The next day, the stands roared with cheers. The melee had ended in a spectacular fashion, an orgy of steel and blood, a storm of antlers and fury that left only one man standing.
Robert Baratheon.
The man's presence was undeniable. It wouldn't have been an exaggeration to say that all but a few spectators present here at this time would not be captivated by the man's charisma.
Edric watched him raise his hammer high, streaked with dirt and glistening in the light of the sun with a satisfied smile on his face.
He had closed his shop to assist the tournament and he had undoubtedly not been disappointed by his decision.
He joined the crowd as they lit the area with deafening screams. Lords and their ladies above smiled, discussing the events that had taken place before with practiced poise, the smallfolk below failing to match even a fraction of their composure. Even now, they all chanted his name. Even some of the knights who'd been knocked senseless only hours before seemed to cheer for him now.
The usual proceding for victors took place, with many prominent figures competing for his attention. Whether young heirs, old lords or unmarried ladies, all were vying for attention.
Even Ned could be seen speaking with him, for good reason. Accompagnied by his older brother Brandon, they shared a laugh.
Maybe something funny was said, Edric wondered, unable to discern the details of their conversation in the distance. He did not bother heading towards them, knowing that a his status as a lowly knight would work against him and prevent himself from being allowed near by the myriad of far more ''important'' individuals present, that or they would pester him for darksteel weaponry. Instead, he waited till Robert left with his gold, or a small portion of it at least, considering the space and energy that the total prize might have occupied, with the intent of seein him in his tent. Multiple servants quickly proposed themselves to alleviate the burden, but he refused them all in favor of his own plans. And knowing the man, what else could such a plan be, other than an unforgettable night of pleasure and excess.
Edric made his way down from the stands towards the Baratheon tent nearby, and found Robert, still in dark steel stag armor, having it taken off my another young man.
He could not help but exclaim, finally able to congratulate his friend for the unforgettable victory he had won.
"Look at you, all drenched in sweat after winning the most prestigious melee in living memory," Edric laughed.
Robert looked up and beamed. "Ahaha, Edric! You saw it aye, didn't you. It was glorious. Saw the high born girls getting wet in the stands," he laughed.
"Indeed," He chuckled, even mimicking the motion of a hammer swing he'd seen earlier.
"Now it remains to be seen what you will do with your winnings."
Robert nodded with a smile without even saying a word, knowing his intent had already been found out.
*Clink*, his chest piece was removed, and he reached for the cup of wine once more.
It was then that his face twisted and his smile lost its warmth, as if he'd remembered something unpleasant.
"You should've been out there with me Edric," he said.
""The best" they say," he mocked, before drinking the whole cup. "Mindless arse kissing is all they do, Daring to call that the best melee when only a single kingsguard particated in it. It was won before it had even begun." His voice dipped, slightly sad, a hint of regret appearing. "You'd have made a fine partner at my back," he uttered. "And a rival worth knocking down. I'd have been a little less sure of winning at least. That damn fish cunt Hoster robbed me of a good fight!" he slammed the cup on the table, looking at the young man responsible for unburdening him, straight in the eyes with a burning rage.
"More wine!" he yelled at the boy, still struggling to remove his last remaining armor parts.
The youth froze, before hastily heading to the table on the side to fetch the ewer, but Edric stopped him his tracks, grabbing the ewer himself. "Don't worry about the wine, finish your job," he half-instructed, half-reassured.
Edric poured the crimson liquid into the cup.
"A few days ago, you would have been doing this exact thing." Robert chuckled. "But it's for the best, You bending around and struggling to do shit with those fat fingers of yours is something I can't get out of my mind."
The youth slowly left the room while he said that, finally having completed his task and leaving the two alone to sit at the table in its center.
"Well I did make the armor." Edric reminded. "Surely I would know how to remove it."
Robert shrugged his shoulders.
Edric took a look at the helmet he had made. The antlers gleemed as if they were gold, a testament to his skill.
"I should change antlers. Can't have a sword get caught up in them. Why did I ever fuse the two together."
"No, it's perfect like this. Last thing my enemies will see is an antler glowing in the sun before the light dims in their eyes."
"I still think I should take a look, maybe let them detach more easily."
"Stop nagging, I'm too big for them to reach me, haha—"
Edric threw him a meaningful stare, while pointing at himself. The storm lord's laughter died in his throat as he coughed.
"Ahem, if you insist." he said as his shoved the black steel construct into his hands.
The sudden daylight that brightened up the tent was a warmly welcomed by Robert as Ned entered at that moment saving the two from awkwardness.
"Ah! Ned! You came at the perfect time, I was just waiting for you. Lets go get some wine, drink a toast to my victory."
The storm lord rose up, before heading in the direction of the tents opening. Seeing Edric not rise up with him, he inquired.
"You're not spending tonight hammering at my antlered helmet, are you?" Robert called over his shoulder, grinning. "Fixing your blunders? Let that forge of yours cool for once. We'll drink proper — to my easy victory, and to the women we're about to grace. The first five whores you impale are on me. You will settle any excess appetite for flesh with your own gold! Haha! You too, Ned. Time you shed that boyhood of yours. Your lovely future wife won't wait forever — and you best know what to do when she grows impatient."
"I'm afraid I must decline, Robert." Edric refused. "I have work to do."
"..."
For a moment, Robert was stunned. He even took a look at his side, to see an equally surprised Ned besides him.
Finally, he broke the small silence, his voice exploding in anger and confusion.
"Are you serious!? What's gotten into the lad, Ned? Talk some sense into this fool!" He bellowed.
It was understandable though. It seemed Robert expected Edric to not only witness his victory, but also to celebrate it by his side as a normal friend would. Those expectations, as small as they were, were quickly dashed however.
"I thought you were done with your work. You even closed your small weapons stall and attended the melee tournament." Ned said, trying to understand.
"Of course you had to be greedy and accept even more work? Didn't you." Robert interjected on side.
Edric didn't respond. How could he? He'd only worsen the situation.
"Fool! what's there to life if you hammer away into the grave, seeking gold and silver, but never spending either like a stunted retard?"
Hearing this however, he couldn't maintain his silence for long, his irritatation creeping umwards. He finally, spoke up, noting that even his silence had turned on him, relentlessly pouring accusations and feeding his slowly growing guilt if left undressed. His exasperation at their lack of understanding could be fully discerned with the next words he yelled.
"Oh come on! Cut me some slack. Nobles criticizing me for being greedy? Need I remind you that I was a poor smallfolk blacksmith for most of my life?"
"Aye, and now you're richer than ten thousand peasants, working their entire lives. You and your descendants could easily live their lives in luxury with what you've earned so far. Take your time to rest. You've worked hard enough these last moons." Eddard reminded, calling unto his reason.
Robert finally spoke. He'd had enough.
"Forget it, I won't insult myself any further by seeking the company of a man comitted to dust and solitude over his friends. If you come to your senses you know where to find me. By the loud and joyful side of the castle, anywhere untainted by the dull monotonous rhythm of your hands! Come Ned, lets leave this fool be and hope the gods share some of their wisdom to compensate for his lack of common understanding."