Chapter 69: Lance Duel
Prince Daeron was disheartened because his request to participate in the joust was denied due to the combined opposition of Ser Monde, Prime Minister Otto, King Viserys, and Queen Alicent. He could only sit behind Prime Minister Otto and the King, awaiting the start of the tournament.
"Have all the lances and other weapons for the tournament been inspected?" In a tent outside the arena, Steward Aemond impassively questioned the representatives of Summerhall's blacksmiths and stablemasters. Volantis did not have the Westerosi tradition of knightly jousting; the Black Wall nobles preferred Slaver's Bay-style arena duels, where slave warriors fought humans or animals on bloody sands for food and glory. Thus, Aemond was almost entirely new to knightly jousting. He didn't understand why jousting required lances that broke on impact, or unsharpened weapons, and even flails and maces had to be wrapped in thick protective cloth.
But his caution helped him; at least for now, no problems had arisen.
"All inspected, my lord." The blacksmiths' representative was the silver-haired Hugh. His exquisite skill was already enough to make him the next representative of the King's Landing Blacksmiths' Guild, allowing him to represent the blacksmiths before the King in the Throne Room. After arriving at Summerhall, he quickly distinguished himself and became one of the blacksmiths' representatives, along with another Volantene blacksmith.
"Our people guard all the weapons to be used by the contestants day and night," Hugh said. "All participating knights must retrieve their weapons from our armory, my lord. The armory is guarded by sixty Unsullied, and no one can bypass them except for myself and the blacksmith Gemon." Hugh tried to articulate their efforts in refined language.
Aemond nodded slightly and handed Hugh a pouch of kinmony.
It was the same for the stablemasters. Hofa the Law-Holder was ordered to dispatch one hundred Silver Blood Army cavalry. These knights, familiar with warhorses, inspected all the warhorses alongside the Dothraki youth Ago.
Drugged warhorses, mares and stallions in heat were all disqualified, along with their owners, and removed from the arena.
This brought cheers to those who truly sought glory in the arena.
Boys were forbidden from entering the arena, whether they were the Queen's children or the Princess's children. As the organizers of the event, Dragonzel and Valarr also gave up their chance to participate.
"Hehe, rather than fighting with swords, speak with dragonfire." This was a poem sung decades later by a bard attempting to curry favor with that generation's Varezes Family patriarch, though the strict and rigid Silver Dragon scoffed at it.
"My uncle just didn't want this competition to be too predictable," the Prince had said. Although people knew of Valarr's martial prowess, they clearly preferred fictional stories.
However, Valarr, actually in the audience stands, was rather uncomfortable. He sat between his brother and his wife, with Princess Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent behind him. These former best friends were now bitter enemies, and a strange atmosphere enveloped the entire audience section, but the King paid it no mind. For him, getting his wife and daughter to sit together without fighting was already a great victory.
"Monde, how are things progressing?" At the staircase entrance to the audience stands, Lord Hobart Hightower lowered his voice and quietly asked. Ser Monde shook his head: "Varezes is watching too closely. The things we prepared for Prince Aegon can't be used at all."
"Even kinmony isn't working?" Hobart grew anxious. Monde was also somewhat exasperated: "If kinmony worked, what we prepared would already be in storage."
Just then, Dragonzel's voice echoed through the flag-flying jousting arena.
"This jousting tournament will feature two Queens of Love and Beauty, and the final victor will crown both Queens." Dragonzel's voice reverberated in the ears of every knight at the entrance. "One for the mounted joust, one for the team joust. I will crown my wife, Diana, with a wreath of flowers and laurel leaves. My knights Aslan Longdel, Sebastian Jieyan, Hofa the Law-Holder, and Lord Donald Tarly of House Tarly, as well as our young Ser Alan Tarly, will serve as my wife's defenders. You must defeat all of them to take the crown from my wife's head."
Five fully armed knights, mounted on splendid horses, slowly entered the arena. Lord Donald Tarly wore a visored barrel helm, topped with a towering archer, and the Lord was clad in beautiful plate armor, with his emblem enameled on his chest.
The remaining four knights wore the standard plate armor of the Silver Blood Army, with Silver Dragon decorations on their helmets.
"My sister-in-law, Leira, will be the Queen of Love and Beauty for the team joust. Ser Baetimus and my knights Lynn Valtaken and Gonsor Fire-Bringer will lead a seven-man team to defend her crown. If you wish to win, defeat them."
Dragonzel's voice suddenly rose.
"The champion of the mounted joust will receive a Valyrian Steel greatsword." Dragonzel nodded to the side, and Jacaerys ran clatteringly to the other entrance, taking a large box almost as tall as him from a guard.
It was a greatsword adorned with carvings of two mounted warriors, its blade inscribed with blood-red streaks.
"Seven Gods."
The entire jousting arena echoed with the same sound. Everyone gazed at the greatsword with fervent eyes.
"Adrian! Tywin!" Lord Jason Lannister sprang from his chair and rushed to the railing, shouting to the West team outside the arena.
Two knights also removed their visors, their eyes burning. One was the heir of House Tarbeck, eager for the praise of his liege and people, and the other was a cadet branch of House Lannister, but highly valued by Jason for his martial skill.
"Bring that sword back to the family! Adrian, Tywin, whoever wins, as long as you bring it back to the family, land, titles, gold, I'll give you whatever you want!"
"Don't worry, my lord," Adrian shouted confidently. "If possible, I'd rather marry my sun, Lady Tyche Lannister."
"I will personally officiate your wedding!" Lord Jason bellowed. "Bring that sword back."
"I will, my lord," Ser Tywin Lannister responded gravely. "I will bring another 'Lightroar' back to House Lannister."
The same conversation unfolded across the entire jousting arena, especially among the sellswords and landless knights; a Valyrian steel sword meant too much.
"The champion of the team joust will also receive a Valyrian Steel dagger and a reward of three thousand kinmony," Dragonzel announced the remaining prizes. "The champion of the archery contest will receive a reward of five thousand kinmony, and if the champion is not yet knighted, I will immediately knight him."
As his voice faded, streamers exploded.
The knights entered in order, beginning to choose their opponents.
The Kingsguard were also in the arena. These White Knights immediately drew all eyes upon their entry, especially a certain man clad in black dragon plate armor.
"Criston Cole." Prince Daemon spurred his horse forward, his lance lightly tapping the White Knight's breastplate. "Come, let me see if you've improved over the years."
The White Knight captain silently urged his warhorse, slowly moving to the platform below.
The eyes of the elders on the platform suddenly brightened. King Viserys let out a long sigh, and several nobles who had participated in the tournament during Queen Aemma's confinement exchanged glances, all showing strange expressions.
First charge.
Both the Prince's and the captain's lances shattered. The Prince forcefully reined his horse, swapping for a new lance.
"Criston, you've regressed!" the Prince roared, thrusting his lance, striking the White Knight's breastplate hard, but his own breastplate was also hit by Criston's lance.
Both men simultaneously looked up at the sky from horseback.
Criston Cole was the first to recover. The White Knight decisively discarded his broken lance and charged again.
Prince Daemon was a step slow.
His lance broke, and Daemon gripped the reins tightly to avoid falling, while Criston remained steadily on his horse this time.
"You're old," the White Knight captain said coldly.
Another charge, and this time neither side was so lucky. The lances exploded with a crash, and both men fell from their horses almost simultaneously.
"Requesting foot combat!" Daemon scrambled up from the ground without hesitation, rushed to his squire, drew his iron sword, and angrily charged at Criston, who had drawn a mace. Of course, this sword was not Dark Sister.
Hammer met sword, and two shields crashed together.
"It's like this again," Queen Alicent commented expressionlessly. Princess Rhaenyra said nothing; there seemed to be a thick wall between the two women.
"Brother, who will win?" Valarr nudged Dragonzel's arm.
"Neither will win," Dragonzel answered, narrowing his eyes. "Prince Daemon is holding back, but he's old. Ser Criston is still fierce, but his skill seems a bit rusty."
Crack.
Both shields shattered simultaneously. The mace smashed Daemon's shield and then landed on the Prince's breastplate, while the Prince's sword rested against the White Knight captain's throat.
"If my sword were Dark Sister, you'd be dead," Daemon suddenly recalled saying years ago, and repeating it now carried a rather strange implication.
"If I were using my own hammer, you'd be dead too. That's what I said back then," Criston retorted unceremoniously.
In this match, neither side won, so both could remain in the arena.
Knights entered one after another, the sound of shattering lances ceaseless.
"Where's Ray?"
It wasn't until Lord Forrest Frey unhorsed Ser Adrian Tarbeck with three lances that Leira suddenly noticed something.
Her younger uncle beside her was gone.
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