Square of Tamuz

Brandon arose early, as was his custom. After he assured himself that Rolf was with the Crown Prince, and leaving a letter to be delivered if he did not return, he paid an Lysene orphan boy to direct him to the square.

He had opted against the full plate and great helm, deciding that it would be an error in combat against the fluid and fast styles of the Free cities. Instead he wore a hauberk of finely woven chain mesh, greaves, and a round shield of oak and steel, and his bastard sword. He had considered the broad sword, before choosing in favor of his preferred weapon, since its extra reach was not to be ignored. He carried the nasal helm beneath his arm as he arrived at the square from a direction that put the sun at his back.

He planted his feet firmly, crossed his arms before his chest, and waited.

When he arrived Tyreo was standing there in purple and red slash silk robes. He was wearing black sandals. He had a canvas arranged and was painting the square. He did not look up as Brandon approached.

Behind him was a long lean dark man. He had some light armor on. He had a chain veil covering his face. He was leaning on a long curved black sword. He was standing completely still, and silent, but his dark eyes followed Brandon.

Tyreo spoke as Brandon approached, "You are smelling wonderfully today Lord Snow. This man is called Shadow's Death. He is the man who kills the men I am done with." He giggled, "I will give you one more chance to kneel and beg forgiveness."

The two fighters squared off against each other, the Lyseni circling Brandon warily for several long moments, waiting for the White Knight to strike first. Long years of service the King had bought Brandon prodigious patience, however, and he waited with his sword in a high guard, always keeping his opponent in front of him. In a flash, the Lyseni swept in and feinted to the left before striking at Brandon's right with a low diagonal cut. The Kingsguard parried with relative ease, and the first clang of steel on steel echoed across the courtyard where a small crowd had assembled to watch the fight. The Lyseni struck several more times, but it was clear to a veteran fighter like Snow that he was being tested, probed for weaknesses or chinks in his defense.

The Lyseni was very good, Brandon realized, but after exchanging a score of blows he began to see an opening periodically in between the other man's attacks. Brandon waited through one sequence, defecting the blows and counting silently to himself, timing it out. He saw the opening again and continued to wait, but when it appeared a third time, the Lord Commander lashed out with his blade, batting aside the black scimitar of the Lyseni Champion, and opening a long red line on the man's chest. Brandon's castle-forged steel sliced through the Lyseni's light armor, and a rest spray of blood strained Brandon's white cloak.

The Lyseni stumbled backward, holding his chest as bright red blood dripped onto he cobbles around him. He looked to his master with a questioning expression, showing no pain whatsoever but wondering his orders.

[Lyseni Champion takes a Heavy Wound]

Tyre had moved to stand next to Aegon. He had gave a little pathetic shriek at every blow. "I do hope his face is not damaged." He murmured. He held a pink scented silk handkerchief to his nose. When his man stumbled back injured he frowned deeply. He made a small gesture to the Champion and motioned back to the fight.

Tryeo sighed, and waved his hand. His man nodded and muttered a word in his language. Then laying his blade in front of him Shadow's Death knelt to Brandon in defeat. Tyreo walked toward the battle, and commanded Snow, "Finish the man, I am done with his ilk." He giggled his eyes locked onto Brandon's strong arms. "It is a shame he tasted of sweet spices." He ran a finger across his pursed lips in regret.

Tyreo laughed, and looking around and pointed at four houses, one one each side of the square. "My beautiful dark eyes, I will give you one more chance to be kneeling and begging. Otherwise the crossbow men on top of those buildings will fire down murdering your precious grace." He giggled hysterically. "When I was hiring them to come last night I thought they were just to be guarding me, but now I am having a better idea."

As far as Brandon and Aegon could see there was no crossbowman up on those houses, but they could not see far back onto the houses. So it was at least possible. A crowd had gathered around the edges of the square having watched the fight.

Ormollen stood up and stared at Aegon, "You savages are worse then the Dothroki." His hand went to his face. And he stepped back. His eyes opened wide in anger. Tyreo looked around at the crowds and screamed in his native tongue, "I offer a hundred of the my best trained love slaves to the man who brings me this man's head." His finger points wildly at Aegon. He stomps his foot and hisses like a cat when its tail has been caught in a door.

Tyreo simply smiled and giggled again. Shaking his head for effect, his red ringlets shaking in the night. "If I was you.... I might be running now. The people of Lys do not like seeing a magister struck in the streets of its cities. And they can not listen to your threats about your fire beasts." He rubbed his hands together giggling slightly madly.

"Once I receive an apology from Magister Ormollen for his conduct towards you and his words toward me," Aegon replied levelly. His hand remained on the haft of his axe but he did not move an inch.

"I am waiting, Magister," Aegon responded levelly. He still could not understand what Tyreo was saying in his own tongue, but the obvious two-facedness of it was beginning to grate on the Westerosi prince.

A stocky man, shorter than most Lyseni and significantly darker in complexion stepped out of the crowd. He had curly black hair and green eyes, and was dressed in finely made robes, and his eyes looked to Magister Tyreo, and then to Prince Aegon and the Lord Commander. He did not speak, but his expression was tight, jaw clenched and lips pursed.

"I understand it was the actions of your servant that brought us all to this place, my lord Prince, and a few moments ago I did hear you threaten to burn this Daughter to ashes," Magister Lohar replied with a hard edge to his voice. "A inquiry will surely undertaken by the Magisters Council to determine if Magister Tyreo has insulted you as you say, and he will be placed under House arrest until a verdict is reached. However it is a grievous crime in Lys to act toward a Magister the way that your servant did, and he must be disarmed and placed in irons for the inquiry's duration. This is non-negotiable."