Outside the walls of Highgarden, on the tournament grounds, the crimson morning light stained the sky with a hue of blood.
Over two hundred fully armored knights were divided into two groups, lined up behind the barriers on the left and right sides of the lists. Even with the roaring crowd and the blaring music beyond the fences, both formations remained relatively orderly. Most of the knights' horses stood calmly amidst the tremendous noise, clearly well-trained.
A gentle morning breeze blew in. On a blade of grass near the city wall, a glistening dewdrop slid down the leaf. At the very moment it dripped from the tip, the heralds on the main platform sounded their horns. The deep blast shot into the sky, announcing to all the official start of the melee at the Tourney of Highgarden.
The next moment, the knights charged. The thunderous sound of hooves erupted, like drumbeats pounding in one's chest. From the stands, two black tides could be seen surging towards each other, crashing together in the center of the field with a roar, tangling into a single mass.
Weapons clanged, horses neighed. Formation abandoned, everyone was embroiled in the fray. Knights were constantly being unhorsed, attacks coming from the front or the flank.
Spectators leaning over the railings cheered and shouted at the top of their lungs. Every unhorsing drew sharp screams, as if they themselves had been struck down.
The high stands were packed with noble lords and ladies. Lord Mace and Renly sat in the center of the main platform, flanked by great nobles like Baelor and Lord Redwyne. Barristan had also been invited to the main platform, seated alongside Randyll and Lord Mathis.
Scions of various great houses were participating in the contest, and all eyes followed their own sigils. Baelor suddenly laughed. "Look! The Dornishmen are surrounded! Haha, our Viper Prince is in a tough spot."
It seemed he still held a grudge over the nickname 'Baelor Breakwind' from years past.
In one corner of the field, a dozen or so knights in Dornish-style armor, wielding lances, were encircled. One knight among them not only had the circular copper disks adorning his shoulders like the other Dornishmen but also had a golden round disc on the top of his helmet, making him glitter conspicuously. Such flamboyance clearly identified him as the Red Viper.
The Red Viper usually gave an impression akin to a snake: agile, cunning, lurking in the shadows before launching a fatal strike, closer to an assassin. This often led people to overlook that he was also a formidable warrior capable of wearing heavy armor and charging into battle. Now, shielded by his guards, he frequently counter-attacked. Almost every thrust of his lance sent an enemy tumbling from his saddle.
"Dornish warriors are as numerous as sand, but only this one stands above the land," Renly clicked his tongue in admiration. "Prince Oberyn is so fierce even in the press of battle!"
Barristan, however, was unimpressed. "The Prince's guards maintain a tight formation, while the knights besieging them are disorganized. The Prince's situation appears perilous, but is actually quite secure."
The implication was: I could do that too!
Hearing their conversation, Lord Mace expression grew increasingly sour.
On a nearby stand sat a group of young people. The three Tyrell brothers sat together. Willas, in the middle, was conversing softly with the Knight of Flowers. Garlan, meanwhile, watched three knights in the lists whose helmets and surcoats bore a bat sigil. Their situation wasn't easy either.
Garlan had heard about William's recent experiences in melees, where he was often targeted by multiple opponents as soon as he entered the field. This time, however, the Red Viper drew most of the animosity. Aided by the two other Hightower knights, although still fighting against greater numbers, the three supported each other, fighting and retreating, managing to avoid serious danger so far.
After watching for a while, Garlan couldn't help but chuckle. The Knight of Flowers beside him asked curiously, "What are you laughing at, Garlan?"
Garlan pointed towards the field. "William's tactics are quite interesting. They're maneuvering around Prince Oberyn, using the crowd besieging the Prince as cover and obstacles."
Willas and the Knight of Flowers watched for a moment and also smiled. In the Reach, disliking the Dornish, especially the Red Viper, was practically political correctness. So, as soon as the fight began, a group of Reach knights had instinctively surrounded the Dornish contingent.
Cavalry that has lost its momentum is essentially just oversized infantry. Dozens of mounted knights were crammed together, forming a large, tangled circle.
William and his two companions circled around this mass. William's martial skill was more than sufficient for this kind of guerrilla warfare: if they encountered a small group, they would fight and could win; if faced with a larger force, they would run and could escape. This left the knights who specifically wanted to corner them frustrated and helpless.
Willas seemed to grasp something. "When he invited the Prince to participate, was this his plan all along?"
The ladies sat in the stands on the other side. Noticing Margaery seemed somewhat tense, Nymeria, sitting beside her, leaned in and whispered, "Are you worried, Margaery?"
Margaery offered a faint smile. "Aren't you? Prince Oberyn's situation doesn't look good."
"My father? He's the Red Viper. It's his opponents who should worry. As for William, I know his strength." Nymeria licked her red lips. "Don't you know? Should I tell you about it?"
Margaery remained impassive. "Thank you, Nym. If I wish to know, I can find out anytime."
The two women smiled at each other, holding their gaze for a moment before turning their attention back to the field.
As the contest progressed, more than half the knights were eliminated, and the field began to open up. Quick-thinking knights spurred their horses towards the barriers, attempting to use a charge to unhorse others. The space available for horses to gallop increased.
A burly knight wearing no sigil had dismounted at some point and was stealthily approaching a knight with a bat-adorned helmet from the side and rear.
William's attention was focused on a knight he was confronting. Combined with the field being crowded with men and horses, he failed to notice the danger until the knight lunged, leaped up, grabbed him, and hauled him from his saddle.
Unlike others who wore incomplete armor to accommodate fighting on foot, William was encased from head to toe like a tin can. The knight likely expected that once slammed to the ground, anyone armored so heavily would be like a fish out of water, helpless. But the moment William hit the ground, he broke free from the knight's grasp, rolled forward, and sprang to his feet as if his full suit of armor were made of paper, light as a feather.
The knight was stunned, lying on the ground and staring at William with a look of utter disbelief.
William, however, had no time to deal with him. The knight he had been confronting earlier now charged his horse directly at William, attempting to trample him.
William sidestepped in the nick of time. As the horse brushed past, he leaped up, unceremoniously yanking the rider from the saddle. With a heavy thud, both men crashed to the ground. William, prepared, landed steadily. The unfortunate knight, however, seemed to have landed wrong; he let out a gruesome scream and then lay still, unconscious.
'Probably broke something. Serves you right, trying to trample me.'
Deliberate trampling was strictly forbidden in melees; otherwise, more than half the participants could end up dead or maimed.
But William wasn't particularly surprised by this incident. Not only Margaery, but Willas and Garlan had also warned him to be extra careful in today's contest.
He glanced scornfully at the unlucky knight, then noticed the one who had pulled him down was also getting up. His face was hidden by a visor, but he didn't seem to be trying to flee. Clearly, this was most likely another agent of Lord Mace or Renly. Well, better safe than sorry.
His heavy armor did nothing to slow William's steps. He quickly closed the distance, and the two grappled. Relying on his superior armor and strength, William overpowered him with brute force, flipping him onto his back. Pinning the knight down with one hand like a fish struggling on a chopping block, he clenched his other gauntleted hand into a fist and slammed it hard into the anonymous knight's visor with a loud clang.
Spectators near that section of the barriers witnessed this and erupted in loud cries. Faintly, one could hear people wildly shouting things like, "Hit him!" and "...beat him to a pulp!"
Suddenly, the shouts turned into earth-shattering screams. A horse at full gallop thundered towards William, charging straight at him.