Ice and Fire: Reign of the Dragon.

Chapter 410: The Unknown Knight Who Disrupts the Situation

The morning light, like the falling of thousands of golden spears, illuminated the arena like a battlefield made of molten gold. Igor stood on the high platform, and contrary to his usual behavior, he took off his dark purple robe embroidered with silver threads and put on the Valyrian steel armor left by his grandfather. This armor, together with the Silver Blood Sword, symbolized the inheritance of the power of the Vareses family. Now it was inlaid with the dragon scales shed by Wormisor, making it more luxurious and majestic.

He held the silver-haired, blue-eyed baby in his arms. The child's eyes were like glacier fragments in the sunlight, pure and cold.

"The winner will not only be crowned the queen of love and beauty," Igor's voice was as low as the echo from the depths of a dragon's lair, but it was clearly heard by everyone, "but will also name my son. This is the honor I bestow upon the winner."

There was an uproar in the stands. The girls clenched their embroidered handkerchiefs, and the knights subconsciously stroked the handles of their spears. This was not only a battle of honor, but also a chance to engrave the name they had come up with into the blood of Valyria, and it also meant that their family would work closely with Vareses.

Who wouldn't go crazy?

When the first horn sounded, dust flew up.

Lyonel Baratheon the Laughing Storm rode out, the crown and stag banner of Storm's End fluttering behind him. His opponent was Franklin the High Tower Frey, the proudest knight of the Frey family, tall and strong, with armor as heavy as bricks removed from the city wall.

During the first charge, two wooden spears exploded at the same time, and sawdust flew like snowflakes.

In the second charge, Lyonel's chain hammer grazed Franklin's shoulder armor, sending out a trail of sparks, while Frey's battle axe swept across Baratheon's greaves, leaving a faint white mark on the steel armor.

During the third charge, both men dropped their guns at the same time. Franklin stretched out his hand and nearly pulled Leonor off his horse. The Duke of Storm's End laughed wildly and slammed his chain hammer against the opponent's gauntlet. The sound of the broken knuckles made the ladies in the front row cover their ears.

"By the Seven Gods!" Artis Arryn leaned out of the box, his blue eyes sparkling. "This is not a tournament, it's a siege!"

When the sixth spear broke between the two men, both men fell off their horses at the same time, making gestures to dismount and fight on foot. Every swing of Franklin's double-edged axe was powerful enough to crush everything in its path, but he could never touch the cloak of the Laughing Storm. Leonor shuttled through the storm like a seagull, his great sword whistling and colliding with the double-edged axe amidst laughter, making a roar like a battlefield, until both of their weapons were broken, and the Laughing Storm finally seized the opportunity and knocked down the "Tower" with a single elbow strike.

"First blood!" Artis laughed and clapped. Igor announced the result of this round with a smile.

"Lyonel Baratheon of Storm's End wins!"

As time passed, one knight after another stepped onto the arena, and the roar of lances breaking never stopped.

The scorching sun at noon scorched the sand of the lance tournament, but the black armor of Valar Dondarrion seemed to absorb no heat at all, like a cold pond at midnight. The "Black Lightning" had defeated six knights in a row, and each thrust was so accurate that it was frightening, until he met his seventh opponent, Jonnir.

"Lightning meets a real dragon! Valar, don't live up to your name! Haha!" Alan Tarly shouted to his best friend, holding his bruised ribs. The "little hunter" had just been shot away by Luthriss, and now the maester was applying a mint ointment to his wound. Although the second son of Horn Hill was defeated, his eyes were surprisingly bright. He actually faced the descendant of his lord, who was also an excellent dragon rider. He even held up five lances before falling off his horse. This was a very honorable thing for the young Tarly.

Valar did not respond to his friend's teasing. Only the sound of steady breathing could be heard from under his visor, and the tip of his gun was pointed at Jonniel's silver dragon laurel leaf and dire wolf emblem shield.

The first time they crossed, Valar's spear was like a venomous snake, but was firmly held by the shield. Both horses stood up at the same time.

"Beautiful!" Hagen Longdel roared in the stands, clapping his hands on the rails, his red lion's mane tassel trembling with excitement. His best friend Aslan Falcon narrowed his eyes, and the young knight noticed Jonnir's strategy, and he tilted his shield slightly, just enough to reflect the sunlight into the gap of Valar's visor.

During the second charge, perhaps the tactics worked, Valar's spear deviated from the track and rubbed Jonniel's shoulder armor. Jonniel's spear tip pierced into the gap under the black armor's armpit like a venomous snake, and lifted "Black Lightning" off the saddle. By the time he knelt on one knee to steady himself, the referee's horn had already sounded.

Jonniel's lance was at his throat.

"Seven Hells!" Hagen slammed the mead against the railing. "What a damn good shot!"

Aslan stuffed a lemon into his grumpy friend's mouth. "Be quiet, lion. And don't use bad language."

The martial arts tournament is still going on.

When the skinny, nameless knight appeared, even the bard was too lazy to record it.

Until he met the "drunkard" Harwin Redwing.

The heir of Qingting Island still had the sweet scent of Qingting Island's golden wine from last night on his armor. He staggered onto his warhorse, his face under the helmet blue from the hangover, but he still managed to lift the gilded lance inlaid with mother-of-pearl. This was one of the several lances provided by the tournament. It was nothing special, just a more gorgeous shape. "Nobody?" He grinned at the nameless knight opposite him, his voice hoarse, "Let me teach you a lesson. The tournament is not a place for cowards who dare not even show their faces to show off their abilities."

The trumpet sounded.

Harwin's horse was a little slow to start, but his riding skills were enough to make up for it. When the two horses crossed, his golden spear stabbed the center of the unknown knight's breastplate with precision, and this blow should have knocked his opponent off directly.

But the nameless knight turned sideways at the last moment.

It was not an ordinary evasion, but the whole person was almost hanging in the stirrup on the side of the horse to hide. Harwin's spear tip pierced the air, while the unknown knight's lance was like a silver snake spitting out its tongue, hitting the gap in his armpit armor from bottom to top.

"boom!"

The heir of Qingting Island flew out like a shot duck and fell heavily on the wooden fence in front of the judges' seat. His grapefruit helmet rolled off, revealing a face distorted by astonishment.

"Seven Hells!" Oberyn Martell, the "Snake Kiss", laughed and clapped his legs in the stands. The red silk cloak of the Dornishman fluttered in the wind. "Harwin, you fell even more miserably than when your wife caught you in the brothel in Sunspear last year!"

"Shut up, Martell, this guy is a little weird!" Harwin looked at the nameless knight who was saluting modestly in astonishment.

The words have not yet fallen.

The next challenger is coming
Galwyn Corbray's white robes shone like snow in the sunlight. As the Kingsguard rode into battle, the audience murmured in awe. The wielder of the Empty Lady had fought against Quentyn Pole during the Blackfyre Rebellion, taking the rebel leader captive.

"Nameless," the White Knight's voice came from beneath his helmet, "are you sure you want to continue?"

The nameless knight simply raised the tip of his spear slightly in response.

During the first charge, two guns exploded at the same time. Amid the rain of sawdust, Galwyn's mount suddenly stood up, and the exploding sawdust scratched the belly of the Iron Guard's horse, but it remained stable under Corbray's superb horsemanship.

In the second charge, Corbray changed his strategy. His gun moved left and right like a snake seeking food, and at the last moment he suddenly pressed down and hit his opponent's thigh. This shot should have ended the battle.

But the unknown knight's spear was faster and more accurate, and the sound of the wooden spear colliding with the metal made the audience nearby cover their ears.

Galwin staggered backward, but the boy stabbed him in the chest armor first.

But the Kingsguard still did not fall.

Before the third charge, the White Knight paused for a rare moment. He slowly took off his helmet, revealing his sweat-soaked face. "No matter who you are," he whispered, "the next shot will determine the outcome."

The two horses rushed towards each other like arrows shot from a bow.

In the last ten yards, the unknown knight was still one step faster. Galwen's fatal thrust missed again, and the unknown knight's lance hit the seam of the iron guard's throat armor again with the same accuracy.

"Crack!"

The Kingsguard fell backwards from his horse, his white robe dragging a long trail on the sand. When he struggled to get up, the tip of the unknown knight's spear had already lightly touched his Adam's apple.

The audience was silent.

Galwen suddenly smiled, recognizing the master of such great riding and spearmanship. "Excellent spearmanship," he panted, "your highness."

(End of this chapter)