Chapter 170: Forced to Compete

The scene was chaotic, filled with noble lords watching the confrontation, their attention focused on the two figures in the center.

Rhea was absent, and Gerold watched the unfolding events with a solemn expression on his face.

Today was his wedding day, yet the destructive behavior of these two individuals showed a blatant disregard for etiquette.

"What's going on?" Rhaegar approached leisurely.

"'Prince," Gerold replied with a forced smile, "Pierce Coldwater of Coldwater Burn and Godric Borrell of Sweetsister are quarreling."

The Three Sisters are a group of three islands—Sweetsister, Longsister, and Littlesister—found in the Bite, located south of White Harbor and north of the Mountains of the Moon.

The Borrell House hailed from Sweetsister Island, one of the Three Sisters Islands, while the Coldwater House, was located at the estuary west of the Five Fingers Peninsula, was a secondary noble house in the Vale, loyal to Runestone.

Gerold explained the cause of the dispute between the two parties.

The Three Sisters is the most notorious smuggling den in all of Westeros, and countless crimes have been committed there.

Pierce Coldwater's nephew had smuggled goods into the Three Sisters, intending to sell them as stolen items, only to be blackmailed by local gangs.

These gangs, under Godric Borrell's control, were responsible for the loss of Pierce's nephew and his merchandise.

Godric, fearing retaliation, had avoided reurning to the Three Sisters to avoid punishment.

So Pierce used today's wedding as an opportunity to seek revenge against Godric.

Rhaegar listened intently to the story, feeling resigned to the vicious cycle of vendettas between the factions.

After a moment of reflection, he inquired, "Coldwater is a bannerman of Runestone. Shouldn't you intervene?"

Gerold shook his head in frustration. "Ever since Rhea became the Lord of Runestone, these bannermen have been at odds with each other. Otherwise, they wouldn't dare disrupt a wedding."

Rhaegar was speechless as he realized the challenges of controlling the nobles.

"In that case, allow me to suggest..." Rhaegar leaned in and whispered an idea to Gerold.

Recognizing the gravity of the situation, Gerold nodded in gratitude as Rhaegar approached the two quarreling men.

It was imperative to maintain order, especially on the occasion of his previous aunt's wedding, where Rhaegar represented the royal family.

With his sword drawn, Gerold slashed at the tabletop and shouted, "Enough! You're both itching for a fight, aren't you?"

Instantly, the room fell silent. Pierce and Godric, the instigators of the confrontation, glared at each other, faces flushed with anger.

Pierce, a bannerman of Runestone, held his tongue, unable to retort.

Godric, his head crowned with white hair, stood tall and imposing. With a scrutinizing gaze, he pointed accusingly at Gerold, exclaiming, "Gerold, look at your family's bannerman, starting a brawl at your wedding!"

Having spent years in the criminal underworld, Godric possessed a cunning intellect that was far different from his outward appearance. With just a few words, he shifted the blame to Pierce.

"Godric!" Gerold's voice boomed, his eyes darting between the two adversaries. "I don't care what grievances you and Pierce have. Don't cause trouble in my castle."

"Nonsense! As a guest, I have every right to speak my mind," Godric retorted arrogantly, his chin held high.

"What do you have to say, Pierce?" Gerold turned to the burly man.

"Hmph! He killed my nephew and I'm just stating the facts," Pierce roared, pounding on the table in frustration.

It was evident that neither side held much regard for Runestone.

Amidst the tension, Rhaegar stepped forward, a playful smirk on his lips. "I hear some of you are eager for a fight to liven things up?"

Rhaegar's presence shifted the atmosphere once again. The onlookers, who had enjoyed the spectacle, now grew tense, siding with Pierce.

"Prince, Pierce of House Coldwater insulted me, disregarding the rights of a guest!" Godric interjected, attempting to deflect blame.

"I have ears and eyes, I don't need your explanations," Rhaegar retorted, stepping closer to Godric, his gaze cold and unwavering.

Caught off guard, Godric stumbled backward, his pride momentarily shattered by the prince's imposing presence.

The Three Sisters, once a haven for pirates and bandits, had surrendered to the might of Visenya Targaryen and her dragon, Vhagar. The fear of dragons and royalty had since been ingrained in the natives' hearts.

"Keep quiet, or I'll silence you myself," Rhaegar's voice cut through the tension, his contempt evident.

Turning to Gerold, Rhaegar raised an eyebrow. "Ser Gerold, how do you intend to handle these troublemakers?"

Before Godric could protest and tell them he had the right of a guest, he felt a firm kick to his back. Turning, he met the stern gaze of Lord Sunderland, the lord of the Three Sisters Islands and his liege lord.

With his Lord's warning clear, Godric fell silent.

Supported by the heir, Gerold seized the opportunity. "Prince, since the festivities seem lacking, why don't we organize a small tournament to test our skills?"

As Gerold proposed the idea, his eyes fell on the two troublemakers. If they wanted to cause a scene, let them do so in a controlled environment.

"Agreed! I think that's a splendid idea!" Rhea's voice emerged from the crowd, having rushed back upon hearing reports of the commotion.

Stepping forward with a smile, she addressed the gathering, "If you seek battle, then do so honorably, like true men!"

The people of the Vale, accustomed to tradition and rough in character, eagerly voiced their agreement.

"Right! Let's settle scores honorably!"

"I'm itching for a fight! Who will face me?"

The hall erupted with chatter and anticipation.

After much commotion, Rhea instructed someone to clear a space in the back garden and led the guests to move there.

It wasn't a far walk from the banquet hall, and soon they were gathered in a circle on the grass.

Pierce and Godric, with grim expressions, were pushed onto the grass by their respective supporters.

"Let the duel commence, my lords!" Rhea declared, her demeanor stern.

Rhaegar chimed in, "Mind your blows. It's a wedding day; let's not draw too much blood."

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" The noble spectators egged them on, some even placing bets on the outcome.

With no other choice, Pierce and Godric drew their weapons and faced each other fiercely.

The pressure to fight was immense; to refuse would mean enduring lasting shame.

"Die!" Pierce roared, swinging his longsword downward.

Clang...

Godric parried the blow with his scimitar, swiftly kicked Pierce's knee, then deftly adjusted his grip and slashed across Pierce's chest.

A sickening sound filled the air.

Pierce's shirt tore open, revealing a deep, bloody gash across his chest, his skin lacerated.

(Word count: 1,111)