Chapter 56 53

The following morning.

He had spent a long time thinking about how to bring Robert to his senses, and he had come up with several approaches. A quick one, a slow one, and a dangerous one. Given his constraints of time, the quick approach it would have to be.

He rose, had breakfast, and gave instructions to the servants and his guards. The situation with House Arryn's household guard had turned out to be something of an amusement in itself. There were around a hundred and twenty of them, and combined with his own cutthroats they would amount to a small army he had no use for. The solution presented itself readily enough: he simply posted every man who had let himself go to fat and laziness back to the Vale. He identified such individuals through sparring matches with his own men. Fifty-three of them were ultimately sent home.

By morning the Kingsguard had rotated, and at the post stood his old friend Jaime Lannister, complete with his habitual look of contempt.

"My Lord Hand." The Kingslayer offered a mocking bow. "It is good that you have come. A firm hand is needed more than ever."

"I am glad to see you in fine shape, and that past disappointments have left no mark on you." Two could play at this. "In our day and age, it is only men such as yourself who can be truly trusted." Jaime's smile dimmed slightly.

"Agreed. Only proven men can be trusted," he said, unexpectedly conceding the point.

"Is the king in his chambers?"

"He is, though at present he is resting from his considerable exertions."

"The best rest comes from a change of occupation. Ser Jaime, let me through and do not interfere." The Kingslayer held his gaze in open challenge, but stepped aside all the same.

Entering the king's chambers, he immediately caught the smell of sex, alcohol, and sweat. Robert was asleep on a vast bed that also held three other naked bodies. At least the whores were pretty, or he would have lost all respect for Robert. Pitchers drained of wine were scattered across the table, along with a heap of clothing.

"Get out," he said. The whores woke, looked at him, saw the badge of the Hand, and were gone in moments. Robert slept on.

He filled a cup with what wine remained and drank from it. Arbor Gold. Delicious, in his opinion, but overhyped to the point of commanding absurd prices. He stood over the king and waited for some reaction. None came. He took one last sip of the excellent wine and poured the rest over the king's head.

"AAAA, WHAT DEAD MAN DID THAT?!" The king lurched upright, gathered his wits in a moment, and fixed his bloodshot glare on him. "Axel, you bastard, have you forgotten your place?!"

"Much as my father forgot in his time that you could and should be flogged. Perhaps you wouldn't have turned into a barrel on legs."

"I'LL HAVE YOU!" The king drew himself up to his full height and loomed. A moment later Robert understood that his friend felt absolutely no fear before the fearsome Demon of the Trident. "KINGSLAYER!"

"Is that all you have?" He asked it calmly, with a measure of contempt. "The Robert I knew would have called for a duel. But you..."

"All I have?! ALL I HAVE?! I'll grind your head in the training yard!"

"I'll be waiting for you in the Western Courtyard in twenty minutes." He gave him no chance to get a word in, turned, and walked to the door. "Let's see what you're worth."

"KINGSLAYER! Where in seven hells is my bloody squire?! Tell him to get my armor and my hammer ready!"

"First step done."

...

He had anticipated many things, but not that Robert would fail to fit into his armor and arrive in his shirtsleeves. The king's eyes were red, veins standing out along his forearms from the strain, and in one hand he carried his spiked warhammer as though it weighed nothing at all. Axel stood in his sellsword armor: light, unrestrictive, capable of turning an arrow. In his hands he held a blunted sword and a mace, which he promptly set aside.

"Hm." The mace was unnecessary here. So were the armors. "Robar, help me get this off." His cousin hurried over at once.

"You're planning to go easy on me?" Robert's fury redoubled.

"No. To even the odds." There were no odds to even, in truth. Robert today had no real chance.

"HURRY UP THEN!"

The moment the armor came off, the fight began.

...

Twenty minutes later.

"Huh-hu-hu." The two-meter frame carrying some hundred and thirty kilograms of king was struggling to catch its breath. "HA-HA-HA, gods, it's been so long since I pushed myself like that! We have to do this again!"

"We should, but get yourself into some shape first. You're dull company as you are." It was the plain truth. The hammer was dangerous, but slow, and he had sidestepped it with ease. "You're no match for me right now."

"I?! No match for you?! I swear, give me a couple of months and you'll remember what it felt like when I was the one chasing you around the yard!" the king vowed.

"I'll be looking forward to it, Your Grace." There he was, the Robert he remembered. "Come on. Let's have breakfast and talk."

Finding that the king was not yet in a condition to stand on his own, he had to help him up. With some effort he managed it, and together they walked back toward the castle under the stunned stare of the Kingslayer.

"Ha, in twenty minutes the whole castle will know the Hand beat up the king, ha-ah-ha." Robert was clearly delighted by the prospect, but no, this had been thought through.

"Don't worry. I made sure beforehand that my men kept everyone away and looked the other way themselves. If there's any rumor, that means the Kingslayer has a loose tongue." Lannister's expression curdled. The king laughed.

"HAHA, come on, let's go! I could eat a whole boar!"

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