August 25th, 269 B.C.
The Hour of the Hound (2 P.M.)
Ser Alaric Mormont, outskirts of Lannisport
"The wounds have healed," Maege analyzes.
Stripped of his armor, Luton was now resting, sitting bare-chested.
His plate armor lay a short distance away, being cleaned of his own blood. His gambeson, which was completely soaked, could not be cleaned in time, and we had to send a man to find a replacement as quickly as possible.
"See? I can go on," the Norrey asserts.
His word was not enough for Rickard, who turned to me.
"Can he?"
51 hit points is not bad; it is more than I currently have. But it is not enough for what he will face.
"The healing reacts intelligently, focusing on the most severe injuries down to the least severe. He was pulled out of danger by Ser Kermit, but there are still invisible injuries that could become a problem during the fight."
"Didn't you say you had healing magic prepared?" Jorah asks, looking at the pouch hanging from my waist.
"Goodberries. The berries. I created thirty of them in advance. But I had thought about distributing them among Luton and the other two who will compete in the Melee so they could eat them when they needed."
I had not thought Luton would lose so much health in the duel. Counting on him winning by a landslide, I had not prepared another healing spell, and now I am paying the price.
In a safer context, I would have spent all three level 1 slots on Goodberries. But I thought it best to have at least a few offensive spells outside of my Cantrips.
"What I can do is give half or ten to him now and divide the other ten between them. He will return to a good state, better than most, but."
"Give them to me!" Luton shouts, standing up and towering over me.
I ignore him and turn to Rickard.
"But! These berries could be given to a healthy person to use during the Melee."
Again, Luton clamors for them.
"Give them to me."
With an even tenser tone, he was projecting himself much more over me this time, drawing a reaction from Jeor.
"Back."
He was not the only one. Maege held him by the arm, warning him not to get any closer.
"Take a few steps back, big guy."
But instead of retreating, Luton simply stops staring at me and turns to Rickard.
"I will not fail again, Lord Stark."
But Rickard barely reacted to his promise. With one hand on his waist and the other on his chin, he was thinking seriously about what to do.
The truth is, there is no right choice. Luton was extremely powerful with the help of my Enhance Ability, almost invincible, almost, but he will not be in perfect condition in the Melee unless I give him almost all the Goodberries, which I will not do.
With our low numbers in the Melee, having Goodberries available will be vital. It was important before, and it became even more so now that we know the other kingdoms will have far more men than us.
Giving them all to him was out of the question. But, even past his peak, he is still stronger than most and the one with the status best suited for the event, which requires endurance, stamina, and brute strength above all else.
Someone like him is perfect to hold the North's presence until the end. To hold it, not to win. I believe we all already know it is impossible for us to win with our low numbers. That is why Luton's whining about winning this time is useless.
But on the other hand, it is possible to replace him with someone who, after receiving my Enhance Ability, gains the necessary boost to match standard Luton. And with ten of the thirty Goodberries in his pocket, he would also have a good chance of holding the North's presence until the end.
There really is no right answer. It is a gamble.
After contemplating the difficult option, Rickard finally answers.
"Give half to him."
"Thank you, my lord!"
Luton earned another chance to prove himself.
"The North lost," Aerys comments.
As soon as I finished casting three Enhance Ability spells on Luton and the other two who would compete and headed to the stands, I once again found a Targaryen man waiting to inform me that the king was summoning me.
"Second place, Your Grace. With so many elite knights, including one capable of using magic, there is nothing to be ashamed of."
In their view, not knowing that Luton received multiple magical aids, it really shouldn't be a shame, but Tywin thinks differently.
"Second place is nothing less than the first of the losers."
A common saying of bitter people. Fitting for someone like him.
"Better to be the first of the losers than not even be on the podium," I reply.
Perhaps because he expected me to respond with the same sensitivity, he was not visibly irritated like before.
"Repeat that enough and eventually you will believe your own words."
A composed response, which left Aerys, who wanted to see us trading barbs, visibly frustrated, unlike Joanna, who let out a relieved exhale.
Seeing that he won't get what he wants, Aerys moves on to his next question.
"Yeah, yeah. And the next event? Do you think you have what it takes to win it?"
"A difficult question to answer, Your Grace. Unlike the other kingdoms, the North did not buy out the slots of others and turn the event into a disguised Mock Battle."
Again, Tywin did not waste the chance to jab.
"Tournaments are nothing less than a controlled simulation of war. The fight for an advantage is nothing less than strategy."
"I prefer not to break the competitive spirit," I tell him before turning back to Aerys. "We only have three competitors, but even if they don't win, they still won't fall easily. It will be a spectacle to watch their endurance."
Then, out of nowhere, a childish voice pipes up.
"Ser Frey really healed Ser Norrey!"
It was Rhaegar, who seemed unable to bear the silence any longer.
Here we go.
"Yes, Prince Rhaegar."
"Why?"
"That is a question to be asked of him."
"If he is willing to answer," Rhaella adds.
"Hm… and what does that magic do when he touches the chest? Nothing happened?"
I cannot feed his curiosity.
"I do not know everything about magic, especially just by looking, Prince. You will have to clear all your doubts with Frey himself."
The prince drops his shoulders, disappointed. Seeing this, Aerys decides to please him.
"No problem, we can invite him later."
Hopefully, I won't be here when that happens.
As soon as I returned to the stands, the first thing I did was give a nod to Rickard and tell him telepathically that everything was fine. The second was to communicate with the sorceress of House Hightower, who had returned to her seat.
'What happened? Why didn't you use more Dissonant Whispers? Why are you back already? Are the spells depleted?'
Questions sent, I turn my head and look at the field, where the thirty-four competitors were gathering, waiting for her response.
'They moved too far away from me. There weren't any openings under all the stands. Only I can communicate this, so I came back. They are not depleted. I have two more prepared.'
It is not enough to change the course of the event, but better than nothing.
I wait a moment to turn and reply, giving her time to look away.
'Use them against the Lannisters, who have a real chance of hurting the northerners. Kevan seems to be competing, keep an eye on him.'
As a veteran of the War of the Ninepenny Kings and a member of a Great House, which must have granted him the best possible sword training, he must be one of the best on the field.
Command given, I turned to the field ready to wait for the event to begin, but she had her own question.
'Your mountain fighter looks better than before. We are all curious. The saint's protector seems to have healed him, but he looks even better than before. Is this your doing?'
It seems nothing magical can escape the noses of these three.
Again, I give her time to turn her head away before responding.
'Yes. But it is a magic reserved for Druids and Rangers.'
I explain its limitations. And since I gave them a simplified version of how the class system worked yesterday, that should be enough for them to understand that Goodberry is out of their reach.
'With your hundred spells, you must have some compatible with us.'
'No. Only druids, rangers, paladins, bards, and clerics.'
'And that one capable of increasing an individual's ability and power?'
'You and Archmaester Culler will be able to learn it, but it is one of my most valuable. It will cost you dearly. I will give it in exchange for your help in the event.'
'My help requires greater compensation than a single spell, no matter how valuable it is.'
'Luton lost his fight. And it is impossible for us to win the Melee with just two Dissonant Whispers.'
'Not my fault. Your champion lost due to incompetence. And even if you had multiple instances of Dissonant Whispers, the North will still lose the Melee. It is not my fault that the North let itself fall behind in numbers. Again, the incompetence did not come from me. I will go down to the space beneath the stands again. Tell your champions to stay close to the openings of the Reach and Riverlands.'
When I turned to answer her, she had already stood up and was leaving. Troublesome girl. I don't waste my time trying to speak to her while she was retreating, but the time I spent looking at her was enough to attract the attention of the Dornish man beside me.
"Where are you looking? Who is that?" With narrowed eyes and the tip of his tongue protruding slightly from his mouth, he looked in the same direction I was.
I also notice Jeor criticizing me with his eyes for my slip-up.
"None of your business. Look back to the front."
Andrey replaces the tip of his tongue and narrowed eyes with a malicious smile.
And when he looks back at the field, he asks something with heavy acidity.
"Why the hell is that Luton competing again? Hasn't he fucked up enough?"
"Because he is still the best option. Being defeated by someone who knows magic is not a sign of weakness."
"Hmph," he grunts unconvincingly. "Aren't his size and strength magic enough?"
"No."
"I disagree. And who are the other two besides him?"
"Hullen Wull and Cregan Snow."
Before Aerys's notice, Hullen Wull, who will compete alongside us in tomorrow's Mock Battle, was not planned to also compete today. But with the other kingdoms swapping their competitor lists for better people, we had to do the same.
As a level 9 Fighter with 14 strength, 13 constitution, and 12 dexterity, Hullen is a force to be reckoned with just analyzing his stats, but he presented himself as much more dangerous when demonstrating his skill with a sword.
The only reason we didn't put him in the Melee from the start was the timing issue. The Melee is a time-consuming event. And starting almost halfway through the two hours, the event would only end, at the earliest, after four o'clock.
Any injury sustained in this event cannot be healed by me. There is simply no time for me to force a long rest, of eight hours, to prepare more healing spells.
Even if I rush to sleep after the event ends, I will always wake up after midnight, and any spell used will be one less for the Joust and Mock Battle later in the day.
And although sleeping now will make me wake up before the start of the next day, the spells cast on Luton, Hullen, and Cregan will be undone.
Because of this, Hullen was strongly advised not to risk it.
"They are also big, not as much as Luton, but I doubt they can win."
"That is not the goal."
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