Game of Thrones: Viserys the Three-Headed Dragon.

Chapter 288: Trial by Combat
"Is there still justice in Winterfell?" Littlefinger was heartbroken. "Can I still believe in the honor of Stark? I don't deny that I said something for my life, but if these unfounded accusations are put on me, I will not accept it." He stiffened his neck. "If possible, I hope King Viserys's men can testify for us. Tyrion Lannister accused me, so I demand a fair trial so that I can get justice for myself and let the gods in heaven and the people on earth decide what is right and wrong."

Everyone in the study looked at Little Finger.

Everyone could see Littlefinger's anger and injustice.

Sansa didn't dare look Littlefinger in the eye. After what happened in the cellar, she learned about the origin of the dagger and what happened between Catelyn and her from Brienne and Harwin when she retrieved the dagger, so she was already wary of Littlefinger. After returning to Winterfell, Sansa found that Littlefinger was instigating her to seize Arya's power and responsibilities, and did a lot of things with their past and Sansa's love for Aegon as the reason.

Sansa realized that Littlefinger might use some "secrets" and "common interests" to control her weaknesses and eat her for the rest of her life, so she rashly backstabbed him when she found an opportunity.

She was still very unskilled. After all, she had not seen many diehards as smooth as Little Finger.

Arya's eyes kept darting from Littlefinger to Tyrion, and from time to time she would pass by Sansa and the knight behind her.

Lynn Corbray had a playful expression, while Brienne had a serious look on her face, looking at Littlefinger strangely.

Although Littlefinger had always claimed to be a minor noble of the Five Fingers Peninsula in Winterfell, he was now backed by half of the knights of the Vale, the husband of their aunt Lysa, and had close ties with the Vale troops. In any case, no one could refuse his request for a trial, nor could they convict him based on a few words without evidence or witnesses.

"Are you sure?" Arya paused, her tone calm and solemn. "Lord Petyr Baelish, you have only been accused now, but if the trial proves that you are indeed guilty, then according to the laws of the kingdom, you will admit to Tyrion Lannister's many accusations. If you lose, it means that you did lie to my mother Catelyn, causing her to misjudge Tyrion and lead to him being charged with the murder of Bran?"

Arya only kept the part of Tyrion's accusation in her words, but if Tyrion's accusation is true, then a series of follow-up...
Arya couldn't help but narrow her eyes.

Littlefinger was still extremely indignant. "Lord Arya, I have always respected the Stark family because of Lord Eddard's character and Lady Catelyn's relationship. I didn't expect that you would make such an unfair judgment on me because of Tyrion, a little devil who is known to be full of lies and nonsense. This is unwise, of course. But I can't allow myself to be accused like this and can only be questioned without any defense."

Arya understood his intention and turned to look at Tyrion. "Tyrion Lannister, the man you accuse will be tried by combat. Do you accept the trial?"

Tyrion stared at Littlefinger. "I want to know, are you going to do it yourself, Lord Baelish?"

"The gods favor those who stand true." Littlefinger looked back at Tyrion, then at Lyn Corbray. "Ser Lyn, you have been a trusted right-hand man to my wife Lysa. Please serve as my knight in lieu."

Lynn Corbray stepped forward from behind Sansa. "Of course, the gods will judge this matter fairly."

Everyone in the room couldn't help but look sideways when they heard this.

Lynn Corbray is a long-established knight of the Corbray family in the Vale. Due to Lynn's achievements on the battlefield, Lynn's father passed on the family Valyrian steel sword, the Lady of the Empty, to him before his death.

This is a powerful warrior with a var steel sword.

Tyrion on the opposite side was just a dwarf with no followers, frostbitten hands and short stature.

Tyrion glared at Littlefinger. "Since Lord Petyr asked the gods to judge, why not let the gods open their eyes and show us mortals' respect for the gods? I demand a trial of seven. I want to join the trial together with Lord Petyr, the accused, as the accuser. As you said, Lord Petyr, the gods will surely favor those who stand on a pure side!"

As soon as this was said, Little Finger immediately replied angrily: "You want to delay time?"

Tyrion asked back: "You dare not? Are you afraid? What's wrong with you? It's you who asked for the judge of the tournament!"

The Trial of Seven Sons was another form of trial by combat, in which two teams of seven men fought in a melee. In the Trial of Seven Sons, if the accuser was defeated or surrendered, the accusation would be invalid and the accused would be declared not guilty. If the accused was killed, it was considered that the gods had pronounced him guilty, and the Trial of Seven Sons ended. If a person could not find six people who believed in him and were willing to fight for him, then he was obviously guilty.

The Trial of the Seven Sons had not occurred in the history of Westeros for nearly a hundred years. The last recorded Trial of the Seven Sons was at the Ashford Tourney between Dunk the Tall and Aerion Targaryen.

Tyrion stared at Littlefinger, and saw that there was a hint of surprise in his anger.

It is not difficult to find six knights to fight for him, but the difficult part is that Littlefinger, the Seventh Judge, also has to join the battle.

Speaking of which, Littlefinger, who has never fought on the battlefield, may not be able to play a greater role in the melee than Tyrion, because Tyrion has actually fought on the battlefield.

While being escorted to the Vale by Catelyn, Tyrion killed the attacking bandits in the melee and seized a shadow mountain cat's fur; during the War of the Six Kings, the Little Devil participated in the battle on the River Battlefield, and together with his tribesmen, he repelled the Northmen and even captured a Northern nobleman by accident; at the Wall, Tyrion was also deeply involved in the defense of the city for two years.

There is also a hidden condition for the requirement of a trial by seven, because both sides need to gather seven warriors, so there is no doubt that the arguments and testimonies of both sides will be forced to be made public in Winterfell. Tyrion is now a night watcher, with nothing but a rotten life, and he is barefoot, while Littlefinger still has a noble title and the identity of Lysa's husband.
Things become complicated once an originally private trial becomes public.

Trial by combat is a winner-takes-all affair, and the two sides put in different stakes, so Little Finger, who was calculating carefully, was clearly at a loss.

Littlefinger chuckled. "Lord Arya, Tyrion Lannister is obviously being unreasonable. He wants to spread his lies all over the city. I am still alive, so I don't care about his slander and attacks, but wouldn't it be a discredit to Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn if these unfounded accusations were spread?"

Arya remained calm: "My father values ​​justice above all else. The North will give justice to everyone."

Littlefinger spread his hands. "If you say so, then let us set a time. You may not know this, Lord Arya, but I have heard of the cleverness of the Imp. He once asked for a message to Jaime Lannister in the Eyrie. Do not be led in by this evil dwarf."

Arya replied: "Thank you for your advice. I will make my own judgment."

Tyrion looked up and said, "Don't rush to discredit me, Petyr. The Judgment of the Seven Gods. We will prepare for it in seven hours. After seven hours, we will stand in the parade grounds of Winterfell and submit everything to the gods for judgment. How about that?"

"Very good." Little Finger nodded nonchalantly.

In Winterfell in the North, a city that worships the Old Gods, another Trial of the Seven Sons, the first recorded trial in nearly a hundred years, was decided.

-

As soon as he went out, Tyrion met Littlefinger who had been waiting for a long time: "It's really interesting. You and I claim to be smart people, but we have to use such a barbaric way to resolve disputes."

"A barbaric method?" Tyrion paused to observe the surroundings. "You don't believe in the judgment of the gods? Or are you afraid that the gods will give true justice?"

"Hmm," Little Finger frowned in confusion, "I still don't understand why you want to fight me to the death?"

"Really?" Tyrion said, not believing a word he said. "You didn't know?"

Littlefinger wondered, "What did I do?"

Tyrion heard footsteps behind him. "Stop your pretentious tricks, Littlefinger. Your lies will not fool me. For the Stark's sake, I have not yet told them that you were the one who broke the news in King's Landing. Do you know how angry Catelyn was when she heard the rumor? And it is easy to verify. Arya and Sansa only need to ask the Hound to find out what rumors you have spread about Lady Catelyn in the royal circle in King's Landing.

I am surprised that you actually went to Lady Catelyn and survived the confrontation with her by using sweet words. I guess you are setting me up again? Lady Catelyn hates me even more than you do because she doesn't see your true face. How sad."

Littlefinger saw Arya and Sansa approaching not far behind Tyrion, and he regretted staying here to talk trash to Tyrion.

As expected, Arya heard Tyrion's words: "What kind of rumors? About my mother?"

"Oh," Tyrion frowned and turned his head as if he had said something wrong, and said awkwardly, "I'm sorry, my Lord. I shouldn't have extended the matter between him and me to your deceased mother. This is really disrespectful to the deceased."

Arya ignored Tyrion and looked at Littlefinger. "What kind of rumors?"

"It's just some mistakes I made when I was young." Little Finger tried to keep a smile on his face. "Excuse me, I have something else to do. I'll take my leave first."

After saying this, the shrewd fox turned his head, and his smiling face had completely darkened. He knew that Tyrion would destroy everything he had in Winterfell.

Arya's face darkened as she looked at the Hound: "Sandor, Hound, tell me, what kind of rumors are these?"

The Hound couldn't help but glance at Tyrion, looking as if he wanted to rip his mouth apart.

Sansa, Arya, Brienne, and Mormont all looked over.

Tyrion seemed frozen in place.

"This is not a decent thing. Do you really want me to say that, wolf girl?" The hunting dog was quite helpless.

"Speak." Arya replied firmly.

"Yes. As you heard, Wolf Girl, in the Red Keep during Robert's time, many people heard Littlefinger talk about his old love with your mother. He said that there was love between him and Lady Tully. Everyone in the palace has heard him talk about Lady Tully's swollen breasts and delicate cherry lips - damn, this half-man did it on purpose. Do you have to listen to me say this?"

"Lady Catelyn never did!" Before Arya could respond, the female rider of House Mormont interrupted her, "Lady Tully was still a virgin when she married into Winterfell. Many old women of my age in Winterfell can testify to this. When Lord Eddard and his lady were making trouble in the bridal chamber - in short, Lord Arya, Lady Sansa, this rumor is a lie with ulterior motives, a vicious slander, and a humiliation and smear without any honor. Please let me bring people to capture Littlefinger. I can ask Lady Maggie or even Lady Barbaree to prove this for you."

Brienne was furious: "Littlefinger is so evil that he actually used such a thing to slander the lady! I knew he was full of lies!"

"I say, Your Excellency the Duke, please forgive me for being so nosy, but this kind of thing cannot be said publicly. The dead are gone, and you should not damage the lady's reputation—"

"Shut up!" Sandor interrupted Tyrion directly, "Half-man, it's not your turn to speak here."

Tyrion shut up.

Sansa bit her lip. She felt a surge of anger for no reason. At the same time, a different emotion rose in her heart. So she said, "Arya, our mother's body is still warm. We really shouldn't let her reputation be damaged, but we can't do nothing. We should give him the punishment he deserves!"

Yes, yes, yes. This is what Tyrion was waiting for. He coughed softly and asked, "Ahem, everyone, may I have the liberty to say a word?"

The Hound stopped him: "No!"

"Speak." Sansa answered at the same time. She glanced at Tyrion, then quickly looked away, her eyes swept over the hound, not daring to look directly at it, and explained to Arya, ". I mean, Arya, can we..."

The Hound turned to look at Sansa and saw a hint of joy in the little girl's face. This made Sandor feel inexplicably disillusioned. The girl who used to be moved and sad by the heroic ballad had become a stupid woman who made him feel strange and disillusioned and could not be compared with his memory.

"I know what you're going to say, Sansa," Arya interrupted. "But we can't mix things up. The trial by combat has been set, and I've promised to treat it fairly on behalf of Winterfell. Sansa, do you understand what I'm saying?"

Tyrion already understood Arya's attitude. A Stark duke is still a Stark. But he looked at Sansa, made a regretful expression, and shut up.

"I didn't expect that, Arya. What is your mother's honor? And your father, you know, was killed by him in the throne room—"

"Sansa!" Arya interrupted her again, "Their judgment has been handed over to the old gods and the new gods. We respect the gods, the laws, and our honor. Let the new gods and the old gods decide what's between them. I swear, if Littlefinger survives, I will deal with him in my own way."

Tyrion looked at Arya. Although he didn't think so, the result of the Trial of Seven would affect Stark no matter how he dealt with the follow-up. If Tyrion won, it would be fine, but if Tyrion lost, they would have to wait a long time to deal with Littlefinger.

"Pardon me, my Lord." Tyrion looked at Arya, then at Sansa, "Miss Stark. I'm afraid you won't have a chance to deal with him. Although Lady Catelyn and I had an unpleasant misunderstanding, I don't mind fighting to defend her reputation in the trial by combat. Although I know it's a bit abrupt at the moment, I think that although Sandor is now loyal to the Stark family, he should have the right to make his own decisions, right?"

The Hound glared at Tyrion when he heard this.

But Tyrion didn't care. He looked at the Hound and said, "Sandor Clegane, can I talk to you alone?"

The Hound responded before Arya could say anything: "Don't even think about asking me to fight for you!"

"See this scar?" Tyrion ignored him, revealing only the hideous scar on his face. "At the Blackwater, Sandor, I had to fight because you ran away, and I almost died to protect you. Oh, now that you have become a guest of the Stark family, everything in the past is wiped out, right? I wonder if you think of the fire of the Blackwater when you sleep at night?"

Upon hearing this, Sansa couldn't help but look at the Hound. On the night of the Battle of Blackwater, the Hound found her in the palace before escaping. People said that the Hound was afraid of fighting and fleeing, but she knew it was because of fire. The Hound was afraid of flames.

The hound looked at him coldly: "I eat well and sleep well, what does it have to do with you? The scar on your face is your own, what does it have to do with me? Did I do it?"

"I suspected you had your reasons," Tyrion shrugged, "but now it seems that you are indeed a coward."

The Hound pouted: "If I don't help you, I'm a coward, huh? It's up to you, say whatever you want."

Faced with the stubborn Hound, Tyrion finally had to give up the fight.

Compared to Tyrion's poor start, Littlefinger quickly gathered his men. Lynn Corbray, Michel Redfort, Lothor Brune, Leon Stone and several other knights of the Vale and Littlefinger's best men joined the battle with him.

As for Tyrion, although he tried to contact some well-known knights of the Targaryen Warband and invited several famous knights on the grounds of historical legend, he still did not get involved. As a last resort, Tyrion could only find Aegor Rivers, with whom he had a life-and-death friendship when he was guarding the city by the East Sea, and Rollo Soloso, a Braavos half-blood who was saved by him from the frozen sea. Tyrion originally thought that Winterfell would help him, but he obviously misjudged the situation.

However, just when it seems that Tyrion can only turn to the sellswords of the Braavos Mercenaries for help, he is approached by a madman as he passes by the ward.

"You, I know you. You need help, I know that."

A tall figure with a broken leg and a cane suddenly stopped Tyrion in the ward, startling him. He asked, "Who are you?"

"It doesn't matter who I am. Warriors will make judgments. Warriors will give courage and wisdom to the righteous. I heard your conversation just now. You are right. He is a bad guy. There is no doubt about that. Out of honor and faith, I come to help you."

Tyrion looked hesitantly at the other man's head and one foot: "Help me."

The other party said: "I am James Weishui, the son of a warrior."

James.

Tyrion's heart paused when he heard the name. From the monks from King's Landing, he heard that the Red Keep had been burned to ruins and no one survived in the castle. After the Battle of King's Landing, it was said that many charred bodies were found in the throne room, and no news about Jaime disappeared from then on.

The maester at Winterfell arrived at this time: "Here! James, it's time to take the medicine."

The Warrior Son yelled, "No, I want to fight. You don't understand, none of you understand."

The military maester looked at Tyrion and said, "Ignore him. He was a soldier of the Sons of the Warrior who went with Septon North from King's Landing to the Wall. He was frostbitten on the way. One of his legs was frozen to death and his brain was burned. He has gone mad."

"Lies! I'm not crazy!" James Weishui was excited. "You mortals can't see that the glory of a warrior is bestowed on me. I am the son of a warrior! Let me fight, let me fight for justice, for fairness, and for the glory of the gods!"

"Well," the military scholar spread his hands helplessly, "as you can see."

Tyrion looked at the fanatical warrior's son hesitantly: "If I understand correctly, you mean, the warrior is right to believe me?" Tyrion had heard that the monks of the North would associate warriors with King Viserys.

The military maester had heard about Tyrion and looked at him in confusion: "Are you crazy too?"

"He can fight, can't he?" Tyrion thought suddenly. "Have you got a sword? Can you hold it? Have you got a horse?"

The warrior son, who seemed mad, replied: "Give me a sword, so that I have a sword, give me a horse, so that I have a horse."

Tyrion confirmed the other's height again: "It is my honor. The warrior is with you and me." He began to think that this Jaime had a broken leg, so he needed to do something on his saddle.

The news that Tyrion and Littlefinger were going to hold a trial of seven quickly spread in the castle, causing heated discussions and attracting everyone's attention.

There are many different opinions about why this happened, but one thing is certain: the matter is complicated and involves political struggles in the past, such as the eve of the War of the Six Kings and even the time of King Robert.

To be honest, most people don't really care what the two sides are fighting for.

People just wanted to see the battle, and under the Targaryen dynasty, it was obviously not a good idea to take sides in the political struggle during King Robert's time. So more people just watched from the sidelines, treating the matter as a kind of spectator. Walking around the castle, I inevitably ran into the Hound again.

"I heard you found a cripple?"

"No," Tyrion answered. "A warrior's son, a bastard of one of the houses of the Narrow Sea. Did you see how tall he was? He was a very large man. He may be smaller than you, but I dare say he was one of the tallest men in Winterfell."

The Hound sneered, "Half-man, are you trying to humiliate me in another way?"

"Did I?" Tyrion shrugged. "Are you too sensitive? He's still a monk in training. Haven't you noticed that if I die in battle, he can just take over and prepare a new funeral, throwing my body into the flames and burning it into ashes. It's a long night and cold winter, and no one is willing to do too much right now. I'm afraid that after I die, I will become a servant of the White Walkers, and then people will remember to help me hold a funeral. There won't even be a monk, just an oil can and a fire to be done."

"What I'm saying is, I don't owe you anything."

"Yes." Tyrion lowered his voice. "What about Joffrey?"

The Hound muttered, "I don't owe him anything. You killed him and I didn't do anything to you."

"Me?" Tyrion chuckled softly. "In the dungeon of King's Landing, I was wondering who framed me and put the blame on me. I thought it was Sansa Stark, who was forced to marry me by Lord Tywin, but when I think about it, she doesn't have the wisdom and ability. Then who else could it be? The person who took Sansa away as soon as Joffrey was killed, do you believe it if he said he had nothing to do with Joffrey's death? Joffrey was a bad guy, a fool. He was stupid and bad, and he deserved to die. But you, Sandor Clegane. You said you didn't owe Joffrey anything. When you said this to me, did you have a clear conscience?"

The Hound rolled his eyes at him: "What does this have to do with you?"

Tyrion held out his hand. "You have but one chance, Sandor Clegane. Only once can you stand on the side of good, use the arena I offer you, and do something foolish that will ease the confusion that entangles your heart."

"Don't talk like you know me. You have no evidence."

Tyrion knew that the evidence he was talking about was the last incident. "Why not ask? I will ask him in person, Sandor, I promise. Do you want to go to the scene and listen to his answer?"

"If the gods are really watching this trial, half-man, you will go to hell for blasphemy, even if you are in the right."

"Yes, so," Tyrion said nonchalantly, "will you come, Sandor Clegane?"

-

Seven hours passed quickly.

The warriors summoned by both sides each had a good sleep to rest and then, under the acting host of a novice monk from the First Regiment, the battle began on the parade ground of Winterfell.

The two sides of the duel stated their accusations and rebuttals to each other on the field. After the monks accompanying the army wrote down the names of the personnel and demands of both sides and placed them under the holy light of the seven-pointed star of the Faction of the Seven Gods, the Trial of the Seven Sons, which had already caused a sensation in the entire Winterfell Castle, officially began.

As mentioned before, no one cared about the reason for their fight, and no one responded or applauded when listening to their statements.

It was not until the troops of both sides stood on the left and right and deployed on the parade ground that the surrounding armies began to cheer, as if they were watching a funeral without any regard for the size of the funeral.

On Littlefinger's side, Petyr himself was already wearing armor, with the mockingbird seal of House Baelish on his cloak, riding a tall horse in the center of the team, with three knights on each side. Lynn Corbray and his confidant Michel Redford were on the closest positions to Littlefinger, escorting him.

On the Imp's side, Tyrion himself was wearing the black clothes of the Night's Watch and riding a tall horse in the middle, with three knights on his left and right. Aegor Rivers, a friend of the Night's Watch, and Sandor Clegane, the Hound, who eventually joined, were on both sides of Tyrion.

As for James, the equally tall warrior son who took the initiative to join, he was arranged to the far side of one wing.

There was no way. Except for Tyrion himself, no matter whether it was his Night's Watch companions who saved his life in Eastwatch by the Sea, or the Braavos mercenaries who wanted to make a name for themselves in Westeros, or even the Hound, none of them believed in the lame warrior's son.

Even if they regarded Tyrion and Littlefinger on the opposite side as equally powerful, they could not trust a tall and disabled person to fight.

It is said that if Tyrion had not brought the famous Hound in the end, the team he had finally assembled might have been dispersed because of the warrior's son, and in the end Littlefinger would have won without a fight.

"The sacred oath has been made, the gods' arrangement has arrived, and the judgment of justice begins now!"

As the monks chanted scriptures, they loudly announced the start of the trial.

The men on both sides shouted and urged their horses to charge at each other.

The Trial of Seven Men can be compared to a chess game that actually requires bloodshed. The accuser and the accused are the most important pieces in the game. The most important thing in the trial is to defeat, force the surrender or kill the opponent's representative.

The battle was caused by Tyrion and Littlefinger.

Therefore, the knights on the edge of the battle could still make symbolic attempts, but the sparks between the two sides in the middle were full of blood from the beginning of the trial.

As the two sides rode their horses towards each other, the first round of lance charges resulted in bloodshed.

On Tyrion's side, the Hound Sandor lived up to his reputation and hit the enemy Michael Redford directly on the helmet with his lance. The real trial is not the tourney, and the lance tip is made of steel.

With just this one impact, the spear tip pierced the enemy's helmet, deforming the entire helmet, and Michelle himself was knocked off his horse by this blow.

The ash wood shaft of the hound's lance shattered, and Michel fell off his horse and fainted. He was trampled by the horse's hooves, and his life or death was unknown.

At the same time, on the other side, Lynn Corbray on Littlefinger's side and Aegor Rivers, Tyrion's close friend, barely avoided the lance attacks from both sides. When they missed, they immediately and swiftly discarded their lances that had lost their effectiveness after losing speed, and then took advantage of the impact of the horses to compete in speed to see who could draw the sword at their waist first.

After all, Lynn Corbray was more skilled and drew his sword faster, slashing at Aegor's head with one blow.

Iger managed to draw his sword and held it in front of him.

But Lynn Corbray's Valyrian sword took advantage, and with the great force of the horse, he cut off Aegor's steel sword with one blow, and then he continued to slash at the people.

Fortunately, Iger was a veteran on the battlefield. He risked his left arm to dodge by dodging sideways on his horse.

War is bloody and cruel, and battles lasting hundreds of rounds are often the artistic creation of bards.

In a real battlefield, the outcome is often decided in just a few rounds.

Lynn's Lady of Silence struck Iger's left shoulder with a sharp sound of wind, barely avoiding his neck and head.

Fortunately, the steel sword absorbed most of the force, and Iger was wearing a layer of plate armor and chain mail, so his left hand was not directly cut off from the shoulder by the sword.

However, the sharp blade of Lady Kongji still cut into flesh, and Iger cried out in pain, feeling a burning pain in his shoulder, and fell off his horse. Blood splattered, and the smell was pungent.

After just one collision, both sides lost a good opponent.

On the Hound's side, having already knocked down a warrior, he made way for Tyrion and rushed straight towards Littlefinger, intending to let Tyrion fight him head-on.

Tyrion was originally like Littlefinger, being protected in the rear during the first charge, and had the idea of ​​directly engaging Littlefinger in a second charge. After all, although both sides had their men, the real grudge actually fell on them.

On the other hand, although Lynn Corbray was quite famous in the Vale, he was never a knight of honor. He knocked off the rider who was protecting the little devil's side, and then approached Tyrion Lannister, who had already exposed his side, without any grace.

Tyrion's usual weapon was a long-handled axe. He was ready to fight Littlefinger, but he didn't expect Lynn Corbray to come close to him with his sword drawn.

Tyrion was not brave enough to take the blow and raised his long-handled axe to catch it.

The sword swung with great force and momentum. Tyrion felt his hands lighten as the handle of his long-handled axe was cut off by the sharp Valyrian steel sword.

Tyrion was in a panic and at a loss for words, he simply clamped the special saddle on the horse's belly, causing the horse to stop upright.

The horse let out a sharp whine, and the hot blood suddenly burst out. It was the horse that stood still and took the fatal blow for Tyrion.

Tyrion falls off his horse.

It was only then that the fully armed Little Finger slowly arrived on horseback and stopped his horse outside the bloody battlefield.

Lynn Corbray kept coming closer.

A big sword blocked the way.

But the hunting dog shouted, "I'm here to help you!" and rushed forward.

Lynn Corbray did not dare to be careless and quickly raised his sword to fight back.

Despite having a sharp sword, he had already lost the initiative and could only passively fight back under the suppression of the hunting dog.

Ding, ding, bang, bang. The two sides have exchanged several swords.

The Hound's sword was sharpened, and he roared, "Half-man, what are you waiting for?"

Tyrion, who had fallen off his horse but was not crushed by it because of his size advantage, had already stood up from his panic. He immediately reacted upon hearing the sound, raised the broken axe high, and yelled at Littlefinger who was a few steps away: "Come on, accept the judgment of the gods!"

Tyrion had a spike on his helmet, and after swearing loudly, he charged straight at Littlefinger's horse.

Littlefinger had never been to a battlefield. When he saw the blood, and the blood gushing out of Tyrion's dead horse made his nose ache and he felt like vomiting, he dared not fight Tyrion.

He just froze in his tracks and wanted to run.

But at this moment, on the other side, the tall warrior's son who was placed on the edge by Tyrion rushed into the enemy camp with a strange cry, and then simply ignored everyone, and after a wave of attacks without any injuries, he rushed straight towards Littlefinger in the center of the battle.

Little Finger had never witnessed such a scene before. When he heard the knight's strange cry, the sword he had just raised fell out of his hand. His mount did not speed up, and because Little Finger failed to calm it down in time, it was shocked and stood still.

This ambitious and conspiratorial man, who stirred up the political situation in the court and attempted to rise to the top in the chaos, unexpectedly fell off his horse without even engaging in a fight.

Littlefinger does have capable people under him.

Someone had already stopped the mad tall knight for Littlefinger.

But he still fell off his horse because of himself.

How could Tyrion miss this opportunity? He didn't care about the pain in his back, legs and feet from falling off the horse, and rushed forward with a strange cry and a half-axe in his hand.

Petyr no longer had the calmness he had in the court and behind the scenes, and screamed, "No! Ser Lynn, save me!"

The little devil responded with a loud laugh: "Little Finger, when you framed me, did you ever think that this day would come?"

An axe chopped down Petyr's thigh, and blood spurted out instantly.

Tyrion had killed men on the battlefield before. More than once. But never before had he felt so good about it.

Little Finger is obviously not used to this environment which he calls "barbaric ways". Here, any intelligence and wisdom are useless. Only the sword and axe in his hand can defend everything.

It shouldn't be like this.

Pinky cried out in pain, "No! You can't kill me!"

"No, I can kill you." Tyrion continued to swing his axe. "Brutalism is the right way to deal with you."

The axe blade chopped off Little Finger's arm, revealing the armor underneath. Although this didn't cut off his hand, it actually penetrated the armor and made Little Finger know what it meant to break bones while still maintaining tendons.

"This is the judgment of the gods!" The little devil's face was stained with blood, like a demon from hell. Little Finger finally realized that anyone who abandons the cloak of civilization will have such a terrifying face, "Tell me, why did you frame me!"

Another axe hit Little Finger's chest.

The heavy breastplate and the mail lining blocked the axe blade, but they couldn't stop the strength of the little devil. There was a piercing pain in the chest, and Little Finger didn't know how many ribs were broken.

Tyrion's response was a scream.

The little devil shouted again: "Tell me, did you poison Joffrey and put the blame on me!" Another axe.

His answer was a cry of pain.

The Imp dropped his axe and simply sat on Littlefinger's chest with broken ribs, reaching for his visor and helmet.

After the visor and helmet were removed, a distorted face was revealed.

Tyrion punched him in the face and demanded, "Is that you?"

“Cough, cough, cough.” He was answered with a cough that sounded like coughing up blood and a painful whimper. “Let me go, please.”

"I suddenly thought of something," the little devil suddenly seemed to have thought of something and asked him, "Petyr, are you the one who killed Jon Arryn?"

Visible panic crept onto Littlefinger's face as he continued to cough up blood.

But Tyrion already knew the answer.

"Jon Arryn, Eddard Stark, Catelyn Tully, and me, Joff. You have fooled so many people. Even the gods can't stand it. So I will kill you here today."

Tyrion picked up the bloody axe.

Little Finger, who was already frightened to the point of incontinence, cried out in pain and begged for mercy: "No, no, no, no! I surrender, I surrender."

But the sound he made was thin and weak as Tyrion sat on his rib-broken chest.

Around them, the duel between the Hound Sandor and Lynn Corbray was still going on, and the battlefield was filled with direct melee and shouts of killing from other knights.

Tyrion heard the pleas for mercy, but he did not stop. He raised his axe high and swore like a septon's prayer: "The gods allowed me to win this trial for a reason, Petyr Baelish, and it is for you to die here!"

After saying that, Tyrion no longer hesitated and swung the axe towards Littlefinger's neck.

(End of this chapter)