Before the previous match's clamor had completely faded, the royal herald's high-pitched voice rang out once more.
This also drew everyone's attention away from the disheveled Sandor Clegane and back to the protagonists of this carnival.
The Knight of Flowers, Ser Loras Tyrell!
The Mountain, Ser Gregor Clegane!
The moment the words fell, the entire tourney grounds erupted!
This was a duel between beauty and the beast.
It was the most handsome and popular knight in all the Seven Kingdoms against the most brutal and terrifying monster.
Loras Tyrell's entrance was, as always, utterly flamboyant.
He rode a snow-white steed, his silver plate armor adorned with golden roses, gleaming brilliantly in the sun.
He was like a hero stepped out of a song.
He elegantly blew kisses to the ladies and noblewomen in the high stands, drawing screams loud enough to raise the roof.
And his opponent, "The Mountain" Gregor Clegane.
He silently rode his black stallion, a full size larger than an ordinary warhorse, stopping at the other end of the track.
He hadn't even changed the armor that had just been stained with Ser Hugh's blood; the cold steel exuded a nauseating scent of gore under the scorching sun.
On the high platform, Littlefinger's expression had returned to calm.
He poured himself a new glass of wine, looked at the restless white mare in the arena, and then at the uncastrated, ill-tempered stallion beneath "The Mountain."
A victorious smile played on his lips.
Lynn's raven's luck had run out.
From now on, every opponent he faced would be among the most formidable knights in the Seven Kingdoms!
Any one of them could easily defeat Lynn.
And now, he was truly going to start harvesting wealth!
"Start!"
With Robert's impatient roar, the horn sounded.
The charge began!
"The Mountain's" warhorse immediately surged forward.
Each heavy hoofbeat struck everyone's heart like a war drum.
However, the moment the charge began, an unexpected change occurred!
The black stallion beneath "The Mountain" suddenly let out a frantic whinny!
Its crimson eyes fixed on the white mare opposite, hot breath snorting from its nostrils.
The momentum of the charge faltered.
A mare in heat was an irresistible temptation for an uncastrated stallion!
"Hup!"
Gregor roared, digging his spurs fiercely into the horse's flank!
The warhorse, in pain, accelerated again.
But its charging posture was completely distorted, its head uncontrollably veering to one side, unable to maintain a straight line.
Loras's face showed a graceful yet disdainful smile.
Everything was under control.
"Bang!"
A crisp sound.
Loras's lance accurately struck "The Mountain's" shield.
The immense force caused "The Mountain's" body to lurch violently on horseback.
Meanwhile, "The Mountain's" lance, which should have been deadly, grazed past Loras at a ridiculous angle due to his mount's loss of control.
First round, the Knight of Flowers won decisively!
A thunderous cheer erupted from the stands.
"Hup! You damned beast!"
Gregor's roar even drowned out the cheers.
He furiously whipped his mount, trying to regain control of it.
But it was all in vain.
Second charge.
The scene became even more comical.
"The Mountain's" warhorse almost charged sideways towards Loras, constantly whinnying like it was in courtship.
"Bang!"
Loras didn't even need to aim.
He simply extended his lance casually.
The tip lightly tapped "The Mountain's" heavy breastplate.
A huge impact followed!
Gregor Clegane's mountain-like body was easily unseated from his horse by this seemingly small force!
"Boom!"
The heavy steel hitting the ground created a dull thud that silenced the entire tourney grounds for a moment.
After a brief, deathly silence, came a tidal wave of cheers and shouts!
"Knight of Flowers! Knight of Flowers!"
Loras gracefully reined in his horse, enjoying the cheers of the crowd.
However, the "mountain" on the ground moved.
Gregor Clegane staggered to his feet.
He ripped off his twisted helmet, revealing his face, which had turned a pig-liver purple from extreme rage and humiliation.
He had lost.
He, Gregor Clegane, had actually been unseated from his horse in such a manner by a effeminate pretty boy!
This was an unbearable disgrace!
"Hee-haw—"
The stallion, still in heat, approached, oblivious to danger, and nudged its master's body with its head.
"Die!"
Gregor's fury completely erupted at this moment!
He violently drew the greatsword from his waist, a sword that required two hands to wield!
A terrifying flash of cold light!
"Pfft!"
The massive horse's head was severed with one swing of his sword!
Scalding blood shot into the sky like a fountain, drenching Gregor's head and face!
"Ah—"
The noblewomen in the stands screamed in extreme terror!
Sansa, even paler with fright, fainted directly into Ned's arms.
This bloody, brutal scene instantly turned the entire tourney grounds into a living hell!
Littlefinger's smile froze completely; the wine glass in his hand slipped again, shattering to pieces.
Gregor threw down his greatsword.
Like a completely enraged beast, he charged towards Loras, who was still enjoying the cheers!
"Die! Pretty boy!"
Loras's smile stiffened.
He had never expected a joust to devolve into a fight to the death!
He frantically drew his longsword.
But facing that mountain of flesh charging with bloodlust and rage, his knightly skills seemed so pale and powerless.
Just as blood was about to splatter again!
A black figure leaped from beneath the stands!
It was "The Hound" Sandor Clegane!
"Clang—"
Sandor precisely parried Gregor's greatsword with his own longsword!
"Get out of the way! Sandor!"
The two brothers immediately began to fight!
"In the name of your King, stop it, both of you!"
"Enough!"
On the high platform, Robert's roar finally sounded.
"Pull these two madmen apart!"
Several Kingsguard rushed forward and, with great effort, managed to separate the bloodthirsty brothers.
The tourney grounds were a mess.
The Mountain angrily threw down his heavy sword, expressing his displeasure.
Then, ignoring Robert's grim face, he spat and left the arena.
Robert's expression was grim, but The Mountain belonged to the Lannisters, and he had no good way to deal with him.
"Let him go!"
"Lannister bastard!"
"Next match, quickly!"
Just as everyone was still immersed in the bloody farce that had just occurred, the royal herald's somewhat trembling voice rang out again.
"This round, the Knight of Flowers, Loras, wins!"
Hearing this, Renly Baratheon in the stands finally let out a sigh of relief.
There were a few more rounds of feigning weakness; as soon as Lynn entered the arena, he would be met with boos from the entire crowd.
Lynn would always win through successive acts of "good luck."
Finally.
"The jousting... semifinals!"
"Will be contested by... the Black Knight from the Wall..."
The herald's gaze involuntarily fell upon the black figure who had been sitting quietly in the stands the entire time.
"Against—"
"Kingsguard, Ser Jaime Lannister!"
At these words, the entire crowd erupted!
The raven who had stumbled into the semifinals through sheer dumb luck was actually going to face the most renowned knight in the Seven Kingdoms, Jaime Lannister!
Everyone's gaze swept back and forth between Lynn and Jaime.
One was a lucky man who had rolled in the mud, the other a favored son of heaven standing in the clouds.
This duel had no suspense whatsoever!
Jaime Lannister calmly stood up.
His golden armor gleamed so brightly in the sun that it hurt the eyes.
He didn't even bother to glance at Lynn.
In his opinion, this was just a formality.
Lynn also stood up.
He flexed his wrists, producing a crisp "crack."
He looked up at the high platform, at Petyr Baelish, whose face was so dark it could drip water.
He also looked at the betting odds, which had soared to astronomical numbers for him, and were now completely locked as he had reached the semifinals.
The game, it was time for it to end.
And facing Jaime, he couldn't hide anymore.
Although The Hound was also a top master, he was not skilled in mounted combat and had been added by Robert on a whim.
Jaime was much stronger than The Hound; he had to show his true strength!
Thinking this, Lynn put on his helmet and swung himself onto his horse.
Just as he was about to urge his horse into the arena, he keenly felt a gaze.
That gaze came from the Tyrell family's stands.
He followed the feeling and looked.
A young woman, beautiful as a budding rose, dressed in a green gown, was quietly watching him.
Margaery Tyrell.
Her eyes held none of Sansa's adoration, none of the noblewomen's infatuation, and none of the common people's curiosity.
They were eyes full of wisdom and scrutiny.
Lynn met her gaze for a moment, then looked away.
The Little Rose of House Tyrell?
Interesting.
Lynn urged "Storm" to slowly enter the center of the arena.
At the other end of the track was the gleaming Ser Jaime.
Lynn raised his lance, pointing it remotely at Jaime Lannister.
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