"You're right, Ser."
Rhaegar was at a loss for words, but that didn't stop him from disliking the bloody tournaments.
After saying "I'm hungry" to Rhaenyra, he got up and walked straight toward the feast area.
The senseless slaughter had turned his stomach, and he desperately needed some fruit to cleanse his palate.
Ser Erryk shrugged and followed behind him as his guard.
…
After the jousting rounds, there were still archery contests, melees, and duels to come.
After several rounds of bloody and thrilling matches, the competition moved on to the duels.
The rules were simple: two combatants donned armor and fought with weapons until one either surrendered or died.
Commonly referred to as a "single combat."
The first two duels were highly entertaining. The knights swung swords and flails, their weapons clashing with a metallic clang that thrilled the crowd.
Thanks to the excellent protection offered by their armor, the worst injuries amounted to cuts and bruises. There were rarely cases of severe maiming or death.
The combatants in the arena weren't fools, either.
They were here for honor and gold. Having already shown their skills before the kingdom's noble lords, why fight to the death? As long as the fight was intense enough, the nobles would cheer and throw coin, unable to tell whether the duel was genuine or merely a performance.
The third duel began shortly.
One fighter was Ser Barth the Iron Hammer, a knight from Ironoaks in the Vale.
This knight was a towering figure with a rugged appearance. He wore silvery-gray armor, wielding a war hammer in one hand and a shield in the other.
His opponent was a young man with brown skin, clad in light armor and armed with a long spear.
It was clear he hailed from Dorne.
It's worth mentioning:
Although Aegon the Conqueror had unified the Seven Kingdoms, the Dornish never truly acknowledged the Targaryen dynasty's rule and had been in near-constant rebellion for years.
It wasn't until the final years of Aegon I's life that Prince Martell of Dorne sent representatives to negotiate peace. Only then did the long-standing conflict between the Targaryens and the Dornish come to an end.
Of course, while open war ceased, skirmishes and minor raids never truly stopped.
The Dornish, known for their fierce and unruly ways, often raided neighboring territories, causing trouble for the realm.
Watching the Dornishman in the arena, Rhaenyra, who had grown bored, finally found some interest.
"Who would've thought a Dornish warrior would join the tournament this time?"
She glanced at Ser Criston Cole standing beside her and curiously asked, "Who do you think will win?"
Ser Criston chuckled, "How could I know before the fight even starts?"
"They say the Dornish are fierce and skilled in combat—savages who eat raw meat and drink blood. I wonder if it's true?"
Rhaenyra's eyes gleamed with anticipation.
The referee blew the horn, signaling the start of the duel.
Barth hid his face behind his helm, swinging his war hammer as he cautiously advanced. He dared not let his guard down.
He had heard tales of the Dornish—brutal and ruthless fighters.
There was no room for carelessness; who knew how savage his opponent might be?
In contrast, the Dornish youth was relaxed, twirling his spear and pacing back and forth, taunting his opponent.
"Big guy, why didn't you stay in the forge hammering iron? Don't waste that lousy hammer of yours."
As he spoke, he dodged nimbly from side to side, adding psychological pressure on Barth.
Barth, having never seen true battle, lacked the mental fortitude of a seasoned warrior. Provoked by the insults, he struggled to keep his temper in check.
"Brown-skinned monkey! I hope your head is as hard as your mouth, or it'll be crushed by my hammer!"
Seizing a moment when the Dornishman leapt aside, Barth lunged forward and swung his war hammer in a horizontal arc, aiming to strike him at the waist.
The audience watched with bated breath, their eyes wide with anticipation for a blood-soaked spectacle.
"Fool. You're too slow."
The Dornishman rolled on the ground, narrowly dodging the hammer's blow.
Planting his feet to halt the roll, he thrust his spear into the weak joint of Barth's leg armor, instantly drawing a spray of blood.
"Ah! Damn you, Dornishman!"
The pain ignited Barth's ferocity. Roaring in anger, he raised his war hammer for another strike, intent on smashing the Dornishman's skull.
Unfortunately for him, the Dornishman was far too agile.
Rolling to the side like a donkey dodging a kick, he yanked the spear out of Barth's leg and drove it into the vulnerable spot in his lower back.
*Schlick!*
The spear pierced clean through. Barth staggered, dropping to his knees as blood seeped from his armor.
With a single strike, the Dornish youth gained the upper hand, but instead of pressing his advantage, he circled the fallen Bart, scrutinizing him intently.
With a mocking expression, he sneered, "This knight from the Vale, you don't seem very friendly toward us Dornish folk, do you?"
Pulling the spear from Bart's wound amid his cries of agony, he continued, "You call me a brown-skinned monkey, but what about you Vale people?"
"Hairless goats, perhaps?"
Bart struggled to stand, but the youth kicked him back down. Humiliation filled Bart's heart as he shouted, "You despicable Dornishman! If you have any guts, face me in a fair fight! Stop jumping around like a monkey!"
"Hahaha! What a clever suggestion—demanding someone use their weakness to match your strength," the Dornish youth taunted openly. "On a battlefield, do you expect your enemies to stand still for you, you Vale goat?"
"Damn you, bastard! Die!"
Having lost all reason, Bart gripped his warhammer tightly and swung it low, aiming to break the youth's ankle while he was still talking.
But the Dornish youth had been on guard. With a light leap, he dodged Bart's long-planned ambush. Then, with a downward thrust of his spear, he pierced Bart's right hand, which gripped the hammer.
With a flick of the spear, Bart's hand was severed, eliciting a blood-curdling scream.
*Thud—*
As the scream left Bart's lips, the Dornish youth kneed him viciously in the chin, forcing him to swallow his cry. Without pause, he tore off Bart's helmet, exposing the vulnerable head beneath.
Grinning cruelly, the Dornish youth kicked Bart in the mouth with brutal force.
Teeth, mixed with blood, poured from Bart's mouth as he could only whimper in despair. With his head reeling from the blows, Bart collapsed to the ground, his body convulsing slightly.
The Dornish youth planted the tip of his spear against Bart's throat, turning to address the onlookers around the arena. "Look at this! Such a brave knight from the Vale, refusing to surrender even in the face of death!"
As he spoke, he pressed his heavy leather boot onto Bart's face, grinding it back and forth.
Seeing this, the audience's expressions changed drastically.
This was no longer a simple duel—it had turned into one-sided torture.
Knocking out Bart's teeth to prevent surrender was nothing short of sadistic humiliation.
King Viserys's face darkened with fury as he turned to his Hand of the King, Leonor, and bellowed, "Who is this Dornish savage? He has no honor or decency! Is this his way of flaunting his arrogance before everyone here?"
Leonor, dabbing at his sweatless forehead with a handkerchief, explained nervously, "Your Grace, the Dornishman in the arena is Digar Orléans. When he registered for the tournament, he expressed deep respect for you and said he wanted to put on an impressive show."
"This is what you call an impressive show?"
Viserys's anger flared. "Dornishmen have never known gratitude. You should charge him with theft and lock him in the dungeons until he rots!"
"My apologies, Your Grace," Leonor replied, bowing his head in guilt. "All we can do now is hope he ends Sir Bart's life quickly, minimizing any further negative impact."
"Do you think I need you to tell me that?"
Viserys snorted coldly, dismissing him with a wave.
In the arena, the Dornish youth continued his antics, leaping and shouting taunts.
"I've heard the Vale boasts many warriors. How is it that this knight is so weak? Could someone have taken a bribe to let him in?"
---
(End of the chapter)