On the fifth morning of the Starfall Tourney, before the first light of dawn had fully pierced the sky, Arthur stood on the stands overlooking the lists.
Five days of jousting. After six rounds of eliminations over the first four days, today would finally bring the conclusion.
Only seven contestants remained. Because Arthur had performed the feat of shield-breaking, the other six had voted to give him a bye, allowing him to advance automatically to the semi-finals.
Since the semi-finals and finals were scheduled for the afternoon, Arthur had time to observe his upcoming opponents and potential rivals.
"Seems our 'Shield Breaker' rises even earlier than the sun."
Arthur didn't need to turn to know it was Allyria.
He turned to see his aunt gracefully ascending the steps, her pale hair rimmed with gold by the morning light.
Two handmaidens followed her, carrying fruit and Amber Peach Wine.
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Since when did I get that nickname?"
"You haven't heard?" Allyria chuckled, leaning against the carved stone railing.
"Ever since your lance punched through Desmond's vine shield, people look at you like you're a monster."
"I heard many musicians and bards are planning to compose songs about it for the poetry and music competition."
Arthur didn't reply. His gaze swept over the empty arena.
The ground still bore the hoof prints and splintered lance fragments from yesterday. Squires were busy preparing the field.
His eyes finally rested on the banners being raised by the attendants—the Golden Rose of Tyrell, the Sword and Falling Star of Dayne, the Nightingales of Caron... Each banner represented a contestant who had not yet been eliminated.
In the end, only one banner would remain in the center of the field—the champion's banner.
Allyria looked at the two Sword and Falling Star banners hanging high and asked with interest, "Who do you hope will advance among the six? In other words, which three banners will remain?"
Among the six knights, Arthur was familiar with four: Loras Tyrell, the Mystery Knight Brienne, Gerold Dayne, and Ser Williams.
The remaining two, less familiar to him, were half-brothers from the same house: Lord Bryce Caron and Ser Rolland Storm.
House Caron's history traced back to the Age of Heroes. Their seat, Nightsong, lay at the northern end of the Prince's Pass, sworn to Storm's End.
The house was famous for producing warriors and singers, and held the title "Lord of the Marches."
Arthur pointed to the plain blue banner with a golden sword and stars just raised by an attendant. "The Mystery Knight."
Allyria asked, "And the other two?"
Arthur shrugged. "Doesn't matter."
Allyria teased, "Do you want to see this Lady Brienne advance that badly?"
Arthur smiled but didn't answer.
By now, the contestants were riding onto the field, and the high stands were filling with richly dressed figures.
Arthur's gaze shifted to the other end of the field, to the silent figure encased in plain, high-quality steel armor from the Artisan District. No sigil, no flashy decorations—just Edric bustling around her, attending to her every need.
The combination of a lordly squire and a mystery knight had become the hottest topic of the tourney.
"It's not just me," Arthur finally said. "Look at the reaction of the crowd."
Outside the barriers, commoners had gathered densely.
Most of their eyes were focused on the mystery knight, whispers rising and falling like waves.
Arthur even saw peddlers selling wooden masks styled like the mystery knight's, doing brisk business.
He heard from the squires that betting pools had opened in many taverns, speculating on the mystery knight's identity and how far they would go.
People loved a story of mystery, the unknown, and the underdog.
Just like his own performance at the Sunspear Tourney, which had sparked widespread discussion.
Allyria was about to respond when a sudden cheer interrupted her.
Loras Tyrell had mounted his horse. His opponent, Lord Bryce Caron, was also ready.
The herald's booming voice echoed across the field:
"Seventh Round, First Match—Ser Loras Tyrell of Highgarden versus Lord Bryce Caron of Nightsong!"
Loras Tyrell appeared in his usual flamboyant "Knight of Flowers" style. His armor was inlaid with hundreds of enamel roses, and his saddle and caparison were covered in fresh flowers.
When he removed his helm to greet the audience, his handsome face drew screams from the noble ladies in the stands.
Lord Bryce Caron's armor, shield, and cloak were decorated similarly to the Knight of Flowers, but with black nightingales instead of roses. His helm featured three bright copper nightingales as a crest.
Even with the three birds on his helm, the number of nightingales on Bryce was far fewer than the flowers on Loras.
The winner of this match would be Arthur's opponent in the semi-finals.
The horn sounded. Two warhorses carried their riders toward each other like arrows from a bow.
Hooves kicked up dust, lances leveled, sunlight dancing on the metal tips.
"'No Song So Sweet'—that is the words of House Caron," Allyria said over the roar of the first charge.
"Sadly, a chill took the lives of Lord Bryen Caron, his wife, his second son, and all his daughters, leaving only Lord Bryce Caron and Ser Rolland Storm."
"Auntie, why do you know so much about House Caron?" Arthur was surprised, though his eyes remained fixed on the clash.
In the first pass, both lances struck shields simultaneously. Splinters flew, but both men stayed firmly in their saddles.
Allyria replied, "I learned from Maester Oswell that Lord Bryce Caron is unmarried. He was one of the candidates I considered."
"He WAS one of the candidates I considered." Arthur mulled over her words. It seemed his aunt had made her choice.
He glanced sideways at Allyria and found her gaze wasn't on Bryce Caron, but thoughtfully directed toward a certain spot on the high stands.
Following her line of sight, Arthur noticed a red-gold-haired Beric Dondarrion nodding in acknowledgment.
Just as Arthur digested this information, the second horn blew.
This time, Loras changed tactics. His lance struck out like a viper, precisely knocking one of the copper nightingales off Bryce's helm.
The sound of tearing metal pierced the air as the nightingale spun away, landing on the ground with a crisp clatter.
Gasps and applause erupted from the stands.
Margaery Tyrell stood up in the noble box, waving a handkerchief embroidered with a golden rose.
"For Highgarden!"
Her voice was clear as a bell, cutting through the noisy cheers.
In the third round, Loras displayed his exquisite skill again.
This time, his lance traced a beautiful arc, knocking the remaining two nightingales off Bryce's helm in a single strike.
Three copper birds now lay in the sand, glittering in the sun like trophies of a bizarre hunt.
Making it to the seventh round meant neither was unskilled, but the gap in their jousting ability was as wide as the difference in the number of decorations on their armor.
After three rounds of showboating, knocking off the nightingales one by one, Loras had made his point.
Bryce Caron reined in his horse, slowly removed his now-bare helm to reveal a chiseled young face, and raised his right hand in surrender, a bitter smile on his lips.
Allyria said, "Seems your semi-final opponent is decided."
Arthur watched Loras take a victory lap, nodding. "Obviously."
Loras's gesture of throwing roses to the audience was elegant to the point of affectation, but his lance skill was undeniably superb.
The duel between Gerold Dayne and the Mystery Knight was far more intense than the previous one.
When the herald announced "Ser Gerold Dayne of Starfall versus the Mystery Knight," the atmosphere in the entire arena changed instantly.
Commoners stared unblinkingly at the field; merchants paused their trades; even the ladies in the high stands lowered their fans.
"Ten gold dragons on the Mystery Knight!" Arthur heard Ser Uller of Hellholt, who had been eliminated by Brienne, shout from the stands.
"I'll take that bet!" Viscount Dimitre of High Hermitage responded immediately, confident in his kinsman.
"The 'Darkstar' of House Dayne, my kinsman, will surely pry open that mystery knight's visor!"
Gerold Dayne rode slowly onto the field on a jet-black destrier. His armor was deep purple, his cloak embroidered with falling stars.
When he removed his helm to greet the audience, his handsome face, tinged with a hint of melancholy, was no less striking than Loras's.
In comparison, the Mystery Knight Brienne's entrance was much simpler. No flashy decorations, no house banner—just shining steel armor and a silent, steadfast posture.
The horn sounded. The horses charged.
In the first pass, Brienne's lance struck the center of Gerold's shield precisely. The impact shook Darkstar in his saddle.
Gerold's lance tip grazed Brienne's shoulder, scraping off only a small patch of blue paint.
In the following four rounds of thrilling combat, Brienne broke three lances, while Gerold broke two.
Every time they charged, the stands erupted in deafening roars.
In the fifth round, Brienne's lance grazed Gerold's helm, leaving a visible scratch. Gerold's counterstrike hit Brienne's breastplate, nearly unhorsing her.
As the sixth round began, even the usually composed Allyria gripped Arthur's arm.
"Can she win?" Allyria asked nervously.
Arthur frowned, not answering. His gaze was locked on Brienne's warhorse.
He noticed the brown destrier showing signs of fatigue after consecutive charges. Its strides were no longer as steady.
Gerold's black destrier, however, remained spirited, clearly having received better care.
Disaster struck mid-charge. Brienne's horse's front legs suddenly buckled, and the animal pitched forward.
In the nick of time, Brienne showed amazing reflexes. Releasing the reins, she pushed off with both legs, launching herself from the horse's back. She completed a clumsy but effective roll in the air before landing heavily on the ground.
The entire arena fell silent for a second, then erupted in a mix of gasps, sighs, and gloating laughter.
Gerold Dayne wheeled his horse around and rode slowly to Brienne.
By tradition, the victor had the right to demand the defeated mystery knight reveal their identity.
"Lift your visor, knight." Gerold's voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly in the silence.
Brienne paused for a few seconds, then slowly raised her hands.
When the helm was removed, sunlight fell on her sweat-soaked brown hair and her overly broad face.
In those unusually clear blue eyes, a trace of regret flashed.
First came a buzz of confusion from the stands, then an incredulous uproar.
"It's a woman?!"
"Seven above, are my eyes playing tricks on me?"
"'Brienne the Beauty' of Tarth! I recognize her!"
In the high stands, Lord Selwyn Tarth wore a bitter smile. How could he not recognize his own daughter?
The Old Hawk remarked, "Selwyn, you shouldn't have let her be taught the sword. Though she certainly has the build for it, and fights as well as any man."
His gaze swept over Brienne's large frame and rough features. "But look at her now. What lord would marry her?"
"Enough!" Lord Selwyn stood up abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the floor.
"I respect her choice. The gods never decreed that women cannot wield swords and lances!"
The Old Hawk looked at Selwyn strangely. "But she is your only daughter."
Lineage and inheritance were paramount to every noble house. Selwyn surely understood the weight of that.
On the field, Brienne stood up with Edric's help, gave Gerold a standard knightly salute, and turned to leave.
The afternoon sun in Dorne grew fierce. Arthur carefully checked every piece of his equipment in the tent. The closer to the final moment, the less he could afford to relax.
Outside the tent, Jimmy and Vic Five were saddling and armoring Violet, talking in low voices about the morning's matches.
In the last match of the morning, Rolland Storm had defeated Ser Williams to advance.
Ser Williams, freshly betrothed to Lady Corinne of Nightfall Keep, had fought valiantly, hoping to crown his fiancée the Queen of Love and Beauty.
But bastards fighting for honor and recognition often fought harder than ordinary men.
"My lord, the news about Lady Brienne has spread throughout Starfall," Vic Five said, entering the tent.
"Some say letting a woman wear armor is a desecration of knighthood. Others... mostly commoners... think she is more qualified to be a knight than most men."
Arthur replied, "Words are wind. Facts do not change because of idle gossip."
Just as Arthur finished putting on his armor and Jimmy fastened his cloak, the horn sounded from outside, announcing the start of the semi-finals.
Arthur mounted Violet. "These are the final two battles!"