Facing the Knight of Flowers!

Loras Tyrell was the third son of Mace Tyrell, Warden of the South and Lord of Highgarden.

He was eighteen, the same age as Davion, yet he was already the most celebrated young knight in Westeros.

He had been sent to Storm's End as a boy to serve as Renly Baratheon's squire.

Living together day in and day out, the two had forged a deep bond.

They could trust each other with their backsides.

As the two knights opening today's finals, Davion and Loras were waiting early at the entrance to the lists.

Loras sat tall on a snow-white warhorse, clad in exceptionally magnificent armor.

It was forged entirely of silvery-white steel, every piece engraved with flowers and vines, its edges inlaid with gilded patterns.

At the center of his breastplate, a blooming golden rose had been carved in relief-the sigil of House Tyrell, proclaiming Highgarden's nobility and heritage.

Most striking of all was the cloak behind him!

It was adorned with all manner of beautiful fresh flowers. As the breeze passed, their fragrance drifted everywhere, complementing his looks.

He had yet to put on his helmet. His long brown hair fell to his shoulders, his features delicate, his face so handsome it was almost otherworldly.

Davion could not help thinking:

Loras Tyrell really is pretty! Put him in women's clothes, and he'd certainly make an exceptionally beautiful noble lady.

Loras keenly noticed Davion's gaze. He turned his head and gave him a slight nod, a trace of arrogance in his expression.

For a house like the Tyrells, whose status as wardens placed them just beneath the king, such arrogance was only natural.

Besides, he was the Knight of Flowers, renowned throughout the Seven Kingdoms. He had every reason to be proud.

Davion politely returned the nod, feeling no displeasure.

Compared with other nobles of the same rank, House Tyrell was already quite decent. At least they maintained the outward courtesies.

Just then, a long, resonant horn sounded from the field, and the gates at the entrance to the lists were suddenly pulled open.

Loras Tyrell lightly tapped his horse's flanks. The white horse gave a clear, ringing neigh, and he rode into the lists first.

"Here he comes! It's the Knight of Flowers!"

Barely a second later, the entire crowd erupted in thunderous cheers.

"Knight of Flowers! Knight of Flowers!"

Shouts rose one after another, ringing throughout the tourney grounds.

As Loras rode forward, he occasionally plucked a flower from his cloak and lightly tossed it toward the excited crowd in the stands.

Most of those reaching out to snatch them were finely made-up noble ladies and young women, their eyes filled with admiration and fervor.

Watching Renly stand and applaud in the main stand, Davion could not help shaking his head and muttering:

"Those poor ladies, completely swept off their feet. Little do they know this Knight of Flowers isn't their ideal match at all. He's actually competing in the same field as them."

Only after Loras had ridden halfway around the field did Davion ride in.

The cheers for him were naturally nowhere near as fervent as those for Loras, but they were far from faint. Most came from the male commoners below the stands.

They loudly called out the nickname they had given him:

"Bat Knight! Bat Knight!"

The corner of Davion's mouth twitched as he inwardly grumbled:

What idiot came up with that nickname? Why not just call me Batman!

As was customary, the two rode before the main stand to receive the king's blessing.

Whenever Robert saw the bat sigil, he thought of that Hand's Tourney and Lyanna!

He had long since stopped concealing his attitude toward Davion, his eyes filled with naked disgust!

In his heart, every house that had leaned toward the Targaryen Dynasty deserved to die!

All the more so House Whent, Rhaegar's accomplices!

Had he not been constrained by the eyes of the Seven Kingdoms' nobility, he would have wiped those houses out one by one as soon as he successfully usurped the throne.

Facing Robert's malice, Davion felt not a ripple within:

I wonder what expression you'll make when I win the championship, you fat bastard? It'll surely be very entertaining!

The blessing ceremony ended, and the two rode back to their starting positions at opposite ends of the lists.

The grounds fell silent in an instant. Every spectator held their breath, their eyes fixed on the two figures in the lists!

One was a dark horse of a lord who had burst onto the scene, defeating his opponents instantly in all four matches!

The other was a highly skilled young knight renowned throughout the Seven Kingdoms!

No one knew who would ultimately prevail in this clash of the best.

"Ready-"

"Begin!"

The instant the command fell, both spurred their warhorses and surged forward.

Loras's white horse was clearly more than a cut above Davion's mount.

Its limbs were powerful, its explosive strength astonishing, and its speed greater as well.

The faster a warhorse moved, the more momentum it carried, and the more terrifying the impact when they clashed.

The two riders rapidly closed in. Behind his visor, Loras's eyes had already lost their usual elegance and become utterly serious.

His wrist shifted slightly, and the goldenheart lance in his hand moved a fraction, deliberately avoiding Davion's shield and aiming for his lance-bearing shoulder!

It was an extremely tricky angle. One hit would throw Davion off balance!

Davion's senses were exceptionally keen. He instantly detected the intent and sharply raised the shield gripped in his left hand.

Clang!

With a sharp ring, Loras's lance slammed hard into Davion's shield.

Loras was suddenly startled. An irresistible force came from the shield's surface, traveling along his lance into his arm and jolting the web of his hand numb.

How is that possible?

This young man is about my age. How can he have such terrifying strength?

Why have I never heard of such a powerful young knight before?

He had no time to think further and hurriedly adjusted his posture, trying to dissipate that tremendous force.

But Davion's strength was far more terrifying than he had imagined, giving him no chance whatsoever to absorb it.

Just then, Davion thrust the lance gripped in his right hand straight at Loras's shoulder armor.

Occupied with resisting the tremendous force coming from Davion's shield, Loras had failed to guard against the lance in his other hand.

By the time he reacted, it was already too late to dodge or block.

I'll have to take it head-on!

His heart sank as he braced for the impact.

Bang!

With a dull crash, Davion's lance slammed into Loras's shoulder armor!

The force was so great that it instantly left a deep dent in his magnificent silver armor.

"Whoa!"

Cries of surprise instantly erupted from the stands.

"The Bat Knight hit the Knight of Flowers!"

"The Knight of Flowers isn't hurt, is he?"

"It's fine! The Knight of Flowers still has a chance. He hasn't been unhorsed!"

The tremendous impact knocked Loras flat backward over his horse, nearly throwing him off.

At the same time, the expensive goldenheart lance in his hand could no longer withstand the tremendous force of their clash and broke with a crack.

The two riders flashed past each other, charging toward opposite ends of the lists.

In the stands, Tyrion jumped up excitedly, raising both hands and cheering loudly:

"Well done, Davion! Take down that delicate little rose!"

To him, Davion's reaching the finals had already far exceeded expectations!

He had thought Davion would certainly be eliminated when he faced a knight as renowned throughout the Seven Kingdoms as Loras. Instead, Davion had seized an overwhelming advantage in the very first pass.

The dignitaries in the main stand wore varying expressions.

Robert's face was utterly foul, as though he had swallowed a mouthful of shit.

Over the past few days, he had blessed four knights in succession, yet every one of them had been defeated by Davion, that hateful Whent boy!

Now even the Knight of Flowers, whom he had thought highly of, had fallen behind.

Is even the Knight of Flowers going to lose to this little bastard?

Tywin, meanwhile, watched Davion on the field with a deep, meaningful gaze.

Jousting came closest to a knight's charge on the battlefield. A performance in the lists was enough to give some indication of a man's strength in battle.

The Seven Kingdoms had now been at peace for more than ten years, and knights who could truly fight could be counted on one's fingers.

How could the sudden appearance of a young knight capable of matching Loras fail to tempt anyone?

If he could be recruited into their service, he would undoubtedly be a great asset to the Lannisters.

Cersei remained cold-faced, utterly uninterested in the contest on the field, inwardly sneering:

A farce between two little brats. Is there any need to make such a fuss?

Besides, one of them is Renly's male lover!

There's nothing worth getting excited about in beating a male lover!

Loras being Renly's male lover had long been an open secret within the Red Keep's small circle of dignitaries.

Robert alone was kept in the dark.

He still firmly believed in Renly and Loras's "deep friendship."

Renly clasped his hands together, his eyes filled with worry.

Loras! Please don't get hurt!

On the field, Davion rode to the end of the lists, firmly reined in, and turned his horse around.

Just as he was preparing for the next charge, he saw Loras opposite him slowly rein in his warhorse.

Holding his injured shoulder in pain with one hand, Loras shook his head slightly, signaling that he was hurt and could no longer continue.

In an instant, the entire crowd erupted again!

"Bat Knight!"

"Bat Knight!"

"Bat Knight!"