The engraved silver blade was beautiful beyond a doubt, but it seemed to Catelyn that Ser Vardis might have been more comfortable with his own sword.
Yet she said nothing; she was weary of futile arguments with her sister.
Make them fight! Lord Robert called out.
Ser Vardis faced the Lord of the Eyrie and lifted his sword in salute. For the Eyrie and the Vale!
Tyrion Lannister had been seated on a balcony across the garden, flanked by his guards.
It was to him that Bronn turned with a cursory salute.
They await your command, Lady Lysa said to her lord son.
Fight! the boy screamed, his arms trembling as they clutched at his chair.
Ser Vardis swiveled, bringing up his heavy shield. Bronn turned to face him.
Their swords rang together, once, twice, a testing. The sellsword backed off a step.
The knight came after, holding his shield before him.
He tried a slash, but Bronn jerked back, just out of reach, and the silver blade cut only air.
Bronn circled to his right. Ser Vardis turned to follow, keeping his shield between them.
The knight pressed forward, placing each foot carefully on the uneven ground.
The sellsword gave way, a faint smile playing over his lips.
Ser Vardis attacked, slashing, but Bronn leapt away from him, hopping lightly over a low, moss-covered stone.
Now the sellsword circled left, away from the shield, toward the knight’s unprotected side.
Ser Vardis tried a hack at his legs, but he did not have the reach. Bronn danced farther to his left. Ser Vardis turned in place.