Three Days of Tourneys at Rose Field

The morning light in Rose Field always carries the sweet fragrance of golden roses. As the first rays of sunlight pierce through the white marble towers of Highgarden and fall upon this open green expanse, the dozen or so wooden stands are already packed with people—the lords of the Reach wear ceremonial robes embroidered with their crests, the knights' armor gleams coldly in the sunlight, and even the fishermen from the Mander River crowd on the outermost grassy slopes, clutching freshly baked flatbreads in their hands, their eyes fixed intently on the central arena.

The wind lifted a corner of the gold and green velvet blanket covering the main stand, and the laughter of Duke Mathos Tyrell drifted through the crowd. Today he wore a green brocade robe embroidered with gold roses, his belly rounder than usual, and he was playing with a ring inlaid with an emerald in his hand. Beside him stood the Duchess and their only son, Garlan Tyrell.

Daemon sat beside Garlan, his Blackfyre leaning against the chair, the Valyrian steel patterns on its scabbard reflecting the morning light.

Gael was wearing a pale blue rose cloak, and Mysaria was next to her, clutching a bunch of grapes from Arbor in her hand, a freshly picked gold rose pinned to her platinum curls;

Sir Martyn Tyrell held a volume of "History of Tourneys in the Reach," while Lady Florence handkerchief, her gaze fixed on the contestants below, a hint of scrutiny in her eyes.

The most eye-catching were the knights lined up in the arena, each with their own unique family crests on their armor:

Colin Celtigar wore silver armor, with his personal blue background and black crab pattern engraved on the breastplate, and small pearls adorning the edges of the shoulder armor, a traditional seaside decoration. The white horse he rode had a blue ribbon tied to its forehead, echoing the armor.

Rupert Crabb's white armor appeared even heavier, with the House Crabb's swamp marigold embroidered on the chest. At his waist hung the silver spoon he had smuggled from Ashemark, which he had deliberately tied with a leather cord for good luck. He rode a brown horse, with an oak lance holstered on its back.

Thaddeus Rowan 'Earl armor had a matte finish, with the Rowan family's white coat of arms and gold tree emblem in the center of the breastplate. The shoulder armor was engraved with ivy patterns, and even the stirrups were carved with vine leaf patterns, making it clear that he was an old nobleman from the Reach.

The other knights also had their own insignia:

The House Florent's red and gold armor was adorned with a dazzling red and gold fox, surrounded by a ring of lapis lazuli patterns;

The House Peake family's black and orange armor, besides featuring an orange base with three Castle Black crests, also has spiked decorations on the shoulder armor;

At the center of the House Hightower's white armor stands their Hightower, a stepped tower with beacon fires burning atop a soot-colored background;

The entire arena resembled a living scroll of the heraldic coats of the Reach nobles.

"The first day of jousting begins!" With a command from Sir Martyn on behalf of his nephew, Duke Mathos, the trumpeter blew the brass horn, the sound so loud that golden rose petals fell from the edge of the stands.

The first day's spear duel finals could be described as a clash between the Crab Claw Peninsula's valiant twin stars (the Crab Island House Celtigar Crab Island has always claimed to be the guardians of the Crab Claw Peninsula, so many people also classify them as belonging to the Crab Claw Peninsula) and the former glory of the Reach's old knights.

The group stage progressed quickly, with the Cavaliers charging head-on in pairs, the crisp sound of spears breaking mingling with the cheers of the crowd.

Colin Celtigar's performance was exceptionally brilliant. His marksmanship combined the agility of a sailor with the unpredictability unique to Crab Island. In each charge, he precisely dodged the tips of his opponents' spears, then lightly tapped their saddles with the butt of his spear, forcing three opponents to fall from their horses one after another. The Blue Crab pattern on his silver armor gleamed in the sunlight, drawing a nod of approval from Earl Redwyne in the stands. "House Celtigar's lad, his horsemanship alone is far superior to his uncle 'Old Crab's' amateurish skills from our Old Oak tournament back in the day!"

Rupert Crabb, on the other hand, took a more forceful approach. His lance was half an inch thicker than the others, and he relied entirely on brute force in the charge. First, he sent a House Peake family knight flying with a single thrust, and then in the second round, he cleaved his opponent's lance in two. A few mud splatters on his white armor only made him appear more ferocious. Mysaria nodded in approval, "Young Master Rupert is quite strong, but his horsemanship is a bit lacking. I almost saw him slip off his horse just now."

The semi-finals soon came down to Colin versus Rupert. The two stood on horseback at opposite ends of the arena, Colin's white horse ten paces apart from Rupert's brown horse, their hooves pawing the grass restlessly. "We didn't get enough of a match at the Crakehall last time, let's have a proper one this time!" Rupert shouted at the top of his lungs, his hand on the silver spoon at his waist, as if encouraging himself.

The horn sounded again, and the two horses charged simultaneously. Rupert's lance thrust straight at Colin's chest with such force that the air itself trembled; Colin, however, suddenly leaned forward, his silver armor grazing the horse's neck, while his lance slashed diagonally, striking Rupert's lance shaft with a crisp clang. Rupert felt his hand go numb, the lance nearly slipping from his grasp, and his mount was thrown to the ground.

"Our half- Wildlings knights' riding skills are still lacking!" Colin reined in his horse and shouted back. Rupert's face turned red, and he turned his horse around to charge again. This time he changed his strategy and tried to attack from the side, but Colin's white horse nimbly dodged it. Instead, the tip of Colin's spear struck the saddle, startling the brown horse, which carried Rupert out of the dueling circle.

A burst of laughter erupted from the stands. Rupert fell onto the grass, his white armor covered in grass clippings as he got up. He grabbed the silver spoon at his waist and shook it. "That doesn't count! Next time it's a sword fight, I'll definitely beat you!"

Colin laughed as he dismounted and reached out to help him up, "Alright, next time we spar, you'll have to give me three moves." Ever since Rupert spent so much time practicing swordsmanship with Daemon, Myles, and Colin, the once polite and aloof Crab Claw Peninsula knight had become more easygoing.

The final became a duel between Colin and Thaddeus Rowan. Earl Rowan was over thirty, in his prime. Although his temples were streaked with gray, he still stood tall and straight, and the ivy on his green armor gleamed in the sunlight.

Before the match began, he bowed to the main stands and said, "Your Highness, Your Grace, I'll play with these young people today."

Colin tightened his grip on the spear; he had just finished fighting Rupert, and his arm was still sore. The white horse was also breathing rapidly.

During the charge, Earl Rowan did not rush to attack. Instead, he deliberately slowed down and waited for Colin's spear to come close before suddenly turning to the side, wrapping the shaft of the spear around Colin's spear shaft, and at the same time spurring his horse's flanks. The green armor brushed against the silver armor as Colin felt a numbness in his wrist, and the spear flew out of his hand, crashing heavily onto the grass.

"Your experience is still lacking." Earl Rowan Wan reined in his horse, his tone carrying a gentle smile. Colin dismounted and bowed to him. "Your Earl, you are far superior. I am convinced."

In the main stands, Mathos slammed his fist on the table and laughed, "Good! Thaddeus, you're still as good as ever! Celtigar's little crab is pretty good too, practice more next time, and you'll definitely beat this old tree!"

The Duchess and Florence exchanged an awkward smile, clearly used to their husbands' eccentricities, while Garlan looked at his uncle Martyn, and the two of them sighed silently at the same time.

Larys Strong appeared out of nowhere, sighed softly, caught a grape that Jarman tossed to him, and ate it. "Little Crab is already strong enough; those few moves he made to beat the Wildlings were quite impressive."

Daemon nodded, his gaze falling on Earl Rowan. The old nobleman's composure reminded him of Benjen Stark of Winterfell, both characters who concealed their true strength.

The second day, Rose Field was even more lively. The team competition required five people to form a group and the winner was determined by "capturing the flag". Five wooden pillars stood in the center of the field, each with a different colored flag hanging on it. The team that first captured the opponent's flag and returned it to their own position won.

Rayford Rosby stood at the forefront of Daemon's group, clad in the Rosby Household's grey armor, with three red stripes in mink twill embroidered on his breastplate bearing the family crest. He gripped a longsword in his hand. "Lyonel," he said, "You take Myles and Tybolt and charge the left flank. The House Royce twins will stay with me on the right. Let's break up their vanguard first!"

Each person in the team has a specific role:

Lyonel Corbray's silver sword gleamed coldly; his tactic was "rapid attack," specifically designed to counter the enemy's spearmen.

Myles Rivers, carrying a the North battle axe, his dark face beaming with excitement, declared that he would "split the enemy's armor in two."

Tybolt Crakehall wore the House Crakehall's brown armor, with the black and white boar stripes on his breastplate particularly striking. His oak greatsword was half a foot longer than the others, making him a key player in the charge.

The House Royce twins, clad in runic armor from the Vale and carrying bronze-gleaming greatswords on their backs, were tasked with protecting their teammates from ambushes.

Their opponents were the Golden Rose Team, " composed of Duke Mathos's illegitimate sons. The eldest son wore silver armor adorned with various variants of the Golden Rose emblem, and a crooked golden rose was sewn onto his breastplate. The other four sons, each armed, stood at the other end of the arena, their eyes filled with a fierce glint.

Before the match, Mathos suddenly stood up and shouted to the stands, "Gentlemen! Daemon's followers are truly impressive! Look at Corbray Leon of House Lyonel's silver sword, the wild boar-like strength of Tybolt of House Crakehall, and the runic greatswords wielded by the House Royce in the Vale —they're all incredibly skilled!"

He paused, then patted the shoulder of his illegitimate son beside him. "But my sons aren't bad either! They've practiced several times at Highgarden, they'll definitely be able to hold their own against His Highness's men!"

These words caused an instant awkwardness in the stands: Earl Redwyne paused, his hand holding the wine glass faltering, and an embarrassed smile appeared on his lips.

The Duchess (the one from the House Redwyne) frowned slightly and covered half her face with a silk handkerchief;

Garlan Tyrell coughed softly, turning his gaze to the distant Mander River, as if admiring the scenery;

Martyn Tyrell closed the book, and his wife, Lady Florence, gave him a helpless look. Everyone knew that although those illegitimate children seemed to have trained together in private before, they were not even in the same league as Daemon's followers who had experienced blood and fire under Rayford's leadership.

The moment the horn sounded, Lyonel Corbray was the first to charge out, his silver sword slicing through the air, aiming straight for the foremost bastard son. The bastard son hurriedly raised his spear to block, but Lyonel deflected the spear away with a single sword strike.

Myles Rivers followed closely behind, his battle axe sweeping across, forcing the two bastards to retreat repeatedly;

Tybolt was truly like a little wild boar, thrusting his greatsword straight at the enemy standard-bearer, almost causing him to fall off his horse;

The House Royce twins held the right flank, and the rune sword repelled the bastard son's attempt to sneak up.

In less than half an incense stick's time, Rayford snatched the Golden Rose Flag from his opponent, raised it above his head, and shouted, "We won!" A cheer erupted from the stands. Mysaria jumped up excitedly, and Gael clapped with a smile.

Duke Mathos was taken aback for a moment, then clapped and laughed, "Good! Well done! My sons have done their best!" As he spoke, he glared at his illegitimate son beside him, who had his head down and his face flushed red.

The archery competition on the third day was moved to an open area on the east side of Rose Field. Ten bullseyes stood fifty paces apart, the central bullsey being only the size of a palm and decorated with a golden rose. It was a "decisive target" specially made by Mathos.

Among the contestants, Jarman Waters and Harlan Hangt's attire stood out from the other contestants from the Reach:

Jarman wore a grey robe, and in his single eye wore the grey eye patch embroidered by Miss Lychester of the Oldstones; the blue forked grass pattern on it had faded somewhat from washing. In his hand, he held a yew longbow, the barbed arrows in his quiver gleaming coldly, having been specially polished by the Smith.

Harlan Hunter's longbow appeared even heavier, a wooden bow produced by the Longbow Hall in the Vale, with the House Hunter's silver bow pattern engraved on the arrowhead. He stood still, breathing evenly, clearly a seasoned archer who had practiced archery for many years.

During the preliminary round, Harlan hit the bullseye with all three arrows, drawing cheers from the Vale nobles in the stands;

Jarman was even more consistent, hitting the bullseye with every arrow, and his last arrow even pierced the fletching of the previous one, leaving only a hole in the bullseye.

Both men advanced to the finals, where their opponent was Sir "Longbow" Leo, a renowned knight from the Reach. The old knight's hair had turned quite a bit white since last year's tournament, with a few white hairs brushing past his eyes, yet he could still hit an apple from sixty paces away. It is said that he once shot an arrow through a deer's eye while hunting.

The final was a "three-arrow match," with the bullseye set at 60 paces away, further than in the preliminaries. For the first arrow, Harlan and Leo both hit the nine rings, while Jarman hit the ten.

On the second arrow, Leo hit the bullseye, Harlan missed an octave, and Jarman still got a bullseye; the third arrow became the deciding shot, Harlan took a deep breath, and his arrow hit the edge of the bullseye:

Leo's arrow also hit the bullseye; all eyes were on Jarman —he adjusted his blindfold, held the bow in his left hand, and drew the string with his right, the bowstring taut like a full moon, the arrow tip aimed at the golden rose in the center of the bullseye.

With a "whoosh," the arrow flew out like a meteor, accurately embedding itself in the center of the golden rose, bending Leo's arrow fletching slightly.

The stands erupted in cheers. Mysaria clung to Gael's arm, screaming. Daemon smirked, and even Martyn Tyrell put down his book and nodded. Duke Mathos slammed his fist on the table, shouting, "Excellent archery! This one-eyed sergeant is even better than my own archers!"

As Jarman walked off the field, Harlan patted him on the shoulder. "You won, I admit defeat." Jarman took off his blindfold, a hint of a smile flashing in his single eye, "Next time, I'll let you shoot first."

As the sun began to set, the tournament at Rose Field came to a temporary close. Earl Thaddeus Rowan held the golden dragon prize from the spear duel, Rayford's team received the Arbor wine from the team competition, and Jarman accepted the House Oakheart's oak longbow, with the words "Precision as an Eagle" engraved on its blade.

Duke Mathos, pulling Daemon by the hand, insisted on treating everyone to a banquet at Highgarden, his round belly swaying with each step. "Tomorrow there's a mounted javelin contest followed by the Queen of Love and Beauty pageant—it'll be even more exciting! I've already had the fattest peacock slaughtered, and there's also some candied fruit just shipped from Tyrosh!"

Daemon followed him toward the main castle, when Rupert Crabb shouted from behind, "Colin! We're having a sword fight tomorrow!"

"Don't even think about running!" Colin Celtigar turned around and nodded with a smile, the Blue Crab pattern on his silver armor gleaming in the setting sun.

Gael and Mysaria walked behind, playing with the small prizes they had won that day—silver badges engraved with roses, which Mathos had specially given them.

The golden roses of Rose Field glowed softly in the twilight, and the flags of the arena still fluttered in the wind. Daemon gazed at the Glutton and Dreamfyre in the distance. The Black Dragon was dozing on the grass, while the blue dragon pecked at the fresh berries brought by a maid. Dragon breath condensed into white vapor in the twilight.

He knew that the three-day competition was just the beginning, the undercurrents in the Reach were still there, and the threat from Dorne had not disappeared. But at this moment, the laughter of Rose Field, the cheers of the knights, and the smiles of those around him made this land feel exceptionally warm—and this warmth was exactly what he wanted to protect.

The banquet bells rang from the main castle of Highgarden, and gold and green lights lit up in the night, like stars scattered on the green ground.

Daemon gripped the hilt of the Blackfyre tightly, the black three-headed dragon brand on his right shoulder glowing slightly, as if echoing the even more intense competition to come tomorrow, and also echoing the flame in his heart that refused to be extinguished.