The morning mist had not yet fully dispersed, but the training ground in Willow Wood City was already crowded with people.
Brynden Tully stood in the center of the field, temporarily acting as the announcer for this trial. Although he had learned from a Riverrun Knight that Arthur had crushed a Knight in the Dairycaster army, no matter how he looked at it, this young man did not resemble a powerful swordsman.
His face was solemn, his voice echoing in the cold air, with a somewhat suppressed anger. Both sides had refused his mediation, both claiming that blood must be shed.
"In the name of the Seven Gods, let the trial begin."
"Both parties may only use swords, and bear full responsibility for life and death. No one else may interfere."
Roger Lygg slowly walked into the arena. He was clad in a gleaming set of full plate armor, each step producing a heavy metallic scraping sound.
In his hand, he tightly gripped a family longsword adorned with the Willow Wood family crest, his eyes burning with the fire of vengeance, his aura menacing.
Moments later, Arthur also entered the field. He wore only a light black leather armor, with the narrow mier longsword hanging at his waist.
No shield, not even a helmet, nothing but a faint smile. Everyone looked at him in astonishment; they had never seen anyone wear light armor in a trial by combat. This was simply suicide.
Brin, Olivier, all the soldiers who cared about him held their breath, swallowing constantly. Only Lucien stood tall, chest out, with pride on his face, while some veterans wore the same smile as Arthur.
When Blackfish's hand swept downwards,
announcing the start of the trial by combat, Roger Lygg immediately charged from the other end.
His rage did not overly affect his explosive power despite his heavy armor. He was like an enraged bull, his longsword whistling as it cleaved down towards Arthur's head.
Arthur did not meet the blow head-on. His steps were light and quick, his body slightly turned, and the longsword almost grazed the hem of his clothes as it struck the ground,
kicking up a cloud of dust.
Roger, having missed his strike, immediately pivoted his sword and swept it horizontally.
Arthur stepped back, the tip of the sword just narrowly missing him. His movements were so quick and without a single wasted motion.
Blackfish's eyes widened, and Robin Lygg was also filled with shock.
Time passed minute by minute, and the training ground only echoed with Roger's increasingly heavy gasps and the whistling sound of his longsword.
Arthur, however, was like a cat playing with a snake, weaving through the swinging longsword, always maintaining a subtle distance from his opponent.
Watching Roger grow increasingly fatigued, his voice came clearly, with a hint of a smile: "Is your sword too slow, Lord Roger?"
"It seems your armor is too heavy, my Lord."
"Do you want to rest and start over?"
These words were like a whip, lashing at Roger Lygg's nerves. Arthur's smile, to him, sounded like mockery.
He roared: "Shut up!"
His attacks became even more frenzied and disorganized. The longsword hacked and missed repeatedly. Each miss
drained his already dwindling stamina. His body beneath the armor began to sweat profusely, and his breathing grew heavier, like an old bellows.
The initial tension among Arthur's soldiers watching had completely vanished. They understood what was happening: their Lord was toying with Roger Lygg.
Arthur was like an elegant dancer, performing a deadly dance on the edge of death, like a cat, and Roger Lygg was the mouse he played with in the palm of his hand.
Cheers of Arthur's name began to rise sporadically, then merged into a chorus.
"Long live Lord Arthur!"
"Long live Lord Arthur!"
Roger's movements became increasingly sluggish, the weight of his armor now his greatest burden. The scene before his eyes began to blur, and anger was replaced by exhaustion and despair.
He knew he couldn't get his revenge; the outcome of this trial by combat was decided.
Finally, after another futile desperate swing, Roger Lygg's foot slipped. He could no longer support his body and fell to his knees, gasping for breath like a broken bellows.
The entire arena fell silent instantly, everyone holding their breath.
They looked at Roger Lygg on the ground, then at the unharmed Arthur.
Blackfish remained silent, Robin sighed, and the two dozen Knights from Riverrun were also greatly shocked. What kind of combat was this? But it was over, after all. Arthur had not attacked at all, which meant he did not intend to kill Roger Lygg.
In their view, Arthur would show noble mercy, just as he had previously shown deference to Riverrun, respect for the nobles, and had consistently tried to give Roger a chance for a dignified negotiation.
He would help Roger up, declare the trial over, then pardon him, giving him a dignified end.
Arthur slowly walked to Roger Lygg's front.
He looked down at the fat Roger struggling and gasping in his armor, his eyes filled with deep-seated hatred for him.
Arthur's smiling gaze swept across the entire field, over Brynden Tully, over Robin Lygg, over the Knights of Riverrun,
over his own soldiers.
Everyone's breathing quieted, awaiting Arthur's next move.
Arthur took a step back, without a hint of hesitation, and the longsword passed through the gap in the gorget, piercing his throat.
Bloody foam gushed from the helmet's crevices.
The entire arena was silent.
Arthur expressionlessly pulled out his sword.
A single sword stroke to behead.
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