The marshal would have cursed and ignored normally. But nobody wanted to fuck around with a seven-foot-tall giant. So, the marshal did as asked and looked at the center of the wooden target board.
Then, the marshal looked back and forth between Wylis and the board. After that, he called a few more marshals, who then started walking around behind the wooden board, staring at the ground.
"Here!"
"Found it!"
"I found one!"
At last, in an excited voice, the marshal gave his final verdict. "All hit the bullseye! The three arrows passed through the target."
Wylis nodded and stepped away to let other men take their chance. He didn't just gain the attention of the watchers but also demoralized his competition.
Out of forty archers, only twenty-six went to the next round.
"Wylis of Winterfell!"
Wylis went for it again and struck the target at a sixty-meter distance. Once again, all struck the bullseye. But this time only one arrow passed through.
It was a slow event, so as the sun peaked high, the fourth round came. This time the target was set at a staggering range of a hundred meters. Only five men were left now as the six before him had failed to hit the target.
"Wylis of Winterfell!"
Wylis stood in the position, knowing this might be the final round. Sure, he could hit targets even farther than that. But it appeared the others couldn't.
Shwooo!
The arrow whistled, cutting through the wind, and hit the bullseye.
Shwooo!
The second arrow also struck and hit the bullseye.
And the third…
Woosh!
Crunch!
The third arrow not only struck the bullseye, but embedded itself into an already logged arrow he'd shot before.
All rounds, all perfect scores. That was the goal from the beginning. To win fame and glory.
By now, the great stand had a large crowd gathered to watch the final round. As soon as he was done, his admirers roared in loud cheers.
Wylis bowed towards the King once, eyed Elia and Ashara, and then went to stand at the back.
Four men came after him, and only one of them was able to hit the bullseye once. While they were all brilliant archers and never missed, they never came close to three consecutive bullseyes.
With an undeniable score, Wylis won the archery competition as well.
Ten thousand gold dragons more.
He already felt his pockets getting heavy.
####
That night, Ashara came to his room again. He expected something, but other than flirting with him, she didn't do more. She always hinted at things, like how amazing Elia was. How rich the Martells are. How he needs to think about his future. How he needs a powerful backer.
Honestly, he couldn't stop looking at her face as she stood in front of him. She didn't wear a cloak anymore so her figure-hugging gown, tight around the waist, made his thoughts colorful. Sleeveless, wide neck, showed a lot of skin, and her dark hair with shining violet eyes seemingly bewitched him.
But he was no weak-balled boy. Other than flirting back with her, and complimenting her, he tried nothing. There wasn't even a chair to offer her, and asking her to join him on the bed was dishonorable. So, she just stood there as they spoke.
Once again, he slept longing for his she-wolf.
When the morning came, Wylis felt highly dissatisfied and hot. So, he chose to only wear a sleeveless tunic above, sort of like his past life's karate gi, but only thinner and tied with a wide piece of cloth around his waist. Dark grey, it matched with his similar trousers and boots.
But doing that had an unintended effect that Wylis welcomed. With his immensely muscled arms naked to the eye, he received a lot more attention from the opposite gender. With the wide V-shaped neck, the firm, strong shape of his chest was also visible.
Should've done this from the start.
Since it was an axe-throwing competition, he didn't need any specialized tools. Also, there were a total of sixty participants since it wasn't a high-skilled event. Wetting his brown hair a little, he made sure he looked his best above the neck as well.
Right when he walked into the event ground, he heard a lot of whistles from the stands. But he felt disgusted by them.
Why are men whistling at me?
There were common faces from the first day. Lyanna, the Mad King, Elia, Rhaegar, Ashara, and of course, Cersei. Brandon and Robert weren't there, declaring that he was going to win anyway so they'd rather spend time drinking fine wine instead. But surprisingly, Eddard was present.
"Wylis of Winterfe—Ah, you're already here."
Even the marshals were used to his presence by now.
BAM!
When Wylis threw the ax in the first round, he chopped the target block of wood in half and almost beheaded the poor marshal standing far away behind the target. The man was out of range, but not with Wylis. His technique was impeccable, as if he'd only trained to do that since birth.
In the second round, he again struck in the middle. But Wylis treated each throw like a showcase for himself. He flexed his arm muscles, listening to some women make strange sounds, and men whistle or praise him for being a real man. The lords from the North were the happiest.
BAM!
BAM!
Slowly, five rounds went by, and only one opponent was left. Wylis went against another strongman from the North. Not as tall as him, but surely pretty strong.
Woosh!
The other Northman went first.
"Missed!"
That was it, Wylis threw the ax.
BAM!
"Wylis of Winterfell, once again victorious! Third tourney event in a row!"
As the crier shouted the result, Wylis bowed towards the King, flexed his muscles for the ladies, ignored the whistling men, and returned to the Stark's tent.
The night was a repeat. Ashara came, flirted, and hinted, but this time she stood a little closer. Her attire grew more revealing, wider neck, and tighter around her hips. Her flirtations now hinted less at the prospect of a fun night out and more about how big he probably was, and how much women would appreciate him.
How so many noble ladies were willing to pay him to experience him in their bedchamber as most giant men were usually ugly and dumb. He was a rare beast with a perfect body and face. That he seemingly woke some sort of a dark desire in women.
Sadly, all Ashara did was leave him hard.
That night, he went to sleep while wondering if he should accept Robert's offer and become a landed knight. Robert was already the Lord of Stormlands, so he had the right and might to give him everything. And once Robert becomes the King, moving up to being a Lord was much easier.
Bam!
Bam!
Wylis took out his frustration by earthbending a stone and smashing it into the ceiling again and again like a ball. He'd trained using it ever since he first found out about it. He considered himself highly efficient now as far as it came to controlling small, palm-sized rocks. He could throw them like projectiles, hard enough to bash skulls. And he didn't need to be fully attached to the ground to feel the earth. It was like electricity, as long as he touched a conductor that was grounded, he could do it.
But moving larger structures was still hard, requiring him to dance like a fool with feet on the ground. Though he was improving.
"Wait!"
He jumped off his bed suddenly.
"Why don't I make a tunnel to Lyanna's room? Yes!"
Excited, he quickly kicked the floor and then animated his hand to move the block of stone.
Creak!
Grrr…!
"Fuck!"
Suddenly, the walls around him started to shake. He stopped right away.
I probably could've made a tunnel if it were Winterfell.
Calming, he went back to bed. Harrenhal was far too fragile.
####
The next day, it was horse racing. Wylis wasn't as confident about winning this one, but he wanted to. Winning all the events would give him fame that'd last generations. Sure, he didn't take part in the tourney of singers, but nobody took that seriously.
Earthbending will help me this time.
Wylis rode his massive, black colored stallion towards the starting line. His horse was the largest there, understandably so. Also, since Wylis was a stableboy, he'd taken care of his four-hoofed friend well. Polished, shining, hooves clean, saddle soft and beautiful.
"Easy, Caliburn." Wylis patted his stallion's neck. He'd named it after the legendary King Arthur's sword. "Just run as fast as you can. Leave the rest to me."
It was a race of twenty horses, and it was long, testing both speed and endurance.
While Wylis saw his opponents steer their horses, he silently used earthbending to tamper with the horseshoes. Pushing small stones in uncomfortable spots so their horses wouldn't run at full speed.
In that event, Wylis' size was to his disadvantage. Even Caliburn wasn't built for speed; but he wanted to try anyway.
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