"Just wait and see."
Hiru casually folded his hands behind his back.
As it turned out, a master swordsman had a keen eye.
In less than five minutes, Xilong had greatly reduced the frequency of his swings and stopped pursuing his opponent to no purpose.
The young Dornishman grinned, knowing the moment to strike back had arrived.
Just as he had against Bart in the previous match, he circled Xilong, changing positions and keeping his distance as he thrust with his spear.
Xilong raised his sword to defend himself, but even the most careful guard had its weak points.
The young Dornishman slyly feinted, luring Xilong into attacking.
At the instant he was about to succeed, the young Dornishman reversed his grip and struck three times like a rooster pecking at food, blinding Xilong in one eye.
"Ah! I surrender! Stop the duel!"
Knowing the battle was lost, Xilong endured the pain and shouted out his humiliating surrender, losing the will to continue fighting.
Bart's fate had been a frightening warning. He didn't want to suffer the same end.
With Xilong's surrender, the young Dornishman grew even more arrogant, taunting everyone wildly and showing no regard for the other knights.
He had come here to slap these noble lords in the face.
As for the consequences?
Heh. He'd come prepared, of course.
On the high platform, Viserys glared at the young Dornishman, who was beating his chest with both fists. His knuckles had turned white where he gripped the armrests of his chair.
"Damn Dornishman! Find a powerful knight and have him kill that man!"
He ordered Lyonel.
"Of course, Your Grace."
Lyonel didn't dare say more. He went backstage to find a knight who could defeat the Dornishman.
Many contestants had signed up for the tourney. The Dornishman wouldn't be able to gloat for long.
In the corner, Rhaegar turned away with a dark expression, unwilling to watch the man below acting like a monkey and shouting insults.
"Don't be angry. That Dornish lad's skilled, and he's clever, too. Most people wouldn't be able to beat him."
Hiru spoke at length.
"I know. The kingdom is full of warriors. That man down there will lose sooner or later."
Rhaegar sounded certain.
"That's right. Every great warrior has a unique way of fighting."
Hiru changed the subject. "If I were to face that Dornish lad, the best approach would be to feign weakness, leave an opening so he'd attack first, then seize the chance to defend and counter."
Rhaegar looked at him oddly. "What, you want to enter the lists?"
"A wandering swordsman doesn't draw his sword lightly, unless he has a good reason to do so."
Hiru's lips curved up as he gave Rhaegar a meaningful look.
"What do you want? A job as the Red Keep's dance instructor?"
Rhaegar wasn't surprised that the man had shown his true colors.
Hiru dropped to one knee and said sincerely, "If Your Highness is willing, Hiru could stay at the Red Keep as a dance instructor."
"Why?"
"No particular reason. I wanted to, so I did."
Rhaegar raised an eyebrow. "That's not good enough. I wouldn't dare keep a dangerous man in my home."
Hiru pondered for a moment, then replied, "You are the eldest son of King Viserys I and the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Your status and potential make you worthy of my allegiance."
"That's a decent reason, but it still lacks sincerity."
Rhaegar still didn't trust him. He warned, "One more thing: my sister is the heir to the Iron Throne. I have no intention of competing with her for that seat, and no one should try to drive a wedge between us."
With that, Rhaegar turned and walked away without sparing Hiru another glance.
The man had appeared too suddenly and had been deliberately getting close to him from the very beginning.
He'd snatched pastries to show off his extraordinary skill and commented on the duel with a sharp eye.
He'd done everything to demonstrate his value.
Unfortunately, he'd revealed his intentions too soon.
Did he really think Rhaegar was just some ignorant child?
That all he had to do was act superior and unleash his kingly aura to make people bow down and pledge their loyalty?
"Crude methods and malicious intentions. If I see Hiru again, I'll have him thrown straight into the dungeon."
As he walked toward Rhaenyra, Rhaegar grumbled to Illyric.
"Yes, Your Highness."
Illyric nodded in agreement, though he looked a little hesitant.
Seeing him hesitate to speak, Rhaegar asked curiously, "What is it, Ser?"
"As you said, Hiru's methods are too crude. They don't fit the intelligence of a master swordsman."
Illyric voiced his doubts.
A glint flashed in Rhaegar's eyes. "A good swordsman isn't necessarily a good scholar."
Even so, he decided to keep a closer eye on the man.
Ever since word somehow got out that he'd recovered, the mood in King's Landing had begun to shift.
People had gone from urging Princess Rhaenyra to marry
to discussing how Rhaegar had been favored by the White Hart, a symbol of royal power, and possessed the makings of a king.
It wouldn't be long before some lord lost patience and advised the king to strip Rhaenyra of her status as heir and name his eldest son, Rhaegar, in her place.
Illyric had told him that the reason Viserys had confined Rhaegar to the Red Keep for half a year
was that he didn't want Rhaegar to face too much criticism, which might affect his resolve and leave him vulnerable to the influence of ill-intentioned people.
Rhaegar had no objections. He accepted his father's kindness.
Perhaps it was because he was still so young.
Rhaegar didn't care much about being heir to the Iron Throne.
Rhaenyra had been heir for several years already. Why should he cut in and take something he didn't even value?
"Hss... Grr..."
Suddenly, a strange roar came from the distance.
Rhaegar looked up, his expression changing at once.
A huge crimson shape appeared in the sky, drawing closer until it reached the tourney grounds.
Sharp horns, a long, serpentine neck, and broad, powerful red wings...
"That's a dragon!"
Rhaegar let out a low cry before he could stop himself, staring up at the flying dragon.
Rhaegar wasn't the only one who noticed the dragon's arrival.
The powerful gusts from its wings swept over the entire crowd, whipping their hair about and forcing them to squeeze their eyes shut.
A number of ladies' skirts were blown up by accident, much to the gentlemen's delight.
The scene immediately descended into chaos. The crowd cried out and shouted, trying to flee the shadow of the dragon.
"Quiet! This is a dragon of House Targaryen. The king is with you. Don't panic, and don't run!"
Just then, a deep, powerful shout rang out, quelling the panic in everyone's hearts.
A burly old man with white hair and a white beard stood there.
He was Harrold Westerling, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
Beside him sat the king, unperturbed on the high platform.
Viserys remained calm, gazing at the dragon with composure and displaying all the bearing of a king.
At the sight of the king, the crowd seemed to take heart, and the uproar eased somewhat.
After the brief panic passed, reason gradually returned.
Many people recognized the dragon's appearance and cried out in surprise.
"That's Caraxes, Prince Daemon's dragon!"
"That's right, it's Caraxes. I once fought alongside Prince Daemon. I couldn't mistake it!"
"Look! There's someone on the dragon's back. It's Prince Daemon..."
Caraxes, whose name had been called out, roared excitedly. Red Dragonflame, thick with black smoke, poured from its jaws.
With countless people watching, Caraxes circled above the tourney grounds three times.
Only after the figure on its back gave the order did the dragon slowly descend onto the field.
As soon as Caraxes landed, he greedily eyed the young Dornishman, who had been so arrogant moments earlier. He stretched out his serpentine neck and snorted hot air from his nostrils.
"Y-Your... Your Highness Daemon..."
Face-to-face with a dragon ready to devour him, the young Dornishman was nearly scared witless.
He stumbled backward, trembling, and hurriedly bowed to the man on the dragon's back.
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