The Longspear competition grew more intense by the moment.
Several times, Daenerys, Margaery, Mya, and Sansa watched knights crash into one another, Longspears splinter and shatter, and the crowd scream as one, shouting for those they supported.
This tournament was far more proper than the last. Without a devil like The Mountain, an ordinary knightly contest would not involve deliberate killing.
Besides, King Gendry had already given his orders. A tournament was a tournament. No filthy tricks were allowed, and those who lost had to accept it.
The best competitors gradually began to stand out. Few Knight Attendants made a name for themselves; most of those advancing were seasoned warriors in the prime of their lives.
Many knights had come from the Vale this time, and all kinds of sigils could be seen across the field.
House Redfort's red castle, House Belmore's silver bells, House Lynderly's green viper, House Crakehall's red hammer, House Tollett's black-and-gray sawtooth, House Waynwood's black broken wheel on a green field, and many others.
Still, the Vale knights were eliminated one after another. The more outstanding among them were House Royce, Harry the Arse, Lynn Corbray, and Mychel Redfort.
"Ser Loras of House Tyrell of The Reach, third son of Lord Mace Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers, against Ser Harrold of House Hardyng of the Vale," the herald announced loudly.
The Knight of Flowers continued the legend he had begun in the previous tournament, sweeping aside the opponents before him as easily as reaching into a bag.
His newest match was against "Harry the Arse," Harrold Hardyng, Robert Arryn's cousin.
"Careful, Young Lord Harrold." The Knight of Flowers sat on his horse, his slender figure making him seem almost like a centaur.
"I was just hoping to learn a thing or two from you, Ser Loras." Harrold's surcoat and horse trappings were painted in House Hardyng's red-and-white diamond pattern, but his shield was quartered.
The first and third quarters bore the sigils of House Hardyng and House Waynwood as a mark of respect, while the second and fourth showed House Arryn's crescent moon and falcon in sky blue and cream.
The difference in their builds was obvious. Harrold was powerful, while Loras was slender. Harrold had long limbs, firm muscles, and stood as straight as a Longspear.
Harrold was no weakling, and he had improved a great deal lately while training with Gendry's group. But in fairness, the agile Ser Loras's horsemanship was truly extraordinary.
Their joust was also magnificent. They shattered six Longspears before the seventh clash.
The Knight of Flowers landed a perfect blow, knocking Harrold straight from his horse.
"Hahaha. Harry the Arse went flying." Robert Arryn laughed with delight as he spoke to Arya beside him. Arya only thought her aunt's son was noisy.
Great Lord Robert was very wary of this cousin, because that was how the line of succession stood.
"Hmph. He may call me cousin, but he's only waiting for me to die so he can take The Eyrie. He thinks I don't know, but I know perfectly well." Robert thought to himself. With Harrold sent off to King's Landing, he felt much better.
"I lost." Ser Harrold raised his visor, revealing a young face. He was handsome, with tousled sandy-gold hair, pale blue eyes, and a hooked nose.
Harrold removed his armor on the spot and gave it to Loras Tyrell.
"This is your prize," Harrold said. "You truly deserve the name Knight of Flowers."
"Then I'll look forward to the day you come to face me again," Loras replied with equal pride. He lifted Harrold's silver-plated armor with his Longspear and galloped around the field.
"The Knight of Flowers!"
"Harrold!"
Everyone cheered. Both of them were young, handsome, and full of knightly bearing.
Lady Anya Weywood of Ironoaks proudly applauded her foster son. Even though he had lost to the Knight of Flowers, Harrold had shown himself to be an excellent knight.
Lady Anya was resolute and slender, her gray-and-brown hair wrapped in a headscarf. Her gown was dark green, trimmed with brown fur, and the broken wheel of her house was patterned across the back.
Ser Loras then defeated the King's brother-in-law, Ser Mychel Redfort, becoming one of the final four.
"His Grace Gendry I, King of the Seven Kingdoms and King of Myr, Tyrosh, the Disputed Lands, and the Stepstones, 'The Storm,' 'The Breaker,' and 'The Swordbreaker,' against Ser Balon of House Swann of the Kingsguard, second son of the Lord of Stonehelm."
The crowd's cheers grew even louder. Ser Balon had a broad chest, a powerful build, and thick, muscular arms. He was young, brave, and courteous, the sort of good knight everyone praised.
But before "The Storm," everyone felt the only question was which thrust would knock Ser Balon from his horse.
Gendry rode a black horse, wearing black armor and a golden surcoat. Balon, by contrast, rode a white horse and wore a white helm and white surcoat, making the difference between them striking.
The wind stirred the many golden banners around the field, occasionally lifting a little dust, though not much.
Gendry I looked at the opponent before him. His warm eyes had turned firm, like a beast beginning its hunt.
His black armor and golden robe, paired with his jet-black hair, made him look even more handsome and imposing.
"Storm!"
"Storm!"
The people, the lords, and the noble ladies all cheered. The King's gaze was warm and resolute, exactly the sort people loved most.
"The King is very popular, Queen," Margaery Tyrell said to Daenerys with a smile.
"Ser Loras is popular as well." Daenerys returned the smile, watching the fight on the field tensely.
Sansa Stark silently prayed for the King, because he was simply too handsome, and because he was the strongest warrior of the age.
"My brother is definitely going to win. It just depends on which thrust," Edric Baratheon said to Arya Stark.
"Of course. Big Brother Gendry even took me flying before," Robert Arryn said excitedly to Arya. "Do you know what flying is, Arya?"
"Horseface" Arya, dressed in a gray-white woolen shirt, curled her lip. Of the children present, she might be the only one who had ever killed someone. All of this was nothing more than child's play.
Still, Arya naturally cared about the King's match. People said the Storm was strong and fierce, unmatched on the battlefield. Perhaps only by reaching that level of skill could one truly be invincible.
Gendry took the Longspear Anguy handed him, while Ser Balon calmed his nerves.
Ser Balon was determined to learn from Lord Jason Mallister's lesson. He decided to strike first. The longer he waited, the easier it would be for the Storm to find an opening.
"This is madness." Balon swung his tournament Longspear. Once the lance was in hand, he would thrust without hesitation, moving along the line of attack.
He would not imitate Lord Jason, an old man who had fumbled around looking for the right angle before being swept away by the King's single thrust.
Ser Balon did not hesitate at all. He felt this thrust was already perfect. Yet King Gendry opposite him still did not seem to have moved.
"Clang."
Balon's ash-wood Longspear had not yet struck Gendry. Gendry had not even raised his shield.
"Careful, Ser Balon."
Gendry's Longspear moved later but arrived first, its blunt tip sliding out at a strange angle.
The force, arc, and timing were all perfect. It was a thrust as smooth as flowing water.
"A fine thrust." Garlan Tyrell studied Gendry's strike closely and understood that its path could not be repeated. It was a thrust of strength and beauty.
Ser Balon was shocked, but he had no time to draw the white shield on his body, because his own momentum was too great.
Before Balon's ash-wood Longspear could touch Gendry, while it was still some distance from the King, Gendry's Longspear crashed forward with violent force and struck Balon's body.
Balon was knocked from the saddle and fell into the mud with a heavy thud.
Stars burst before Balon's eyes. Then Gendry waved his hand, and the squires brought a stretcher to carry the white knight back to his tent. Dizzy and dazed, Balon could still barely move.
Gendry circled the field in triumph, his black horse drawing countless eyes.
"Long live the Storm!"
"Long live the Storm!"
Everyone cheered. The loudest cheers of all were for the King.
Guyard Morrigen and Ronard Storm of the Stormlands were also defeated. The Ser Barristan they faced once again beat opponents decades younger than himself.
Jon Snow Stark won a few minor matches, but the Red Viper he faced was on a level several ranks above him.
"Jon of House Snow Stark of The North against Prince Oberyn of House Martell of Dorne," the herald announced loudly.
"Boy, why do you look so familiar?" Prince Oberyn asked.
Jon's sigil used two different whites. On a pale white snowfield, a running wolf was embroidered in a deeper white, its blood-red eyes vivid and lifelike.
"I am Jon of House Snow Stark."
"Oh, I know. You're that famous child of Eddard's." Oberyn smiled, then looked Jon over with interest. "It's good that you came out on your own. You're a brave one."