Post by The Smith on Apr 21, 2008 23:27:24 GMT -5
“There, your grace, hold it thus.” Rickon was seated on the back of a large pony, wearing a padded doublet, holding a lance and shield. painted with the Baratheon Stag, that had been built to scale for pages and squires to train with. Ser Mychel stood at his side, instructing him on how to properly hold and couch his lance. Several pages were checking the straps and buckles on Rickon’s saddle and a few others were setting up a quintain across the tilting yard from where Rickon and Mychel were standing, while King’s Men milled around the training yard sparring and simply watching the King.
“In the joust, you want to use your mount’s strength more than your own. A horse is many times stronger than a man, and your goal is to put as much of that strength behind your lance-tip as possible.” Rickon adjusted his grip on the lance, and brought it into a couched position. He looked at Ser Mychel, who nodded in approval. “Also, you must remember you’re riding against a quintain, and not a man. You’ve got to spur your horse, the instant before you strike the shield, or else that sandbag will swing around and knock you off your seat,” the white knight said.
Another two pages brought up a courser for Ser Mychel, who mounted it and took his own white shield, and lance. “You ride first, your grace.” Rickon spurred his pony, which charged forward toward the quintain. Ser Mychel could see Rickon’s lance-tip wobbling back and forth as the pony galloped, and then the young king missed the shield completely, and he reigned up the pony on the far side of the quintain. Ser Mychel stifled a laugh, and then called out. “Come, your grace, try it again,” he said, as the king made his way back across the field.
“The joust is a difficult skill to master, your grace, but practice will make you as skilled in the saddle as the legendary Knight of Flowers himself.” He hefted his own lance, and couched it in the crook of his arm. “A lance is going to be heavy, it takes strength to wield one properly. As you ride, it is wise to couch it, thus, so that some of the weight is borne by the horse, and the rest is borne by your back and shoulders, as opposed to your arm. When you strike successfully, having the lance in this position will lessen the shock on your arm, and your mount can absorb some of the force of the blow. Watch me, and then try again, your grace,” Ser Mychel said. He spurred his courser forward, bringing his lance down. He struck the shield a glancing blow, and the quintain spun around slapping him in the back of his head with the sandbag. He lurched forward over the horse’s neck, but did not loose his saddle.
He chuckled to himself, and rode back to the other side of the field. He looked at the King, sheepishly. “That is why you must spur your horse at the last moment, I was lucky to keep my seat.” He laughed, and Rickon laughed as well before both sobered. “One of the great things about training with the lance is that even the most skilled rider will be knocked down once in a while, and so there is always humor in training with other men.”
Ser Mychel nodded after speaking, and the King, still grinning, spurred the pony again, riding across the field. This time his lance struck true, in the center of the shield, and the quintain’s crossarm spun around. Rickon narrowly dodged the sandbag, though he had leaned so far in his saddle to do so, that he toppled off the pony’s back to the ground, though he was on his feet a moment later. Several King’s Men had run over, but Rickon waved them off and re-mounted.
King Rickon and Mychel took turns riding against the quintain for several hours, and both the king and his guardsman were sweaty and tired by the time they re-entered the Red Keep. Ser Mychel’s white tunic was stained brown in several places from being knocked into the dirt several times.
Ser Mychel Lannister improves to Expert Combat Instruction
Ser Mychel Lannister improves to Apprentice Lance
King Rickon gains beginner Lance
King Rickon gains beginner Horseman
“In the joust, you want to use your mount’s strength more than your own. A horse is many times stronger than a man, and your goal is to put as much of that strength behind your lance-tip as possible.” Rickon adjusted his grip on the lance, and brought it into a couched position. He looked at Ser Mychel, who nodded in approval. “Also, you must remember you’re riding against a quintain, and not a man. You’ve got to spur your horse, the instant before you strike the shield, or else that sandbag will swing around and knock you off your seat,” the white knight said.
Another two pages brought up a courser for Ser Mychel, who mounted it and took his own white shield, and lance. “You ride first, your grace.” Rickon spurred his pony, which charged forward toward the quintain. Ser Mychel could see Rickon’s lance-tip wobbling back and forth as the pony galloped, and then the young king missed the shield completely, and he reigned up the pony on the far side of the quintain. Ser Mychel stifled a laugh, and then called out. “Come, your grace, try it again,” he said, as the king made his way back across the field.
“The joust is a difficult skill to master, your grace, but practice will make you as skilled in the saddle as the legendary Knight of Flowers himself.” He hefted his own lance, and couched it in the crook of his arm. “A lance is going to be heavy, it takes strength to wield one properly. As you ride, it is wise to couch it, thus, so that some of the weight is borne by the horse, and the rest is borne by your back and shoulders, as opposed to your arm. When you strike successfully, having the lance in this position will lessen the shock on your arm, and your mount can absorb some of the force of the blow. Watch me, and then try again, your grace,” Ser Mychel said. He spurred his courser forward, bringing his lance down. He struck the shield a glancing blow, and the quintain spun around slapping him in the back of his head with the sandbag. He lurched forward over the horse’s neck, but did not loose his saddle.
He chuckled to himself, and rode back to the other side of the field. He looked at the King, sheepishly. “That is why you must spur your horse at the last moment, I was lucky to keep my seat.” He laughed, and Rickon laughed as well before both sobered. “One of the great things about training with the lance is that even the most skilled rider will be knocked down once in a while, and so there is always humor in training with other men.”
Ser Mychel nodded after speaking, and the King, still grinning, spurred the pony again, riding across the field. This time his lance struck true, in the center of the shield, and the quintain’s crossarm spun around. Rickon narrowly dodged the sandbag, though he had leaned so far in his saddle to do so, that he toppled off the pony’s back to the ground, though he was on his feet a moment later. Several King’s Men had run over, but Rickon waved them off and re-mounted.
King Rickon and Mychel took turns riding against the quintain for several hours, and both the king and his guardsman were sweaty and tired by the time they re-entered the Red Keep. Ser Mychel’s white tunic was stained brown in several places from being knocked into the dirt several times.
Ser Mychel Lannister improves to Expert Combat Instruction
Ser Mychel Lannister improves to Apprentice Lance
King Rickon gains beginner Lance
King Rickon gains beginner Horseman