Duke Eddard shouted urgently, "Stop him!"
Everyone was shouting, and Duke Eddard's voice was drowned out by the surrounding roars.
Sansa's small hands gripped her father's arm tightly, and she pleaded tearfully, "Father, please, save him!"
...
The Mountain gripped his sword with both hands and swung it violently at the Knight of Flowers' chest, and with a bang, he was thrown from his saddle, crashing heavily to the ground.
The startled grey horse immediately ran off, and the dizzy Ser Loras struggled to get up.
The Mountain's longsword cut a semicircle.
With a gush, blood splattered, and the Knight of Flowers was decapitated.
Buzz!
For a moment, it was as if time froze; everyone's gaze was fixed on where the incident occurred, unable to believe what they were seeing.
...
Ding~ dong~ ding-dong~ ding~ dong~ ding-dong~
A familiar tune from his previous life surfaced in Glynn's mind, and his brown eyes flickered… The Hound, who wanted to stop the Mountain's evil deed, had only run a few steps before falling to the ground due to a leg injury… Renly jumped down from the high stands like a madman, rolling several times on the ground… The Golden Rose knights and green-clad soldiers swarmed into the tourney grounds… At this moment, many people went mad together.
The Mountain's tall figure disappeared into the dense encirclement, his fate unknown.
...
Petyr stood beside Glynn, looking at the chaotic scene ahead, and slowly said, "Tyrell must have deliberately found a mare in heat."
He slowly curled his lips and continued, "I guess that kid planned it beforehand… Everyone knows the Mountain always prefers large, ill-tempered, wild horses."
Glynn nodded, saying calmly, "Nine times out of ten, that's the case; Golden Rose is too proud… Otherwise, today's tragedy wouldn't have happened."
Petyr's pupils constricted, and after a moment of pause, he said, "That makes a lot of sense. Not everyone is willing to play games with great nobles. I don't know whether to say it's good luck or bad… It just so happens that the Mountain isn't."
Glynn turned his head to look at Petyr, a hint of helplessness on his face: "Earl Petyr, Tyrell will hate Lannister to death now."
In the distance, dozens of Lannister red-clad soldiers attempting to rescue the Mountain were confronting Tyrell's green-clad soldiers, with a battle potentially erupting at any moment.
Petyr looked back at Glynn, shrugged, and said, "I heard the Duke of Highgarden dotes on his youngest son. Alas, the Seven Kingdoms have only just enjoyed a few years of peace."
Glynn's face showed no emotion, but he inwardly disdained Petyr.
"Earl Petyr, let's go. I think the Prime Minister needs some help."
...
Everything happened too suddenly. Duke Eddard sighed as he looked at his daughter, who was clinging to him and sobbing… He had to go quickly to stabilize the situation before a larger conflict erupted, but he also didn't feel comfortable leaving Sansa alone here.
Sansa had almost cried all her tears dry. Why did such a beautiful Knight of Flowers have to die? Would people eventually forget his appearance and name, and would no one compose songs to praise him… How sad.
Glynn and Petyr pushed through the crowd and approached Duke Eddard.
Glynn glanced at Sansa's tear-stained face. It was very noisy here, and he raised his voice: "Duke Ned, please leave Miss Sansa to me. I will arrange for guards to safely escort her to the Prime Minister's Tower."
Hearing Glynn's voice, Sansa barely managed to control her emotions. She released her father's arm, lowered her small face, and gently wiped the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand.
Duke Eddard nodded, patted his daughter, stood up, and strode down the stands.
Sansa needed rest. Glynn and the guards escorted her out of the tourney grounds, and Petyr also followed them, not leaving.
...
By the time Sansa got into Kleber's carriage, she had at least regained her outward composure.
"Earl Glynn, thank you for your help, and also…"
As she spoke, Sansa's wet eyes looked at the stranger sitting opposite her, who kept staring at her.
The stranger was dressed impeccably, like a monk. He was short, had a pointed beard, and a few silver hairs at his hairline; he seemed to be about her father's age.
Glynn, standing by the carriage, introduced him: "Miss Sansa, this is Earl Petyr Baelish, the Master of Coin of the Small Council."
Sansa's etiquette was standard: "It's an honor to meet you. I am Sansa Stark."
Glynn suddenly thought of something… It seemed that neither Sansa nor Arya had the "arrogance" of a duke's daughter, which was very different from Little Rose's approachable image.
Glynn could feel it… Little Rose's behavior of not putting other great nobles in her eyes, except for Queen Cersei… Although she never showed any outward abnormality, she always held her opinion.
Overall, the two daughters of Stark had a simplicity that was different from other duke's daughters.
Glynn gave a few more instructions and then left, entrusting the remaining escort mission to the "volunteering" Petyr Baelish.
Both the Knight of Flowers and the Mountain had accidents, and Glynn was now the champion of the jousting tournament. As per custom, the King and Queen would receive him together.
Oh, and collect the 40,000 gold dragons prize, by the way.
...
Inside the carriage, Petyr's lips curved into a smile, his gaze never leaving Sansa's small face.
"You have the Tully features…"
After a pause, he continued, "Sansa, don't be sad anymore. You are more suited for laughter."
Sansa was a little confused. Petyr's grey-green eyes kept staring at her, yet she felt like he was looking at someone else. This feeling was very strange.
Petyr's voice was hoarse: "Cat… your mother…"
Sansa blinked and asked, "You know my mother?"
Petyr's face was gentle: "Child, Cat and I grew up together in Riverrun. She was the queen of love and beauty in my heart."
...
...
Soon after Glynn returned to the tourney grounds, Duke Eddard, with the help of King Robert, quickly quelled the chaos, temporarily suppressing the outbreak of hatred.
As the jousting champion, Glynn first rode a lap around the arena, receiving cheers from the spectators, and then, under Jaime's ashen face… he placed the queen of love and beauty's crown on Princess Myrcella with both hands.
Seeing the somewhat shy Myrcella, King Robert laughed heartily, and the surrounding crowd also showed kind smiles.
Queen Cersei was very pleased with Glynn's actions… Glynn, who won the King's Landing tournament, would soon be famous throughout the Seven Kingdoms, and Myrcella, who wore the crown at the age of eight, would also become known throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Everyone would praise her daughter, just as she was called the Light of the West.
Queen Cersei lifted her chin. The Lioness's daughter would naturally rise above all other women.
...
That afternoon, Baron Swann of Stonehelm defeated Prince Jarabar Xhor of the Summer Isles in the hundred-step archery final, winning the archery championship.
The melee team combat had nearly forty participants, mostly free riders, mercenary knights, and newly appointed knightly squires seeking fame. They wielded blunt weapons, fighting each other in a muddy, blood-splattered arena.
They would form small teams to fight enemies one moment, then fall into infighting and kill each other the next, alliances forming and breaking in an instant, until only one person remained standing… The ultimate victor was Monton Wei Shui of Whispering Fort.
They fought for nearly three hours, and the final casualty list compiled by the record keeper included two broken legs, a shattered collarbone, a dozen smashed fingers, two horses that had to be put down, and too many cuts, sprains, and abrasions to bother counting.
...
...
After watching the team melee, Robert told him that the hot blood in his body was almost out of control, so he took a group of people and left the tourney grounds. It was said that someone had seen a white deer deep in the forest, and Robert vowed to hunt it himself.
On the way back, Duke Eddard sighed to himself, thinking that hunting would always be far more attractive to Robert than kingdom affairs.
Duke Eddard knew in his heart that House Tyrell's hatred was only temporarily suppressed by him and Robert… He hoped they wouldn't cause trouble before he finished dealing with the matters at hand.
The accident in the competition would also be interpreted as a conspiracy because Highgarden had lost its duke's son, and now was when the hatred was most intense; a war could break out at any moment.
If a war really broke out… Duke Eddard shook his head. There was only one way to bring Robert back from his hunting obsession immediately: war.
Facing Robert's warhammer, smart people would choose to go home obediently.
...
Prime Minister's Tower.
Duke Eddard met Arya practicing standing on one foot at the stairwell. Lately, his youngest daughter had become increasingly proficient at it.
"How's the practice going?"
"My whole body aches from practicing!"
Arya happily reported her progress to her father and proudly displayed a large purple bruise on her leg.
Duke Eddard personally inspected his youngest daughter's bruise and frowned: "Arya, I hope Syrio isn't too harsh on you."
Arya said proudly: "Syrio says every injury is a lesson, and every lesson makes us stronger."
Syrio Forel's swordsmanship was renowned, however… He had Arya practice front and back rolls, and then had his youngest daughter tie a black silk scarf over her eyes and wander around. Arya told him that Syrio taught her to perceive her surroundings with her ears, nose, and skin.
Duke Eddard said uneasily: "Arya, do you really want to continue learning?"
Arya nodded without hesitation, excitedly saying: "Tomorrow we start practicing catching cats."
"Catching cats?"
Duke Eddard was slightly stunned. He sighed: "Perhaps I shouldn't have hired this Braavosi to teach you. If you wish, I'll have Jory take over and teach you swordsmanship. Or, I could also speak to Ser Barristan; he was the best knight in all the Seven Kingdoms when he was young."
Arya shook her head firmly: "I don't want them! I only want Syrio!"
Duke Eddard rubbed his hair, a headache coming on. He felt that any decent instructor could teach Arya basic hacking and parrying, without these tricks of walking blindfolded, somersaulting, and hopping on one foot.
Duke Eddard understood his youngest daughter's personality and knew that arguing with Arya was useless; it would only make her more determined.
Anyway, she would get tired of it sooner or later, so he didn't insist: "Then it's Syrio."
Duke Eddard further instructed: "You must be careful not to hurt yourself."
Arya solemnly promised her father: "I will!"
After speaking, she smoothly hopped from her right foot to her left.
His second son liked to climb walls, and his youngest daughter liked to climb… spiral stairs, for now, presumably.
...
...
Night, Prime Minister's Tower.
Petyr ascended the stairs, a mocking curve appearing on his lips.
"Earl Glynn, it seems our Prime Minister is very troubled…"
With a clang, Petyr suddenly heard the sound of a sword being drawn. He froze, stiffly turned his head to look at Glynn, and a drop of cold sweat slid down his forehead.
Glynn's longsword was pressed against Petyr's back; he dared not make any unnecessary movements.
Glynn proactively explained: "Earl Petyr, your and Lady Lysa's affair… has been discovered by the Prime Minister, and he has already obtained sufficient evidence."
Petyr's pupils constricted, and he said with a smile: "Earl Glynn, you should know that many people dislike me. Sometimes, so-called evidence is not reliable; it's just…"
Glynn interrupted: "The Spider."
A fine cold sweat instantly broke out on Petyr's back, but he still maintained his composure.
After a pause, he said, "The Master of Whisperers' intelligence is even less reliable; that's something everyone knows. Isn't it, Earl Glynn?"
Glynn shook his head and said, "Earl Petyr, you don't need to explain these things to me. As your friend, the reason I'm here to remind you is because the evidence is conclusive and irrefutable."
Petyr's eyes trembled, and his smile became forced: "It seems my luck is good; my friend will choose to help me."
Glynn sheathed his longsword.
He lowered his voice: "Earl Petyr, I think you were forced to assist; the real culprit… is actually Lysa Tully."
Petyr: "…"
Glynn reached out and grabbed Petyr's shoulder, then added: "As long as the Prime Minister believes this, I will ensure your safe departure from King's Landing."
Petyr scoffed, saying, "Wouldn't I become a stray dog?"
Glynn's eyebrow slightly raised: "Earl Petyr, the Vale is your home."
Petyr glanced at Glynn, paused, and then said, "You'll send me to the Vale?"
Glynn withdrew his hand and placed it on the hilt of his sword: "The deeply affectionate Lady Lysa will surely welcome you, and the young Duke also needs your assistance. Moreover, there's no safer place than the Eyrie and the Blood Gate."
"Heh, the Vale Noble won't tolerate Lysa and me."
"How could they possibly be your opponents?"
Petyr: "…"
After a moment of silence, a shocked expression flashed across Petyr's face.
He spoke: "You want to use me to cause chaos in the Vale? Then…"
As he spoke, Petyr looked at Glynn with some disbelief.
He continued: "You want to destroy the Arryn Family?"
Glynn spread his hands: "As expected of Earl Petyr… Only the blood of the Arryn Family can quell the hatred of the Crab Claw Peninsula. My slight selfishness cannot be hidden from you, so… after returning to the Vale, we two will still be friends."
Petyr took a breath, calming himself.
"Earl Glynn, cooperation requires trust as a foundation. I haven't seen your sincerity."