Dornishman

"You speak the truth, Sir."

Rhaegar was speechless, but that didn't stop him from looking down on bloody jousts.

He told Rhaenyra he was "hungry" and got up on his own, heading straight for the banquet area.

The pointless fighting turned his stomach; he urgently needed some fruit to cleanse his palate.

Illyric shrugged and followed him, guarding his back.

The charge phase ended, and there were still mounted archery, melees, and duels...

After rounds of thrilling, bloody contests, the duel phase began.

The rules were simple: two people in armor, armed with any weapon, would fight without restriction.

The fight would continue until one surrendered or died.

It was commonly known as a duel.

The first two duels were spectacular, with Knights wielding swords and warhammers, the clash of metal igniting the blood.

Because the armor provided excellent protection, the most they could suffer was injury; there would be no permanent disability or even death.

The combatants on the field were not fools.

They came for honor and gold. Having already appeared before most of the nobles in the realm, why must they fight to the death?

As long as the fight was fierce enough, the nobles would cheer and offer rewards.

They couldn't tell if it was a real fight or a performance.

The third duel began quickly.

One combatant was Burter, the Iron Hammer Knight, from Iron Oak City in the Vale.

This Knight was tall and rugged in appearance, clad in silver-gray armor, holding a warhammer in one hand and a shield in the other.

On the other side was a brown-skinned youth in light armor, wielding a long spear.

It was not difficult to tell that he was likely from Dorne.

It is worth mentioning.

Although King Aegon the Conqueror unified the Seven Kingdoms, the Dornish people never truly acknowledged their allegiance to the Targaryen dynasty and rebelled frequently.

It wasn't until a few years before Aegon I's death that Prince Martell of Dorne sent envoys, and an agreement was reached.

Thus, the war between the Targaryens and the Dornish people came to an end.

Of course, while the great war ceased, minor skirmishes never stopped.

The fierce Dornish people often raided surrounding regions, causing trouble for the entire kingdom.

Looking at the Dornish faces below, Rhaenyra's bored heart finally stirred with some interest.

"I didn't expect a Dornish warrior to participate in this tournament."

Rhaenyra looked at Cole, who was guarding her side, and asked curiously, "Who do you think will win?"

Cole chuckled, "How can I tell who will win before the fight has even begun?"

"They say the Dornish are fierce and skilled fighters, savages who eat raw meat. Is it true?"

Rhaenyra anticipated with great interest.

The referee blew his horn, and the duel in the arena began.

Burter, his face hidden beneath his helmet, advanced menacingly, swinging his warhammer, not daring to slacken his guard.

He had heard the rumors about the Dornish.

Savage, ruthless...

He dared not be careless; who knew if the opponent would strike with deadly force?

In contrast, the Dornish youth was more relaxed, twirling his spear and pacing back and forth, taunting, "Big oaf, why aren't you at the blacksmith's? Don't waste that broken hammer of yours?"

As he spoke, he dodged and weaved with nimble grace, constantly applying psychological pressure on his opponent.

Burter, who had never been on a battlefield, had poor mental fortitude. Insulted, he couldn't contain his anger.

"Brown-skinned monkey, I hope your head is as hard as your mouth. Don't get it smashed by my hammer."

Seizing an opening while the opponent was mid-leap, Burter lunged forward, swinging his warhammer in a sweeping arc at waist height, his momentum unstoppable.

The spectators outside the arena watched intently, their eyes wide, anticipating the thrilling spectacle of blood splattering.

"Idiot, you're too slow."

The Dornish youth rolled on the ground, evading the warhammer's attack.

He stopped his roll with his legs spread, then thrust his spear into the weak point where Burter's leg armor connected, and blood immediately gushed out.

"Argh! Damn you, Dornishman!"

Pain ignited Burter's fighting spirit. He roared in anger and swung his warhammer down again.

He wanted to smash the Dornishman youth's head in.

Unfortunately, the Dornishman youth was too agile.

He shifted his position like a rolling donkey, then with a heave, pulled out his spear and thrust it into the weak spot on Burter's lower back again.

Squelch—

His waist was pierced, and Burter staggered to his knees, blood seeping from within his armor.

Having landed a blow, the Dornishman youth didn't press his advantage. Instead, he circled the fallen Burter, scrutinizing him.

He sneered, "This Knight from the Vale, you seem quite unfriendly towards us Dornish!"

He pulled his spear from Burter's wound and continued amidst his screams, "You call me a brown-skinned monkey, so what are you Vale men?"

"A goat without hair?"

Burter struggled to rise, only to be kicked down by the youth. Humiliation flooded his mind as he yelled, "Despicable Dornishman, if you have the guts, face me head-on! Stop hopping around like a monkey."

"Hahaha, what a clever remark, asking someone to challenge their strength with your weakness."

The Dornishman youth made no effort to hide his mockery. "On the battlefield, will you also ask your enemies not to dodge, Vale goat?"

"Damn you, die!"

Burter had long lost his reason. Seizing the opportunity while the youth was speaking, he gripped his warhammer and swung it low and wide, aiming to break the youth's ankles.

How could the Dornishman youth not be prepared?

With a light hop, he evaded Burter's long-planned sneak attack. The spear tip plunged down, piercing Burter's right hand, which held the warhammer.

With a flick of the spear, Burter's palm was severed, and he let out a piercing wail.

Thump—

As the scream left his lips, the Dornishman youth drove his knee into Burter's jaw, forcing him to stifle his cries.

Next, he ripped off Burter's helmet, exposing his vulnerable skull.

The Dornishman youth grinned cruelly, and under Burter's terrified gaze, he kicked him hard in the mouth.

Teeth mixed with blood streamed from his mouth, and he could only let out a desperate whimper.

With his head injured, Burter collapsed completely, his body twitching slightly.

The Dornishman youth held his spear to Burter's throat and surveyed the crowd outside the arena, shouting, "Look! A brave Knight of the Vale, who would rather die than surrender."

With that, he stomped his thick leather boot onto Burter's face, grinding it back and forth.

Seeing this, the spectators' expressions changed.

This was no longer a simple duel, but a one-sided massacre.

Knocking out his teeth to prevent surrender was nothing short of brutalizing his opponent.

King Viserys's face turned ashen. He turned to Hand Lyonel beside him and erupted in anger, scolding, "What kind of Dornish brute is this? No honor or courtesy whatsoever! Is he trying to show off to everyone here!?"

Lyonel wiped a bead of non-existent sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief and explained, "Your Grace, the Dornishman below is called Daeron Orlean. When he registered for the melee, he expressed great respect for you and wished to put on a spectacular show for you."

"This is your idea of a spectacular show!?"

Viserys was furious. "Dornishmen are never grateful. You should have arrested him for theft and imprisoned him in the water cells until he died."

"I am truly sorry, Your Majesty."

Lyonel lowered his head in shame. "All we can do now is pray that he ends Knight Burter's life quickly and doesn't cause too much negative impact."

"Do I need you to tell me that?"

Viserys snorted and ignored him.

Inside the arena, the Dornishman youth was still leaping about, spewing insults.

"I heard the Vale has many warriors, so why is this Knight so weak? Could it be someone took a bribe and let him in?"

After working so hard, I've finally signed a contract, I'm happy.

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