Chapter 154: Their Usual Training
Silence remained over Winterfell's training yard.
Corvin stood before Jaime Lannister and Barristan Selmy, his breathing controlled despite having fought both men simultaneously.
Jaime's blunted sword rested in the snow.
Barristan held the weapon Corvin had returned to him, but the old knight made no attempt to resume the match.
Both men understood the result.
Corvin had defeated them.
More importantly, he could have defeated them much earlier.
The elite soldier had spent most of the contest defending, observing, and measuring their abilities. Only after understanding everything they could offer had he activated his complete breathing technique and ended the fight.
Jaime stared at him.
"You truly believe our bodies cannot keep pace with our skill?"
Corvin answered without arrogance.
"Yes."
The directness might have insulted another man.
Jaime merely looked toward Barristan.
The old knight offered no disagreement.
Barristan had blocked attacks that most men would never have seen. His instincts, experience, and swordsmanship had allowed him to survive several additional exchanges.
But Corvin had been correct.
Barristan's mind understood what needed to be done.
His body simply could not move quickly enough to do it.
Robert looked from the defeated Kingsguard to the thirty elite soldiers.
His earlier excitement had disappeared.
One man had defeated Jaime and Barristan together.
Twenty-nine others stood behind him.
Every one carried the same controlled presence.
Robert pointed toward them.
"Are all thirty of you capable of that?"
Corvin turned toward the king.
"We possess different strengths, Your Grace."
"That was not my question."
Corvin considered his answer.
"Any soldier standing here could defeat the opponents I faced."
The statement created another wave of silence.
Joffrey's face tightened.
Cersei looked toward Jaime.
Her brother possessed greater natural swordsmanship than almost any man alive. Barristan Selmy had served as a Kingsguard since before Robert's Rebellion and had survived battles which killed younger men.
Yet either could be defeated by any one of Jon's thirty elites.
Corvin turned away from Robert.
He walked back toward the formation and stopped before Jon.
The other twenty-nine soldiers straightened.
Corvin struck his right fist against his chest.
"You called us for our usual training, my king?"
Jon met his gaze.
"Yes."
Several people frowned.
Robert looked toward Ned.
"Usual training?"
Ned said nothing.
His attention remained upon Jon.
The thirty soldiers began moving.
No commands were spoken.
Ten warriors stepped toward the left side of the yard. Another ten moved right. The remaining soldiers spread toward the rear and centre.
Their formation expanded around Jon.
Servants, guards, and nobles retreated instinctively as the thirty elites occupied the training ground.
Jaime watched them.
"What are they doing?"
Alex stood near the edge of the yard.
"Preparing."
"For what?"
"Training."
Robert gave him an impatient look.
"We understood that much. What kind of training requires thirty elite soldiers?"
Alex glanced toward Jon.
"His."
Everyone looked at Jon.
He walked toward the two swords he had used during his morning practice.
Jon picked them up.
The blunted blades turned once in his hands.
Their balance remained familiar.
Jaime's expression changed.
"You intend to fight them?"
Jon tested the weight of his left-hand sword.
"Yes."
Robert stared at him.
"All thirty?"
Jon looked toward him.
"It would not be thirty-man training otherwise."
Robert opened his mouth.
Nothing emerged.
Arya grinned with open excitement.
Bran moved closer until Catelyn caught his shoulder and held him back.
Robb looked around the yard.
The thirty elites had completely surrounded Jon.
They stood in several layers. Shield bearers occupied the closest positions, while spearmen remained behind them. Swordsmen watched the gaps. Faster warriors carrying lighter weapons waited near the edges.
There was no clear escape.
Catelyn looked toward Ned.
"You knew he did this?"
"I knew he trained with his soldiers."
"Thirty at once?"
Ned remained silent.
Catelyn understood the answer.
He had not known.
Cersei watched Jon enter the centre of the formation.
Last night, she had challenged him to prove that he had defeated thirty elite soldiers.
She had expected a demonstration arranged specifically for her.
But these soldiers called it their usual training.
Jon had not invented the contest to win their wager.
He had apparently done this many times before.
Corvin removed his helmet.
A soldier accepted it and carried it outside the formation.
The remaining elites did the same.
Corvin drew his blunted sword.
"You have already completed your morning practice, my king."
"That was a warm-up."
Several southern knights looked toward the destroyed training posts.
Jon had moved quickly enough to make Jaime and Barristan lose sight of his swords.
That had only been a warm-up.
Corvin nodded.
"Full training intensity?"
"Yes."
"All formations authorised?"
"Yes."
"Understood."
Corvin stepped backward.
The thirty soldiers raised their weapons.
Jon offered no elaborate conditions.
He did not tell them to hold back.
He did not restrict his own movements or announce that one touch would count as defeat.
This was not a tournament arranged for the entertainment of nobles.
It was training they had performed before.
Jon carried his twin swords.
The soldiers possessed everything their breathing techniques, weapons, and cooperation allowed.
That was enough.
Robert approached Alex.
"What are the rules?"
"Defeat the opposing side."
"That is all?"
"Yes."
"How does Jon defeat thirty men without injuring them?"
Alex looked toward his king.
"Carefully."
Robert stared at him.
Alex's expression remained serious.
Barristan moved toward Jaime.
The two defeated swordsmen stood together near the edge of the yard.
"What do you expect?" Jaime asked.
Barristan examined the formation.
"I do not know."
"You believe the story now."
"I believed it yesterday."
Jaime watched Corvin take position among the first layer.
"One of them defeated both of us."
"Yes."
"And Jon intends to face thirty."
"Yes."
Jaime tightened his jaw.
"You need not repeat everything I say."
Barristan's eyes remained upon Jon.
"Then stop saying things which require no answer."
Tyrion smiled from beneath his fur.
"I believe age has improved Ser Barristan's humour."
Neither man acknowledged him.
The training yard became quiet.
Corvin inhaled.
Twenty-nine soldiers followed.
The sound of thirty deep breaths moved across the yard as one.
Their chests expanded.
Their muscles tightened beneath dark armour.
Their heartbeats accelerated.
White vapour escaped their mouths into the northern air.
The atmosphere changed.
Yesterday, ten ordinary soldiers using Basic Breathing had moved too quickly for most spectators to follow.
These men had mastered far more advanced techniques.
The pressure of thirty warriors activating their breathing simultaneously rolled through the yard.
Nearby horses cried out.
Several guards stepped backward.
Joffrey became pale.
Robert did not laugh.
Jon remained in the centre.
His eyes closed briefly.
He inhaled.
One controlled breath.
His heartbeat strengthened.
Blood moved faster through his body.
His muscles tightened, but no visible transformation occurred.
He drew upon no chakra.
No jutsu formed.
No supernatural power revealed itself.
Only breathing.
Only his body.
Only his swords.
Jon opened his eyes.
The thirty elites attacked.
The yard exploded.
Shield bearers charged from three directions.
Their heavy steps cracked the frozen ground.
Spears passed between the shields, attacking Jon's chest, legs, and shoulders simultaneously.
Swordsmen followed behind them.
Jon moved forward.
Jaime's eyes widened.
Every instinct should have driven Jon backward, away from the closing formation.
Instead, he entered it.
His right sword struck a spearhead aside.
His left blade slid across the edge of a shield.
Jon turned.
The shield bearer's momentum carried him past.
Jon's sword touched the side of his neck.
"Dead."
The soldier immediately withdrew.
Jon ducked beneath another spear.
A sword passed above his head.
His left blade struck the attacker's wrist.
The weapon fell.
"Dead."
Two men had been defeated.
Twenty-eight remained.
The formation did not break.
Another shield bearer replaced the first before he had fully left the field.
Four swords attacked Jon simultaneously.
His twin blades moved.
Steel collided rapidly.
The spectators heard six impacts but saw only flashes.
Jon turned one sword against another. Two elites were forced into each other's path.
He stepped between them.
One blade touched a heart.
The other rested briefly against a throat.
"Dead. Dead."
Both soldiers withdrew.
The remaining elites adjusted.
No command was spoken.
The outer layer widened while the inner warriors compressed around Jon.
Spearmen prevented him from escaping toward the open sections of the yard. Swordsmen attacked from alternating directions. Shield users restricted the movement of his twin blades.
Jaime followed what he could.
"They are not merely surrounding him."
Barristan nodded.
"They are controlling the space he can occupy."
"Every direction leads toward another weapon."
"Yes."
"Could we survive that?"
Barristan watched three elites attack Jon from behind while two more pressured him from the front.
"No."
The answer came without hesitation.
Corvin entered the fight.
His sword struck toward Jon's right shoulder.
Jon blocked.
A shield smashed toward his left side.
Jon leapt.
Two spears attacked him in midair.
His twin swords rotated.
One spearhead struck the other.
Jon landed upon the edge of the advancing shield.
For one impossible heartbeat, he balanced there.
Then he stepped over the shield bearer.
His sword touched the back of the man's neck.
"Dead."
Jon dropped behind the formation.
The elites turned immediately.
They had expected the movement.
Three were already waiting.
Their weapons descended together.
Jon's right sword caught the first.
His left redirected the second.
He shifted half a step, allowing the third weapon to pass beside his ribs.
Jon's elbow struck one warrior's breastplate.
The impact threw the man backward.
Before he landed, Jon's blade touched another soldier beneath the arm.
"Dead."
The soldier withdrew.
The man Jon had struck rolled across the snow, recovered instantly, and returned to formation.
He had not been marked by a fatal strike.
Therefore, he remained in the training.
Robert watched with open disbelief.
"How many are left?"
"Twenty-four," Alex answered.
"It has been only seconds."
"Yes."
Robert looked toward the elites.
"They are not weak."
"No."
"Then why does he make them appear weak?"
Alex's expression changed slightly.
"He does not."
Robert turned toward him.
Alex continued:
"Every attack they have attempted would have killed ordinary soldiers. Their first formation could have destroyed a hundred Westerosi knights."
Robert looked back at the yard.
Jon moved through a storm of weapons.
The thirty were extraordinary.
Jon was simply greater.
The elites changed formation again.
This time, they deliberately allowed an opening.
Jon recognised it.
He entered anyway.
Six soldiers closed behind him.
Shields formed a temporary wall.
Four spears attacked from outside the reach of his swords while Corvin and three swordsmen pressured him from within.
Robb leaned forward.
"They trapped him."
"No," Ned said quietly.
Everyone near him looked over.
Ned watched Jon.
"He allowed them to believe they had."
Jon's breathing deepened.
His swords accelerated.
One spear broke beneath the impact of a blunted blade.
Jon caught the broken shaft against his forearm, redirected it into a shield, and turned.
His second sword struck three weapons in rapid succession.
Corvin attacked low.
Jon jumped over the blade.
A heavy sword descended from above.
Jon crossed his twin swords and blocked.
The frozen ground cracked beneath his feet.
The elite warrior pressed downward with enough strength to force a horse to its knees.
Jon's arms did not lower.
He turned both swords.
The heavy weapon slid aside.
Jon's left blade touched the attacker's throat.
"Dead."
Corvin attacked again.
Jon met him.
Steel screamed.
For several exchanges, Corvin matched one of Jon's swords while two other elites occupied the second.
The warrior who had defeated Jaime and Barristan moved even faster than before.
His attacks became increasingly difficult to follow.
Jon blocked every one.
Then his right sword changed angle.
Corvin barely retreated in time.
The blade passed before his throat.
For the first time, approval entered Jon's eyes.
"Better."
Corvin inhaled sharply.
The other elites heard the word.
Their pressure increased.
The formation transformed.
Those already defeated remained outside the yard, but the surviving soldiers abandoned fixed positions.
They began moving continuously.
Shields rotated.
Spearmen exchanged weapons with swordsmen.
Fast warriors attacked and withdrew before Jon could mark them.
The remaining elites no longer attempted to overpower him.
They attempted to exhaust his attention.
Jaime understood.
"They are forcing him to consider too many threats."
Barristan nodded.
"One mistake is all they require."
Jon's expression lost some of its earlier casualness.
His swords moved closer to his body.
His breathing became stronger.
The elites noticed.
So did Alex.
Tyrion looked toward him.
"They have made him serious?"
"Slightly."
The answer did not reassure anyone.
Corvin attacked from the front.
Two warriors moved toward Jon's sides.
A shield bearer approached from behind.
Four spears crossed above them.
The attacks arrived simultaneously.
Jon disappeared.
Cersei's eyes widened.
He had stood within the centre of the formation.
Then he was no longer there.
A series of impacts echoed across the yard.
The shield bearer staggered.
Both swordsmen lost their weapons.
Two spear shafts cracked.
Jon appeared beside Corvin.
Their swords collided.
Corvin turned.
Jon followed.
The elite attacked with enough speed that Jaime could see only fragments.
Jon's twin swords became completely invisible.
Snow erupted around them.
Corvin was forced backward for the first time.
Not because he chose to retreat.
Because Jon gave him no alternative.
The other elites attempted to assist.
Jon moved between them.
"Dead."
A sword fell.
"Dead."
A spear spun through the air.
"Dead."
A warrior froze with Jon's blunted blade resting over his heart.
The formation collapsed.
Not from fear.
Not from confusion.
Too many soldiers had been eliminated too quickly for the remaining men to preserve its structure.
They responded by attacking together.
Jon increased his speed again.
The yard filled with the sound of steel.
One weapon flew away.
Then another.
Then six more.
Soldiers stopped in place as Jon's blades touched fatal points.
They withdrew instantly.
Within moments, only five remained.
Corvin.
Two swordsmen.
One shield bearer.
One spearman.
They spread around Jon.
Their breathing remained controlled, but exhaustion had begun entering their bodies.
Jon's chest rose slightly faster than before.
He was not tired.
But the elites had forced him to exert genuine effort.
Corvin noticed.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
Jon raised one eyebrow.
"You appear pleased."
"We improved."
"You did."
That acknowledgement strengthened all five.
They attacked.
The shield bearer moved first.
He rushed Jon directly, abandoning defence and using his entire body as a weapon.
The spearman attacked over his shoulder.
Both swordsmen approached from opposite directions.
Corvin waited.
Jon struck the spear aside.
The shield collided with his crossed swords.
The impact shook the yard.
Jon slid backward through the snow.
It was the first time the soldiers had forced him to retreat.
Robert stared.
"They moved him."
Alex nodded.
"Three steps."
The shield bearer continued pressing forward.
Jon turned.
The man's own strength carried him past.
A blunted blade touched the gap behind his helmet.
"Dead."
The swordsmen reached Jon.
His left blade blocked the first.
His right sword trapped the second weapon.
Jon twisted.
The sword left its owner's hand.
Jon's pommel struck the first warrior's chest.
His blade touched the second man's throat.
"Dead."
The remaining swordsman recovered from the pommel strike.
Jon marked his heart before he could attack again.
"Dead."
The spearman stood with Corvin.
They exchanged one glance.
The spearman rushed first.
His weapon moved with extraordinary speed, the shaft rotating through his hands as he changed between thrusts, sweeps, and strikes.
Jon closed the distance.
The spear became less effective.
The soldier released it voluntarily, drew a short sword, and attacked.
Jon's eyes sharpened with approval.
Their blades collided.
The soldier survived three exchanges.
On the fourth, Jon struck the weapon aside.
His second sword rested against the man's ribs.
"Dead."
The soldier withdrew.
Only Corvin remained.
The yard became silent except for their breathing.
Corvin faced Jon alone.
Moments earlier, he had defeated Jaime and Barristan together.
Now he stood as the last of thirty elites.
Jon raised both swords.
Corvin entered a lower stance.
They attacked.
The collision echoed across Winterfell.
Corvin's sword met Jon's right blade.
He immediately turned away from the left.
Jon followed.
Corvin blocked.
Their weapons struck again.
And again.
The fight moved across the yard.
Corvin displayed everything he had learned.
He changed rhythm.
Created false openings.
Used sudden bursts of breathing to increase his speed.
Attacked from angles even Jaime struggled to predict.
Jon answered every movement.
His twin swords surrounded Corvin.
One attacked.
One defended.
Then their roles reversed before Corvin could adjust.
Corvin stepped backward.
Jon advanced.
The elite warrior attempted a final strike toward Jon's shoulder.
Jon crossed his blades.
Corvin's sword became trapped between them.
Jon twisted.
The weapon flew from Corvin's hand.
Before it touched the snow, one of Jon's blades rested against his throat.
The other stopped above his heart.
Corvin froze.
Then he lowered his empty hands.
"Defeat acknowledged, my king."
Jon withdrew his swords.
The training yard remained silent.
Thirty elite soldiers stood around him.
Some retrieved weapons.
Others rubbed bruised wrists or shoulders.
Several breathed heavily.
All thirty had been defeated.
Jon remained standing in the centre.
Untouched.
His breathing was slightly deeper than when the training began, but he was nowhere near exhaustion.
Robert stared at him.
"You do this regularly?"
Jon lowered his swords.
"Yes."
Robert looked toward Corvin.
"You willingly attack him knowing this will happen?"
Corvin retrieved his weapon.
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Why?"
"Our king believes victory against weak opponents teaches nothing."
Barristan stepped forward.
"And what do you learn from fighting someone you cannot defeat?"
Corvin looked toward Jon.
"How to survive against enemies stronger than ourselves."
The answer settled heavily across the yard.
Jaime looked at the thirty elites.
Each could defeat great Westerosi knights.
Together, their formation could slaughter armies.
Yet they trained to survive against something stronger.
What kind of enemies existed in Jon's kingdom that required this?
Nobody asked.
Perhaps nobody wanted the answer.
The thirty soldiers returned to formation.
Despite their bruises, exhaustion, and defeat, their lines became perfect again.
They struck their fists against their chests.
"Thank you for the training, my king."
Jon examined them.
"Your third formation improved."
Corvin inclined his head.
"The transition remained slow."
"Yes."
"We will correct it."
"Before the next session."
"Yes, my king."
Jon handed his twin swords to Alex.
The spectators continued staring.
They had expected a grand demonstration.
For Jon and his soldiers, nothing extraordinary had occurred.
There was no celebration.
No boasting.
No disbelief.
Only an evaluation of mistakes and a promise to improve before doing it again.
Cersei watched Jon.
She had challenged him to prove the northern story.
She had believed defeating thirty elite soldiers was an impossible achievement worthy of rumours and songs.
Instead, she had discovered something far more frightening.
It was not an extraordinary performance.
It was merely Jon's usual training.
End of Chapter 154
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