Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day - Chapter 257: The Champion of the Tournament

Leaving the lord’s chamber, Rhaegar ordered the two knights to stand guard and made his way directly to the main tower.

“Where are Lord Tully’s two sons?” he asked, walking briskly.

Gray Worm responded, “In the Godswood. They have been sending people to duel every day.”

“Lead the way. I want to see this for myself,” Rhaegar commanded.

Gray Worm nodded and called for a few Unsullied to follow, then led Rhaegar toward the Godswood.

The Godswood of Riverrun was situated in a secluded corner of the city. It was a serene and verdant garden, filled with weirwoods, flowers, streams, and birds nesting in the trees.

Rhaegar and his escort crossed a small bridge over the river that encircled the main tower, entering the peaceful area of the Godswood.

As they approached, the sound of clashing steel rang out. The small clearing within the Godswood was crowded with spectators.

Two groups of people stood at opposite ends, one from the south and one from the north.

“Prince!” A black-haired boy at the edge of the crowd shouted in surprise upon seeing Rhaegar.

Rhaegar looked up. “Elmo, you’re out.”

Elmo, the grandson of Lord Grover Tully, had mentioned in his letter two days earlier that he was under house arrest by his uncles.

Elmo quickly approached, looking relieved. “Thanks to your guards, Prince, I was able to leave my room.”

Rhaegar glanced back at Gray Worm, who nodded in acknowledgment.

Gray Worm had discreetly helped Elmo out of his confinement. The boy’s house arrest was not strictly enforced, and when Gray Worm’s men arrived in Riverrun, they were able to contact Elmo and facilitate his release.

Rhaegar examined Elmo’s attire, noting it was still that of a nobleman, unchanged from before.

He frowned slightly and asked bluntly, “Your uncles placed you under house arrest, and you let them get away with it?”

Elmo lowered his head in shame. “They acted too quickly. I didn’t have time to react.”

Rhaegar’s voice grew colder. “If you had a way to send a message, why didn’t you contact the knights loyal to your father and rally them to your cause?”

The old Tully’s deceased eldest son might have been mediocre, but he had been the heir for over twenty years. Elmo, as his only son, could certainly garner support if he made an effort.

Caught off guard by Rhaegar’s questions, Elmo stammered, “My grandfather is only sick. It hasn’t come to that yet.”

“Fool!” Rhaegar snapped, pointing an accusing finger at Elmo’s nose. “If it hasn’t reached that point, why did you write to me, asking me to come to Riverrun to watch this farce?”

Rhaegar, a prince and heir to the kingdom, had respected Lord Grover Tully. But Elmo’s failure to handle his own affairs and his plea for outside help tested that respect.

Elmo, frightened, tried to explain, “Prince, I—”

“Get out of my sight. I don’t have time for your excuses,” Rhaegar interrupted, pushing past him toward the depths of the Godswood.

Elmo, desperate to apologize, tried to follow.

“Stand down, Elmo,” Gray Worm commanded, his spear barring the way.

Elmo reluctantly complied, backing away.

Rhaegar, hearing the commotion behind him, clenched his teeth in frustration. “Pathetic!”

If the Tully House produced more heirs like Elmo, the royal family might need to reconsider their role as the guardians of the Riverlands. Not only were they failing to manage their own lands, but they also couldn’t handle internal family disputes.

Keeping such a weak lineage as protectors of the Riverlands was becoming increasingly untenable.

…

Deep within the Godswood, Lord Tully’s two sons were locked in a heated confrontation.

The second son, Milov Tully, stood as thin as a reed, flanked by a dozen horsemen in mismatched armor. Most conspicuous were two priests in robes embroidered with the seven-pointed star, signifying their allegiance to the Faith of the Seven. These priests were similar to the ones Rhaegar had encountered at Harrenhal.

Standing opposite Milov was his red-haired, burly brother, Edmure Tully. Rhaegar cast a disdainful glance at Edmure, repulsed.

The name Edmure Tully carried considerable weight in their family history, much like the prestige of Aegon Targaryen within House Targaryen. To bestow such a venerable name on this rotund, incompetent figure seemed a disservice to their ancestors.

Edmure’s side also boasted a large retinue of mostly unruly knights. However, one individual stood out to Rhaegar-a middle-aged man with striking gray-blue eyes.

He wore silver-gray armor of obvious quality, with a broadsword at his side. A silver eagle crest adorned one corner of his armor, the symbol of House Mallister of Seagard.

Seagard, on the coast of the Riverlands, was one of the few cities with a maritime border. The Mallisters, with their noble and proud bearing, had once ruled the Trident as kings.

Rhaegar took note but did not pause, his footsteps drawing the attention of both factions who turned to look.

“Prince… Prince…” they stammered, saluting as he approached.

Rhaegar, who had known Lord Tully before he moved to Harrenhal, was a familiar and respected figure in Riverrun. After the fall of House Bracken, he had risen to become the de facto ruler of the Riverlands, a name known throughout the region.

With little patience for pleasantries, Rhaegar waved them aside. The disheveled knights, in the midst of their duel, quickly retreated, unwilling to offend him.

Rhaegar walked straight up to the middle-aged man of House Mallister and asked, “Lord Mallister, what brings you here?”

Lord Mallister, the head of his house, was no ordinary family member. Rhaegar had met him on several occasions. Despite his loyalty to the realm, Mallister had never sworn personal allegiance to Rhaegar, maintaining that his allegiance was to the king alone – a man of great honor and integrity.

Rhaegar’s most vivid memory of Lord Mallister was his victory in the annual tournament in 105 AC. It was the year Rhaegar was born, the same year his mother died in childbirth. The tournament had been a great event, drawing competitors from all seven kingdoms.

The star of the tournament had been Criston Cole, the former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Cole had shattered Harwin Strong’s collarbone, earning Harwin the ironic nickname of “Brokenbones”.

He had also defeated the Cargyll brothers, Erryk and Arryk, both members of the Kingsguard. In the final round, Cole had even disarmed Daemon Targaryen, Rhaegar’s uncle, sending his Dark Sister’s sword flying.

However, Cole’s run had ended in the final match against Lord Mallister. With a swift and powerful stroke, Mallister’s heavy sword had cut through Cole’s morningstar, securing victory.

As a child, Rhaenyra had often lamented to Rhaegar that Mallister’s extraordinary skill had thwarted Cole’s ambitions. As a result, Rhaegar held a deep respect for Lord Mallister.

With a helmet trimmed with wings tucked under his arm, Lord Lymond Mallister offered a slight bow, his voice deep and resonant. “Reporting back to the prince, I came here at an invitation.”

He glanced at Edmure Tully, making it clear who had extended the invitation.

Rhaegar was confused. “What did he promise you?”

Lord Lymond’s face darkened and he gritted his teeth. “Old Tully had the audacity to suggest a marriage between one of my daughters and his youngest son.”

Rhaegar understood immediately. “Edmure?”

Lord Lymond’s expression grew even grimmer and he nodded. “Indeed. A few years ago, Old Tully pushed for the betrothal as if he would not live another day, desperate to secure the alliance.”

Rhaegar sympathized with Lord Lymond’s frustration. The Tully House motto, “Family, Duty, Honor,” clearly placed family above all else. Even a failure like Edmure was used to cement noble bonds.

“Lord Lymond,” Rhaegar asked cautiously, “how did you come to…?”

He couldn’t bring himself to say Edmure’s name for fear of adding to Lord Lymond’s embarrassment.

Lord Lymond’s face grew so dark that it seemed ready to erupt. His teeth were clenched. “That fool once had some redeeming qualities and Old Tully blinded me with his urgency.”

Considering Old Tully’s haste to secure the marriage, it seemed he had feared Lord Lymond would see through Edmure’s facade.

“Damn Grover,” Lord Lymond muttered, his fists clenched as if ready to storm the Keep and put an end to old Tully’s deception.

Rhaegar, seeing Lord Lymond’s rage, quietly withdrew, feeling a pang of sympathy for the man. Old Tully had indeed been underhanded.

After a brief exchange, Rhaegar turned his attention back to Tully’s sons. “I came here as a guest. Continue your duels; don’t mind me.”

Milov and Edmure exchanged uneasy glances, clearly taken aback. They knew of Rhaegar’s arrival; the sight of a black dragon circling Riverrun Castle was impossible to miss. But fear had kept them hidden in the Godswood.

Seeing their hesitation, Rhaegar’s eyes hardened. “Fight. Do you need me to teach you?”

Startled, the two brothers quickly moved, signaling their knights to take positions. They understood well the danger of incurring Rhaegar’s wrath.

Two and a half years earlier, a minor noble from the Riverlands had disrespected Rhaegar and denied him entry.

That night, the noble’s warehouse had mysteriously burned down, along with dozens of warhorses and a granary, resulting in a loss exceeding a thousand gold dragons. This financial blow had left the once-wealthy family deeply indebted.

No one ever discovered who set the fire, but the message was clear to all the Riverlands nobles: when a prince visits, you open your gates and welcome him. This was no longer the era when local nobles could mock and refuse the royal family’s requests with impunity.