The Tourney arrived as scheduled, with thousands of people flocking to the grounds. While the tourney might indeed be considered overly extravagant and wasteful for the royal family, the common folk of the city wished such events could be held every day.
Despite the chaos in the city, the rapidly swelling purses of the merchants did not lie.
Tavern owners counted their coins until their hands cramped, brothel owners couldn't stop grinning, and even the most destitute and impoverished singers received tips from various knightly lords.
Sansa and the steward's daughter, Jeyne Poole, quickly found the seats Eddard had prepared for them.
Sansa had specifically requested her father for seats near the front, so they could admire the elegance of the handsome knights from a closer vantage point.
Today, Sansa wore a red gown. It was very form-fitting, accentuating her developing figure well. Actually, she had originally wanted to wear a green gown, as she felt that color would better complement her auburn hair.
However, when Joffrey came to take her for a walk a couple of days ago, she noticed that the Prince favored red clothing. She hoped to look more harmonious when standing beside him.
The two squeezed through the surging crowds and soon took their places in the front row. These were the most sought-after seats in the stands. After Sansa sat down, she noticed a very beautiful girl sitting to her left, appearing to be around her own age.
She looked at the girl, and the girl looked back at her.
Sansa noticed the girl had gentle eyes and brown curly hair that cascaded down to her shoulders. Her skin was fair, her features bright, and she possessed an elegant temperament that clearly marked her as being from a great house.
"Hello, I am Margaery Tyrell, it's a pleasure to meet you." Her smile was sweet and shy, and two small dimples added a touch of playfulness.
"Hello, I am Sansa Stark." Sansa thought to herself: So she is from House Tyrell of Highgarden; she really is beautiful.
"I heard you are Prince Joffrey's betrothed; I truly envy you. I've heard the Prince is not only very handsome but also quite approachable."
Margaery Tyrell was not only beautiful but also very skilled at conversation, able to quickly gain the trust and friendship of others with her sweet words.
"It's... it's alright." Sansa was quickly elated by her sweet talk. Although she maintained the composure of a Duke's eldest daughter on the surface, the corners of her mouth were turning up uncontrollably.
The image of Joffrey's handsome face kept appearing in her mind. She thought: Joffrey mentioned that day he might participate in the tourney, and he was quite mysterious about it, telling me not to tell anyone. How strange.
Suddenly, a drumbeat interrupted her thoughts, followed by the mingling sounds of drums and horns. She quickly sat closer to Margaery Tyrell, as the knights were about to enter the field.
Sure enough, after that drumbeat, the knights entered the field one after another. Sansa Stark widened her eyes, afraid to miss the grand entrance of any handsome and dashing knight.
Knighthood is perhaps the most romanticized profession in the world of Ice and Fire, with countless popular ballads and romantic legends surrounding them.
The common people always held the knightly class in great respect, because upon becoming a knight, one needed to be anointed with holy oils and swear before the Sept of the Seven to protect the weak and punish evil.
In the history of Westeros, knights carried not only the responsibility and loyalty of protecting the realm and their lords, but also the romance of guarding their beloved and fidelity to love. Their stories were written into songs and passed down to this day.
The first to appear were the King's seven Kingsguard. Being a Kingsguard is the highest honor for a knight, drawing everyone's gaze wherever they go.
They were all clad in white armor and white cloaks, carrying longswords, with their cloaks behind them as white as snow.
Only Ser Jaime Lannister was different from the other six. He was covered in golden armor from head to toe, wielding a golden sword. Wearing a lion-crested helm and a beast-hide belt, he looked truly majestic.
Following closely behind was Ser Gregor Clegane, the 'Mountain'. He was massive, passing before everyone's eyes like a powerful beast.
He came from a landed knight family: House Clegane. His grandfather was responsible for keeping dogs for Tywin Lannister's father, Lord Tytos Lannister, the 'Laughing Lion'. He once saved Lord Tytos from a lion's jaws and was thus knighted. His family sigil features the three loyal hounds that killed the lion.
Sansa saw Ser Yohn Royce further back in the line. He was the Lord of Runestone and the head of House Royce, sworn to House Arryn of the Vale. People called him 'Bronze Yohn'.
Legend has it that the runes on his bronze armor are magical and can protect him from harm. This suit of armor has been passed down for thousands of years.
Following 'Bronze Yohn' were his two sons, Andar Royce and Robar Royce.
(As a side note, Yohn Royce's third son is named Waymar Royce. Waymar Royce is the Night's Watchman who was the first to die at the hands of the Others at the beginning of Game of Thrones.)
Then, a bald man walked through the crowd; he was Thoros of Myr. During the Greyjoy Rebellion, he fought bravely, being the first to scale the walls of Pyke wielding a flaming sword. Because of this, he is often praised by later generations.
When the 'Knight of Flowers', Loras Tyrell, made his entrance, the girls in the stands raised their flowers high, constantly shouting his name—Loras Tyrell! Sansa looked at Loras and then at Margaery Tyrell beside her, feeling that the two looked so much alike.
Loras Tyrell had beautiful brown curly hair, and his brown eyes sparkled with golden light in the sun.
His armor could be said to be the most magnificent and beautiful of all the knights present, with everything from the breastplate to the barding engraved with the signature rose patterns of Highgarden. His cloak was adorned with freshly picked, fragrant flowers.
Loras rode his horse slowly and gracefully, waving to the stands and then offering a pure smile toward his friend Renly Baratheon.
Sansa hadn't seen the knights who appeared afterward, so Septa Mordane pointed out their names and houses one by one.
Many of these were young lords from third- or fourth-tier minor noble houses, and some hedge knights also came to join the excitement. They came from Highgarden, the Riverlands, and some had even traveled from as far as Dorne.
Jeyne watched Lord Beric Dondarrion, the 'Lightning Lord' of Blackhaven, pass by. Her eyes sparkled, and she insisted she wanted to marry him.
Following the grand entrance of the knights, the various banners behind them also came into view. All sorts of patterns mingled and fluttered in the wind, each representing a house.
Just as Sansa and everyone else thought the entrance phase had ended, another knight suddenly appeared at the very end of the line.
Compared to those before him, this final mystery knight looked much less impressive. Sansa saw him wearing a suit of old armor. Although well-maintained, it still couldn't hide the wear and tear of time, appearing rusty in places.
What Sansa found somewhat strange was that the heraldry on this armor was the crowned stag of House Baratheon. She wondered when House Baratheon had become so poor.
The man was tall and heavily built. He had no squire following him; usually, squires would carry the banners for the knightly lords.
He carried the crowned stag banner on his left shoulder and held a massive warhammer in his right hand, which looked exceptionally heavy just by its appearance. Fortunately, his warhorse was also very strong, otherwise it might not have been able to support the weight of his entire gear. The antlered helm he wore firmly concealed his face, inviting speculation.
Not only was Sansa curious about his identity, but many spectators in the stands were as well.
This was a special tradition of the tourney; every tournament would see a few mystery knights who concealed their faces, adding a layer of suspense to the already grand event.
Only by defeating them could their visors be lifted. This tradition was loved not only by the nobles but also by the common people.
However, while people were curious, Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard in the stands suddenly looked at King Robert Baratheon, who was drinking heavily.
He recognized it; that suit of armor belonged to Robert. Among those still alive who participated in that war, he was perhaps the one who knew that armor best.
The earth-shattering blow on the Ruby Ford years ago remained deeply etched in his memory. That single strike not only killed Rhaegar, the Crown Prince of the former Targaryen dynasty, but also hammered the final nail into the coffin of the Targaryen line.
But who was inside the armor now? Barristan Selmy thought it might be the King's former guard, Borin Storm. After seeing the King's eyes constantly fixed on the field, the more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed.
Once everyone had entered, the herald began to explain the rules of this tourney.
This tourney had two events. The first and most crucial event was the joust.
Two armored knights on warhorses would charge at each other head-to-head, using specially crafted blunted lances to attack. Whoever could unhorse their opponent first would be the winner. The format was a one-on-one elimination tournament.
The second event was the melee. As the name suggests, the rule was for many participating knights to fight as individuals in a multi-person brawl to achieve final victory.
...
As the drums and horns sounded, the first event began. Several contestants entered the field in order according to the tournament brackets.
The first to appear was Jory Cassel, the captain of the Winterfell guards. Sansa felt his gear was too simple, and Septa Mordane nodded in agreement.
However, Jory Cassel's martial skills were indeed extraordinary. He defeated three opponents in succession before narrowly losing to Lothor Brune.
AI Model: gemini-3.1-flash-lite
The next to enter the lists was Ser Beric Dondarrion, the husband of Jeyne's own choosing; as he appeared, Jeyne cheered for him incessantly from the front row.
He fought bravely, defeating two opponents in succession. Finally, when facing his friend Thoros of Myr, his horse was spooked by the other man's flaming sword, causing him to be defeated.
Notably, as he retreated after his defeat, he gifted the necklace bearing his lightning bolt sigil to the young girl Jeyne, who had been cheering for him the whole time, and kissed the back of her hand, which left Jeyne so excited she nearly fainted.
The next pair to enter the lists was Ser Gregor Clegane, "The Mountain", and his opponent, Hugh.
Hugh mounted his horse unsteadily, his legs trembling incessantly. He had only wanted to make an appearance at the tourney, never expecting that, damn it, he would run into that monster, Ser Gregor Clegane, in the very first round.
He encouraged himself, summoning all his courage to lift his lance. Although he knew the lance was blunted and unlikely to kill, his heart still hammered in his chest. However, he had to take the field.
The drums signaling the start of the joust had sounded, and he saw the gardener's daughter he loved sitting in the stands, gazing at him with beautiful eyes.
Hugh waved at her, then took a deep breath and puffed out his chest, trying his best to look fierce as he rode forward toward the fluttering banners.
"Lord Stark, the man opposite The Mountain is the former squire of the late Hand of the King."
In the stands, Petyr Baelish, sitting next to Eddard, suddenly brightened, pointing out Hugh to Eddard Stark as the man suspected of knowing something about the death of the late Hand, Jon Arryn.
Eddard Stark turned his head to look in the direction he was pointing; on the surface, there was indeed nothing suspicious about this Hugh.
Meanwhile, Ser Gregor Clegane, "The Mountain", also entered the lists; his massive, towering frame sat there like a looming mountain, and merely standing there was enough to exert an incredibly heavy, invisible pressure on his opponent.
Eddard Stark kept his gaze fixed on The Mountain, a flash of anger rising in his heart. This man was the knight he despised most; The Mountain's atrocities could no longer be described merely as heinous.
Years ago, he had demanded that Robert execute this man, but Robert, considering the position of House Lannister, had let him go.
"Lord Stark, let us go and ask Hugh for the truth once this joust is over."
"Then let us wait until it is over."
As the second drumbeat sounded, the joust began. Ser Gregor Clegane suddenly exerted force, squeezing his horse's flanks, and charged first. Hugh, nervous, was a beat slow, but he gritted his teeth and followed suit.
He watched as The Mountain's charging speed increased, the distance between them closing rapidly. Hugh felt as if he could already hear the pounding, accelerating heartbeat of The Mountain.
Closer! Ever closer! As the lance in Gregor Clegane's hand suddenly thrust forward, the two lances met. Hugh felt a massive, meteor-like impact slam into the armor on his chest, and he flew straight off his galloping horse like a kite with a broken string.
The moment he hit the ground, he felt dizzy, and the intense pain throughout his body nearly made him faint.
At first, he didn't think much of it, but just as he came to his senses, he felt his face grow wet. Could that horse have urinated on his head? That damn stupid horse!
But immediately after, he felt a sudden sharp pain in his throat. At that moment, he heard a cry of "No!" from the stands nearby; he recognized the voice—it was the woman he loved.
He began to struggle for breath; he finally understood that the wet liquid on his face was his own blood.
Then, he heard the pounding heartbeat he had heard earlier fade, gradually falling silent. He knew now: what he had heard was not The Mountain's heartbeat, but his own cowardly heart, fearful and trembling...
Watching this cruel scene, Eddard Stark stood up abruptly. What he saw was not just a knight dying in an accident; this man was his witness in uncovering the truth. Yet, just as he was about to question him, he had died so unexpectedly.
Eddard Stark stared blankly at Hugh's corpse, instinctively sensing that some darkness beyond his reach was spreading within this.
"Lord Stark, at the very least, we can be certain that the late Hand, Jon Arryn, likely did not die of illness."
Petyr Baelish, beside Eddard Stark, remained smiling; he appeared quite optimistic.
In the stands, Sansa cried out at the sight of the spraying blood and hurriedly covered her eyes, while Jeyne was so terrified she burst into loud sobs.
In contrast, Arya Stark, sitting in the row behind them, kept her eyes wide open as if carefully observing something; the scarlet blood made her heart race, leaving her exhilarated.
The next opponent for "The Mountain", Gregor Clegane, was the "Knight of Flowers", Loras Tyrell. Compared to the vicious and temperamental Mountain, the handsome and elegant Loras was clearly more popular.
By now, the Knight of Flowers had changed into a new suit of armor—entirely silver, engraved with countless intertwined vine patterns. The white cloak behind him had shed the brightness and fragrance of fresh flowers, revealing the embroidered sigil of House Tyrell.
During the joust, Ser Gregor Clegane's horse seemed to have some trouble, and thus he was easily unhorsed by Loras Tyrell.
However, just as the Knight of Flowers dismounted to celebrate, The Mountain took a longsword from his squire and hacked his own horse across the neck, sending blood spraying everywhere.
But he did not stop after killing the horse. He charged madly toward the nearby Knight of Flowers. Loras Tyrell, warned by the crowd, hurried to turn around.
Yet The Mountain's attack was already upon him; the sharp longsword slashed fiercely toward Loras, who could only try his best to turn and dodge. The longsword grazed the armor on his arm and struck the railing in front of the stands, eliciting a chorus of screams.
Taking advantage of this pause, Loras Tyrell furrowed his brow and, seizing the opportunity, drew his own longsword. Loras Tyrell of Highgarden was actually a very skilled fighter, and he possessed the hot-bloodedness of a young man.
From the stands, Sansa watched as the Knight of Flowers, Loras, after being ambushed by The Mountain, did not flee but instead immediately drew his sword and heroically charged at his opponent.
Sansa watched the two knights, with their vast difference in size, locked in a life-and-death struggle. Her heart tightened involuntarily for the Knight of Flowers; she desperately hoped someone would stop this battle, which seemed so unevenly matched.
But to her surprise, the Knight of Flowers was unexpectedly capable, actually managing to trade blow for blow with the massive monster that was The Mountain.
They traded blows for who knows how many rounds, until Gregor Clegane resorted to treachery, throwing sand into Loras's eyes. Taking advantage of Loras's lack of reaction, he kicked him to the ground.
Just as Gregor Clegane raised his longsword to kill Loras, "The Hound", Sandor Clegane, stepped forward, firmly blocking The Mountain's attack and engaging him to pull him away from Loras Tyrell on the ground.
"My brother, let me play with you."
The Mountain and The Hound, the two brothers, clashed for several rounds without either gaining the upper hand, and both were wounded. Seeing that the Knight of Flowers had risen, The Mountain could only angrily drop his sword and turn to walk out of the arena.
"Your Majesty, in this situation, how should the outcome be decided?" The old judge in the arena had no idea; he left all complex matters for the King to decide.
"Just declare it a draw."
"As you command, Your Majesty."
"Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Loras Tyrell are declared to have drawn!"
Hearing the King's decision, The Mountain, who had not yet left, grew even angrier. Loras Tyrell first bowed to Sandor Clegane to express his gratitude.
Then he bowed to the King to show his respect for the King's impartiality.
However, Loras did not notice the hint of malice behind King Robert's smile. Robert sipped his red wine and thought to himself: "Laugh while you can, boy; tomorrow you'll be crying."
"Master, why did His Majesty the King declare it a draw? It clearly seemed like Ser Gregor Clegane had the upper hand."
The ten-year-old squire sitting to the old judge's right was puzzled. In his eyes, the monster that was The Mountain had indeed held the upper hand, and had even nearly killed the Knight of Flowers at the end.
"Child, trust in His Majesty the King's judgment; I believe His Majesty is very fair."
"Why?"
The old master judge looked at the young apprentice sitting on the chair, tilted his head to look at the sky, and muttered: "Because it's easy to talk when you're just standing by."
He thought to himself: "Who wins or loses is none of my business; it's not like I'm the one jousting."
The final pair to enter the lists was Joffrey and Ser Robar Royce from the Vale.
Just as Joffrey was about to enter the lists to prepare, he was stopped by a staff member.
"My lord knight, may I ask your name? A pseudonym will also suffice. According to the rules, mystery knights must also have a temporary name."
"Rhllor." Joffrey thought for a moment and spoke the name.