About a quarter of an hour after the first round of challenges had wrapped up, the horns sounded again, signaling the entry of three new challengers from the southern end of the lists.
"Prince Quentyn Martell! Ser Williams..."
As always, the herald bellowed their names and houses for all to hear, drawing raucous cheers from the spectators.
Beyond the fresh faces, defeated knights who had paid their ransoms—handing over their horse and armor to the victor—were free to return to the field as challengers once more.
The "Old Falcon" appeared in the fourth group, singling out his long-time rival, Lord Anders. By the time the champions had finished with this fourth wave, high noon had arrived.
With the sun beating down, the master of ceremonies announced a recess until the afternoon. As the crowds dispersed, the field lay littered with the splintered remains of lances.
Edric seemed a bit unsatisfied. "Only one person challenged Prince Oberyn in the last three rounds. I barely got to see how the Red Viper fights."
"The Red Viper's reputation for martial prowess precedes him. Sure, winning makes you famous overnight," Arthur said, standing up to leave with the flow of the crowd. "But if you lose, you're paying a heavy ransom for your horse and armor. The risk is too high and the cost too steep, so few dare to challenge him."
Lady Nym chimed in, "It's not just fame; it's status. Ed, did you notice Prince Quentyn?"
"I was watching," Edric frowned. "But someone challenged him in every round after he became a champion, didn't they?"
"The real experts all passed right over his shield," Nym said, pursing her lips. "His opponents were either green squires with sloppy technique or aging lords past their prime."
Arthur hadn't paid much attention to Prince Quentyn, but hearing Lady Nym lay it out, it rang true. It was understandable—much like how Nym had warned him about fighting the Red Viper earlier. Win or lose, the politics made it awkward. Only those desperate for advancement or men under strict orders would brush aside the implications and challenge a prince.
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Arthur and the others met up with his four squires outside the arena.
Jimmy had entered the archery contest, while the others had gone to watch the melee—a team event far bloodier than the joust. Instead of returning to Sunspear proper, they followed Lady Nym's recommendation to a tavern in the Shadow City.
Over the meal, Jimmy shared his results. He had placed fifth among the competitors, a respectable showing.
"The event focused on mounted archery, which isn't my strong suit," he explained. "If it had been standing archery, I might have ranked a bit higher."
Vic Five and Vic Six described the intensity and brutality of the melee with vivid enthusiasm.
"It was steel crashing against steel," Vic Five said, punching the air to mimic a blow. "What impressed me most was a sellsword who flattened a knight's helm with a morningstar. The knight dropped like a sack of grain instantly."
Vic Six added, looking a bit shaken, "Knights crashing their horses together, daggers snapped by mailed fists, lances piercing guts... the melee isn't much different from a small war."
"The crowd loved it, though. There were so many of them, their screaming drowned out the sound of the fighting."
Vic Six wasn't wrong. There were three venues for three events, and the melee—essentially a chaotic free-for-all—was far more dangerous than the joust, drawing the largest crowds. Arthur could often hear the roar from that arena even from where they were.
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Afternoon.
When the horns signaled the resumption of the joust, Arthur didn't feel the same opening-match excitement. Compared to the squires' tales of the melee, this felt a bit like a game of men trying to poke each other off horses with long sticks.
He scanned the enthusiastic crowd and the knights warming up below. He wasn't entirely sure about that assessment, but he didn't dwell on it.
Arthur shook off the distraction and focused his attention on the man he would challenge tomorrow: the Red Viper.
In the subsequent tilts, the Red Viper ended battles with vicious speed, though he faced some strong opponents. Ser Williams broke three lances against Prince Oberyn before being unhorsed.
Later, a mystery knight bearing a shield of white stars on black rode six courses against the Prince. After losing his shield, he raised his hand to yield.
Amidst the cheers, the Prince exercised the victor's right to unmask the mystery knight. It was Ser Gerold Dayne, the "Darkstar," a man Arthur had met once before.
The first day of the joust concluded.
After feeding and grooming "Violet," Arthur returned to his quarters in Sunspear. In the quiet of his room, he oiled and polished every piece of his kit, his mind replaying the Red Viper's moves and recalling the feel of his sparring sessions with Daemon Sand.
When everything was ready, Arthur went to sleep. This was his first joust; he didn't know if he could beat the Red Viper, but he intended to give it his all and leave with no regrets.
---
The next day, outside the lists in what was formerly Ser Williams' tent, Arthur stood ready in high spirits.
His squires helped him armor up: padded doublet, mail, gorget, greaves, pauldrons, gauntlets, helm, and spurs.
Piece by piece, Vic Five and Vic Six armored him to the teeth, double-checking every strap and buckle just as they did before a battle.
Ser Williams handed him a heater shield. "My lord is a lion on the battlefield; you will surely take the prize and the glory here in the lists as well."
"From your mouth to the Seven's ears," Arthur replied, taking the shield.
Fully armored, he stepped out of the tent where Jimmy was holding Violet's reins. The horse's coat was the color of a dark swallow, looking magnificent and elegant in her partial barding. She was well-proportioned, long-limbed, and radiated powerful grace.
Arthur mounted, squeezed the mare's flanks lightly, and rode to the southern end of the lists to wait. Several other challengers were already there.
He didn't wait long. At the sound of the horn, Arthur entered the field alongside three others. The splinters from yesterday had been swept clean.
Through the narrow slit of his visor, Arthur spotted the shield bearing the sun-and-spear of the Red Viper. As he rode past, his lance struck the shield with a crisp, decisive tap.
The crowd erupted. They loved seeing a challenger—especially a mystery knight—call out Prince Oberyn, particularly after the spectacular show the Darkstar had put on yesterday.
Once the challengers had chosen their opponents, the eight knights took their positions at the north and south ends of the lists.
Arthur fixed his eyes on the Red Viper, eighty yards away. Beneath him, Violet pawed at the muddy ground, whinnying in excitement.
The narrow field of view from his helm cut off the sight of the stands and the other challengers. There was only Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, fully armored and waiting.
Where will he strike? The helm? The pauldron? The breastplate?
Arthur soothed Violet, waiting for the horn to blow.
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