From a hired knight to a master of Game of Thrones

In a corner of the arena, several scholars with heavy silver medical chains around their necks stood ready to provide treatment and assistance to any knights injured in the tournament.

The messenger read out the rules of the martial arts tournament in a loud voice.

For each knight about to enter, the herald will loudly announce his name.

"Sir Edric Wolffie of House Wolffie!"

Sir Edric entered the arena from the west.

He was dressed in magnificent green armor, but his face shield was white.

He rode a strong brown warhorse.

The brown horse's mane flew in the wind, and its riding clothes were also green.

His shield was pale purple, and it was decorated with his family crest.

There are three white wool bags with white borders on a purple background.

The crowd cheered.

"Sir Jeremy Brun! A knight sworn to serve Lord Wyman!"

Sir Jeremy galloped into the arena from the east, riding a similarly robust, dark brown Northern warhorse.

He wore white plate armor, with a dark gray wool overcoat.

He was wearing a helmet.

His kite-shaped oak shield was edged with iron, and its front was painted with his own coat of arms:

A brown falcon on a gray background, holding a fish in its talons.

The messenger glanced at the two knights on either side, then quickly shouted:

"Prove your courage!"

"Two valiant knights! The Earl's gaze is upon you, and those beautiful eyes await your performance!"

Not long after, the martial arts competition officially began.

The civilians, who were tightly packed together, instantly erupted in deafening cheers and joyful shouts.

The nobles and ladies sat in high places, taking in the entire arena and the heroic figures of the two knights.

If it's a knight I admire.

Some ladies would wave their handkerchiefs, beaming with joy.

Their eyes followed him intently, their breaths rising and falling.

Someone is shouting:

"I bet Sir Edric will win!"

Another person immediately retorted:

"No, he's definitely going to lose this round!"

But soon someone else shouted:

You've misjudged him!

"He hit it! Sir Edric wins! Look how powerful that shot was!"

The winner of the first match emerged quickly.

Many of the women watching laughed shrilly, while throwing wildflowers and fresh flowers into the arena.

The outskirts of White Harbor were thus submerged in noise and shouts.

From dawn to noon, the entire venue was filled with the roar of shouts.

The cheers and applause from the audience rose in waves.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The messenger shouted:

"Sir Don Quixote of the Bloodhand Mercenary Group!"

Sir Don Quixote entered the arena from the east.

He wore a suit of black tempered steel plate armor, polished to a gleaming shine.

He wore a dark red-edged black wool cloak draped over his shoulders.

He wore a full-face iron helmet, with the visor half-lifted to reveal a pair of calm, silent eyes, strong brow bones, and no decoration on the top of the helmet.

And the shield was a rough wooden shield carved from old oak, its edges tightly bound together with rough iron hoops, making it completely secure.

The background of the shield is light white, with a dark red hand in the center depicted with its five fingers spread out as if dripping blood.

White background with bloody hands!

It was glaring, ferocious, and carried an undisguised ruthlessness.

The messenger shouted again:

"Sir Donald Locke, of the Locke family of the Old Town!"

Sir Donald Locke entered the arena from the west.

The messenger called out at the end:

"Brave knights, display your skills!"

"Charge!"

moment.

Both knights held their lances level at the same time.

Kick the spurs and urge the horse to sprint at full speed!

The nobles and commoners in the stands erupted in a deafening roar.

The two knights collided violently in the center of the field, sending wood chips flying and metal clanging.

In the blink of an eye, a blunt wooden javelin exploded into pieces.

Don Quixote's blunt wooden lance struck Sir Donald's oak shield precisely in the center.

A tremendous force caused Sir Donner's warhorse to lift its front hooves off the ground, causing both horse and rider to tumble backward.

Sir Donald's blunt wooden lance slid past Don Quixote and missed!

Seeing Don Quixote strike Sir Donald's oak shield with a clean and decisive spear thrust, and even knock down his horseman, one is struck by the sight.

A thunderous roar and deafening cheers immediately erupted from all around:

"Don Quixote! Don Quixote!"

Among those audience members, a closer look reveals that many were ecstatic, excited, and even somewhat fanatical.

Those were the people who had been generously helped by Don Quixote.

The tournament is the only free, grand celebration in Westeros that allows the common people to temporarily forget their hunger and fear.

A celebration of violent aesthetics, if combined with feelings of gratitude.

These people instantly unleashed their long-suppressed fear, exhaustion, and pain into screams!

Start completely and thoroughly venting your emotions!

"Don Quixote! Don Quixote!"

"Bloody Hand Mercenary Group! Bloody Hand Mercenary Group!"

Influenced by the enthusiastic and frenzied audience, more people began to roar and shout wildly.

Sailors tossed colorful headscarves into the air.

Tiny bits of seaweed mixed in with colorful headscarves fluttered above people's heads.

Some people patted each other's backs with their hands covered in chilblains.

The roars of these people drowned out the distant waves and the shouts of the messenger.

The nobles exchanged surprised glances and clapped slowly and reservedly.

But soon, some young nobles also shouted:

"pretty!"

"Wow, that's fantastic!"

The ladies and gentlemen clapped gracefully, their silk gloves lightly touching, their eyes filled with appreciation and restraint.

At this moment, cheers became the only common language.

The martial arts tournament continued.

One knight after another entered the arena, including two other members of the Bloodhand Mercenary Group:

Phoenix Jensen, Kyle Rhodes.

Over the past month, Don Quixote has sponsored many minor lords to hold small-scale knightly tournaments.

The other seven knights of the Bloodhand Mercenary Group who wanted to participate in the White Harbor Tournament were almost always at various small tournaments.

Pre-match competition, during-match competition, and post-match competition.

Don Quixote, after considering the strengths of the seven men, selected Phoenix and Kyle as the final participants in the White Harbor Tournament.

Although Zachary was strong, he had never received any training in knightly skills before.

Their strength is no match for Phoenix and Kyle.

However, Zachary was not disappointed by his failure to be selected.

He has been knighted by Don Quixote.

This was enough to excite him.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"They won them all."

Standing on one side of the arena, Don Quixote smiled as he saw that both Phoenix and Kyle had won a duel.

However, he wasn't too surprised.

For those members of the Bloodhand Mercenary Group who are willing to give their loyalty.

He was never stingy with his teachings, always dedicated to guiding them and inspiring them to engage in real-world practice.

So it's not just him who's getting stronger; the other members of the Blood Hand Mercenary Group are getting stronger every day.

Furthermore, because their foundation was far inferior to Don Quixote's, they were able to grow stronger much faster in the early stages.

Cole, standing nearby, reminded him with admiration:

"My lord, it's your turn to take the stage."

Don Quixote nodded.

……

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