Asher felt the cold steel of the blade on his left shoulder. Although the air was hot a shiver ran up his spine as the blade moved to his right shoulder.

‘I now dub you Ser Asher of House Whitehill’.

Asher thought he could hear a touch of emotion in the voice but he knew he was mistaken. Ser Duncan Grey had rarely shown emotion in the seven years they had been together. Asher had seen the old knight during his many triumphs and been taught many times that any emotion could get a man killed earlier than he wanted.

‘Rise Ser Asher, knight and champion of Riverton’.

Asher looked up into the eyes of the old knight and rose to his feet. For seven years Asher had been his squire and companion. For seven years Ser Duncan had been his teacher and mentor.

Now they stood as equals, both of them knights loyal to the crown. Asher knew he owed everything to the man standing in front of him.

Ser Duncan had taken him in at the request of his father. They had once been close friends.

Asher remembered the days he had spent in the yard training with Ser Duncan. He had enjoyed learning archery, mounted combat and swordplay.

There was not a child in the yard who matched it with Asher. At times Asher looked set to become arrogant and lazy but Ser Duncan always managed to keep him in check. During these times Ser Duncan would challenge him himself and Asher would remember the hard work he still had ahead of him.

Ser Duncan was a tough teacher and in the early days Asher had run off to his father to complain and to insist that he needed a new knight to show him the way. Asher’s father hadn’t listened, he had never listened to him but in this instance Asher was grateful. Where Asher and his father slowly grew apart, he and Ser Duncan had grown close. 

It wasn’t just in fighting skills that Ser Duncan had imparted his wisdom. Asher learnt squire etiquette, royal house history, survival skills and to read and write. Although he had always enjoyed learning new skills in every aspect of life, the art of using a sword in battle was his favourite. It was in this that Asher had also excelled. Once Asher had proved his worth as a squire, Ser Duncan had started taking him around to different castles as he competed in tourneys on behalf of the king. Asher remembered these times fondly. Every tourney was a festival of fun. Knights were welcomed and treated like royalty by the smallfolk.

Asher was allowed his share of fun as long as he had finished his squire duties. He worked hard cleaning Ser Duncan’s armour, sharpening his weapons and brushing his horse. Ser Duncan even allowed him to carry his shield and banner when he went into his battles.

Asher didn’t realise how skilled Ser Duncan was until a day at Werdonshire where he defeated all six of his opponents without even a scratch being left on his body. It was on this day that Asher knew how lucky he was to be trained by a man of his calibre. No matter where they were, Ser Duncan continued to teach and train his young squire. Nothing would stop them. Sometimes they would train in paddocks surrounded by livestock or learn sums in the local inn. It didn’t matter to Asher, he loved learning. Asher became so skilled that he would take on the local adults if there were no children around that were up to the challenge.

Asher became so good in fact that Ser Duncan let him enter his first tourney at age 12. Asher was usually the youngest and was outmatched most of the time. Early on Asher never made it past the first round. But he never gave up and his desire to improve encouraged Ser Duncan to spend more and more time with him. Asher won his first battle, then he won several more. Soon Asher was participating in the right end of tourneys and although he never won he was producing results that far exceeded his age.

Even still, Asher had never expected to win his first tourney at fourteen and he definitely hadn’t expected to have to fight Ser Duncan in the final.

It had all started when Ser Duncan had started going East one especially hot day.

‘Why are you heading that way?’ Asher had said with sweat dripping down his forehead. ‘The lake is this way’.

Ser Duncan had stopped and turned around with a smirk on his bright red face. We’re not going to the lake, we’re heading home’.

Asher couldn’t believe his ears. Home. Back to Riverton after all these years away.

‘And we’ll be competing in the tourney for the Prince’s fourteenth birthday’.

Asher felt a wave of nausea wash over his body and he was sure that it wasn’t from the heat of the sun.

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Asher would always remember the battle with the man who raised him. Even as they were about to face off to become tourney champion, Ser Duncan had pulled him aside and given him advice.

‘Never let your emotions affect your decisions,find your advantage and use it to win’. Asher had heard it a thousand times but he had appreciated it all the same. It gave him the hope he needed to be able to win. He had never beaten Ser Duncan in battle before but after the advice, Asher felt different.

The fight had been a tough and bloody affair. They were well matched and for a long time no one could take the upper hand. After hours in the yard together they knew each other's strengths and weaknesses as well as their own. Swords clanged and clashed but no damage was able to be done by either competitor. Asher started to get frustrated and impatient and Ser Duncan took advantage. If Ser Duncan was superior in anything, it was in his strength. He used this to take Asher to the ground. Asher’s helm fell off and Ser Duncan used his head to break Asher’s nose.

Asher remembered the pain and how dizzy he felt. He could still feel his nose out of place. That reminded him, he needed to see a maester before it became permanently broken. Asher remembered the anger he had felt as he had lashed out at Ser Duncan. The old knight was too experienced though and this had only resulted in a crack in his right rib.

Asher had then remembered the words spoken to him before the battle. Asher knew that he had to control his emotions or he might as well yield now and save himself further injury. Asher cleared his mind and calmed his mind and body right down.

‘How will I beat him?’ he thought to himself. As Ser Duncan went to stand and deliver the winning blow he slipped and stumbled. Asher saw this opportunity and knew it was too good to miss. He jumped back to his feet and put some distance between himself and his opponent.

Asher again thought about the words said to him. Find your advantage and use it to win.

Asher could feel the sweat inside his armour. The sun was shining hot, another hot summer day in Aldeross. Asher could see that the old knight was tiring. That was his advantage he had decided.

Asher played the patient game from then on. He circled the old knight and only hit from afar. Slowly Ser Duncan tired to the point where he could barely lift his sword. Asher finally went in for the win. Ser Duncan saw this and tried to repeat his earlier move and lunged at Asher to take him to the ground. Asher had a clear mind though and predicted this would happen. Asher used his endurance and speed to avoid the takedown and get behind the old knight. From there he put his arm around the old knight's throat with the sword in his hand.

‘Yield’ Asher had said calmly. ‘There is no way out of this’. Ser Duncan dropped his sword and fell to his knees.

‘I yield’ Ser Duncan had yelled so the crowd could hear him. Then he whispered ‘finally’ so only Asher could hear.

As the crowd rose to their feet, Asher fell to his knees. He was stunned, he couldn’t believe he had just won his first tourney and beaten the man who had taught him everything. Asher closed his eyes and listened to the cheers and whistles of the smallfolk.

‘They have missed me’ he said aloud to no one in particular. This was his moment and no one could take it away from him.

Asher knew that squires rarely won tourneys and he knew this was something special. To win his maiden tourney in his hometown gave him goosebumps and he allowed himself to show some emotion.

A tear fell down his cheek, a tear that represented the hard work he had put in with Ser Duncan over the last seven years.

Asher opened his eyes and that very man was standing in front of him.

‘Well done Asher but you won’t be so lucky next time’. Asher knew that luck had played it’s part when Ser Duncan had slipped but he had no care about that at this moment.

This was his time and this win would help spur him to a bright future. He would guarantee it.

‘Thankyou Ser, thankyou for everything over the last seven years’ Asher said, his voice thick with emotion. He had tried controlling it but now it was flooding out of him.

‘Don’t thank me, you deserve every bit of the victory and now you deserve this.

Asher watched in shock as Ser Duncan lifted his sword above his head.

‘What are you doing, Ser Duncan?’. His heart started racing wildly.

‘It’s time for you to become a knight’. Ser Duncan almost looked proud.

Asher couldn’t believe it, seven years of dreaming and now his moment had come. That’s when Ser Duncan had knighted him. Ser Duncan had even broken his own golden rule of not showing emotion. He had pulled him in tight with a huge smile on his face and whispered in his ear ‘don’t ever forget who you are and what you are made of. Also happy fourteenth birthday Asher, may all of your dreams come true’.

Asher looked to his left and saw the king and prince in the stands. They were clapping politely but there were no smiles on their faces. Any happiness Asher had felt now faded away.

Asher felt a tap on his right shoulder. Asher turned his head and saw the biggest knight he had ever seen. The knight was wearing all green. A knight of the kingsguard Asher noted.

‘The king will see you now,’ boomed the big knight. Asher started to walk slowly to the stands. Asher glanced over his shoulder at Ser Duncan. He simply nodded his head and Asher knew that no help would be coming from him.  This was something he had to face on his own.

Asher tried to look confident as he stopped in front of the royal family but he knew his body was betraying him.

Prince Damon was smiling now but the smug look on his face didn’t make Asher feel any better. King Harold held up his hand and the smallfolk went quiet immediately. For a moment the arena was silent, not a sound to be heard.

‘Welcome home Asher or should I say Ser Asher Whitehill. We thought you may never return’.

‘Thankyou father’ was all Asher could muster.