At this point in the competition, there were only a few who dared to face the opponent, the Masked Knight.
In this particular match, there were only three knights standing opposite the Masked Knight. Among them was a young knight renowned as the Loras, Ser Loras Tyrell.
Ser Loras was the youngest son of the Duke of Highgarden and the Warden of the South, Mace Tyrell.
At the age of sixteen, he was perhaps the youngest knight on the field aside from the Masked Knight.
His armor was meticulously crafted, adorned with glazed porcelain containing a myriad of different flowers. His snow-white steed was draped with a red blanket and white roses.
Each time he won, Ser Loras would remove his helmet and pluck a white rose from the red carpet, tossing it to a beautiful maiden in the crowd.
In this tournament, Loras was also a highly popular contender, not only for his skill but also for his appearance.
Unfortunately, he hadn't made it to the final round before encountering the Masked Knight.
No one believed he could be a match for the Masked Knight. Indeed, the Masked Knight's effortless spear skills had no equal on the entire tournament grounds.
Facing such a formidable opponent, Loras exchanged glances with the other two knights and silently reached a consensus, all three aiming their lances at the Masked Knight simultaneously.
"How could he do this? Ser Loras disappoints me greatly," Sansa exclaimed indignantly to her companion, Jenny, unaware of her own previous admiration for Loras .
"This is terribly unfair to the Masked Knight."
Unconsciously, she found herself completely siding with the Masked Knight; his victory and safety had firmly grasped her heart.
However, the Masked Knight paid no heed to the sentiment.
With a graceful gesture, he raised his lance to acknowledge the cheering crowd, causing an uproar of cheers and screams from many ladies and maidens.
With a gentle squeeze of his silver warhorse's flank, the steed obediently started moving, gradually accelerating until it reached its maximum speed within moments.
Then, with precision, he charged toward the Loras on the other side.
The other two knights understood the principle of "united we stand, divided we fall" and galloped in from both sides to flank him.
However, the Masked Knight seemed unperturbed.
At the moment their lances crossed with the Loras, he effortlessly parried with his right hand, deflecting the Loras' lance and causing it to collide with the second knight's lance.
Leveraging this collision, he smoothly twisted his body on horseback, evading the second knight's attack.
His free left hand was not idle either.
He effortlessly caught the spearhead of the third knight, who had darted towards him like lightning, as if plucking a rose, and despite the knight's desperate efforts, he couldn't retrieve his lance from the Masked Knight's grip.
The spectators erupted into cheers as the Masked Knight's terrifying strength and agility once again amazed them.
Without waiting for the Loras and the other knight to launch another attack, the Masked Knight suddenly exerted force with his hand, pulling the third knight down from his horse, even disarming him in the process.
Then, gripping the spear shaft he had wrested away, the Masked Knight swung it toward the direction of the Loras.
Although the Loras narrowly dodged, the second knight had no chance to evade and could only defend himself with his lance.
Unexpectedly, the Masked Knight swiftly switched his attack, thrusting his lance at the second knight with his right hand, the spearhead gleaming silver in the air, piercing through the second knight's defense, striking his shoulder armor gap, and with a forceful upward motion, unseating him as well.
Now, only the Loras remained before him.
Ser Loras swallowed hard, realizing he had no chance of winning this bout. However, his strong pride kept him from surrendering.
Their second clash began.
This time, the Loras didn't have two allies to assist him from the sidelines.
He couldn't withstand the Masked Knight's onslaught, easily dodging his attacks before the Masked Knight shattered his shield with a lance, knocking him off his horse under the powerful impact.
This scene happened to unfold right in front of Sansa's seat.
The dashing Loras was now left embarrassed, and the white rose he had prepared fell from his grasp to the ground.
However, to everyone's surprise, the Masked Knight didn't leave the field. With a graceful movement, he picked up the fallen white rose.
Under the watchful eyes of the audience, as his silver horse halted before Sansa, she felt her heart almost burst.
"My lady," he said, "no victory is as great as half as beautiful as you are. I haven't prepared a gift, so I'll make do with this temporary one. Please forgive the rudeness."
Sansa shyly accepted the flower, completely captivated by his gallantry.
Through the cracks in his armor, she glimpsed his black eyes, deep as obsidian yet shining like mercury.
She inhaled the sweet scent of the rose deeply, holding onto it tightly even as the Masked Knight rode away.
In another corner of the audience, dressed as a swordsman with the Needle at her waist, Arya watched in the direction of Sansa with some discontent.
"Why would someone like the Masked Knight give flowers to someone like her, a delicate flower?" she complained to the man beside her.
"This Masked Knight, turns out he's just another vain guy."
The man was her swordsmanship teacher, Syrio Forel, a master swordsman and former First Sword of Braavos.
Yet at this moment, he was watching the Masked Knight's departure with admiration in his eyes.
"I've always told you, to become a formidable swordsman, one must possess keen perception, graceful movements, and control over fear. "
"This Masked Knight, not only does he possess great strength, but his movements are also remarkably agile.
Each thrust is unexpected, aiming at vital spots. He has truly mastered the essence of the rapier.
He's a formidable opponent. The duel just now was perfect, he had balance of everything. It's unprecedented. I'd love to challenge him."
Such high praise astonished Arya because even for formidable opponents like Jaime Lannister or Ser Gregor Clegane, her master had never given such high praise.
"If he were to compare himself with you, who would be stronger?" Arya asked foolishly.
"Although I'm reluctant to admit it, but..." Syrio Forel shook his head with regret and smiled bitterly, "I'm no match for him."
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