Scenario:Tonight it will be Khrazz and Steelskin. Khrazz, the Shavepate grumbled. That I do not like. It need not come to blood, Ser Barristan told him. I mean to talk to Hizdahr. If he understands we do not intend to kil him, he may command his guards to yield. And if not? Hizdahr must not escape us. He will not escape. Selmy did not fear Khrazz, much less Steelskin. They were only pit fighters. Hizdahrs fearsome collection of former fighting slaves made indifferent guards at best. Speed and strength and ferocity they had, and some skill at arms as well, but blood games were poor training for protecting kings. In the pits their foes were announced with horns and drums, and after the battle was done and won the victors could have their wounds bound up and quaff some milk of the poppy for the pain, knowing that the threat was past and they were free to drink and feast and whore until the next fight. But the battle was never truly done for a knight of the Kingsguard. Threats came from everywhere and nowhere, at any time of day or night. No trumpets announced the foe: vassals, servants, friends,...