The KIngslayer’s Application

Jaime Lannister "Game of Thrones"

The infamous “Kingslayer” Jaime Lannister continues to deal with his reputation with the lead character in the Gastar novellas:

“Get these out of here.”  Shevata handed a tall, slender wingless demon a heavy ledger dripping blood.  “No more contracts!  You idiots actually write them in blood, which is impractical for ink, it smears, drips, and Zermon never accepts anything in writing!”  She leaned back as she removed her bloody gloves and wiped off her desk in the tidy, luxurious hideout in Hell Zermon’s brother showed her when he rescued her from the fire pit.  “Go, now, please.” 

The demon held the heavy book between his fingers watching it drip. “Someone’s here to see you.”

“Is it dripping blood?”

“He says he’s the ‘Kingslayer.’”

Shevata rolled her eyes.  “Another special application.” 

“Shall I send him to Zermon?”

“No, he won’t see him.”  She gestured to have Jaime Lannister brought in.  The handsome blonde man entered the room like he did everywhere, as if it were some sad place he was too high born to enter. 

Shevata nodded to the demon to leave.  “How many times must I tell you, Jaime?  Zermon turned you down.”

“I’m protesting my application.”

“There’s no protest.  This is Hell.  You can’t get in unless Zermon accepts you.  Sorry, but your soul will not burn here.”

Jaime looked at her with his usual pretense to be interested in her.  “You’re a strange little creature.  How do you get into Hell while human, and me get left out?   I suspect we have something in common.”

Shevata felt uncomfortable, realizing how dangerous this one-handed man was.  Could he actually be intelligent?  “I killed the wrong priest.  You killed the right King.”

Jaime smirked with satisfaction.  “Then it’s settled.  I’ll serve here. I suspect these little mindless creatures aren’t so bad to maneuver around, and we’ll stay out of each other’s way.”

Shevata leaned back on her chair and glared into his green eyes.  “Jaime, Hell isn’t a game.  I know you wear “Kingslayer” on your sleeve like you wear your taboo relationship with your evil sister.  You behave like a bully, but you’re not one.  Your father is a bully.  You, Ser, are a victim of being a noble your whole life, since King Aerys took you for his Kingsguard before you could pursue an adult life.  Tyrion is joked about, but you are the joke.  Hell isn't the way out."

Jaime, now enraged, reached across the table seizing Shevata by the neck. “I can kill you with my left hand.” 

Shevata watched his expression as she pushed her dagger into his groin with her foot.  He released her. 

“If I were a petty, foolish person, I’d have Zermon tear you apart now.  But I’ll punish you instead.  Godspeed, Ser Jaime.  Enjoy King’s Landing.”

Guest Post: The King and his Horse by Andrea McMillin

I want to thank Andy again for offering me an article again; as well I'm honored to share my blog space for another of her outstanding historic medieval essays.  Check out her blog with some great visual:

http://medievalessays.blogspot.com/2014/02/the-king-and-his-horse.html?spref=tw 

Richard, Duke of Gloucester, "The White Queen"

One of the most important aspects of chivalry is the knight and his horse.  Without these two, chivalry or even the knight of the Middle Ages, would be somewhat very less interesting. For it was the loyalty, honor, and bravery of the knight and his trusted steed, that became legend and the subject of many stories and fables.  This image is what inspired Chaucer’s “A Knight’s Tale” and many other medieval writer’s inspirations.  It was also what became the main symbolic aspect of the medieval tournament. 

 The standard tournament or model for such event, arose from Roman times as depicted through early works of art, but was further developed and branded during the 1160’s and 1170’s and through such works as The Life of William Marshal and many of the works of romances by Chretien de Troyes, who was renowned for his works of chivalry and courtly love romances.

 Throughout the Middle Ages, chivalry and the knight was an important symbol to secular society.  Tournaments were knights would showcase their skills, were a height of popularity in Tudor times, as well during the time of Edward IV and Richard III. References are slim but they did hold these events.  It is entirely possible that Richard himself was trained to participate as well. But we do not know, nor have the evidence at hand to know if this really happened or not, least I have not come across it of late.  (Richard competing in a tournament, would be like jackpot in my book!) We know from historical record that Edward paid for Richard to be tutored in the ways of knighthood up at Middleham Castle, while he was staying with Richard Neville, the “King Maker.” 

There are records that in 1465, when Richard would have been 14 years of age, he began his study of arms under Warwick. His age corresponds to the average age of when most youth of noble linage would enter the tutelage of one who would prepare them for the ways of taking up arms whether it be for warfare or for sport. It is noted, Edward IV paid “for costs and expenses incurred by him on behalf of the Duke of Gloucester,” while Richard was at Middleham. It is presumed that Edward IV was thinking of the future of his throne when he made this move.  He knew Warwick’s reputation, as it was beyond excellent, and he needed as many allies as possible on his side to maintain the throne and keep the peace in the land. Henry VI was still alive, dethroned, but alive. That alone was enough of a threat.  He needed allies, and ones of blood were the best kind. So by training Richard in the finest art of warfare to the highest degree and preparing him for the most honorable position of knighthood, later becoming a knight of the Order of the Garter, was a perfectly planned move.  The skills and expertise later won Richard his renowned reputation on the battlefield as well as being an excellent equestrian. 

 Perhaps one of the most important aspects of tournaments and the “big picture” is the contribution that Richard started while he was king; he started the College of Arms. The College of Arms still exists today and housed the heralds and their work.  The heralds kept track of the genealogy aspect of the noble families that bore their crests, as well as the use of arms in battle and on the jousting or tournament field. The heralds have been known to be of use since the twelfth century. In 1484, the heralds were granted a charter to have their services housed in London, by Richard III.  When Henry Tudor came to power, he dismantled the heralds giving their authority of their order to his mother, Margaret Beaufort. It wasn’t until 1555, that it was reestablished. The heralds whether they are in funeral processions, or other stately events also were present at tournaments. There they confirmed and recording participation in events and proved proof of genealogy of the competitors during these events. They were also quite noticeable because their tabards were of the royal coat of arms, which distinguished them from other members of court and signified their importance.

So why where tournaments important? Besides working on skill and equestrian expertise; knights alike could tone their skills so when it was time for battle, they knew what they were up against.  It was also a place to display and build a reputation for their houses, as well as training.  It is uncertain that Richard III actually competed in any of these events, but it is known that Edward IV held them, and Henry VIII did participate, hence his famous jousting accident that caused him pain in later years of his life.

One of the most famous events of these tournaments, was jousting.  Which involved two-armored knight on horseback.  While on horse back, the knights charged each other very fast, using lances and the goal was to either break the opponent’s lance or unhorse him.  Jousting was very popular in England and Germany through out the Middle Ages.  It was highly popular in France until 1559, when King Henry II was killed in a jousting tournament. It was discontinued in France as a sport as a result. Horses used in these events were not light breeds such as Arabians, or Thoroughbreds of today, but heavier breeds similar to warm-bloods chargers and “Destriers.” Chargers were bred for aglity and stamina and the destriers were similar but larger to Andalusians, but not as big as today’s draft horses.  Kind of in the middle.

n the tournaments and also on the battlefield the horses wore it’s riders herald or coat of arms on his blanket or “caparison”, had armour on his head called “chanfron.” The rider almost all the time had spurs to help drive the horse forward, as well as saddle and bridle.  The different colors and the overall display was one that was very appealing to many, espeically the sepectators of the sport aiding in its popularity. Later in the 15-16^th century armor even had branched off to specific uses, even one for tournaments. Modifications were made to the suits to help with lance blows and helms were fashioned for more movement and better overal fit.  Tournaments were mostly held on Mondays, Tuesdays and other days of the week with the exception of Fridays and Sundays. As well as put on during the year, except during the 40 days during Lent.  Announcment of such events were made about a fortnight before, or two weeks.  At the end of the day, the patron or whom ever put on the event celebrated the days festivities with food, banquet, prizes and various forms of entertainment. It was an event that many would not want to miss. Because of the festivities surounding such events, it is prehaps why its allure and importance still remains today and is an important symbol of midieval life and culture.  Adding to its perservation, the contrubitions made by King Richard III, with the housing of the Heralds aided directly its preservation for years to come and is probably why we know of it today.

Sources/Notes:

1. Original from the Rous Roll, by John Rous, 15th century. Image is printed in: Jesse, John Heneage (1862) Memoirs of King Richard the Third and Some of His Contemporaries: With an Historical Drama on the Battle of Bosworth (PDF), London: Richard Bentley, pp. p. X Retrieved on 10 April 2009. (Accessed: 2/6/2014)

2. Halsted, Caroline A. Richard III: As Duke of Gloucester and King of England. Vol. 1 Longman. London, England. c. 1844. Pp. 109- 116

The Imp Meets the Collector

Tyrion Lannister "Game of Thrones"

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Tyrion “The Imp” Lannister, like anyone from his House, pays his debts, meets the lead characters from the Gastar novellas, one that excels in collecting debts. 

“Shae?  Where are you?”  The short man whispered, when he didn’t see her immediately in the bedroom he’d arranged to meet her.  The wine sat untouched with a pair of glasses on a table with a side dish of berries and cheese.  The room smelled of perfume, the way he liked it, to block out the odor of the city.  He moved toward the bed and pulled away the curtain surrounding the bed, expecting to see his lover-prostitute naked, waiting for him. 

A teenage girl, appearing to be about sixteen, with plain long brown hair, dressed in all black as a boy in a tunic, boots and leggings.  A long jeweled dagger was strapped to her right thigh.  The man grew angry.  “What have you done with Shae?” 

Shevata pushed the curtain open with her right foot and stood up.  Shae sat on the other side of the bed.  He ran to her.  “Are you hurt, my darling?”  She shook her head, but looked away, very afraid.  He turned back to the girl.  “What do you want?  If it’s money, I’ll pay you to get out of here.”

Shevata giggled and nodded to her right. “Hey Zermon, he really is an Imp.  He’s trying to bribe us already, and we’ve been in this room five minutes!”  She leaned back in laughter.  Zermon stepped forward out of the corner, examining the short man. 

“He doesn’t look like an Imp to me.”  He growled. 

“And you might you be?”  The man walked over to the wine to pour a glass.  Before he lifted the pitcher, Shevata put her hand over the glasses. 

“You drink too much and your sister wants you dead.  Take some advice from a stranger, isn’t that part of your religion here?  Drink less.” 

The man held up his hands and backed away. 

“All right.  You’ve managed to enter the room of Tyrion Lannister, so how much gold do you want to keep yours and this” he nodded to Zermon, “monster’s silence?”

Zermon scowled.  “Do I look like I need gold, short man?”

Shevata gestured for Zermon to be quiet.  “No, we came to warn you about your sister.”

Tyrion frowned a moment.  “OK.  Thanks.  I appreciate it.  Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

Shevata walked over to Shae and lifted her chin, with Zermon behind her.  “We’ve spent some time in King’s Landing.  If you betray Tyrion, I’ll watch your soul burn in hell’s fires.”  They left. 

“What in Seven Hells was that?”  Tyrion sighed.  Shae rolled over onto her side in silence. 

On the Not-So-Good Guys

"Black Sails"

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As we fiction fans experience stories through the years, I think of the “good guys” as a time of youth and innocence, “the anti-hero” as an audience-specific protagonist (Thomas Covenant fans, are you still out there?), which leaves a very often used and popular protagonist:  The not-so-good guys. 

My favorite example is from the book and film “No Country for Old Men” by Cormac McCarthy.  The story is about the good guy, the Sheriff, the bad guy, Anton, Chigurh, and the “in-between” guy, Llewellyn Moss.  Question:  What makes Moss an “in-between” or “not-so-good” guy?  Answer:  Moss wouldn’t go out of his way to harm anyone.  But he saw money, took it, and didn’t have a problem taking the fight to life or death level even when it endangered his wife.   A good guy prototype would have gone to the cops the first thing.  A bad guy would have killed the remaining living man, never returned to the scene, and taken with wife with the money and skipped town, making it more difficult for Chigurh and the Mexicans to track him.  (But that dang transmitter, even in 1980, doh!). 

Another example of “not-so-good guys?  Answer:  The pirate culture; one of romance, good-looking guys, badass fighters on the open seas.  The men stand tall and handsome, sabre at their side; wind blowing threw their unkempt hair, wow, what a heartbreaker.  The other side of these men:  Pirates in present and past are criminals; they attack ships, kill passengers, steal cargo, in the past, moved slaves, stole young men and made slave sailors of them, and I won’t go into their reported treatment of women.  Sometimes I ask myself why pirates are considered so romantic, but think that the life of crime restricted to a ship, well, yes, give pirates their due.  It takes nerve to do that for a lifestyle.

Almost any character can be changed with clever writing into a protagonist.  Anyone that’s read the non-fiction “Wiseguy” and have seen “Goodfellas” see the subtle spin on the story that puts gangster Henry Hill in a more positive light though he was no less of a thug than the guys he kept company with.  I use a dark heroine in my stories, who uses unsavory means to achieve the ends of her enemies.  I think people like to see “no-so-good” guys to show us that some with a hard life make good things happen, as the real world is not a simple place where good and evil is easily defined.

Joffrey in the Underworld

King Joffrey "Game of Thrones"

The love-to-hate little evil King Joffrey of “A Song of Ice and Fire” books and “Game of Thrones” series meets the Gastar series lead character in the afterlife.  Let’s have some fun with His Grace:

Shevata sat in Zermon’s huge chair before the huge fire pit surrounded by a smooth black terrace.  Though she found Hell to be an irksome place, Zermon kept a clean and beautiful throne room even if it was in the name of all that was evil; carved tiles of obsidian made the floors, the huge throne made of obsidian also, smooth and shining.  The cries from the pit from the doomed souls with the mindless small demons scampering about gave her a constant reminder that she was not home.

A small winged demon dragged a handsome blonde teenage boy, of slight build for his age.  His blue eyes twinkled of innocence in the shadow of the fire.  The demon slapped him to the floor.  “Zermon sent you a present.” 

Shevata raised an eyebrow.  “Leave us.”  The demon walked away, taking his place behind the throne.  She looked at a book she was reading with disgust called “Fifty Shades of Grey.”  She tossed it to the demon behind her.  “Take this to Zermon.”  He left with the book, opening it with curiosity.

“So, the little King finally visits us.”  Shevata smiled.  “Get up.”

Joffrey stood, shaking with fear, but obviously tried to hide it.  “I am King, peasant!  You will bring me back my armor and return me to King’s Landing!”

Shevata broke out in laughter.  “You think it’s funny, huh?  I’ll have your throat opened, and we’ll watch you laugh then, bitch!”

Shevata calmed herself.  “Believe me, Your Former Grace, if you can take this throne,” she pointed to her chair, “I will be most grateful.”

Joffrey gained his composure as he turned a moment and looked down into the fire pit.  “Fear of having your soul burned is normal.”  Shevata leaned her head around to see his face.

“Why am I here?”  Joffrey mumbled.

“For your most infamous deed.  Zermon only accepted one charge; tough he could’ve taken many.  The death of Ned Stark is why you’re in Hell.”

“He committed treason!”

“What army did he raise, what method did he use to threaten you or your mother and natural father who is your uncle Jaime?  You had a noble, decent man murdered which escalated the War of Five Kings, killing thousands.”  Shevata glared at the beautiful boy.

“My grandfather started the war over my monster uncle Tyrion!”

“And Tywin wishes for your fate at this time.  He is with Zermon.  You are with me.”

“So, peasant devil woman, what do you plan to do with me?”  Tears began to show in his eyes.

“Nothing.  You’re not special, not more evil than most I see here, and you were never a real King.”  Shevata motioned with her hand and a pair of small demons grabbed him.  She nodded, and they threw him into the fire as his screams echoed through the room.   She made a grim face. “I don't know what could have saved him.”

The Dragon and the Demon

"The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug"

The Gastar lead characters meet the dwarves at the Lonely Mountain:

The group of dwarves looked over the odd pair with suspicion.  “Exactly who are you?”  Asked one of them, with a long white beard.

The tall, horned demon opened his mouth to speak, but the teenage girl with him, gestured him to be quiet.  “I am Shevata, and this is Zermon.  We’re here to rid this mountain of the dragon menace.”

The dwarves broke out in laughter.   The demon inspected the mountainside.  “We can use this area.” 

Shevata moved forward to inspect.  A voice behind them said, “I don’t care who you are.  Get out of here.  This is our fight, not yours.  Our city was taken and we’ll not share the treasure with a devil and a strange girl.”

The twosome turned to face the dwarf.  Shevata grinned.  “And you are?”

“Thorin, the King of the dwarves.”

Shevata nudged the demon.  “Hey Zermon, who’d thought?  A comely dwarf?”  They both chuckled.

He waved.  “Be off, short men.”  As Thorin drew his axe and approached them, Shevata tossed a shiny orange disc onto the ground between them.  He looked down at it. 

“Is this some magic trick?”  Thorin looked at the disc and up at Shevata.

“Step past and it you will be in Hell.”

Thorin scowled at them.  “We’ll never open the door for you.”

Shevata picked up the disc and carved a large square into the rock with her golden dagger, standing on Zermon’s shoulders and his horned head for height.  When finished, she motioned to the demon.  “Do you mind?”

Zermon gave the square a push and the rock moved to create a perfect open door. Thorin grabbed her arm “You will wake the dragon for sure!”

Shevata leaned toward the dwarf.  “Who ever told you dragons sleep is a liar.”  She looked at Thorin’s grip with a warning and he released her.  “Don’t follow us.”

“What about Bilbo?” Whispered the gray-haired dwarf to Thorin. 

Inside, Zermon climbed into the upper part of the mines.   Shevata walked over the immense treasure-covered floor, toward the obvious booming voice of a dragon speaking with a terrified voice of another, someone she didn’t know. 

“HaHaHaHaHa!”  Zermon’s massive voice roared in laughter from the upper chamber, filling the mines with his voice.  "There’s nothing in here but a cave lizard; slimy, funny and stupid.  HaHaHaHa!”

The dragon’s head snapped around to Zermon’s voice.  “Who is this that dares enter the domain of Smaug?”

“HaHaHa!  The lizard has a name!  What a stupid name!  Isn’t that the name of a rat? HaHaHaHa!”  Roared Zermon.

As Smaug moved away Bilbo found himself wrapped in rope and jerked across the floor.  A girl pulled him closer to her and removed the lasso. “What are you doing in here?” She whispered.”

Bilbo shaken, gathered his courage.  “I’m to get the Arkenstone for the dwarves.”

Shevata’s eyes widened.  “They sent you in here? “ She looked around.  “Have you seen the it?”  Bilbo pointed.  She motioned and it landed in her hand.  She grasped Bilbo’s hand.  “We must lure him out.” 

“You’re boring me Smaug!” Laughed Zermon as the great dragon chased him through the mines.  It reared back and hurled a massive column of fire at the demon as he stood laughing.  “Only the dumbest lizard would breathe fire at a demon while a little girl takes the Arkenstone! HaHaHa!”  Shevata tossed the stone through the door to the outside as Smaug lunged for it.  As he reached the door, she threw the orange coin to the ground in front of the opening.  As the dragon passed through the door, it became a great flame then it disappeared. 

Shevata walked with Bilbo behind her and picked up the coin.  Zermon caught up and joined them.  Thorin waited, holding the Arkenstone.  She faced the Dwarf King.  “You knew the little one was inside?”

“We needed him to get the Arkenstone.”

She and Zermon looked at each other.  Shevata eyes narrowed at Thorin.  “No noble King would do that.  Perhaps you’ll redeem yourself and die in battle.”

Thorin looked down, ashamed.  “What of the dragon?  It is dead?”

Zermon smiled.  “His soul will burn forever in Hell.”

Bilbo frowned.  “But..do dragons have souls?”

All of them became silent.  Zermon shrugged.  “Well, if it didn’t work, he’ll be flying around that human village.  I think they can kill him.  What do you think, Shevata, maybe that human that threw you off the ballista tower?”

The Dwarves watched as the two walked back down the mountain, arguing if a dragon had a soul or not. 

Arya and the Assassin

Arya Stark "Game of Thrones"

Arya Stark meets the Gastar series heroine Shevata and fellow assassin. 

As they walked away from the Twins the following morning, the sun shone bright as if the horrors of the Red Wedding never happened according to the bright sky.  Arya looked up.  “It’s not fair.  How can she sun shine when the world’s been so horrible to my family?”

Shevata walked beside her.  At her physical age of sixteen, she was a few inches taller and a few pounds heavier than Arya. 

“I won’t banter that with an answer, Arya.  You know there’s nothing natural about what happened..”

Arya looked at her with suspicion then behind her and stopped.  “Where’s the Hound?”

Shevata smiled.  “He’s safe.  My companion has him…distracted.  He’ll come to no harm unless he becomes..outrageous.”

Arya scowled a Shevata.  “Why should I trust you?”

Shevata raised an eyebrow.  “You shouldn’t trust anyone.”

They began walking again.  The younger girl began saying “Joffrey, the Hound, Queen Cersei, Ilyn Payne, Tywin Lannister…”

Shevata smiled.  “You’re chanting your death list?”

“You’d understand if it happened to you.  Jacquen, a REAL killer, gave me this,” she held out an old coin,” that will make me a killer like him so I can avenge my family.”

Shevata stepped away and raised both hands empty.  “All right.”

“You doubt me?” 

She shook her head.  “No.  Jacquen is a Faceless Man, as capable a killer as I’ve heard of.”

Arya still looked suspicious.  “What’s your story then?”

“I’m a killer too.”

“You?”  Arya smiled.

“I was assigned to become as assassin from birth, so I’ve been nothing else.”

“No family?”

Shevata shook her head.  “No family.”

“I’m sorry.  Kids should have family.”

“So we’re both little girl killers, you a novice and me an expert.  One of us has family and the other doesn’t.  What makes us different?”  Shevata watched Arya become uncomfortable as tears fell down her dirty cheeks.

“My father was the kind of man to die for, so I will kill for him.”  She wiped away the tears. 

Shevata handed her a cloth for her face.  “Perhaps we’re more alike than we seem.  I’ve killed for people I wish were your father.” 

Arya looked up at her.  “Will you ever stop?”

Shevata smirked.  “Never.”