Accompanied by the thunderous cheers of men and the startled cries of women, two warhorses raced past each other at breathtaking speed.
Crash!
Crash!
Two deafening impacts rang out almost simultaneously.
Both knights struck true against their opponent’s shield.
Their lances shattered into splinters that exploded through the air.
Before the fragments could even finish falling to the ground, the riders had already reached the ends of the lists, wheeled their mounts around, and prepared for yet another charge.
William Whent accepted a fresh lance from a servant without thinking.
Through the narrow slit of his helm, he stared at the towering knight opposite him and felt a flicker of panic.
Garlan the Gallant really lives up to his reputation.
I’m practically cheating with magic, and he’s still matching me blow for blow.
Don’t tell me he’s cheating too?
While grumbling inwardly, William silently recited a spell.
His immense mental energy transformed into magical power that flowed through his body.
Warmth spread through every limb, washing away exhaustion as if it had never existed.
Jousting was far more physically demanding than it appeared.
Without magic, William doubted he could have lasted this long.
The brief respite vanished in an instant.
The warhorn sounded once more.
Its deep, resonant call signaled the beginning of another pass, and the crowd immediately erupted again.
William fixed his gaze on the seemingly indestructible figure across the field.
His concentration sharpened.
The roaring crowd faded.
The sweat running down his face beneath the helm disappeared from his awareness.
The entire world narrowed until only two people remained.
Him and Garlan Tyrell.
Instinct took over.
Spur the horse.
Accelerate.
Charge.
Lower the lance.
Strike!
The two mounts crossed.
For a split second, William hesitated.
Maybe I should change my angle this time…
Wait, that’s bad!
Crash!
The instant he realized his lance had failed to land solidly, an overwhelming force slammed into his chest.
William was launched clean off his horse.
He felt the protective spell he had prepared absorb the worst of the impact before instantly shattering.
A moment later, he crashed into the ground.
Dust exploded skyward.
He rolled several times before finally coming to a stop, carving a deep furrow through the dirt.
For a moment, his thoughts simply ceased to function.
Only three questions remained.
Who am I?
Where am I?
What’s for dinner?
The collective gasp of thousands drifted toward him as though from another world.
It became a distant, humming roar.
Lying flat on his back beneath the blazing sun, William squinted.
The sunlight seemed unbearably bright.
There was blood in his mouth.
The metallic taste wasn’t particularly pleasant, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant either.
So this is what being unhorsed feels like.
At least I’ve finally experienced it.
The thought had barely crossed his mind when pain exploded through his body.
Starting from his chest, agony surged outward like a rising tide.
Every muscle.
Every bone.
Every nerve.
The sheer intensity nearly knocked him unconscious.
Reflexively, he cast a healing spell on himself.
Thankfully, his magic hadn’t weakened.
The moment the spell ended, cool relief spread through his body.
The pain receded as quickly as it had come.
William sucked in several deep breaths.
No.
That was the real feeling of being unhorsed.
Absolutely brutal.
A shrill trumpet sounded.
The match was over.
The crowd exploded into celebration.
Everyone cheered wildly for the victor.
Only a handful of servants rushed toward the loser, scrambling under a maester’s furious instructions.
======= On the main viewing platform, Lord Randyll Tarly of Horn Hill enthusiastically applauded.
“That was the eleventh pass, wasn’t it?
Gods above, I haven’t seen a lance duel this magnificent in years.” “Indeed,” agreed Lord Jon Fossoway of New Barrel.
“This tourney will be remembered for that final alone.” The surrounding lords and knights quickly joined in.
Everyone felt privileged to have witnessed such an extraordinary contest.
Nearby sat a group of noblewomen.
As the only daughter of Lord Mace Tyrell and famed throughout the Seven Kingdoms for her beauty, Margaery Tyrell naturally attracted attention wherever she went.
At the moment, she was trying not to laugh while looking at the woman beside her.
“Come now, dear Leonette.
Have a little faith in my brother.
He is Garlan the Gallant, after all.” Leonette Fossoway cautiously opened her eyes.
She saw Garlan lifting his visor while saluting the crowd.
The handsome face.
The charming smile.
Relief immediately flooded her features.
After acknowledging the spectators, Garlan noticed several servants desperately attempting to remove William’s badly damaged breastplate.
He rode over to the maester standing nearby.
Lowering himself slightly in the saddle, he asked, “How is he, Maester?” Maester Daedalos was a handsome middle-aged man who had sprinted across the field almost as fast as the servants.
He shook his head.
“It doesn’t look good, Ser.
That blow nearly sent him flying.” “It did send him flying, Maester.” William offered his own correction.
“Like a bird and I feel perfectly fine.” When William attempted to sit up, Daedalos immediately stopped him.
“Don’t move, Ser!
If you’ve broken something, movement could make the injury far worse.” “Very well, Maester.
To be honest, I don’t mind resting a little longer.
After all, if you fall somewhere, shouldn’t you spend a while lying there?” Then he turned toward Garlan.
“Thank you for your concern, Ser Garlan.” Garlan relaxed visibly.
William was the strongest opponent he had ever faced.
The last thing he wanted was to see a promising young warrior crippled because of one tournament match.
“Your sense of humor is reassuring.
I’ll speak with you again shortly.” After nodding to the maester, he rode toward the stands amid deafening chants.
“Garlan!” “Garlan!” “Garlan!” The nobles showered Garlan with praise and congratulations.
The Reach admired martial skill above almost everything else.
As both a renowned knight and the son of the Lord of Highgarden, Garlan naturally received even greater admiration.
He responded graciously to everyone.
After the formalities ended, Lady Mellara accepted the crown of flowers representing the Queen of Love and Beauty and handed it to him.
The crowd gradually quieted.
Everyone knew what came next.
Under countless watchful eyes, Garlan rode toward the section where Margaery and Leonette sat.
He first exchanged a smile with his sister.
Then he turned toward Leonette.
The affection in his eyes was unmistakable.
Leonette could scarcely believe it.
Neither she nor Garlan stood to inherit their family’s lands, granting them far greater freedom in choosing whom they loved.
They had fallen for each other at a feast nearly a year ago.
Since then, their relationship had only grown stronger.
Yet neither had ever openly spoken the words.
By tradition, the champion of the joust crowned either his wife or betrothed as Queen of Love and Beauty.
If unmarried, the honor usually went to the host’s daughter.
Exceptions were rare.
Especially when prize money was involved.
Although Lord Randyll’s daughters sat nearby, Leonette suddenly sensed what Garlan intended.
Hope blossomed inside her.
Yet the brighter the hope, the more terrifying disappointment would be.
Her hands clenched tightly.
Her knuckles turned white.
Fortunately, Garlan didn’t leave her waiting.
His voice rang across the tourney grounds.
“Lady Leonette Fossoway.
Your beauty dims the stars themselves.
Your smile steals my breath.
Without question, you are my Queen of Love and Beauty.” The instant he finished speaking, Margaery rose to applaud.
The noblewomen around her followed suit.
The applause spread outward like ripples on water.
Soon the entire crowd was cheering.
Leonette felt as though happiness itself might overwhelm her.
Countless words filled her heart.
Yet under the gaze of thousands, she couldn’t speak a single one.
Pressing a hand against her racing heart, she stepped closer and lowered her head shyly.
As Garlan placed the flower crown upon her hair, another thunderous roar swept across the grounds.
Moments ago, the crowd had celebrated a warrior.
Now they celebrated love.
======= In a largely ignored corner of the field, servants finally succeeded in cutting apart William’s horribly mangled breastplate.
Maester Daedalos quickly examined him.
To his astonishment, William had suffered little more than bruises and superficial injuries.
The maester could hardly believe it.
After receiving confirmation that he was perfectly healthy, William immediately prepared to slip away.
As the defeated challenger, he had a problem.
A very expensive problem.
The ruined armor was one thing.
His horse was another.
That warhorse had cost over four golden dragons.
If Garlan demands ransom rights, my purse is finished.
The crowning of the Queen of Love and Beauty marked the final event of the tournament.
Once Leonette received the wreath, the festivities officially ended.
Unfortunately, while Garlan had been busy displaying affection in public, he clearly hadn’t forgotten William.
The moment William took hold of his horse’s reins, he spotted Garlan riding over.
Escape was impossible.
With a sigh, he removed his helmet and displayed his brightest smile.
Garlan dismounted several paces away and approached while leading his horse.
“Ser Whent, allow me to introduce myself properly.
I am Garlan Tyrell, second son of the Lord of Highgarden.” “It is an honor to meet you, Ser Garlan.
I’ve heard of you for a very long time.” Long before I ever arrived in Westeros.
“My name is William Whent.
I have yet to receive my knighthood, so William is fine.” Garlan smiled.
“Very well, William.
Though in my eyes, you’ve already proven yourself a true knight.
You may call me Garlan as well.” “Of course, Ser.
No problem at all, Ser.” William even offered a formal knightly salute.
Garlan laughed.
This wasn’t the first time he’d paid attention to the young man.
Horn Hill’s tournament wasn’t particularly large, but it included all the standard competitions: archery, melee, and jousting.
Most serious jousters skipped the melee.
A single injury could ruin their chances in the main event.
Only someone like William, who could secretly heal himself with magic, would dare enter every competition available.
Provided the prize money was attractive enough.
Garlan was naturally cautious.
He had desperately wanted to win the crown for Leonette.
Therefore, he had only observed the melee from the sidelines.
Yet from the beginning, one participant stood out.
William moved with remarkable agility.
His positioning was elusive and unpredictable.
He survived the chaotic early stages completely unscathed.
Then, once the field had narrowed, he suddenly became aggressive.
Facing two opponents at once, he defeated both and claimed victory.
Later, Garlan learned even more.
Though still technically a squire, William Whent had earned the nickname “The Magic Knight.” Over the previous year, he had swept through tournaments around Oldtown, winning both the melee and jousting championships at Highgarden’s neighboring tourneys in Three Towers, Blackcrown, Honeyholt, and other Reach castles.
His reputation had grown rapidly.
As a result, Garlan had looked forward to today’s match immensely and he wasn’t disappointed.
The victory carried real weight.
A triumph worthy of the feelings he held for Leonette.
While the two young men exchanged appreciative smiles, a dark-haired, heavyset boy approached them.
His round face looked harmless.
His gray eyes were clear and gentle.
Stammering nervously, he said, “S-Ser Garlan, Ser William.
I am Samwell Tarly, son of Lord Randyll Tarly.
Forgive the interruption.” “Oh, Sam.
I know who you are.” William smiled.
I’ve known who you are since before I came to Westeros.
Unfortunately, the smile only made Sam even more nervous.
He froze awkwardly, unsure how to respond.
Garlan sighed inwardly.
It was difficult to imagine a son less like Randyll Tarly.
Still, he stepped in to help.
“This concerns the two warlocks from Qarth, doesn’t it?
I heard William sponsored them.
What brings you here, Sam?” “My father asked me to formally invite Ser William to tonight’s feast.
Until it begins, I’m to attend both of you and provide whatever assistance you require.” Unlike Garlan, who had been invited personally, William had arrived at the tournament uninvited.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t attend the feast.
But without a formal invitation, he’d be eating with hedge knights, freeriders, and retainers outside the main hall.
For a noble of House Whent, that would reflect poorly on both host and guest.
No matter how diminished House Whent had become, they remained a legitimate noble house.
They deserved proper respect.
That was why Lord Randyll had immediately sent his heir to extend an official invitation.
William’s mood brightened instantly.
Sure, I lost the championship and missed out on ten thousand silver stags.
But becoming friends with Garlan Tyrell isn’t a bad consolation prize.
One day I’m definitely backing Daenerys Targaryen.
Compared to Jorah Mormont, I won’t be the most loyal.
Compared to Barristan Selmy, I won’t be the wisest.
So what advantage do I have?
Westeros itself.
If I can save Eddard Stark, protect the Riverlands during the War of the Five Kings, and expose Littlefinger’s role in Jon Arryn’s murder.
The Stark, Tully, and Arryn would owe me enormous favors.
And if I build ties with House Tyrell as well…
Then when Daenerys returns, wouldn’t I practically hand half of Westeros to her without a battle?
With achievements like that, surely I’d earn a title like Lord of Harrenhal.
Then another thought occurred to him.
Wait…
House Whent only kept its title after Robert’s Rebellion because Lord Hoster Tully intervened on their behalf.
Replacing them entirely feels a little ungrateful.
Well, if Daenerys absolutely insists on elevating House Whent status, who am I to disobey a queen’s command?
I suppose I’d have no choice but to accept…
Heh heh heh…
The more William thought about it, the happier he became.
Naturally, he accepted the invitation.