Ice and Fire: Reign of the Dragon.

Chapter 412 Responsibilities
On the last day of the tournament, the sun poured down on the yellow sand of the arena like molten gold.

The final bout of the lance competition was held simultaneously with the group competition.

"The Laughing Storm" Lionel Baratheon carried his giant sword as tall as an ordinary man and knocked down a Northern warrior. He finally faced his final opponent, "The Lion King" Hagen Longdel, whose helmet was decorated with golden-red mane.

The duel between the two was like a collision of mountains. Hagen's spear stabbed swiftly like a torrential rain, and every swing of Leonor's greatsword carried the power to destroy cities and collapse mountains. In the seventh round, when Hagen thrust directly at Leonor's throat, the Duke of Storm's End suddenly laughed wildly and turned sideways, and the greatsword spun at an incredible angle -

"boom!"

Hagen's breastplate dented, and he was thrown three meters away, falling heavily on the sand.

"I give up!" He laughed while coughing up blood foam, "This laugh is more terrifying than my sword!"

Leonor took off his helmet, his black hair was soaked with sweat, but he still smiled like a child who won candy. He became the champion of the group competition, and the Stormland nobles in the audience almost shouted themselves hoarse.

The prize money for the group competition is 40,000 pure gold royals. According to Leonor's character, he will not keep the money for himself, but will use it for the construction of the territory, which will be enough to make life better in Storm Land.

On the other hand, there were some unexpected events on the final day of the lance competition.

Aenys Targaryen unexpectedly made it to the last few remaining knights. His riding skills were OK, and his lance was used properly, but everyone knew that he was the son of Prince Maegon and a member of the royal family, so they didn't want to offend him, so they let him stay until the end. But this time it didn't work, he met "Black Lightning" Valar Dondarrion.

The two men's horses crossed each other three times. During the fourth charge, Valar suddenly raised his spear, and Inis's throat armor shattered, and he fell backwards.

Before the cheers of victory had died down, Valar encountered Luciris Varezes.

The young man with silver-gold hair rode a pure white warhorse to confront his own vassal. The first time they clashed, Valar's spear grazed the edge of Lusiris's shield; the second time, both of their spears broke at the same time; the third time -

"Crack!"

Lusiris's broken spear accurately pierced the gap in Valar's shoulder armor, knocking Black Lightning off his horse.

The audience cheered wildly.

Dust swirled above the arena, baked hot by the midday sun. Jonil Varese adjusted the straps on his arm guards, the bronze bracers gleaming golden in the sun.

Across from him, Lusiris Vareses had already climbed onto his horse, and the pure white warhorse was paddling its front hooves impatiently. His silver-gold hair was tied back, revealing a handsome face that was exactly like his father, Regen, but at this moment, his purple eyes were gleaming with a spark of unwillingness to admit defeat.

"Brother, this is your last chance." As Jonniel stepped on the stirrup, Sunbiao's low roar came faintly from the direction of the dragon's lair. "If you admit defeat, I will treat you to a silver wine that I have hidden for twenty years, stolen from my mother's storehouse."

Luciris laughed loudly, his cloak with the emblem of a silver dragon bay leaf and a three-headed red dragon fluttering in the wind. "You little bastard, wait till I knock you off your horse, and I'll drink up all your wine!"

The horn sounded.

The two horses rushed towards each other like arrows from a bow. Jonniel's lance was aimed at Lusiris's left shoulder. In the previous competitions, Lusiris had been hit on the left shoulder several times. Although the lance used in the competition was fragile, it was still quite painful to be hit. Especially after being hit several times, the pain would bring weakness. He knew that Lusiris would instinctively defend against this weakness. Sure enough, Lusiris's shield tilted slightly, but at the last moment he suddenly changed his move, and the tip of the lance rose like a venomous snake!

"Crack!"

Two oak lances burst at the same time, sawdust flew like snowflakes, the audience erupted in deafening cheers, and the silk handkerchiefs in the hands of the ladies danced into a colorful cloud.

The two men fell off their horses almost at the same time and drew their swords without hesitation.

Routine event, foot combat begins.

Jonniel felt his left arm go numb when he landed. The force of Luthris's attack was far beyond his expectations. It seems that in the years of taming Moon Dancer, this once impetuous boy has not only become a fruit dragon tamer, but also a real warrior.

The moment the long sword was unsheathed, Jonniel suddenly remembered the night when he dyed his hair. The current Lusiris was no longer the arrogant boy who mocked his bloodline, but a true dragon knight, and also a brother who had lost his impetuousness and cherished his family affection. This thought made his mouth slightly raised, but was immediately interrupted by the oncoming sword wind.

"Distracted?" Lusiris slid forward, his sword drawing a half-moon arc, "I won't give you the chance to be distracted on the battlefield, brother."

Sparks from the collision of metal splashed on the sand. After twenty rounds, both of them began to breathe heavily, but neither of them was willing to give in. Jonniel's swordsmanship was as steady as the breath of a dragon in the sun, and each strike was heavy; while Luciris was as agile as the moon dancing in the sky, and his sword moves were tricky and unpredictable. In the 37th move, Jonniel deliberately exposed a flaw, leaving his right shoulder open. Luciris really fell into the trap, and the long sword stabbed like lightning, but was blocked by Jonniel's shield at the last moment, and the recoil made his wrist numb.

It's now!

Jonniel turned around and slammed the hilt of his sword heavily on the gauntlet of Lusiris. With a clang, the long sword fell to the ground.

silence.

Then the whole audience erupted in cheers like a tsunami. Jonnell did not act like a winner, but reached out to pull up his brother who had fallen to the ground: "Sorry, Lusiris, your wine is mine."

Lusiris rubbed his wrist and suddenly laughed: "Don't worry, brother, I never break my promise!"

When Jonnell placed the championship crown on the swaddling clothes of the newborn Hoffa, tears flashed in Maggie's eyes as she wore the Queen's wreath of love and beauty. The baby, with Stark's ice blue eyes and Valyria's silver hair, was now grabbing the crown handed over by his uncle and babbling.

"Hoffa, uncle, my nephew's name is Hoffa." Jonniel's voice spread throughout the room, "In memory of the most loyal guard of the family, the blood-sworn brother of great-grandfather Longzel, the most loyal vassal of the Vareses family, the late Lord Hoffa the Law-Bearer."

On the viewing stand, several white-haired old knights suddenly straightened their hunched backs. And this generation's Earl of Tianping Castle, as an important vassal of Varese, was extremely proud that the name of their ancestors would be passed on through this child, and even had tears in their eyes.

The tournament has come to an end, but there are still things to be dealt with.

In the hall of the Silver Blood Tower, the heavy oak door was tightly closed, leaving only a few rays of slanting sunlight coming through the high windows, casting slender shadows on the floor tiles. Daeron II sat at the head of the long table below the obsidian throne, tapping the tabletop with his fingers, the rhythm slow and heavy, like the drumbeat before the trial.

Queen Xirui stood by the window, her back to the crowd, her silver hair hanging down, her shoulders tense. She hadn't spoken since Beile unveiled her face, but her clenched knuckles had turned white.

Lingol Varese sat at the other end of the long table, his silver beard trembling slightly. The usually calm Prime Minister now looked unusually gloomy. The wine glass in front of him was empty, with a few drops of dark red wine remaining at the bottom of the glass.

Igor Varese sat on the side seat, holding the newborn Hoffa in his arms, and looked at Beile calmly, without anger or disappointment, which made the young prince even more uneasy.

"Explain." Daeron II finally spoke in a low voice.

Beile stood in front of the long table, his silver hair slightly disheveled, and his forehead still stained with sweat from the duel. He took a deep breath, raised his head and looked directly into his father's eyes.

"I wonder if I could have won without calling myself 'Targaryen'."

silence.

Queen Xirui's shoulders trembled slightly, but she still did not turn around.

Ringol shook his head slowly, his lips tightly pursed under his silver beard.

Daeron II's gaze softened slightly, but his tone remained stern: "You won several battles and lost one, but what if the one you lost was fatal? What if the tip of the spear of the boy from Qinglin Island was off by an inch? What if the broken spear of the hedge knight pierced your throat instead of the shield?"

Baelor's purple eyes flickered, but he did not flinch. "Then at least I died on the battlefield, not behind the walls of the Red Keep."

This sentence was like a dagger, piercing the hearts of everyone present. Lei Huojia's name, which was synonymous with stupidity, surged into the minds of several people.

Queen Xirui finally turned around, her violet eyes filled with tears, but she did not cry out loud. She just stared at her eldest son with anger and shock, as if she wanted to engrave him into her memory.

"Foolish, Baelor, your life is not your own." She said each word, her voice almost inaudible, but loud enough for everyone to hear. "Your life belongs to the Seven Kingdoms, to the Iron Throne, and to all those who point at your back and say, 'That's our future king.'"

Belle clenched and unclenched his fists, and finally lowered his head. "I understand."

Lingol sighed, walked up to Beile, and put his old hand on his shoulder. "Bravery is admirable, and the kingdom also needs a warrior king, but recklessness is not courage." He paused, "It is stupidity, especially such a low-level mistake. Don't become the next Lei Huojia. There are many kings and princes who died in the arena. The heir of the kingdom has the responsibility of the kingdom. Bravery and aggressiveness are the root of chaos."

Igor spoke calmly, his voice low and calm: "Next time you want to prove yourself, go directly to the dragon's lair." He looked down at Hoffa in his arms. The baby's ice-blue eyes were looking at Baylor curiously. "Dragons don't care what your last name is. They only care whether your blood is hot enough."

(End of this chapter)