The Mull Family knight turned a deaf ear to the monk's curses.
His gaze fell on the light leather armor beneath Arthur's black noble robe, and he shrugged generously.
He waved his hand at the squire behind him: "Lord Arthur, since you are so brave, I cannot suppress you in terms of equipment."
"Come, help me take off my breastplate and armguards."
"I'll also just wear light armor; that's fair, isn't it?"
The squires swiftly unbuckled the straps and clasps, removing the heavy steel armor, revealing the cotton leather armor underneath.
Brother Meribald suppressed his grief and anger, walking step by step to the open space between the two; as the only clergyman present, he had to preside over this trial, which was like a devil's game.
His voice was hoarse and trembling from anger, yet he still insisted on reciting the long pronouncement, only silently praying in his heart that if the Seven Gods truly existed.
He had witnessed too many trials by combat, where criminals escaped punishment through force, while good people met tragic ends.
Ser Qyburn raised his clean longsword high, swearing loudly: "I! Qyburn Mull! Fight for my lord's law! I ask for the Father's judgment!"
Arthur pulled out the mier longsword stuck in the ground, his gaze falling on Ser Qyburn's face; his black eyes held no emotion, like a bottomless ancient well.
His voice was deep and clear, every word striking the hearts of everyone present:
"I, Arthur, fight for the lives and freedom of the people of the Riverlands."
There was no plea to the Seven Gods, nor a call for justice.
Brother Meribald took a deep breath, wishing the Seven Gods to bless, and with all his strength, shouted out the final judgment.
"Let the Seven Gods bear witness and judge! Trial by combat! Begin now!"
As soon as the words fell.
Ser Qyburn let out a beast-like roar, launching the first attack; he pushed off with his legs, and his entire body rushed towards Arthur like a rutting bull.
The longsword in his hand swung wide, whistling as it tore through the air; each sword strike was heavy and powerful, typical knightly swordsmanship, aiming to crush the opponent with absolute force.
However, Arthur did not meet him head-on; his body was impossibly light, and his footwork was strange and swift, as if he were dancing to an invisible drumbeat.
Ser Qyburn's sword edge seemed to graze his clothes by the narrowest of margins each time, appearing very close, yet also very far.
He could always evade the fatal attacks with the smallest movements and the most incredible angles.
Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, narrowed his eyes; he always felt that Arthur's fighting style was neither the fierce power of the North nor the elegance of the The Reach, but rather more like a gladiator from the Free Cities of Essos or a warrior from the sands of Dorne, yet he had never heard that this young man had received any formal combat training or had contact with such people.
Arthur's soldiers, on the other hand, were calm; in their opinion, there would be no surprises in this battle from the very beginning.
The Mull Family soldiers had already begun cheering loudly for their knight; they firmly believed that it was only a matter of time before the boy who only dodged would be defeated.
Arthur was not in a hurry to attack; he was like a patient hunter, constantly circling and moving, using the opponent's attacks to exhaust their stamina.
Each of Ser Qyburn's missed heavy chops made his breathing more rapid, and the sweat on his forehead increased; anger and humiliation burned in his chest, and he felt like a bull being toyed with, full of strength but unable to even touch his opponent's clothes.
He roared angrily: "Your fighting is like a rat! Without honor!"
"Fight me head-on if you dare!"
Before his words had even finished.
Arthur's sword thrust out; the slender, sharp mier longsword seemed to transform into a venomous snake in his hand, silently biting towards Ser Qyburn.
His target was not Ser Qyburn's well-protected vital areas, but his sword-wielding arm.
A gash opened on Ser Qyburn's forearm, not deep, but stinging hot.
The rhythm of the battle was interrupted for the first time; Ser Qyburn's movements faltered for an instant, and Arthur had already retreated to a safe distance.
After another dodge, Arthur's voice sounded for the first time.
His voice was light, yet it pricked Qyburn's ear like a needle: "Ser, who knighted you?"
, another wound.
"I think he must have misjudged?"
, yet another wound.
Ser Qyburn completely collapsed, his reason burned away by rage; he abandoned all defense, poured all his strength into his legs, and launched his final, suicidal charge.
He roared furiously, raising his longsword high, striking down at Arthur: "I'll kill you!!!"
Just as the sword edge was about to touch his body, Arthur's body suddenly sank down; he swept past Qyburn's side in a sliding tackle.
The sword edge in his hand swept upwards with the momentum, precisely cutting across the back of Qyburn's supporting right leg.
A shrill scream rang out, Ser Qyburn's charge came to an abrupt halt, the hamstring of his right leg completely severed, and his body lost all balance.
He fell heavily forward to the ground like a chopped log, raising a cloud of dust.
The longsword in his hand also flew out, clanging as it hit a distant stone.
The battle was over.
It was so fast that no one had time to react; after a moment of silence, Arthur's soldiers erupted in thunderous cheers, while the Mull Family soldiers turned ashen, unable to believe their eyes.
Only Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, let out a long sigh of relief, finally ending it with the smallest cost, and prepared to step forward to end this farce; he somewhat regretted it, was this really for negotiation?
Qyburn's two squires, thinking the trial by combat was over, quickly ran forward from the crowd, ready to help their fallen master up.
One squire had just put his hand on Ser Qyburn's shoulder.
Suddenly, he felt warm liquid spray onto his face.
He looked down.
His knight master's chest had been pierced by a longsword.
He looked up again.
The young Black Lion slowly pulled the sword from the knight's back, letting the blood drip from the sword tip; he spoke in the exact same tone as his master had just used:
"Sorry, Ser Qyburn."
"The trial by combat is not yet over."
-------------------------
If you enjoy this story, you can read 70+ advanced chapters on Patreon!
Webnovel will keep getting 1 new chapter every day but Patreon readers can stay far ahead.
Maybe it's not a big deal now… maybe it will be later.
[email protected]/Greyhounds
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"