Upon arriving outside the arena, even as its founder, in order to show respect for the Tournament, Kal did not remain on horseback but dismounted from afar.
After straightening his attire, Kal composed his expression and looked solemnly ahead.
The news of Lord Kal El's arrival had already spread throughout the venue.
Thus, not only did the people inside the grounds fall silent, but even the commoners outside unconsciously quieted under the atmosphere.
Even those who wanted to show off by speaking a few words were silenced by the glares of those around them.
As for those few thick-skinned ones who still insisted on standing out, the short clubs specially prepared at the waists of the city garrison were by no means useless.
Stepping toward the rear of the venue, Kal looked at the central passage covered with a red carpet and realized that he was feeling slightly nervous.
Under the gaze of countless eyes from all directions, he suddenly had the illusion of ascending a throne.
Immediately, Kal laughed at himself for such a ridiculous thought.
"Let's go. Let this grand celebration bloom brighter and more splendidly!"
"I will make this festival renowned for a thousand ages!"
Kal murmured with a smile, lightly lifting the hem of his robe, and together with Samwell Tarly and Tyrion Lannister, he walked toward the high platform ahead.
Behind him, Kal's personal guards—who had already lowered their banners but still stood in two solemn ranks—followed in dignified silence.
...
"Eddard, look at this lad. He's almost as handsome as I was when I led my army into King's Landing and toppled House Targaryen!"
On the high platform, King Robert Baratheon held in his hand a gilded wine cup inlaid with gemstones, his gaze filled with warmth as he looked at Kal El approaching.
Seeing this child whom he had doted on since boyhood—whom he had often held in his arms and played with—reach such heights today, no one could truly know how satisfied Robert felt at this moment.
Though Robert's eyes were full of fatherly pride, and his face brimming with a smile as he praised Kal, this time Eddard Stark, the Hand of the King, did not immediately echo his words.
Eddard first cast a discreet glance at Stannis Baratheon, who sat beside them, his expression utterly emotionless as he watched everything before him.
Then his gaze moved past Stannis, falling upon the king's other brother farther away—Renly Baratheon.
Renly was not as stern as Stannis; instead, he wore a smile and was whispering something softly to the Knight of Flowers, who stood behind him as his guard.
They too were laughing.
After observing the king's two brothers, Eddard sighed helplessly in his heart before finally echoing Robert's words of praise for his "son."
"Yes, Your Grace. As the founder of this Tournament, Lord Kal El is indeed remarkable."
"And he has truly managed to fill your royal treasury—and even allowed the common folk of King's Landing to afford bread."
"For that, many are grateful to him."
As an old friend of many years—a brother-in-arms who had fought beside him through life and death—
Robert could easily hear the mild reproach in Eddard's tone, even though the latter spoke with restraint out of respect for the occasion.
"Hmph, spare me that nonsense! He's far more capable than all of you put together—whether in war or in making coin!"
The king snorted in displeasure, lifted his cup, and irritably drained the red wine down his throat in one gulp.
Seeing this, the wine servant beside him hurried to refill the cup.
"No need to refill the king's cup. There will be a celebration banquet tonight."
Seeing this, the Hand quickly spoke to remind the young attendant who had just been selected from among the Red Keep's servants.
Hearing the Hand's words, the wine servant hurriedly lowered his head.
And the king, who had been about to burst out in anger, swallowed his rebuke the instant he heard Eddard mention the celebration banquet.
"Hmph, the Master of Coin manages the king's purse, and now the Hand manages the king's drinking!"
"Seven Hells, there's nothing more dreadful than that!"
With another half cup down his throat, Robert grumbled irritably.
Eddard pretended not to hear him.
"The banquet will be cooler and more pleasant, and there will be roasted aurochs, Your Grace. That will be the time for true merriment!"
Just as the king and his Hand were "at odds," Varys, who had been silently observing, smoothly joined the conversation.
Hearing the exchange, Renly Baratheon could no longer keep whispering with Ser Loras Tyrell; he leaned forward and added, "Yes, brother, you must drink a few more cups then—and I've even prepared a gift for you!"
Robert, who had been about to say something more, immediately lost interest upon hearing Renly's words.
"We'll speak of it tonight, then."
Robert set the cup back onto the table.
On the other side, the corpulent High Septon of the Faith of the Seven listened to the king and his ministers with a smiling face.
Upon his head rested a great crown made of gold leaf and crystal, which scattered multicolored light each time he moved.
Yet his gaze had never left Kal El, who was slowly walking toward the high platform under the eyes of the crowd below.
After fully savoring the attention, Kal finally reached the front of the platform.
Bowing low, he first saluted the king in respect before slowly turning around and drawing a folded piece of parchment from his waist.
He cleared his throat.
"Ahem… My thanks to His Grace the King, and to all the honored guests present here today—
"Let us now—"
"The Tournament consists of sixty-six total events, including hunting, swimming, mountain climbing, running, jumping—…"
"The original jousting events will also be subdivided—"
"The top winner, the second, and the third shall each receive—"
"And finally, the joust will serve as the concluding event of the Tournament, to mark its closing and commemorate its founding…"
"The Queen of Love and Beauty's crown will likewise be preserved as the highlight of this final contest!"
"Thus, I hereby declare that the First Tournament is officially opened at Kal's Stadium!"
Kal's tone was sonorous and impassioned, his voice ringing like a great bell that carried for kilometers around.
The familiar opening address was given, but fortunately, Kal did not launch into a long speech; he merely gave a rough overview of the events to be held in the upcoming Games.
After once again reiterating the rules, fairness, and the rewards for the victors, he officially announced the commencement of the First Victory Martial Games.
Aside from the opening ceremony, of course, there was also the first event of the day.
That event was the group tournament originally belonging to the earlier tournament of duels, along with simulated battles held between squads composed of knights.
As the Martial Games were reformed from the original tournament of duels, Kal had deliberately chosen these two traditional events to serve as the opening ceremony.
However, both of these events were rather special, requiring the participants to have sufficient protection on their persons, so this invisible threshold still barred quite a number of people.
Yet because a greater threshold had been removed, there were still a few hundred people taking part in this group tournament.
After all, the reward for the victors was simply too enticing.
Among these people were wealthy merchants, mercenaries who had saved up enough to afford armor and equipment or had inherited protection from home, and even free knights and the like.
And with the increase in numbers, the group tournament naturally had to be divided into many matches in order to proceed.
The newly built arena was certainly large enough; among the several hundred participants registered for the group tournament, seven or eight fields were running matches simultaneously.
As soon as one round ended, the next immediately began, and nobles and commoners alike were left dazzled by the spectacle.
The scale of this Martial Games was such that not only the common folk, but even the nobles had never before seen such a grand scene.
Kal did not take part in the group tournament—aside from the suspicion that it would be like bullying "children," there was little benefit in doing so.
After all, if he were truly to don armor and carry onto the field a greatsword or hammer the size of a door panel, it was unimaginable how that scene would turn out.
Therefore, to give the younger generation more opportunity to shine, he had no choice but to act as a spectator. After finishing his work, he came to the high platform seats, preparing to sit down and properly enjoy watching others fight for his entertainment.
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