Under the morning sun, the top of the five-story wooden platform was bathed in a warm red glow. The White Tower's banner and the green banner with a golden rose stood side by side, fluttering cheerfully in the gentle morning breeze.
The elegant Ser Baelor Hightower left his seat and approached the railing of the high platform. Smiling, he pressed his hands downward, waiting for the audience and the knights below to quiet down before announcing loudly, "In the name of my father, the Old Man of Oldtown, Leyton Hightower, I hereby declare the 'Mead River Tournament' officially open."
"Wooooah—" The audience, whether standing by the arena or seated in the wooden stands, rose to their feet, clapping and cheering.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! In the crowded space between the two wooden stands, the gathered contestants also joined in, striking their shields while on horseback.
Standing at the edge, Dany couldn't actually hear anything. She simply saw others howling and striking their shields with swords, so she took the oak shield hanging from her saddle, placed it in front of her, and clapped it with her iron-gloved hands.
"What's this for?" she asked the old knight beside her.
The White Knight hadn't signed up for the tournament, but as the squire of the Mysterious Knight, he had to stay by Dany's side at all times.
Without him, Dany would struggle even to mount and dismount. After all, the shields and lances used in jousting were quite large, and someone had to hand them to the competitors. Moreover, in case of an accident—like being unhorsed by an opponent—a squire was needed to help remove the armor and provide aid.
"That is Ser Hightower, known as 'Laughing Baelor.' As the heir of Oldtown, he is presiding over the tournament on behalf of his father."
There was no doubt that the eldest son of the Hightower family was named after Baelor the Blessed.
In ancient times, such an act would have been akin to courting death. Not only was it forbidden to have the same name as the emperor, but even using a single character from the emperor's name was prohibited.
However, in this foreign land, naming one's child after one's liege was a way to curry favor with the king.
Even if one had no intention of flattering the monarch, giving a child the name of a great ruler was considered a blessing.
For example, in Game of Thrones, the protagonist, Jon Snow, was named after Eddard Stark's foster father, Jon Arryn. Likewise, Jon Arryn's son, Robert Arryn, was named after Robert Baratheon.
In fact, forget 'Baelor'—the Old Man of Oldtown, Lord Leyton Hightower, even had a daughter named 'Danys'!
"Why isn't his father here?" Dany asked again.
"In recent years, Lord Leyton and his eldest daughter, Malora, have been staying in the High Tower, studying magic."
"Studying magic? For years? Could it be that because of what happened with his younger daughter, Lynesse, he felt too ashamed to face the world and just found an excuse to hide at home?" Dany speculated.
"No, Lady Lynesse had only been married to Mormont for a short while when Lord Leyton secluded himself in the uppermost level of the High Tower, dedicating himself to the study of mysterious scrolls from Asshai and Valyria," the old knight shook his head.
"That early? The magic tide hadn't even arrived yet—it was still the Age of Waning Magic!" Dany grew more suspicious. "A father knows his daughter best. He must have been well aware of Lynesse's temperament, and Bear Island's economic state was no secret. He probably foresaw that their marriage wouldn't end well and decided to retreat in advance."
"Uh…"
The logic made sense, but the old knight still wanted to refute her. "Lord Leyton's eldest daughter, Malora 'the Mad Maid,' has never married and has spent her entire life studying magic in the High Tower. What about that? Perhaps they've actually made some progress, and Lord Leyton was simply drawn in?"
"You just said it yourself—Lady Hightower is called 'the Mad Maid.' Mad." Dany suddenly paused, thinking of Marwyn.
Over the past couple of days, she had specifically inquired about Marwyn. As one of the few maesters in the Citadel with a doctorate, his story was easy to find.
In his early years, Marwyn studied magic and the occult. After earning his Valyrian steel link, he spent eight years in the distant East, "studying abroad." He mapped unknown lands, searched for lost books, visited warlocks and shadowbinders, and even learned the moon singers' meditation techniques.
Yet, when he returned to Oldtown, the other maesters mocked him relentlessly. One particularly scornful archmaester, nicknamed 'Sour Billy,' even gave him a humiliating moniker—'Marwyn the Mage.'
In the Citadel, which denied magic and promoted 'science,' being called a mage was an insult.
It was as if a Nobel Prize-winning physicist had his colleagues sneeringly call him a 'mystic.'
Perhaps Malora the Mad Maid was also someone who had been slandered and misunderstood?
If so, did that mean the magical research she had been conducting for decades was actually legitimate?
"The High Tower… is still a tower, and its top level has almost no defenses," Dany tested the waters by saying this to the old knight.
"…"
The old knight's face twisted as he struggled to respond. Finally, he squeezed out a sentence: "The Citadel, which records the history of the Seven Kingdoms, is right next door. If we actually do this, we will be infamous for eternity."
"Wooooooh!"
Just as Dany was about to respond with, "I write the chronicles, therefore we are saints," the crowd ahead suddenly erupted into cheers even louder and more fervent than before.
"What's going on?" She stood in her stirrups, trying to get a better look.
At some point, a curly-haired girl, around twelve or thirteen years old, had appeared beside Laughing Baelor.
She was a little far away, so her face wasn't clear, but she was dressed in a pure white gown embroidered with puffy pale-yellow lace in golden thread. Her long brown hair cascaded naturally down her back, and Baelor was smiling as he placed a golden rose crown upon her head.
"Rhaella! Rhaella! Rhaella!" Someone in the crowd shouted, and soon, the entire gathering joined in, the scene boiling over like a pot of soup on a three-kilowatt induction stove.
The White Knight inhaled sharply and gasped, "By the Seven… the Crown of Love and Beauty!"
"That girl, Rhaella, is Baelor's daughter?"
"Yes. Laughing Baelor is about the same age as Prince Rhaegar, so his daughter should be around this age. She must have reached maidenhood and is ready to be wed. Perhaps Ser Baelor is hoping to find her a husband."
After placing the flower crown on her head, Laughing Baelor waved his arms and said something. Immediately, four knights in splendid armor stepped forward from the crowd and knelt before Rhaella on one knee.
They were likely swearing to protect her crown and fight for her honor.
Baylor knelt beside his daughter, kissed the back of her hand, and swore to protect her crown.
Seeing this scene, the crowd below erupted into even louder cheers.
Although the tournament was held frequently, the "Queen of Love and Beauty" was not chosen every time—in fact, such occasions were quite rare.
Most of the competitions followed a one-on-one knockout format: the loser would be eliminated, while the winner advanced to the next round. The final round's victor would be declared the champion.
There was also another competition format, where the tournament organizer would appoint his own daughter as the "Queen of Love and Beauty," and five powerful guardian knights would vow to fight for her honor.
After the knockout rounds, other victorious contestants could challenge one of the five guardians—if the guardian had also advanced. If they won, they could take the guardian's place.
The final victor had the right to choose the original lady as his queen or select someone else.
For example, at the "Prime Minister's Tournament" held at the beginning of the story, there was no Queen of Love and Beauty.
Yes, the Knight of Flowers did give Sansa a rose after one of his victories, but Sansa was not the Queen of Love and Beauty that year. (Loras, that flamboyant fellow, couldn't win the title himself but still gave a flower to a beautiful lady in the audience every time he won.)
First of all, King Robert, the host of that tournament, did not appoint a Queen of Love and Beauty.
He did have an illegitimate daughter, but Princess Myrcella was too young and not of marriageable age. Moreover, the primary purpose of the tournament was to welcome his close friend, not to flaunt his daughter.
Secondly, the Knight of Flowers gave only a single rose, not a crown. At that time, he had merely won a preliminary round—the finals had not even begun.
Lastly, only the champion had the right to select the Queen of Love and Beauty, and the champion of that tournament was the Hound.
Of course, one could argue that Sansa was an unofficial Queen of Love and Beauty without a crown, since the Hound merely expressed his raw masculine impulses toward her.
"Oh, the Hightower family is truly full of talent. There's a ninety percent chance that Lelia's crown is safe. Her five guardian knights—her father, two uncles, and two cousins—are all formidable true knights."
"Ordinary lords wouldn't dare to hold a 'Crown' tournament. If all five guardians were eliminated before the finals, it would be far too embarrassing," the White Knight said with a complex expression.
After the five guardian knights were chosen, the other contestants, including Dany, who had been packed into the arena, began to disperse.
This was the main tournament arena. In the preliminary rounds, only noble knights with recognized names were eligible to compete here and showcase their prowess before the crowd.
Knights like Dany—wandering knights, mercenary riders, and mystery knights—had to compete in the more "desolate" arenas nearby.
With 2,500 competitors, over a thousand matches had to take place in just the first round. Since each match lasted at least half an hour, a hundred different arenas were set up along the banks of the Honeywine River.
Dany's assigned arena was No. 87. She walked more than a mile north before she found the battlefield, which was less than 20 meters wide.
The ground inside was covered with soft yellow soil, sprinkled with water, and marked with two hundred-meter-long boundary lines drawn with lime powder.
The lines were spaced ten meters apart, with a randomly placed 1.5-meter-high wooden fence in the center. Riders would charge at each other across the fence.
Beyond the boundary lines were the spectator areas. Each side of the arena had a hundred-meter-long, five-meter-wide viewing area. But there weren't even wooden benches, let alone railings. Didn't the organizers fear that the warhorses might charge out of the arena and trample the spectators?
Sigh, they weren't worried at all. Apart from the contestants, their squires, friends, and family, there weren't any spectators to begin with.
Dany and Barristan arrived at this desolate patch of yellow earth.
Looking around, they could see straight through to thirty or forty neighboring arenas arranged in a row. The plain along the river was so flat that not even a single hill blocked the view—it stretched endlessly to the horizon.
"The first match is about to begin!" The announcer, clad in leather armor with a large white tower emblem, stood in the center of the arena and shouted, "'Dung Beetle' Jimmy! 'Dung Beetle' Jimmy, are you here?"
"Here! Here! I'm over here!" A man with a sallow face and battered gray iron armor hurriedly shoved a rusted helmet onto his head while groaning, "Ow, ow!"
Half of his head squeezed inside, but his nose got stuck outside. The middle-aged knight whimpered, "I can't, it's stuck on my nose! Brue, help me!"
"Are you bleeding?" The bearded man beside him exclaimed in alarm. "The rusted screw came loose, the visor is crooked, and it cut your nose!"
"Damned crooks, damned crooks! That helmet cost me eighty copper coins!" Jimmy bared his yellowed, rotten teeth as blood trickled from his upper lip, cursing the blacksmith who sold him the faulty helmet.
"Hey, Jimmy, are you still good to go?" The announcer, running out of patience, walked over and shouted.
"Get me some pliers!" the bearded man, Brue, called out.
The announcer shook his head. "That's not our responsibility. Jimmy, step down."
"Sigh, what bad luck. I was hoping to show my skills, maybe even become champion and place the garland on Lady Lelia." Jimmy grumbled, waved his hand dismissively, and left with his horse, led away by his companion.
The announcer glanced at the parchment scroll in his hand and continued calling, "Mystery Knight—Batman?"
(End of Chapter)
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