Chapter 292

Cotter Pyke charged at the Kingslayer, his right arm raised high to deliver a downward strike. A low, guttural roar escaped his lips, like a tiger descending from the mountains.

It was a simple, unadorned move, but one that had seen great success in his years with the Night’s Watch. At least three novice wildling raiders had frozen in fear under the forceful arc of this very swing, their skulls split open by the first blow before they ever saw a second.

The argument had delayed things, but the fight began so suddenly it left little room for preparation. Yet for Jaime Lannister, ever vigilant, this wasn’t the longest preamble he’d endured. He spun gracefully and raised his sword, deftly deflecting the axe. Cotter’s first strike missed by mere inches, and by the time the axe completed its arc, Val’s first shriek had just reached its crescendo.

Only the most sluggish of foes would be felled by that initial strike. Cotter hadn’t expected the famed Kingslayer to blunder like a clumsy wildling. But—he was a dual-wielder. If his right-hand attack was thwarted, his left hand remained.

In a flash, the muscles in Cotter’s left side—his chest, back, shoulder, arm, and fingers—tensed and prepared for the follow-up strike. The second axe swung forward with ferocity. At the same moment, Jaime’s counterattack arrived.

The gleaming steel of Jaime’s sword thrust toward Cotter’s face, forcing him to tilt his head back and instinctively draw his right hand back to block. He raised his axe to his chest, ready to intercept any follow-up from the Kingslayer’s blade.

Brilliant!

Cotter’s mind raced with confidence. By defending with his right hand, his left could continue its trajectory as planned. Unless Jaime retreated out of range, he’d be forced to pay the price in blood. And if the Kingslayer retreated? Cotter would hound him with unrelenting force.

But the combo unraveled in the next moment. Jaime’s sword feinted, pulling back instead of committing to an attack. It stopped mid-motion and rose to a defensive position at Jaime’s side—precisely angled to block Cotter’s second axe.

The Kingslayer’s blade had the length advantage. If Cotter followed through, his axe might not reach its target, but his arm would be left vulnerable to Jaime’s edge. It would be like offering up his limb for the chopping block.

Damn it! Was that sheer luck, or did he figure out the counter in an instant? Cotter cursed inwardly but didn’t have time to dwell on the question. Left with no choice, he aborted the swing and yanked his second axe back mid-strike.

Halting a powerful blow mid-motion was never a good idea. The disruption to the fluidity of his attacks was annoying, but the real problem was the effort required to counteract the force of his own strike. Cotter had to expend more energy to stabilize himself before he could act again.

A brief moment of vulnerability followed. Against wildlings, it would have gone unnoticed. Against Jaime Lannister, it was glaring.

The Kingslayer seized the opportunity. His sword, which had been in a defensive stance, switched to attack in a blur of motion. The blade whirled, creating a small flourish before slashing downward at Cotter’s face in a swift, decisive arc.

Though lighter and more slender than a battle-axe, Jaime’s sword carried no less force. The strike came with shocking power.

Gods above!

Cotter’s instincts screamed at him. Ignoring the lingering backlash of his interrupted attack, he raised both axes in an “X” to block. The clash of steel rang out as Jaime’s sword met Cotter’s weapons.

The force numbed Cotter’s hands. The Kingslayer… he truly is formidable!

Typically, when weapons locked, the combatants would either push against each other to test their strength or disengage to reset and prepare the next attack. But Jaime Lannister was anything but typical. He smiled faintly, stepped forward with his left leg—and then, to Cotter’s shock, raised his right leg and kicked him square in the stomach.

From the outside, it looked almost absurd. Cotter had been leaning forward to exert force, making it appear as though he’d willingly thrown himself onto Jaime’s boot.

“Thud!”

“Ugh!”

The kick sent Cotter stumbling back, his momentum broken, his grip on his axes barely holding. Gasps and jeers erupted from the crowd of Night’s Watch brothers, some amused, others in awe.

Cotter’s men instinctively stepped forward, ready to intervene, but Jaime didn’t pursue. Cotter steadied himself several steps away, clutching his abdomen and glaring at Jaime as if he’d seen a ghost.

How did he manage that?

To the untrained eye, it had been a simple exchange—a missed strike, a clever counter, and an opportunistic kick. But to Cotter, it was a revelation. Jaime had not only deflected his axes but managed to maintain balance and deliver a precise kick without compromising his footing.

Kicking during armed combat wasn’t unheard of, but executing it without losing balance was a feat of mastery. Cotter imagined himself attempting the same maneuver and immediately dismissed the idea. He simply couldn’t do it.

That kick wasn’t just luck. It showcased Jaime’s unparalleled control over his body, his understanding of balance, and his mastery of timing. It was genius.

The pain in Cotter’s stomach began to fade, though his pride was another matter. The fight, which had seemed like a simple test of strength, had revealed a canyon of skill between them.

Jaime, meanwhile, remained relaxed. He glanced at Val and spoke with disarming casualness. “Could you do me a favor?”

“Huh? What?” she stammered.

“First, take a step back. You’re too close, and it’s distracting. Second, please stop screaming. It’s quite annoying.”

The Kingslayer’s request was polite but ill-timed, coming across as brazenly arrogant. To the onlookers, it was as if Jaime was mocking his oath to the Night’s Watch and flaunting his superiority over Cotter. The jeers from the crowd grew louder.

Cotter, flushed with anger, roared and charged again, his axes spinning in a deadly whirlwind. But Jaime had already seen through him. As Cotter closed the distance, the Kingslayer’s sword flickered—and the tide turned once more.