In the smithy, the smith carefully straightened Jaime's broken and deformed helmet; the elaborately decorated lion-helm instead restricted him. But Jaime was not seriously injured, only needing a short rest.
"Why didn't my dear elder sister come to the Tourney? She usually loves to attend such events and show her face," Tyrion asked.
"You don't know what happened last night, Cersei and the King had a quarrel," Jaime replied.
"About what again?"
"The King wanted to participate in the melee Tourney, but the Queen did not allow it."
"Our good King really acts on every whim," Tyrion said.
"A melee is no joke," Jaime replied. A melee is as brutal as a battlefield.
"What's the situation in King's Landing now?" Tyrion asked softly.
"Not good, I'm afraid, little brother," Jaime said as usual. "Joff had a small skirmish with the Stark children on the Kingsroad in the Riverlands... Joff cut the Bastard's face with a sword, and the little Stark girl scared Joff with her wolf."
Tyrion hadn't known the new story was so exciting. Fortunately, it was Jon and not the legitimate heir, otherwise, disfigurement would be a major feud.
"Alright, look at all the excitement I missed. But cutting someone's face with a sword and being scared to tears by a little girl's wolf cub. My good nephew..." Tyrion almost choked on his food. It seemed he really needed to slap Joff a few more times to make the Child sober up. "Robert brought in Stark to stabilize Joff's foundation, that foolish Child."
"It can't be entirely Joff's fault. You know Lord Eddard has always been at odds with us, but Joff really lacks chivalry. The Knight of Flowers isn't much older than him and has already made a name for himself," Jaime shrugged.
"Damn it, I don't know why The Hound had so much strength today," Jaime endured the pain and had the smith remove his helmet.
"Perhaps he was thinking of a crazier possibility, to fight his brother face to face." Because Jaime lost, Tyrion felt he wouldn't be able to watch the exciting second half either. The second half between the Knight of Flowers and The Mountain.
"Alright."
Tyrion thought for a moment and decided not to mention Lady Stark's rudeness to him for now, planning to wait. But this news would probably spread like wildfire soon, and perhaps Lord Tywin was waiting for this opportunity to act.
After much thought, Tyrion called for his servant Jak. This Boy had also accompanied him to Winterfell and recognized the people of House Stark.
"Give this to the young master of House Stark, that Boy, and tell him it's my gift," Tyrion took out a few gold coins, with a note tucked inside. "Life in King's Landing is expensive, he needs to be well prepared..."
"Is this perhaps my last act?" The Imp sighed, the situation was becoming increasingly heated. Lannister and Stark, in short, many conflicts.
The Imp didn't know if this action was good or bad. Once this happened, his father would immediately march out of the Riverlands under his banner and begin attacking House Tully.
But no matter what, Tyrion also needed to find a way to deal with Littlefinger, who had harmed him.
"Yes, my Lord."
After the Kingslayer was led out of the arena, the next Tourney belonged to The Mountain and the Knight of Flowers.
Jon watched the two men compete eagerly. Both were very distinctive: the strong Mountain and the handsome Knight of Flowers.
The Mountain stood like a giant. He was taller than any knight Jon had ever seen, and his ferocity and infamy were unmatched.
The Mountain was nearly eight feet tall, with broad shoulders and arms as thick as small tree trunks. His mount looked like a toy horse beneath his armored feet, and the Longspear in his hand was like a broom handle.
The Knight of Flowers was a different style. He was handsome and dashing, very popular with ladies and noblewomen.
"He's so handsome!" Most people supported the Knight of Flowers, especially the ladies. The Knight of Flowers' attire and grooming were also incredibly lavish, his whole outfit worth a considerable number of gold dragons. In terms of clothing and taste, the Knight of Flowers and Lord Renly far surpassed others.
The Knight of Flowers was slender as a reed, wearing incredibly ornate silver armor. The armor was polished to a blinding shine, inlaid with pairs of black vines and tiny blue forget-me-nots. The blue flowers were made of jewels, visible to thousands, who couldn't help but exclaim how extravagant the Knight of Flowers was.
The Knight of Flowers' cloak on his shoulders was heavy, woven with real forget-me-nots. Hundreds of fresh flowers were sewn onto the woolen cloak.
"What a handsome Man," Eddard couldn't help but exclaim. The Boy was full of youthful vigor, and House Tyrell was a powerful and wealthy family, second only to Lannister.
Sansa gripped Eddard's arm. "Father, don't let Ser Gregor hurt him."
Jon watched the competition. He noticed The Mountain's ferocity; even with a Tourney Longspear, he was enough to cause panic because of The Mountain's immense strength.
What happened next was unexpected. When the Knight of Flowers' beautiful grey mare appeared in the arena, The Mountain's large stallion began to stir.
The Knight of Flowers bowed to the King, then lowered his Longspear. The Knight of Flowers' victory was like a sneak attack. The Mountain couldn't control his horse well, while the Knight of Flowers skillfully charged with his Longspear.
"Thud!" The Mountain immediately fell to the ground, like a collapsing hill, bringing his horse down with him.
All sounds erupted: cheers, whistles, boos, whispers. Then The Hound laughed even more heartily. The Knight of Flowers began to embrace his victory; now was his moment. The Knight of Flowers removed his helmet, his smile fully displayed, and the crowd's cheers surged like a tide.
Jon saw The Mountain rise from the ground, violently throwing off his helmet, his face grim.
"Bring me a sword!" Jon heard The Mountain give the order to his Attendants.
The Mountain slew his own horse with a single sword stroke. The blow was so powerful it nearly severed the horse's head. Instantly, the cheerful competition arena turned into a moment of terror. The Mountain, holding a dripping longsword, walked towards the Knight of Flowers.
"Grab him quickly!" Eddard shouted.
"A Longspear! A Longspear!" Jon loudly reminded him. There was no time to drop weapons now; the Knight of Flowers still held the long wooden Tourney Longspear.
The Knight of Flowers regained his senses, but The Mountain's figure was too overwhelming. First, he broke his Longspear, then directly swung his sword. The Knight of Flowers' mare, startled by the smell of blood, became unsteady, forcing the Knight of Flowers to fall off his horse.
The Hound, however, blocked The Mountain's move, saving the Knight of Flowers' life. The two went back and forth, entangled, inseparable. Someone entered the arena and quickly moved the Knight of Flowers to a safe place.
Ned saw Ser Gregor strike at The Hound-headed helmet three times, but Sandor never once attacked his brother's unprotected head.
"Damn it! Stop it!" The King stood up and shouted. Although he disliked House Tyrell, if Lord Mace's beloved youngest son died in King's Landing, he would be in big trouble. Lord Tywin's hound was a bit too vicious.
The King and Ser Barristan also entered the arena. "Get more men, deal with this mad dog."
A dozen warriors in the arena also stepped forward.
The Hound heard the King's words and regained his composure, kneeling on one knee. The Mountain's swing missed, and only then did he regain his senses. The Mountain threw down his sword and glared at Robert.
The King was surrounded by the Kingsguard, along with a dozen knights and guards. The Mountain pushed Ser Barristan aside and turned to stride away without a word.
"Let him go," the King said. And so the matter ended.
Thousands of eyes were fixed on the scene, surprised that such a brutal and disrespectful mad dog went unpunished. They wondered how to evaluate the King's actions.
Jon looked at the scene with lingering fear. The stallion's roar still echoed in his ears. Northerners loved horses and would not treat their friends this way.
Moments later, the championship fell to The Hound. The Knight of Flowers thanked his savior, automatically yielding the victory.
Eddard and Sansa and the others began to head to the archery range; the archery competition was next.
"It seems the young master of Tyrell planned this," Littlefinger said with a smile. "He knows The Mountain's preferences, what kind of horse he rides."
Ser Barristan Selmy scoffed. "There's no honor in such trickery," the old Man said stubbornly.
"No honor, but enough to win twenty thousand gold dragons," Lord Renly smiled.
As Jon was lost in thought, he saw someone walking towards him.
"Life in King's Landing is quite expensive, your dwarf friend sent you a small gift." A servant-like Man walked over and approached Jon.
Jon was startled, then took the gold dragons. He keenly noticed a note beneath the gold dragons, so his dwarf friend must undoubtedly be The Imp.
Jon carefully took the gold dragons and then read the words on the note. "Never trust Littlefinger, he is a liar and an opportunist. Your loyal dwarf friend."
Jon felt dizzy. It seemed the story was more complex than he had imagined. This was perhaps The Imp's advice to him... In distant Essos, in Vaes Dothrak, the "Horse Gate" here was two huge bronze steeds, standing on their hind legs, forelegs leaping high, their four hooves meeting a hundred feet above the road, forming a pointed arch.
Khal Drogo led his Khalasar away from beneath their hooves, his Blood Riders close by, the bronze steeds casting long shadows across the undulating grasslands.
"Farewell, Holy City," Drogo thought. Frankly, he and Khal Jhezkahn were not very familiar. But if someone offended the dignity of the dothraki, he had to make those people fear again, the lowly sheep men.
Drogo looked at his vast Khalasar. Indeed, he now only lacked a woman worthy of him. Drogo was tall and agile, superior to all Dothraki. His skin was bright bronze, and his thick mustache was adorned with gold and bronze bells.
"Is the Dragon Princess really there?" someone beside Drogo asked a merchant-like Man, seemingly from the Free Cities.
"Absolutely, Khal. On that beautiful white coast, the white city of Myr, the silver-haired Dragon Princess, peerless in the world."
Drogo still remembered the words of the old women: his son would become the steed who rode the world, but he first had to claim the Child's mother, that silver-haired Dragon Princess.
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