On Westeros, trial by combat was a time-honored tradition.
It was a way to settle disputes and resolve disagreements.
In a trial by combat, the two sides fought to the death, and the survivor won the trial.
In the original story, King Joffrey often used trials by combat to settle disputes, and always insisted that they be fought to the death.
But now, when Joffrey heard Garon propose a trial by combat, his face filled with terror.
Though arrogant, he had at least a basic grasp of life and death.
Joffrey knew that if he lost, he would surely die.
So he put on a brave face and snapped, "What are you, to think you're worthy of a trial by combat with me?"
Cersei, who had been watching with a smile from the dais, could no longer sit still. She scolded him coldly.
"What right does a petty lord of Deepwood Motte have to demand a trial by combat against a prince?"
Then she turned to Ned. "Is this how the North treats its honored guests?"
"Lord Ned, refuse him at once!"
As for why she didn't ask Robert to refuse, Cersei knew him far too well. If she spoke up, Robert would only agree.
After all, what he loved most was an honorable contest between knights.
Ned, still stunned, gradually came to his senses when he heard Cersei's reprimand.
He hadn't expected Garon to take such a desperate risk to defend his family's honor.
Ned sighed inwardly. Garon had already gone this far—how could he reject the trial by combat?
Garon had also anticipated Cersei and Joffrey's panic.
He wasn't worried that Robert and Ned would refuse the trial by combat.
As for Cersei and Joffrey, since Garon had dared to propose it, he had no intention of letting them refuse.
"Your Grace, Lord Ned."
"Since Prince Joffrey is still a child, he may appoint someone to fight in his place."
At those words, the terror in Joffrey's eyes gradually faded, replaced by an overwhelming surge of excitement.
Even Cersei looked startled. She sized Garon up and thought,
"Is he mad?"
"Or is he looking for a dignified way to back out of the betrothal?"
Suspicion filled Cersei's eyes. She still couldn't believe her ears.
Jaime, who had been leaning against a wooden pillar in the hall, immediately straightened. His keen eyes studied Garon, as though trying to discover something about him.
The hall erupted into chatter. Everyone found Garon's decision incomprehensible.
Everyone except Ser Rodrik and Robb.
They had seen Garon's extraordinary swordsmanship over the past few days, and naturally had complete faith in him.
Robert scrutinized Garon from head to toe.
Suddenly, he lifted his goblet and slammed it down on the table, silencing the hall.
Robert's expression was intent as he confirmed, "You're certain you want Joffrey to choose a champion?"
Garon nodded without fear.
"Good!"
A flicker of admiration crossed Robert's eyes. He turned to Joffrey. "Who will you choose to fight for you?"
Everyone present immediately understood that Robert had accepted Garon's challenge to trial by combat.
Knights from both House Baratheon and House Lannister eagerly stepped forward, hoping Joffrey would choose them.
But Joffrey would never choose nobodies like these.
Now completely at ease, he wore a smirk and suddenly turned to Garon. "Can I choose anyone?"
Garon stood his ground, abandoning his usual modesty and restraint as he showed his full confidence. "Of course. I'll face anyone, whether they're a Lannister or a member of the Kingsguard!"
Garon's absolute confidence gave Joffrey pause.
He had originally planned to choose Sandor Clegane, the Hound, as his champion, but now he hesitated.
Soon, however, Joffrey's gaze swept over Meryn Trant, whose beard was the color of rust. With a nasty grin, he said, "I choose Ser Meryn Trant!"
Meryn Trant, who had been watching as if this were all a farce, froze. He hadn't expected Joffrey to choose him.
But since Joffrey had asked, he naturally wouldn't refuse.
Meryn Trant was already fed up with the boy who kept making grand claims. He stepped out without hesitation, ready to fight. "I'm at your service, Prince Joffrey!"
When Meryn Trant agreed, Robert cast a commanding gaze over the hall and took charge of the unusual trial by combat himself.
"In the name of Robert I of House Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I hereby declare—"
"The trial by combat proposed by Garon Glover, Lord of Deepwood Motte, is now officially underway!"
"The winner shall wed Sansa Stark, daughter of the Lord of the North!"
Whoosh—
The atmosphere in the hall surged. Everyone eagerly began moving the tables and chairs.
Several long tables were shoved aside, and food toppled to the floor, unnoticed.
Within minutes, a dueling ground had taken shape around Garon and Ser Meryn Trant.
Robert, Ned, and the others sat high on the dais.
Robb, Sansa, and the others stood below it, watching Garon with tense expressions.
The commotion in the hall finally drew the Imp back inside. He had been outside talking with Jon. After struggling through the crowd, he appeared beside Jaime.
"Hey, Jaime, I was only gone for a little while. How did this place turn into a dueling ground?"
Jaime didn't answer Tyrion. He was completely focused on Garon.
For some reason, he sensed a deadly danger about Garon, especially once he gripped his sword.
"Hey, boy, want some time to go back and change into a decent suit of armor?"
Meryn Trant eyed the sword and leather armor Ser Rodrik had hurriedly brought Garon, and mocked him without mercy.
Garon only smiled faintly. "I don't need armor to deal with you!"
He handed the leather armor back to Ser Rodrik and stood there casually, holding only his sword.
Garon's manner successfully enraged Meryn Trant.
"Boy, I'd advise you not to get too cocky!"
Garon slowly drew his sword and tossed the scabbard onto the ground beside him.
"Is all the Kingsguard good for just running their mouths?"
"Ser Meryn, what are you waiting for?"
Joffrey, standing beneath the dais as well, grew even angrier at the taunt. "Ser Meryn, kill him! Kill him!"
Meryn Trant, fully armored, drew his sword in an instant. Murderous intent filled his eyes as he charged at Garon and swung.
Garon stood still, watching him rush forward without moving a muscle.
Joffrey thought Garon had frozen in fear. Excitement flickered in his eyes as he watched Meryn, tense and eager for him to cut Garon down.
But things didn't go as Joffrey expected.
With a sharp clang—
Garon raised his sword at the last possible instant and blocked Meryn Trant's attack with ease.
Then, under Meryn's disbelieving gaze, Garon pushed hard and forced him back with a single strike.
"Thud, thud, thud."
Meryn Trant felt as if a giant had crashed into him. His body staggered backward against his will.
Once he regained his footing, his hands trembled, and a trace of fear flickered in his eyes.
"What are you doing, Ser Meryn?"
"Attack! Kill him already!"
Joffrey kept shouting encouragement from behind him.
But Meryn Trant could no longer spare him a thought. His entire focus was on Garon. He slowly circled backward, searching for an opening.
"Seven Hells, how can he be so strong?"
Meryn realized that unless he gave it everything he had, he might not make it out of here alive.
"Why are you keeping your distance?"
Garon stood where he was, sword in his right hand, smiling as he watched Meryn Trant.
"Ser Meryn, if you want to win this trial by combat, you should come closer."
"Or are you afraid to approach because my sword is faster than you can react?"
Garon strolled forward, pressing Meryn Trant with a hard-to-read tone.
"If that's what you think, that's laughable!"
"Distance only matters when both fighters are evenly matched."
"But between you and me..."
Garon suddenly tightened his grip and charged at Meryn, swinging at him with astonishing speed.
Meryn was horrified and instinctively raised his sword to block.
But Garon knocked Meryn's blade aside with a single strike. Then his sharp sword point pierced Meryn's throat.
With a wet thud, blood sprayed everywhere.
Garon calmly withdrew his sword and flicked the blood from it before delivering his final words.
"Between you and me, distance means nothing!"
"Hah—"
Meryn Trant weakly clutched his throat, his body convulsing before he crashed to the floor.
The hall fell silent.
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