted loudly when the second lances broke into splinters.
The massive crowd was roaring so incredibly loud that even the thundering sound of the galloping horses was deafened by the time the third lances shattered.
Alysane jumped up excitedly from her seat and cheered happily when the fourth lances broke, clearly seeing that Jaime had felt the staggering force of that specific blow.
By the time the fifth broken lances littered the dirt, everyone in the arena could see that both Ser Jorah and Ser Jaime were pushed to their absolute physical limits.
A sharp wooden splinter had broken off and was now deeply embedded in Jaime's right shoulder, while another jagged piece was lodged firmly in Jorah's thigh.
When the sixth lances shattered, both knights jolted violently from the sheer velocity of the shock.
Jaime almost fell completely from his horse from the impact, while Jorah staggered backward in his saddle, though he still managed to remain atop his own steady steed.
The crowd went utterly silent when the seventh and eighth lances broke. Jaime now had a jagged piece of sharp wood sticking out precariously from his stomach, while Jorah was bleeding heavily from his injured shoulder.
"Enough!" Robert roared at the top of his lungs when the ninth lances broke.
"Ser Jorah Mormont wins the day and has earned the right to crown the Queen of Love and Beauty!" the king announced in his very next breath, his voice echoing across the grounds as the ecstatic crowd began rhythmically chanting Ser Jorah's name.
Tywin cleared his throat with a stiff cough to hide the low groan escaping him at the king's sudden decision.
Jorah was handed a fresh lance, a beautiful garland of winter flowers resting delicately at its wooden tip.
Ser Jorah Mormont breathed in deep, ragged breaths as dark blood seeped continuously from his wounds and a heavy numbness settled deep into his exhausted arms.
The northern knight gently nudged his warhorse forward, his tired eyes fixed entirely on the one girl whose favor had given him the supernatural strength required to win the brutal joust.
"Nine lances against the Kingsguard will drain the blood from any man's veins. When my shield cracked and my horse faltered, I looked only to the blue ribbon on my arm. The favor of Lady Lynesse is a shield stronger than iron. To her goes the eternal glory, and to her goes this crown. Long live the Queen of Love and Beauty," Ser Jorah Mormont announced in a hoarse, straining voice.
The crowd chanted her name wildly and the assembled nobles clapped their hands in genuine admiration as he carefully placed the beautiful garland onto the smiling girl's lap.