Chapter XIX: Brienne II – Duty and Honor
Brienne of Tarth hit the training dummy with her sword. Hard. She pictured Bronn’s face and hit it again. Then she pictured Lord Tyrion’s. Again. She thought of Samwell Tarly, and the dummy wobbled on its stand. With Ser Davos, it finally fell to the ground. She was sweating and she supposed it was a mercy there were no Master of Laws or Master of Whispers appointed yet. She would have run out of dummies if that had been the case. These stupid, idiotic … men had been arguing about brothels. Again. For over an hour. As if there was nothing else for the small council of the Six Kingdoms to worry about. She blamed Bronn and Lord Tyrion, mostly, but the other two were just as annoying once they got started: Sam with his earnest information about how brothels related to public health, and Davos with his tendency to be contrary.
“Lady Commander,” she heard Pod say from the entrance. He still wore his golden armor, even if it still looked like it was too big for him and he needed to grow into it properly. Still, she knew he was the best choice she could have made for her first appointment to the kingsguard.
“You look like sparring would do you good,” he told her.
Would it ever, Brienne thought. “Then take up your sword, Ser Podrick, or did you forget how to?”
“No, Ser!” Pod answered with an eager smile. They walked over to the sparring yard and Brienne let Oathkeeper twirl lazily through the air, waiting for Pod to draw his own sword. Once they were set, Brienne made the first move and Pod parried confidently, counterattacking with one fluent motion. Brienne had expected that, of course, and evaded, using her long stride to get into position for her next move. For once, she let tactics and techniques fall by the wayside and simply used her greater strength to pummel Pod into submission. He suffered three blows before the force was too much and he lost the grip on his sword.
“I yield,” he said with an air of disappointment, as he looked down the length of her sword.
With a sigh, Brienne sheathed Oathkeeper. “You’re not as bad as you think,” she assured him. “I wasn’t going easy on you in the least.”
“Still,” Pod pouted. “I thought I was better than this.”
“Pod – Ser Podrick – you’re a fine knight, and there is nobody I’d rather serve my king with. You are loyal, true and a good fighter. The Six Kingdoms could not ask for more.”
At this, Pod brightened a little. “Did it help, at least? With whatever was bothering you?”
It had, she found, and she nodded.
Fin