"Shut up! Kingslayer!"
Lyn. Corbray's face turned red, and his roar was deafening.
"Kingslayer?"
Jaime. Lannister chuckled and knocked Lyn. Corbray down with one kick. He changed his pace and went offside. He took out the dagger from his waist and put it close to Lyn. Corbray's neck.
"Yes, I killed a king. I killed him with my own hands, in the throne room."
"I never deny it."
The cold dagger froze Lyn. Corbray's movements.
"What about you?"
"The great Sir Lyn. Corbray, the hero of Trident, tell me how you killed Prince Lewyn. Martell?"
Jaime. Lannister's voice was low, but it spread clearly throughout the silent duel field.
Lyn. Corbray's Adam's apple rolled and his eyes dodged.
He forced himself to speak, "That was a glorious duel, one on one."
Jaime. Lannister's dagger edge is one step closer. "Glory?"
"Tell me, how many wounds did he have on his body before he faced you?"
In the crowd with Dorne flags waving, countless pairs of angry eyes were staring here, and angry curses were heard from time to time, cursing Jaime. Lannister, cursing Lyn. Corbray.
Lyn. Corbray's vanity was completely pierced. "You are talking nonsense!"
He pushed away the dagger Jaime. Lannister which did not fall due to his resistance, stood up and waved "Lady Forlorn" desperately.
There is no order in the sword moves, only rage.
Jaime. Lannister resolved them one by one easily, and he even had time to tidy up his golden hair.
"Everyone is watching, Corbray."
His voice was not loud, but it carried irresistible pressure.
"The king is watching, Arryn of Vale is watching, Stark of the North is watching, everyone is watching."
"Tell them how you stole glory from a dying warrior."
Lyn. Corbray's voice was hoarse. "I said it! I defeated him head-on!"
Jaime. Lannister suddenly sheathed his sword, turned sideways to avoid a sweep, and the sword blade hit Lyn. Corbray's knee accurately.
"Really? It doesn't quite look like it?"
Lyn. Corbray cried out in pain and knelt down on one knee.
Jaime. Lannister is condescending, the golden armor shining in the sun. "Look into my eyes, Corbray."
"Say it again to everyone."
"You, Lyn. Corbray, as you claimed, killed Prince Lewyn, who was fully armed and unharmed."
Lyn. Corbray was kneeling on the ground, his hand holding the sword hilt trembling.
He opened his mouth but didn't say a word.
At this moment, the thunder of war horses sounded on the other side of the field.
Everyone's eyes were drawn to it.
Sir Suleiman and Creighton. Redfort are conducting the third round of spear charge.
The two horses rolled up smoke and dust, like two thunderbolts, and collided with each other.
"Bang!"
The spear exploded into a cloud of sawdust on the shield.
The huge impact shook their bodies, but they both sat firmly on the saddle.
Suleiman turned the horse's head and glanced at his opponent.
Creighton. Redfort's riding skills are impeccable. His man and horse seem to be integrated into one, and every charge is precise and deadly.
This is the knight of Vale.
Suleiman felt a flash of admiration in his heart.
A region with many mountains and few plains is actually famous among the Seven Kingdoms for its heavily armored knights. This is a strange thing in itself.
But now he experienced this horror personally.
Creighton. Redfort's every movement while riding on the war horse can be called a textbook, calm, composed and full of power.
A thousand such knights are enough to sweep through any battlefield.
They distanced themselves again and prepared for the next charge.
From the corner of Suleiman's eyes, Rosso Brune and Bryn had finished their fight and were looking at him nervously, as if they were ready to rush to help at any time.
This battle has long been won or lost.
He shook his head slightly, stopping them with a small movement.
Suleiman saw the eyes of Creighton. Redfort. There was no fear of death in them, only the desire and fanaticism for victory.
The death of his companions didn't seem to have any impact on him. Knowing that he would die, he willingly walked on the road to death.
I would rather die standing than live on my knees.
Whether it's the other party or his side.
Although he fights in groups, he stubbornly engages in one-on-one duels and is unwilling to bully the smaller ones.
If every noble in Vale is like this, they will undoubtedly be Seven Kingdoms's most powerful enemy.
Suleiman A thought became extremely clear in his mind.
Riverlands also needs such a knight.
No, he needs a knight stronger than them, a group of knights who obey his orders and devote their lives to him.
He wants to build the rich Riverlands into an unprecedented knightly military nation.
The trumpet sounded again.
The fourth round of charge begins.
Suleiman's legs squeezed the horse's belly fiercely, and the horse shot out like an arrow from the string.
His eyes became cold and there was no longer any appreciation or hesitation.
It's time to end.
At the moment when the two horses crossed each other, the spear in his hand did not aim at Creighton. Redfort's shield, but sank sharply.
The tip of the spear drew a fatal arc.
Creighton. Redfort didn't expect this blow at all.
At Vale, this approach is disgraceful.
All his training and experience told him that his opponent's target should be the knight himself.
"Pfft!"
The sharp spear penetrated deeply into the naked neck of the war horse.
The war horse let out a shrill cry, its front hooves softened, and its huge body fell to the ground in the high-speed charge.
Creighton. Redfort was thrown away by this huge inertia, rolled in the air, and hit the ground heavily.
The dust is flying.
The armor on his body made a heartbreaking sound of metal twisting.
He struggled, trying to get up from the ground, and just turned over.
A shadow enveloped him.
Suleiman had already rode up to him, and at some point he took out a heavy mace in his hand.
He didn't say anything, he just raised the hammer.
Creighton. Redfort raised his head and saw nothing but indifference through the gap in the helmet.
"Bang!"
The mace hit his helmet hard.
The helmet made of fine steel dented instantly, making a dull and loud sound.
Creighton. Redfort's body trembled violently, and then fell softly to the ground.
He lay face down in the dirt, motionless, his life or death unknown.
On the other side of the battlefield, Leonor. Corbray mobilized their horses and charged again with their guns raised.
He was like an experienced hunter, driving his mount, constantly wearing down the physical strength and patience of his prey.
Jon. Umber is the giant bear in trouble.
He was really not a good horse rider. As early as the second round of charge, he was swept off the saddle by the opponent's spear. The heavy armor made him consume a lot of money every time he rolled.
Mud and grass clippings were covered in his beard. He was panting heavily and could only rely on instinct to avoid the deadly spear point.
The spear shot through the air with the speed of a war horse, carrying the roar of death.
Jon. Umber threw himself to one side, and the tip of the gun almost brushed against his helmet, creating a deep ravine on the ground.
Leonor. Corbray did not stop at all, turning the horse's head and preparing for the next sprint.
Rosso Brune held the bloody sword hilt and looked at Suleiman: "Sir, Jon. Umber can't hold on anymore."
Suleiman didn't speak, his eyes fell calmly on the field, and if he died, he would die.
Jon. Umber said before he came on stage that he didn't need any help. The North People's pride is sometimes harder than their lives.
If you help now, it will not be regarded as a favor, but only as a humiliation.
Jaime. Lannister's questioning voice passed through the din of the battlefield and reached Suleiman's ears clearly.
Suleiman shook his head, not understanding what he was ashamed of.
Whether it's a serious injury or a sneak attack, just kill the opponent.
Eddard. Stark killed the legendary Sword of the Morning Arthur. Dain under Tower of Joy. The North people regard this as a myth.
But who knew how many swords Sword of the Morning was facing at that time.
Eddard. Stark himself may be deeply ashamed and never wants to publicize this as an achievement.
Lyn. Corbray just did the same thing and talked about it as a trophy.
War and battle are never fair game.
If you really pursue fairness, then simply divide the knights into weight classes, or ban the use of armor and let them fight the peasants one on one.
Suleiman felt a little impatient.
This Trial of Seven is a waste of time from beginning to end.
As long as one person on your side wins, he can immediately break the balance and help his teammates.
The ones standing on his side are Jaime. Lannister, Lyle. Crakehall, Westeros's top group of armed forces.
As long as one person opens the gap, victory will drown the other party like a flood.
At this moment, the situation on the field changed dramatically.
Leonor. Corbray's war horse charged again, its hooves raising large amounts of dust.
Everyone thought that Jon. Umber would dodge in embarrassment again.
But he didn't.
"Roar!"
A deafening roar, like a beast from the wilderness.
Jon. Umber Change the pace and avoid the charging lance.
The giant sword in his hands, carrying a huge force, slashed sideways on the horse's head.
The horse's head separated and blood spurted out.
The disembodied head of the war horse let out a shrill scream and then stopped abruptly.
Its huge body galloped forward a few steps due to inertia, and then fell to the ground with a crash, overturning Leonor. Corbray on its back.
The entire competition ground instantly fell into a dead silence.
Everyone was stunned by this barbaric, primitive and northern scene.
Even Robert. Baratheon stopped drinking and opened his eyes wide, seeming to be extremely interested in the power of this northern giant bear.
Leonor. Corbray struggled to crawl out from under the dead horse, his helmet tilted to one side, looking quite embarrassed.
Before he could stand still, a huge shadow enveloped him.
Jon. Umber Like a moving mountain, he threw away the already tattered shield in his hand, held his giant sword in both hands, and strode forward.
His voice was like thunder rolling out of his chest. "Now, we fight standing up."
Fight on foot.
Leonor. Corbray's heart sank.
He drew out his long sword and assumed a defensive posture. However, any skill was insignificant in the face of Jon·Umber's landslide and tsunami-like offensive.
The giant sword struck down on his head, and Leonor could only block with his sword horizontally.
"Clang!"
The sound of gold and iron clashing makes people's eardrums ache.
Leonor. Corbray felt an irresistible force coming from the sword, which made his jaw go numb and his arms almost lost consciousness.
He staggered back, unsteady on his feet.
Jon. Umber won't show mercy to others. He followed up with another strike.
There are no fancy sword skills, no elegant steps, just the purest strength and rawness.
Chop, sweep, chop again.
Leonor. Corbray's sword was quickly knocked out, spinning in the air and landing on the grass in the distance.
With his empty hands, he looked at the giant sword that was raised again in horror, and shouted in a hissing voice, "Wait... I... I surrender!"
The giant sword stopped above his helmet, and the sword wind ruffled the hair on his forehead.
Jon. Umber lowered his head and looked down at him, breathing heavily, like a beast that had just captured its prey.
"You shameful Vale softie!!"
But he didn't make another move, took back his sword, turned around and left.
On the other side of the battlefield, the battle between Yon. Royce and Jarell. Grafton is coming to an end.
This is a showdown between the old and the young.
Jarell. Grafton relied on his youth and strength to constantly consume Bronze Yohn. Royce's physical strength.
Every time Yorn. Royce made a powerful and heavy chop, he easily resolved it.
His plan was to just hold back the legendary lord of Runestone, and wait until his friends had dealt with their opponents before they could come over and help him.
Jarell. Grafton gradually felt powerless, his arms ached, and his breathing became rapid.
From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of other battlefields.
Lyn. Corbray was teased.
Benedar. Belmore fell down.
Creighton. Redfort fell down.
Now, even Leonor. Corbray has surrendered.
Of the seven friends, five were gone in the blink of an eye.
A chill rose from his spine and quickly spread to his limbs.
Does he still have hope of victory?
No more.
Once this thought occurs, it can no longer be contained.
Jarell. Grafton's fighting spirit quickly dissipated like a popped balloon.
His sword slowed down.
There was no wave in John Royce's gray eyes. He captured the momentary wavering of his opponent.
The old knight did not miss this opportunity.
His steady pace suddenly quickened, and his shield slammed forward.
Jarell. Grafton felt a huge force hit his chest, and his whole body flew backwards and fell heavily to the ground.
Before he could get up, the tip of a long sword was already pressed against the gap in the armor at his throat.
The cold touch made him freeze.
John Royce's voice was low and powerful. "It's over, kid."
"Death or surrender?"
Jarell. Grafton looked at those Gujing Wubo eyes and gave up resistance completely.
"I surrender, Lord Royce."
His battle is over.
Every time Lyle. Crakehall's sword is swung down, there is a roar that tears the air.
Vardis. Egen's shield was already out of shape, with pieces of wood and twisted iron hanging on its arms, like broken toys.
He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving violently.
The proud knights of Vale either surrendered or were defeated, and Trial of Seven was the only one left on the other side.
Lyle. Crakehall stopped attacking. There was no joy of victory on his rough face, and he waited politely.
Vardis. Egen looked around and saw the anxious face of Jon. Arryn in the stands, as the captain of the guard of House Arryn.
He fought to the end and did not break his oath.
The crisp sound of metal falling to the ground sounded.
Vardis. Egen threw away the long sword in his hand. "I surrender."
Jon. Arryn almost immediately jumped up from his seat, his old but resonant voice resounding throughout the audience.
"It's over! Trial of Seven It's over!"
He tried to keep his voice steady, trying to control this shaky situation.
"Seven has made a verdict! The victors have proven their innocence! The losers also fought bravely!"
The old man's words were like a tranquilizer, trying to soothe the tense nerves in the venue.
He just wanted to end it all quickly, before a bigger conflict broke out.
A bloody trial seems to have finally come to an end.
A handsome smile appeared on Lyn. Corbray's handsome face, and his eyes fluttered past Jaime. Lannister.
He said softly, "Go to hell and ask Lewyn. Martell how I killed him."
"Lannister."
Jaime. Lannister said nothing. He looked at Lyn. Corbray and looked at his smug smile.
The trial is over.
Surrender has been accepted.
The gods have made their decision.
Just when everyone breathed a sigh of relief, a golden shadow moved.
Jaime. Lannister took a step forward and pulled out a dagger inlaid with gems from his waist. His movements were as smooth as a dancer.
Under the sunlight, the cold light of the dagger flashed away.
Lyn. Corbray The smile on his face solidified.
He lowered his head and watched in disbelief as blood spurted out from his neck, and the blood quickly soaked into his gorgeous coat.
"Lady Forlorn" slipped from his weak hands and fell to the ground with a clang.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out, and his body fell softly.
The whole world seemed to have pressed the pause button.
Dead silence.
"What did you do!"
A roar broke the dead silence.
"It's over! Lannister! He has surrendered!"
Jon. Umber's burly body was shaking with anger. He pointed at Jaime. Lannister, and the beard on his face was shaking.
"Are you crazy!"
"This is murder!"
Bronze Yohn. Royce also shouted angrily, and his ancient bronze armor with runes was buzzing.
In the stands, Jon. Arryn's face instantly turned the color of pig liver.
He was shaking all over, not because of old age, but because of uncontrollable rage.
His voice was hoarse and sharp. "Jaime. Lannister!"
"What did you do!"
A shrill scream sounded.
Heart's Home Lord Leonor. Corbray's eyes widened with bloodshot eyes. Looking at his brother lying in a pool of blood, his reason was instantly swallowed up by the fire.
"You bastard!"
He pulled out his long sword and rushed toward Jaime. Lannister like a mad bull.
A huge figure stopped in front of him.
Lyle. Crakehall didn't even use a weapon, he simply waved his fist as big as a casserole.
"Bang!"
A dull crashing sound sounded.
Leonor. Corbray didn't even make a sound, fell heavily to the ground and passed out.
This punch completely ignited the powder keg.
"The Westerlands's bastard!"
"Lannister!"
"Kill him!"
The Vale nobles in the stands stood up one after another, pressed their hands on the hilts of their swords, and glared at Jaime. Lannister.
The nobles of the Westerlands are not to be outdone. They also have swords in hand, ready to rescue Jaime. Lannister at any time.
The knights confronted each other off the court, and the nobles roared in the stands.
The air is filled with the smell of rust and murderous aura.
"Enough!!"
An inhuman roar swept through the entire venue.
That roar was full of primitive, wild power, as if an awakened lion was declaring its territory.
It drowned out all the curses, roars, and scraping sounds of swords being unsheathed.
Everyone was shocked by this roar.
They all stopped in unison and listened in sequence.
Robert. Baratheon stood in front of his throne, his huge body casting a long shadow.
His red face and eyes were burning with fire.
Everyone fell silent.
Robert. Baratheon nodded with satisfaction, then sat back heavily on the throne, picked up the wine glass, and drank it all in one gulp.
Suleiman stood in the field, watching this scene quietly.
Four kingdoms, four minds.
This is a good thing.