The Day of the Tourney.
Before the first rays of dawn pierced the clouds, the cobblestone road leading to the tourney grounds was already teeming with people.
A farmer with rough hands adjusted his wide-brimmed hat, while his red-cheeked son rode on his shoulders, waving a small wooden sword and babbling excitedly.
A fisherman, still smelling of the sea, gestured with calloused fingers to the crowd around him, boasting about the noble ships he had seen recently.
Merchants pushed creaking wooden carts, the scent of fresh bread mingling with the morning mist, attracting ragged children to chase and play around them.
Several women with baskets gathered by a cart, haggling over whether the bread had too much sawdust while fiercely debating which knight had the best chance of winning.
When one mentioned the Sword of the Morning, the debate abruptly ended. That seemed to be a question that needed no discussion.
Inside the tent encampment outside the lists.
Arthur had woken early. Wearing only a tunic and breeches, he sat quietly in a chair, eyes closed, conserving his energy.
Morning light filtered through the gaps in the canvas tent, dappling his sharp features.
Outside, the familiar whinny of Violet reached his ears, filled with irrepressible excitement.
Arthur opened his violet eyes just as Vic Five and Zach lifted the tent flap and walked in.
"My lord, the crowds outside are massive," Vic Five reported excitedly.
"I feel like everyone along the Torrentine has come. They must be here to witness the Sword of the Morning take the crown."
"Is that so?" Arthur stretched his shoulders, joints popping slightly.
He exhaled, a confident smile touching his lips. "Armor me."
"Yes, my lord!"
Vic Five and Zach moved immediately, laying out the rattan armor, gorget, greaves, pauldrons, gauntlets, helm, and spurs.
They dressed Arthur with practiced ease, checking every buckle three times, just as always.
When Zach finally strapped Dawn across Arthur's back, he couldn't help but marvel, "My lord will shine like the Morning Star today."
As the Sword of the Morning, Arthur would make his entrance at the opening of the tourney. Without delay, he picked up his shield, emblazoned with his personal heart sigil, and stepped out of the tent.
Outside, Violet seemed infected by the atmosphere. The mare pawed the ground incessantly with her powerful forelegs, letting out low whinnies.
When Arthur approached, she nuzzled his shoulder affectionately.
Arthur stroked her neck, soothing her high spirits.
Outside other tents, many knights were also fully armored, wearing magnificent suits painted with house colors or personal sigils, their horses equally decked out.
Among them, Loras Tyrell was the most dazzling.
His armor was exquisitely crafted, the enamel work depicting a thousand different flowers. His snow-white stallion was draped in a red caparison covered in white roses, shining brilliantly in the morning sun.
Show-off, Arthur thought wryly. He mounted Violet swiftly, squeezed her flanks gently, and rode toward the lists.
The scene at the lists confirmed Vic Five's report—and then some.
The crowd packed the vast grounds so tightly that water couldn't seep through.
The Starfall guards tasked with maintaining order had to exert considerable effort to clear a path for the knights to enter.
The jousting lists were fenced off on the east and west. Commoners had no seats but stood under shaded awnings.
On the north and south sides, two-tiered circular stands had been erected for nobles and knights, draped with the banners of various houses.
Thrum-thrum-thrum—
Whoooo—
With the sounding of horns, fourteen knights, including Arthur, filed into the arena as the guards opened the gates, gathering in one corner.
"Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers!" the herald announced from the high stand. "He faces..."
The herald announced the pairs of knights one by one. As their names were called, the knights rode out, circling the field to acknowledge the crowd, some asking ladies for favors and blessings.
Finally, the herald bellowed: "Ser Arthur Snow, the Sword of the Morning! Facing Ser Jon Fossoway of New Barrel!"
The name of the Sword of the Morning instantly incited waves of cheers from the crowd.
As Arthur rode his lap, the banners of the noble houses on the stands passed before his eyes one by one.
Rose, Grapevine, Tower, Red and Green Apples, Golden Tree, Burning Fire, Hawk, Hand, Lightning...
Finally, Arthur stopped before the Sword and Falling Star banner of House Dayne.
On the high stand, Allyria showed no sign of her previous anger. She tied a ribbon to the lance Arthur extended to her as a blessing.
"Arthur, for Starfall!"
Edric sat beside her, waving somewhat guiltily.
Arthur smiled back, lowered his visor, and rode to one side of the field. The fourteen knights lined up in opposing pairs.
The horn blew. Knights raised their lances; horses kicked up dust.
Hooves thundered against the earth. Violet's charging speed was explosive, putting Arthur nearly a horse-length ahead of the others launching at the same time.
During the charge, Arthur's vision locked onto the "Green Apple."
CRACK!
Pine lance met iron-rimmed shield painted with a green apple. The impact was immense, lifting Ser Jon Fossoway—man and shield—clean out of his saddle and sending him flying.
The stands erupted in deafening cheers.
At the other end of the list, Arthur calmly reined in his horse and turned, watching his opponent scramble awkwardly up from the dirt.
Having flown horizontally, Jon Fossoway had landed flat on his backside—the "goose landing in sand" style. He looked unhurt, though he walked with a limp.
"Ser Arthur, you have a fine horse," Loras Tyrell said, appearing at the sidelines. His opponent had also been unhorsed.
Arthur lifted his visor. "And a fine sword."
After the round, Arthur took a quick victory lap, handed his broken lance to a cheering boy, and left the field.
Loras, meanwhile, took off his helm, plucked a white rose from his caparison, and tossed it to a pretty girl in the crowd.
Arthur rested in his tent for about two hours. During that time, Ser Jon Fossoway personally delivered the ransom for his horse and armor.
Despite being unhorsed in one round, Jon Fossoway said excitedly, "It was an honor to cross lances with the Sword of the Morning."
Arthur's opponent for the next round was announced. In the afternoon, he would face Ser Edwyd Fossoway of Cider Hall—the "Red Apple."
Although red apples are sweeter than green ones when ripe, Ser Edwyd lasted only one pass longer than his cousin.
Half an hour after accepting the ransom from the Red Apple, Arthur learned the name of his third and final opponent for the day.
A freerider from Crackclaw Point in the Crownlands named Lothor Brune.
Hearing the name, Arthur couldn't help but chuckle.
Apple day, indeed.
This freerider, Lothor Brune, was currently obscure, but in the original timeline, he would earn the nickname "Lothor Apple-Eater" for his bravery in the Battle of the Blackwater (specifically, cutting his way through House Fossoway men-at-arms).
When Arthur re-entered the lists fully armored, the ground was littered with splinters from shattered lances, and several sections of the dividing barrier had been crushed.
The only constant was the crowd's enthusiasm for the joust, their cheers rolling in wave after wave.
Arthur hadn't seen Lothor Brune practice, so he didn't know the man's style.
But figuring an "Apple Eater" was stronger than an apple, he focused his mind and took it seriously.
Skill aside, Lothor Brune's equipment was undeniably poor. His armor, padding, and shield were dented and mismatched.
It looked like a collection of scavenged pieces. His mail hauberk bore the snowflake stamp of the Artisan District—likely from the "Old for New" exchange.
The horn sounded. Arthur didn't overthink it. He charged with Violet, shield up, lance leveled.
As they closed the distance, Arthur noticed something sharp. Lothor Brune's gorget was likely a size too large; jostled by the horse's gallop, it hung loosely, exposing half his neck.
Arthur's eyes narrowed. If he struck the throat now, the Apple Eater would have to wait until his next life to eat apples.
Even if he aimed for the body, splinters from the lance could easily slash the exposed neck.
Ideally, Arthur raised his lance point, avoiding the throat and aiming for the upper part of the helm.
CLANG!
Arthur's lance struck Lothor Brune's bucket helm with precision, knocking it clean off his head. His lance didn't even break.
Lothor's lance hit Arthur's right shoulder. Arthur squeezed the saddle with his thighs, swaying slightly to absorb the force.
Arthur expected Lothor to yield after losing his helm. To his surprise, the man insisted on continuing.
Turning his horse, Arthur saw Lothor's face. He had short grey hair, a flat nose, and a square jaw—a plain face, but with eyes full of grit.
Passing him, Arthur praised, "You are brave."
Lothor gave a bitter smile. "My lord, this isn't bravery. It's poverty."
In the subsequent tilts, Arthur studiously avoided attacking Lothor's unprotected head and neck.
It wasn't until the fourth lance broke that Arthur finally unhorsed him.
By then, Lothor's brow, temples, and cheek were bleeding freely from splinter cuts, the blood running down to dye his loose gorget red.
Though defeated, Lothor Brune's fearlessness earned him a standing ovation and thunderous applause from the crowd.
The applause was also for Arthur—for not taking advantage of his opponent's vulnerability, for showing knightly mercy and honor.
It was praise for the loser's tenacity and the victor's benevolence.
Arthur tossed the broken lance to Zach. "Vic Five, have my maester attend to him."
Vic Five muttered, "He's either a hero or a fool. If my lord hadn't held back, he'd be dead."
Grumbling, he ran off to find the maester.
---
Returning to his tent, Arthur changed out of his armor into a Dornish silk robe and went back to the lists.
On the high stand, Vic Five met him. "My lord, the maester says Lothor Brune is fine. He'll recover in a few days, though he'll have scars on his face."
Arthur nodded and headed to the Starfall box.
As the host, Starfall's seats were central, offering the best view of the action.
"Where is Edric?" Arthur sat down next to Allyria and noticed the boy was missing.
Allyria didn't speak. She just pointed at the field.
Following her finger, Arthur saw Edric standing at one end of the lists, holding a lance, watching the match nervously.
"This is the third round, right?" Arthur watched a tall mystery knight whose equipment was entirely from the Artisan District's high-quality line.
"Seems the mystery knight Edric chose isn't bad?"
Allyria watched the joust silently.
"Edric looks quite the proper squire down there."
Still silence.
Suddenly, Arthur pointed. "Look! Lord Beric Dondarrion is entering the field!"
"Where?" Allyria immediately looked around in a panic. "Where is Beric?"
Seeing her reaction, Arthur confirmed his suspicion. She definitely likes the Lightning Lord.
Seeing Arthur pointing at empty air, Allyria realized she'd been tricked. A blush spread instantly from her cheeks to her neck.
She punched Arthur's shoulder playfully. "When did you... know? Which guard told you?"
"That night you were angry," Arthur laughed. "I went out to find you and saw you two chatting happily by the river, so I didn't interrupt."
Allyria huffed. "You all just love making me angry..."
"Auntie," Arthur warned, "Lord Beric is actually coming over now."
"Trying to trick me again?" Allyria said she didn't believe him, but her eyes involuntarily drifted to the field.
Below the stand, Beric Dondarrion, clad in lightning-crested armor, raised his lance to Allyria.
"Fair lady, I hope to receive your blessing. With it, I shall be invincible."
Allyria switched modes instantly, sitting up straight and proper. "May the Seven protect you, Ser."
She stood and tied her favor to his lance, adding a kiss for good luck.
Perhaps empowered by the Allyria Buff, Lord Beric turned into his sigil—lightning.
With a single strike, he sent his opponent flying from the saddle.
On the other side, Brienne, masquerading as a mystery knight, broke five lances against the formidable Ser Uller of Hellholt before dismounting and defeating him with a sword in the melee.
---
After the day's events concluded.
Arthur returned to his tent to find Lothor Brune, face bandaged, standing outside with his horse.
"Ser Arthur, this is my horse and armor. I have no money to ransom them. They are yours." Lothor stroked the horse's neck reluctantly.
"Thank you for showing mercy in the lists. You are a true knight, Sword of the Morning."
"Lothor Brune," Arthur said. "Would you be willing to serve me? Starfall needs brave men like you."
Lothor's dull eyes suddenly lit up. As he dropped to one knee, blood from his wounds seeped through the bandages.
"It would be my honor, my... my lord!"