Once the master of ceremonies finished the introductions, King Robert offered the competing knights his customary blessing.
He looked at Kalen Leygood, his tone carrying a measure of approval:
"House Leygood, I remember-a great house! Ser Kalen, I hope you advance smoothly and do not disgrace House Leygood's reputation."
Overcome with excitement, Kalen Leygood slammed his right fist against his breastplate and shouted:
"Thank you, Your Grace! I shall give it my all and live up to Your Grace's expectations and House Leygood's honor!"
Robert nodded slightly, then squinted at Davion without saying another word.
He merely waved a hand casually, signaling that they could begin.
"Tch."
Davion shook his head indifferently, utterly unconcerned by Robert's disdain, and rode to the starting area at one end of the lists.
Gendry had already been waiting there for some time. Holding a lance, he hurried up to the horse and handed it to Davion:
"My lord, please make this lance last. We only bought five altogether! Master Tob has no more in stock, and there's no time to have more made!"
Davion took the lance, hefted it, and said with a smile:
"I thought even five was too many. One is all I need."
"Gendry, remember this: if we have no guns or cannons, the enemy will make them for us."
"If we run out of lances, we'll just take the enemy's!"
With that, Davion lowered his visor and fixed his gaze on Kalen Leygood at the far end of the lists, his entire presence instantly turning razor-sharp.
In the main stand, Robert lounged on his throne, holding a cup filled with ale and squinting down at the field.
He turned to Tywin. "Lord Tywin, care to wager on which of these two lads will win?"
Tywin sat upright, his expression as cold and indifferent as ever. His gaze swept over the field as he said flatly:
"Your Grace, Lannister Gold Dragons are never wasted on such meaningless diversions."
Tywin never acted without confidence, much less placed bets lightly, especially when he could not clearly assess the situation.
A flicker of displeasure crossed Robert's face at Tywin's refusal, followed by a cold snort.
"As I see it, this Whent lad is just here to make up the numbers!
I've never seen him compete in the Hand's Tourney before!
Once they clash, I doubt he'll even touch a hair on the House Legh knight's head!"
"Exactly. A child who isn't even fully grown thinks he's fit to face a knight of House Leygood?"
"I doubt he'll last a single pass before he's knocked off his horse!"
"Ser Kalen's skill is no joke! This lad is in for a rough time!"
Robert's words immediately drew agreement from the nobles around him. Mockery rose from every side, with most giving Davion little chance.
On the field, Davion and Kalen faced one another across a hundred meters. Their helmet visors hid their expressions, but could not conceal the growing killing intent in the air.
Kalen tightened his reins, his warhorse pawing restlessly at the ground. Grinning in Davion's direction, he muttered, "Davion Whent, I'll make you die horribly!"
The master of ceremonies raised his horn and shouted, "Both riders, ready-"
The entire arena instantly fell silent. Every gaze fixed on the center of the field, and even Robert put down his cup and leaned forward slightly.
Tywin's expression remained calm. He did not care in the slightest who won.
Tyrion sat in a corner with an intrigued smile on his lips. For some reason, he felt Davion would surprise them all.
"Begin!"
The instant the master of ceremonies finished speaking, Kalen snapped his reins. His warhorse let out a long whinny and shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.
He raised his ashwood lance high, then slowly leveled it, its steel-clad tip gleaming coldly in the sunlight.
Without the slightest attempt at concealment, he aimed it squarely at Davion's throat.
He wanted Davion dead!
"Heavens! Ser Kalen is aiming straight for his throat! He's going for the kill!"
"That's too vicious! You're supposed to show restraint in the Hand's Tourney. He's trying to kill him!"
"That lad's in danger!"
Cries of alarm rose from the commoners below the stands. Many instinctively covered their eyes, while even the nobles in the stands looked startled.
Robert burst into laughter, a bloodthirsty gleam in his eyes as he slapped his throne and shouted:
"Good! Ruthless enough! That's how it should be! Kill him!"
Davion's senses were exceptionally keen, and he caught every little movement Kalen Leygood made.
Yet he remained unhurried, quietly gathering strength in his shield-bearing left arm while aiming the lance in his right hand straight at his opponent's shoulder.
Just as Kalen's lance tip was about to strike Davion's gorget, Davion unleashed the strength he had been building in his left arm and growled, "Dragon Tail!"
In an instant, his shield rose slightly and slammed into Kalen's steel-clad lance tip.
At the same time, his right hand tightened around his lance. Seizing the instant Kalen's balance shifted, he thrust hard at Kalen's shoulder.
The power of Dragon Tail was formidable. The force of Davion's Shield Bash traveled straight along Kalen's lance and into his hands.
Even through his heavy gauntlets, Kalen felt that immense, overwhelming force. His arms instantly went numb, and he could no longer hold his lance.
With a clatter, Kalen's lance flew from his hands.
Because he had suddenly let go, Davion's Shield Bash lost its point of resistance. His body swayed slightly, and the lance in his hand unwittingly shifted a little higher.
It happened to point directly at Kalen's gorget.
The sight drew another gasp from the entire arena.
"Oh no! Davion's going to fall!"
"I told you he wouldn't last! See?"
The next instant, two loud cracks rang out at once. Both men's lances shattered, sending wood chips flying.
Davion remained firmly in the saddle, his body jolting only slightly. After riding another dozen or so paces, he gently tightened the reins and brought his horse to a halt.
The tremendous impact instantly threw Kalen off balance. Like a kite with a severed string, he flew from his saddle and slammed into the ground, sliding several meters before slowly coming to a stop.
Though he wore a gorget, Davion's strength had been so great that the lance had driven a deep dent into it!
The entire arena fell deathly silent!
Everyone was stunned, as though even their breathing had stopped.
The nobles who had been mocking Davion just moments before now gaped, their faces full of disbelief!
The commoners below the stands had forgotten to cheer as well. One after another, they stared dumbfounded at the rider on his warhorse, their eyes filled with awe.
At the sight, Kalen's attendants went deathly pale with fright and hurried forward to examine his injuries.
Only after a long while did the arena erupt again. Cheers, shouts, and chatter mingled together, louder than in any previous match.
"My gods! He won!"
"He's incredible!"
"So he wasn't some weakling-he was a hidden master!"
"Ser Kalen underestimated him so badly that he was killed in a single blow!"
"That was murder! How could he thrust at someone's throat!"
"Why didn't you say that earlier? I don't think Ser Davion's to blame! He lost his balance too-that's why he couldn't control his lance!"
Tyrion clapped happily. "That scared me to death! He really is lucky!"
In the main stand, Robert's smile froze on his face. His cup clattered to the ground, spilling ale everywhere.
His eyes widened, his face full of disbelief, and he roared:
"Did you see that? That lad actually went for the kill! Bring him here!"
Then Tywin spoke:
"Your Grace, I do not believe Davion should be blamed!"
"Everyone saw it. Davion lost his balance while protecting himself, and that led to this tragedy!"
"If anyone is to blame, it is the Leygood knight, who brought harm upon himself while trying to harm another!"
With that, he waved to the master of ceremonies.
The master of ceremonies came to his senses, hurriedly raised his horn, and shouted:
"The winner of this round is Earl Davion Whent!"
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