"Enough, Lysa, you shame House Tully and Arryn. Your father has already disowned you," Blackfish said coldly. Sometimes, one could not be merciful.
Streams of hot tears gushed out, rolling down Lysa's plump red cheeks. "Is there no one to help this poor widow?" Sadly, no one released her.
Ser Lyn Corbray, however, descended from the balcony. He wore silver armor, his surcoat displaying three flying crows on a white field, each clutching a blood-red heart in its talons. In his hand was the deadly lady forlorn. He had shoulder-length brown hair and was as lean as a sword. He was handsome, but vain, short-tempered, and acted without thought.
"Ser Lyn, you are a true Knight!" Lysa was overjoyed.
"Get lost, you foolish woman, and perhaps a traitor! You're playing me, you're waiting for that dog Littlefinger, aren't you? I've had enough!" Lyn said impatiently, then pushed Lysa aside. "My Lady is thirsty, I'll take her for some fun, and while I'm at it, I'll take a look at the King's blade."
Ser Lyn walked over, the heart-shaped ruby on his sword hilt reflecting a dazzling red light.
"You want your Lady to drink some blood?" Gendry asked, looking at Ser Lyn Corbray. Ser Lyn was quite handsome, but perhaps had a problem with his sexual orientation?
"I always wanted to fight the Kingslayer, and since he has already lost, I also want to draw my sword, and it just so happens you're here. But perhaps the storm will become my King, so we'll just touch upon it. After all, I truly don't believe a young man could easily defeat the Kingslayer. If I lose, I will give you a gift," Lyn said. "Guest fighting guest."
"Then we're just playing."
Lyn looked at Barristan and the others with eyes that clearly showed pity. Lyn's heart burned with anger; you look down on me, so I will prove that I am the greatest swordsman. This young man's reputation may be great, but I am equally dangerous.
Light danced on the smoke-grey blade, the dark metal conveying its sharpness. lady forlorn and an arakh.
"My good Child, Sweet Robin, and Petyr, come save me!" Lysa sat on her chair, sobbing uncontrollably, with some blue robes now surrounding her.
Ser Lyn was a calculating, methodical, and dangerous swordsman. The longsword in his hand was precise and merciless. But Gendry's counterattack was like a torrential storm, power pressing down through the blade.
Each of Gendry's blows was like a heavy stone crushing, mountains collapsing. He wielded immense weight with effortless grace, and still had strength to spare, wave after wave building up.
Lyn's face grew increasingly grim. Gendry was taller and stronger than him, his reach was greater, and he was as agile as a swift leopard. A storm of intertwined steel clashed fiercely in the air, the sounds clearly heard by everyone.
All the Knights cheered with delight. This was one of the most beautiful dances in the world, a dance of steel against steel, two divine weapons clashing in mid-air, wielded by the most dangerous warriors of their time.
But moments later, the arakh struck horizontally above Lyn's head. Lyn blocked with his sword, but his body shifted little by little until he was half-kneeling on the ground.
"Clang." Lyn dropped lady forlorn, but wore an embarrassed smile. "Now I believe the Kingslayer's defeat was not unjust; I don't have much strength left to fight back."
"I used to be the first sword of the Vale, and now? I think you are the first of the Seven Kingdoms." Lyn threw lady forlorn at Gendry's feet. "I believe the Warrior protects you."
"Rise, Ser," Gendry told Lyn to get up.
"Gentlemen, our King has come! This young man is as brave and fearless as a King, and I believe he is a Warrior. I know many of you owe Littlefinger money, and I've also taken Littlefinger's money, but if Littlefinger dies, do we still have to pay it back?" Lyn shouted to the Lords and Knights on the balcony, and the atmosphere changed dramatically in an instant.
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