The sunlight gradually dimmed.
Inside the tent, "The Hound" Sandor Clegane silently wiped the sword on his lap.
This calmed his mind.
When he wasn't serving the Prince, he never knew what else he could do.
Since leaving House Clegane over a decade ago to join the Lannisters, The Hound had served as Prince Joffrey's guard.
Through countless days and nights, he had personally watched the Prince gradually become the person he was now.
He had become Joffrey's most loyal dog.
No matter how foolish or willful the Prince's commands and actions were, he simply followed them.
He let Prince Joffrey rule his body, while allowing "The Mountain" Gregor Clegane to burn his soul.
Gregor Clegane!
The hideous burn scar on his left face constantly reminded him of what The Mountain had done. Father, sister, family, Gregor had ruined everything!
The Hound had feared fire ever since.
Behind the firelight lay those unbearable memories, lay The Mountain!
The Hound swore to kill Gregor with his own hands.
But he also feared this monster.
Anger, sorrow, hatred, and fear tormented him all day long.
Only when ordered by the Prince to do something could he temporarily forget everything and catch his breath for a moment.
This time should have been the same.
The Hound couldn't help but recall yesterday's scene.
In the quiet Kingswood.
He heard the Prince say with his own ears, "Sandor Clegane."
Such a strange name.
Generally, he was only called "The Hound," or "Dog."
Only when people compared him to that bastard The Mountain would he hear the word "Clegane."
Gregor Clegane.
Hmph! And a man like that could be an anointed knight?!
Compared to a knight, I'd rather be a dog!
The dog heard the command.
"In tomorrow's tournament, you must win the championship. I need those ten thousand Gold Dragons."
That was no small sum.
Even if the dog drank the best Arbor Gold wine every day until he died of old age, he might not spend it all.
The dog was about to agree.
But unexpectedly, this time there was a big bone.
The Prince's face held a confident smile, "I know about that matter. There's nothing to fear from The Mountain. You can defeat him, kill him."
The dog found that the Prince seemed to have grown up in an instant.
"Don't worry, as long as I'm king, The Mountain is no problem at all."
Joffrey was going to help him kill Gregor?
The Hound felt like he was dreaming.
But he thought, if Joffrey really wanted to do it, Duke Tywin probably wouldn't keep protecting Gregor forever.
Strangely, the dog wasn't particularly happy.
Prince Joffrey, The Mountain, the two most important people in his life, were intersecting in a way he could never have imagined.
Kill Gregor, and then what?
The Hound hadn't thought that far.
But at this moment, he was here wiping his sword, thinking of nothing, just waiting to enter the arena, to defeat one knight after another.
The tent flap suddenly lifted, and a pale yellow light shone on the sword blade, scattering golden rays.
"Hound, it's your turn. Your opponent is Dickon Tarly."
Sandor Clegane sheathed his sword.
"Who cares who it is?! I'm going to be champion!"
He pushed the man aside and stormed out...
After more than half a day of elimination rounds, only 5 contestants remained in the Jousting Tournament.
"Knight of Flowers," Loras Tyrell.
"Barristan the Bold," Captain of the Kingsguard, Barristan Selmy.
"Kingslayer," Jaime Lannister, who had a bye this round.
"The Hound," Sandor Clegane.
The new heir of Horn Hill, Dickon Tarly.
Four more matches, and the owner of the ten thousand Gold Dragons will be decided.
"Jousting Tournament, Fifth Round, First Match! Ser Dickon Tarly versus Sandor Clegane!"
Dickon Tarly rode a tall warhorse, completely encased in airtight full plate armor. The armor was simple in design but quite practical.
The Hound, as usual, wore his ash-gray battle armor, lowered the visor of his dog-head helm, and faced the challenge with his mount, "Stranger."
One in the west, one in the east, they stood a hundred paces apart, shields raised on their left arms, lances held ready.
The Hound was on the east side, so the evening sun became another opponent.
But it didn't matter; he knew he would win.
The red flag in the center of the lists dropped, and both men spurred their horses forward simultaneously.
Stranger and his opponent shot out instantly, accelerating, accelerating, accelerating, challenging their limits.
The Hound silently counted the numbers.
One, two, three, four.
Stranger had reached a steady full speed. The Hound began to adjust his posture, raising his shield and couching his lance.
Five, six.
They were close enough to clearly see each other's stances. The Hound searched for his opponent's weakness.
Seven, eight.
If the shield was held too tightly, he wouldn't be able to react in time.
Nine.
The Hound suddenly ducked low. Dickon Tarly remained motionless.
Ten.
Crack, crack, bang.
Two lances snapped almost simultaneously with a crisp sound.
Dickon Tarly's lance struck precisely on the Hound's small square shield, but his shield failed to defend against the Hound's sudden attack.
Amidst gasps of surprise, Dickon stumbled to his feet.
A dent on the upper left of his breastplate explained the reason for his defeat. At such a position, it was no wonder he was taken out in one blow.
The Hound won.
Those who bet on him cheered, those who lost cursed and sighed even louder. The Hound didn't care.
The matches continued.
Old Man "Barristan the Bold" eventually lost to the young "Knight of Flowers," like a cycle completing.
Semifinals.
The Hound had a bye.
Loras Tyrell and Jaime Lannister faced off.
The spectators held the highest expectations.
"Knight of Flowers" and "Kingslayer," like the two sides of a Gold Dragon Coin, were difficult to distinguish in skill.
In terms of lineage, both were backed by powerful ducal houses.
Among the Seven Kingdoms under the Iron Throne, the Lannister family of the Westerlands was rich and prosperous, producing gold, while the Tyrell family of the Reach had developed agriculture and the largest population.
Both were powerful forces capable of competing for the top one or two spots in the Seven Kingdoms.
In terms of martial arts and appearance, Loras and Jaime were both renowned knights in the Seven Kingdoms, the dream lovers of countless maidens.
The opposition in their reputations only added to the spectacle of the duel.
The "Knight of Flowers," bathed in sunlight, and the "Kingslayer," controversial for breaking his vows, were practically destined opponents.
Even with emotional bias, no one could definitively predict the outcome of their match until the very end.
Even Joffrey couldn't be completely certain.
Although in the original plot, Jaime was defeated by Loras, and his mindset had been disrupted by Tyrion last night.
But when it came to combat, there was never a hundred percent certainty.
Bang. A figure tumbled from his horse.
Amidst the fierce clamor, Joffrey could still clearly hear King Robert's loud laughter.
The Kingslayer was actually defeated in one round.
Joffrey's heart was unmoved.
It didn't matter who won; he just wanted to make money.
The next few months were crucial. He needed a large sum of money that was reasonable and low-key.
The tournament prize money was the best opportunity: the source was clear and reasonable, it wouldn't cause trouble, and most importantly, the amount was huge enough.
At the same time, it wouldn't attract the king's attention.
Looking at his generous and magnanimous "father," Joffrey's mood was complicated.
In all his plans, Robert was almost the biggest obstacle. Simply because—he wasn't King Robert's son.
It was no longer a secret that Joffrey Baratheon was the blood of the Queen and her twin brother, the Kingslayer.
Those in the know included, but were not limited to, the Lannister faction, Hand of the King Jon Arryn, Lord Stannis Baratheon, Varys the eunuch, and Master of Coin Littlefinger.
Because of this, Joffrey couldn't use the same tactics he used on Tyrion to convince the king to support his actions.
Any information that could persuade the king could greatly change the future and strengthen his rule and chances of survival.
This was clearly aiding the enemy.
Also because of this, he couldn't show his abnormality, especially not become smart and rational.
Once his changes aroused the vigilance and unease of any of the insiders, leading them to reveal this secret...
Joffrey didn't know what would happen then, but it certainly wouldn't be good for him.
He and Robert, this nominal father and son, were destined not to coexist.
However, the current peace in the Seven Kingdoms relied entirely on the king's镇压. Before preparing to deal with chaos, removing the king would do more harm than good.
In such a situation, he could only lie low for now and wait for the opportunity.
Suddenly, a burst of noise and gasps brought Joffrey back to reality from his contemplation.
The final match was over.
He fixed his gaze, then sprang up to applaud and cheer. "Good Hound! Well done!"
Ten thousand Gold Dragons were in hand.
Besides being happy, Joffrey couldn't help but lament King Robert's extravagance.
The Jousting Tournament champion received ten thousand Gold Dragons, the runner-up five thousand Gold Dragons, the Melee champion five thousand Gold Dragons, and there were other expenses like the feast to consider.
Over twenty thousand Gold Dragons.
Using the price of staple food as an anchor, 1 Copper Star was worth about 16 yuan. 1 Gold Dragon = 210 Silver Stags = 1470 Copper Stars = 23520 yuan.
The savings of a farmer's family in the Seven Kingdoms over decades might not even amount to one Gold Dragon.
The royal treasury only received two to three million Gold Dragons annually.
Now, a single tournament cost 1% of the fiscal revenue, and it was in his name, sigh.
He couldn't be happy anymore.
My money! They take twenty thousand, I get ten thousand, I've lost a lot!
Thinking of the treasury's massive debt, and looking at the extremely luxurious scene around him, Joffrey suddenly felt bored.
The setting sun was getting lower and lower.
When the red sun was almost hidden by the distant mountains, the Melee of thirty to forty people finally determined the winner—the Earl of Runestone in the Vale, "Bronze Yohn," Yohn Royce.
Joffrey sat behind the king, absentmindedly sipping the golden liquid.
Yohn Royce stepped forward to thank the king.
In an instant.
Beyond his five senses, Joffrey suddenly felt something indescribable, something that hooked the soul.
He stared blankly at Yohn.
Within the crimson world, a faint blue glimmer seemed to appear.
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