Ice and Fire: Reign of the Dragon.

Chapter 411 The True Dragon Who Defeats the True Dragon

Jonil Varese stood on the sidelines, his bronze gauntlets gripping his lance, his eyes following the skinny knight whose horse didn't even wear any emblems.

"He just defeated the Kingsguard." Luciris Vareses suddenly appeared beside his brother, with sand from the duel still on his hair and a mischievous smile on his lips. "Why, is my good brother scared?"

Jonil shook his head, his knuckles tightening around the barrel of his gun. "Just curious."

"What are you curious about? Is he short and ugly?" Lusiris gestured exaggeratedly, "Maybe there is a Rees mercenary with pockmarks on his face under the mask, or..."

"Or someone who shouldn't be here." Jonniel interrupted in a low voice. "Can't you see? Sir Garwin's face changed. The unknown knight's technique is not that of an ordinary person. Only long-term, extremely professional training can develop such a technique, just like you and me."

Lusiris raised his eyebrows and suddenly reached out to ruffle his brother's brown hair. "Whoever he is, you are the favorite this time." He raised his chin towards the battlefield, "Go and let him taste the power of the son of Vareses."

The stands suddenly burst into exclamations. The tip of the unknown knight's spear was against the throat armor of Harwin Redwyne, and the smell of wine from the Arbor mixed with the curses of the young master of the Arbor drifted over. Oberyn Martell almost fell over the railing with laughter, and his red silk cloak trembled like a venomous snake's tongue.

Jonniel took a deep breath, climbed onto his horse, and took the new gun from the servant. It was his turn to compete against another contestant.

"Remember!" Lusilis shouted behind him, his voice unusually serious, "Raise your shield a little higher. You always forget to defend the bottom lane! That guy seems to like picking off attacks."

Jonil Varese adjusted his wrist guard and glanced across the arena. The nameless knight had just struck down Kingsguard Galwyn Corbray, and the dust from the white knight's fall had not yet settled. The arena fell into silence, and then erupted into a deafening cheer.

The Unknown Knight had re-asserted himself, his lean figure motionless on his warhorse. Jonniel rode forward, and the two men reined in their horses to face each other in the center of the arena.

The horn sounded and the two horses charged at the same time.

The first shot was like a thunderbolt. The unknown knight's thrust was so fast that Jonil's shield barely blocked it, and the recoil made his arm numb. The two horses crossed each other, and Jonil could even hear his own rapid breathing.

The next time the unknown knight fired, he changed his tactics and pushed the tip of his spear down to the horse's belly. Jonniel pulled the reins hard, and the horse stood up. The tip of his spear scraped against the horse's armor, and a string of sparks flew in the sun. The stands burst into applause.

Both lances broke, and the two men quickly took over new lances.

"He learns really fast!" Valar Dondarrion narrowed his eyes, "That move just now was my thrust."

The third time, Jonniel took the initiative to attack. His lance drew an arc, but the unknown knight deftly dodged it. The two horses almost collided, the lance broke, and wood chips flew.

The fourth lance, the attack of the unknown knight became more fierce. The tip of the lance seemed to point directly at Jonniel's visor, but Jonniel raised his shield to block it. The wooden shield was already full of dents, and Jonniel's arm began to ache. Jonniel's lance also left a white mark on the unknown knight's breastplate.

At the fifth volley, Jonniel changed his strategy. He deliberately exposed his left shoulder, and when the unknown knight stabbed him, he suddenly turned sideways and hit the unknown knight's back hard with the lance. The unknown knight swayed on his horse's back, but did not fall.

By the sixth shot, the two oak spears broke at the same time, wood chips flew like snowflakes, and both men dropped their spears and drew their swords.

Jonniel jumped off his horse, his boots sinking into the sand. The unknown knight also jumped off his horse, his sword swung in a flower.

The infantry battle begins.

The swordplay of the Nameless Knight was graceful and deadly, and each strike had a unique rhythm. Jonniel used his shield as a wall, and each block was extremely accurate. On the sand, the shadows of the two intertwined like dancing, and they performed a deadly dance of steel on the battlefield.

Jonniel saw the moment when the opponent took a breath and thrust his wooden shield forward. The blow hit the chest armor of the unknown knight hard, and the loud sound of metal collision echoed in the arena. The unknown knight stumbled back, his sword dropped from his hand, and finally knelt on one knee, Jonniel's sword resting on his shoulder.

He lost.

The whole audience was silent for a moment, and then erupted into thunderous shouts:
"Remove the mask! Remove the mask! Remove the mask!"

The nameless knight panted and raised his hand to take off the simple helmet.

Her silver hair cascaded down like moonlight, and her purple eyes sparkled in the sun.

Jonniel's sword clanked to the sand, and he couldn't believe his eyes. "Baile?"

"Baelor Targaryen!" someone screamed.

King Daeron and Queen Sireen stood up at the same time, and looked in shock as their eldest son, Prince Baelor Targaryen, raised his head, with bloodshot eyes at the corners of his mouth but smiling brightly: "Well done, Jonil. And save me."

"Baile!"

"Jonnell, save me!"

The farce at the tournament lasted only a short while before it ended under the strong suppression of Igor and his men.

The lance competition will continue for another day, but because of Beile's intrusion, the dinner on the first day was quite bruised and bruised.

At the banquet that night, Baelor and Jonil sat side by side, sharing a pot of iced golden honey wine. The wine from the Reach was sweet and refreshing, more suitable for the appetite of young people. The prince had linen wrapped around his wrist, but he still reviewed every move with great interest.

"That shield strike of yours," Baile took a sip of wine, "was like the sweep of a dragon's tail."

Jonnell shook his head. "You could have won. If you had held back a little more on the fourth charge."

"But I didn't." Belle's smile faded a little, "Because I was hesitant, and I wasn't sure."

Jonnell was startled.

"I was thinking, if I win, my father will be proud, but if I lose to you..." The prince looked towards the platform, where Daeron II was talking in a low voice with Ringol, his brows slightly furrowed, "perhaps some people will feel more at ease."

Jonniel was silent. He knew what Beile meant. An overly dazzling heir was not a good thing in this era. The harsh suppression of the Blackfyre Rebellion ended the ambitions of some people, but it also fostered the ambitions of some people. They were trying to sow discord between the two Dragon King families with ill intentions. Beile was too dazzling, which was not good for him.

Baelor shrugged and tore off a drumstick, grease dripping down his knuckles. "Try this," he pushed the plate toward Jonniel. "It's stuffed with chestnuts and wild berries. It's sweet, just like today's tournament."

Jonniel took a bite, and under the crispy skin was melted fat mixed with sweet and sour fruit. He couldn't help tearing off another piece, which made Belle laugh.

"It seems that even a dragon knight who eats every day can't resist the temptation of sweets."

In the center of the table was a giant ice dragon, with cool cherry ice brew pouring out of its mouth. The waiter used a silver spoon to scoop it into a crystal cup. Alan Tarly was pouring it into his cup when Valar Dondarrion snatched it away.

"Drink slowly, Hunter," the heir of Black Harbor swirled his glass, "This stuff has more power than your arrows."

Not far away, a whole charcoal-grilled bison was placed on an oak brazier, with a dark honey sauce on the surface. Hagen Longdel cut off the bloody tenderloin and winked at Aslan Jieyan: "Do you dare to compete with who eats faster?"

"What are you gambling?"

"If you lose, ask Adele to dance."

Aslan nearly choked on his beef.

The dessert table was like a fairytale dream. Rose frosting cakes were stacked into a tower, and caramel dragon egg soufflés made Oberyn Martell cry but refused to stop eating. The most eye-catching one was the ice and fire pie, which had hot lava blackberry jam gushing out after the crispy crust was bitten, and the surface was sprinkled with fine snow-like frosting.

"This is the recipe Princess Naerys sent from Dragonstone." Aenys Targaryen pierced the pie with a silver fork, and the blue-purple sauce flowed out like blood. He defeated two opponents today. "She said..."

"As the saying goes 'hatred will cool, but sweets must be eaten while they are hot'?" Belle suddenly interrupted.

Innis sighed: "How do you know? The princess has not let go of her hatred, but she has become accustomed to making more exciting jokes about this thing."

The prince smiled without saying anything and pushed the last piece of pie in front of Joniel.

"To my opponent," his purple eyes were as deep as the abyss in the candlelight, "Without your shield, my gun will never be faster."

"To you too, Baelor." Jonniel smiled and pushed his plate to the prince. "Without your gun, my sword will never be sharper."

(End of this chapter)