Three swift horses galloped down the Kingsroad, carrying Lord Suleiman, Lucien, and Lauslin.
It truly goes to show that clothes make the man, and a saddle makes the horse.
Lord Raymon Dayne had gifted Lord Suleiman and his two companions with armor, fine swords, and steeds as they departed.
Lord Suleiman wore a brand-new, well-tailored black noble's robe, complete with a short black-tailed cloak fluttering in the wind.
At his waist hung a beautiful, slender Myrish longsword, a gift from Lord Raymon. Unlike the heavy, broad swords of Westeros, it exuded a lightness and sharpness characteristic of crafts from across the Narrow Sea. Its blade was long and thin, and its hilt was inlaid with delicate silver threads.
He rode a white horse, his face still typically Riverlands in appearance, yet his posture was upright, and though his features were common, they conveyed a resolute firmness. Combined with the swift horse, the black robe and cloak, and the sharp sword at his waist, he exuded an imposing aura that lent his face a unique handsomeness and charm.
So much so that Lord Daymon Rickon and Ser Ronald of Fruitwood City stared in astonishment. Was this truly the same person as before? The previous Lord Suleiman had lacked any of the noble grace or spirit a young lord should possess; in fact, due to his rough skin, he looked more like the son of an old Riverlands farmer than a noble's son.
The person standing before them now was completely different from the ordinary-looking young man in old robes from a few days prior.
"Damn it! I'm too handsome!" Lord Suleiman thought, secretly gloating.
He looked back at Lucien and Lauslin, who had also completely transformed.
They now wore properly sized soldier's light armor, gifted by Lord Raymon, no longer the tattered clothes they had before.
At their waists hung two well-made standard longswords, replacing their previous scrap metal.
Now, clad in light soldier's armor, with longswords at their waists, riding swift horses, they held their heads high, straightened their backs, and rode with newfound confidence, no longer timid as before.
They looked full of spirit, finally shedding the air of old farmers and appearing as true soldiers, though they still seemed a bit simple-minded.
He and his two guards had bid farewell to Lord Raymon Dayne three days prior. It wasn't that he didn't want to keep freeloading; primarily, his reputation had gone sour.
He still remembered that day: sword pointing to the sky, awe-inspiring, eyes disdainfully sweeping over the nobles of Castle Darry, and a stern shout!
"This is the consequence of insulting me! Of insulting the Stinkfort Family!"
"No mercy! No end!"
"Only endless suffering and torment in the future!"
At these words, the entire venue fell silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
The Septon presiding over the trial by combat, his aged face etched with shock and anger, found Lord Suleiman's actions filled with chilling bloodlust and cruelty.
No tradition! No mercy! This was blasphemy against the Seven! This was sacrilege! He would surely incur divine wrath!
Anger caused his aged body to tremble violently, unable to utter words of condemnation, as if he would return to the Seven in the next second.
The surrounding nobles and knights of Castle Darry looked at Lord Suleiman with eyes full of rage.
Lord Suleiman's actions had followed no noble combat tradition, showing not an iota of noble or knightly mercy, only chilling bloodlust and cruelty.
Lord Suleiman had crippled his opponent in such a bloody and cruel manner, blinding his eyes and severing his Achilles tendons when the opponent had already lost the ability to resist.
He even deprived a knight of a dignified death, intending for the opponent to bleed to death or endure a lifetime of disability, spending the rest of his days in pain and torment.
All the nobles of Castle Darry were enraged. They believed Lord Suleiman had not only insulted a knight.
But also insulted the dignity of Castle Darry as a whole, the dignity of the Riverlands nobility, and even the dignity of the nobility of the Seven Kingdoms.
Their anger did not stem from sympathy for Ser Joses, for they knew the cause of the incident: Ser Joses had insulted the dignity of a hereditary noble family!
And the insulted party did not use his noble rank to oppress or punish the other.
Instead, he chose the Seven Kingdoms' traditional trial by combat to uphold his family's dignity—this was righteous! A truly noble action! Even if the opponent was a Guardian! Or the King!
Their anger stemmed from Lord Suleiman breaking what they perceived as the bottom line of noble conduct.
In their eyes, Lord Suleiman's behavior was cruel, unacceptable, and even dangerous.
This should have been a beautiful tale for the Seven Kingdoms! A legendary story told by bards!
A sixteen-year-old young noble, to defend his family's honor, angrily challenged a renowned knight of the Seven Kingdoms, and even successfully slew him!
He defended his family's dignity!
Ser Ronald's face was ashen, his lips tightly pressed, and he looked at Lord Suleiman with complicated eyes.
He could feel the overwhelming anger of the surrounding nobles and knights; the air around them seemed to grow heavy.
Finally, he spoke:
"Ser Suleiman, you have successfully defended your family's honor with your sword. Now, mercifully grant your opponent death, and let him return to the Stranger!"
"End his suffering. This is the mercy a noble should possess, and it is also respect for the Seven who witness this."
The surrounding Castle Darry nobles and knights all looked at Lord Suleiman with expectant eyes, hoping he would show a trace of traditional noble demeanor at this final moment.
However, Lord Suleiman merely stood calmly beside Ser Joses, looking at Ser Ronald.
Lord Suleiman's voice was not loud, yet in the deadly silence, it was exceptionally clear, every word resounding, leaving no room for doubt.
"Ser Ronald!"
"My family is always spoken of with jest and mockery by other nobles!"
"Even though my father and my two brothers died for the Iron Throne!"
"Tell me! Do they have any respect for my family?!"
"Any respect for noble traditions?!"
He paused, his cold gaze finally sweeping around. Since he had arrived at the Castle Darry military camp, he had often heard nobles jesting and ridiculing his family behind his back!
Lord Suleiman calmly wiped the blood from his sword, sheathed it, and spoke with an air of absolute, unquestionable finality:
"His fate was judged by my sword, and therefore it is decided by my words!"
"Either he bleeds out and dies in agony, or he lives, carrying his sins, carrying his pain, becoming the most vivid warning to all who dare to insult me, to insult the Stinkfort Family!"
Lord Suleiman's words completely shut down all of Ser Ronald's persuasions.
Ser Ronald's face became grim. He opened his mouth but ultimately said nothing.
He could only watch Ser Joses wail on the ground, hoping the knight would bleed out quickly and die, otherwise his future fate would be even more tragic than death.
To survive, but with a crippled body, bedridden, and treated in an environment completely opposite to his former life. But he was helpless; he could not interfere with the victor's judgment in a trial by combat.
Lord Suleiman gave Ser Ronald one last look, still with an apologetic expression, as Ser Ronald had always treated him like an elder.
He then turned and, with Lucien and Lauslin, walked away from the bloody clearing.
Leaving Ser Joses wailing in despair on the ground, and a camp filled with deadly silence, fear, and anger.
The memory ends here.
Lord Suleiman actually still felt guilty towards Lord Raymon Dayne and Ser Ronald.
He heard that after Ser Joses was rescued, he had a chance to live, but he was blind in both eyes, his hands were severed, and his legs were broken, making him a cripple. He constantly begged those around him to kill him and end his suffering.
But no one dared to do so, because it was the victor's judgment in a trial by combat, and now they were afraid and terrified of Ser Suleiman.
It wasn't until Lord Raymon Dayne arrived, drew a longsword from a soldier's waist, and pierced Ser Joses's head with a single thrust.
Seeing that the atmosphere in the contingent was already very wrong, the soldiers no longer dared to speak to the three of them, retreating three paces whenever they saw them.
The nobles, upon seeing him, glared at him with angry eyes. If looks could kill, Lord Suleiman would have been killed by looks countless times over.
And that old Septon of the Seven kept chasing him, wildly preaching scriptures, following him wherever he went, as if determined to convert him into a true believer of the Seven.
Ultimately, he chose to bid farewell to Lord Raymon Dayne and apologize to him.
Unexpectedly, Lord Raymon Dayne looked at him in surprise.
And asked why he was apologizing, stating that he had merely defended his family's honor.
There was nothing to be concerned about; if he hadn't possessed great strength, Ser Joses's fate would have been his, and he had originally intended to treat him the same way.
In this world, sometimes a bad reputation can protect oneself better than a good one. He had done very well.
He even gifted Lord Suleiman and his two companions with armor, a treasure sword, and swift horses, and told Lord Suleiman that if ever he had nowhere to go, Castle Darry would always open its doors to him.