Lord Walter Whent took a deep breath, trying to dispel the palpitations from facing the King moments ago, and strode to the very front of the stands. Mustering his breath, his booming voice, aided by the terrain, spread throughout the entire arena: "In the name of Harrenhal and House Whent, I declare—the ten-day Tourney officially begins!"
His words temporarily dispelled the oppressive atmosphere brought by Aerys II, and enthusiastic cheers erupted from the crowd. Waiting for the noise to subside slightly, he continued to announce: "This grand event is held to celebrate my daughter's fourteenth nameday. The competitions include the Joust, Single Combat, Melee of the Seven, Archery, Axe Throwing, and Horse Racing—six events in total! The richness of the rewards for the victors has surely spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms, so I need not repeat them!"
"My daughter, Ariana Whent, the Queen of Love and Beauty!"
Ariana Whent stood up at the call, her face rosy as she curtsied lightly.
"Her brothers—Quasimodo Whent, Lymond Whent, Matthias Whent, Benjen Whent—and her uncle, Kingsguard Ser Oswell Whent, will defend her honor!"
Quasimodo, Lymond, Matthias, Benedict, and their uncle Ser Oswell Whent stood up upon hearing their names, bowing lightly to the stands above and below.
"Special thanks: all wine for this tourney comes from the Iron Islands, provided free of charge by House Greyjoy! White, Blue, Purple, Gold—four kinds of Kraken wine, there is always one suitable for the noble you!"
(Hearing this announcement, King Quellon smiled broadly. Before so many nobles, the names of the Iron Islands and House Greyjoy were read out in public, spreading fame throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Such a small price was truly well spent!)
Walter paused, his gaze sweeping over the knights below who were already gearing up in shining armor. Finally, he shouted loudly: "Now, the glorious first battle—the Joust, officially begins!"
"Knights who hear their names, please enter in order and prepare!"
As his voice fell, the trumpeters blew their rousing horns again, marking the official opening of the contest of speed, strength, and honor.
The first to make an appearance was none other than Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.
His opponent was the Lord of Runestone and head of House Royce—Lord Yohn Royce. Legend had it he possessed a set of ancestral bronze armor, thousands of years old and inscribed with magic runes that protected the wearer from harm.
The horns sounded, and two warhorses charged at each other.
In the first round, Prince Rhaegar's lance struck Lord Yohn's shield precisely. The force was controlled just right, causing him to sway but not fall. The second round was the same; Rhaegar's lance tip kissed the center of the shield lightly again, as if probing rather than deciding victory.
It wasn't until the third round that Prince Rhaegar seemed to truly exert force. In the flash of lightning as the two horses crossed, his lance turned into a silver bolt. With impeccable angle and thunderous power, it struck Lord Yohn's breastplate dead center! This hit was clean and powerful, actually lifting the burly lord straight off his horse and sending him crashing heavily into the dust.
Euron on the stands narrowed his eyes slightly. He saw clearly that Prince Rhaegar's strength was far above Yohn Royce's. If he really wanted to end the battle, the first encounter would have been enough. The ease of the first two rounds was clearly holding back thirty percent of his strength, perhaps unwilling to show a crushing dominance in his first appearance, deliberately giving his opponent enough respect and opportunity to perform.
Prince Rhaegar elegantly removed his dragon-ornamented helm, revealing an extraordinarily handsome face and flowing silver-gold hair. Instead of immersing himself in the glory of victory, he rode immediately to the fallen Lord Yohn Royce, leaned down, and extended his hand to pull this powerful opponent up from the dust. Then, he raised his arm to salute the surrounding stands, his posture humble and noble.
His handsome appearance, outstanding martial arts, and the chivalry displayed at this moment instantly ignited the enthusiasm of the entire venue.
Cheers from the stands shook the heavens like a tsunami; shouts of "Rhaegar! Rhaegar!" rose and fell.
However, amidst this wave of fanaticism dedicated to the Prince, Aerys II on the high dais showed not a shred of joy for his son's victory. On the contrary, the deafening cheers pierced his eardrums like sharp needles, making him frown tightly.
It was precisely because Rhaegar won such popular support and was so loved by the masses that the fear and suspicion in the King's heart grew madly—he worried every moment that this perfect son would one day overthrow his rule.
According to common sense, at this moment, a king and father should praise his son's bravery and commend the defeated opponent's tenacity and courage.
But he was "The Mad King" Aerys.
He only looked down coldly at his beloved son in the field with those bloodshot eyes, emitting an extremely disdainful snort from his nose. "'Bronze Yohn'? Hmph, vulnerable to a single blow."
The knights for the second match were already in position at both ends of the field, ready.
One side was Benjen Stark from Winterfell in the North, the youngest son of Lord Rickard Stark. Though young, he already showed the tenacity unique to Northerners. His opponent was the eldest son of the host Lord Walter Whent—Quasimodo Whent. He was also a defender of his sister's title as the "Queen of Love and Beauty" for this tourney.
Before the war horn blew, Benjen Stark did not rush to charge. Instead, he rode slowly to the stand in front of his sister Lyanna Stark, raised his lance high, and tilted the tip toward her. Lyanna smiled radiantly, quickly took out a grey-white ribbon representing House Stark from her sleeve, and carefully and swiftly tied it around her brother's lance shaft, bestowing upon him the family's blessing and strength.
The horn blared again, and the duel officially began! Two warhorses galloped toward each other, lances colliding violently, wood chips flying. Every clash drew gasps from the audience.
The two were evenly matched, charging back and forth for eight rounds, the battle exceptionally intense and stalemated. Finally, with a precise and powerful thrust, Benjen Stark arduously knocked Quasimodo Whent off his horse, winning the victory.
On the stands, Lyanna Stark shouted and cheered for her brother the entire time, so excited she barely sat down. seeing Benjen finally win, she jumped up in excitement, cheering and jumping selflessly.
It wasn't until her father Lord Rickard Stark's stern gaze swept over that she realized her loss of composure. Pouting somewhat reluctantly, she sat back down, but her face still overflowed with irrepressible joy and pride.
Immediately following were the third match, the fourth match... The jousts proceeded one after another with amazing efficiency. Dust kicked up by hooves, the loud cracks of breaking lances, and audience cheers rose and fell with almost no pause.
Euron's match was scheduled as the eighteenth. At this moment, with the rough assistance of his brother Balon and the slightly clumsy help of his brother Victarion, he had donned the custom-made armor that shimmered with a cold metallic luster.
The lance tightly gripped in Euron's hand stood straight toward the sky. His warhorse, Faruru, seemed to sense the excitement of the impending battle, shaking its head adorned with trappings incessantly, strong hooves pawing the ground impatiently, snorting bursts of white steam.
When the herald's booming voice finally rang through the grounds, reading out the next name, he deliberately raised his pitch, carrying a hint of amazement and emphasis: "Next, let us welcome the youngest knight in this joust, only eleven years old—from the Iron Islands, of House Greyjoy—EURON!"
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