On the second day after the group melee, the real highlight of the tournament arrived—the knightly joust. In the past, this had always been the most anticipated event, drawing everyone's attention. But after witnessing such an astonishing group melee the day before, the jousting matches now felt unusually bland in comparison.
Not only ordinary people felt this way—even King Robert, who had always been passionately fond of tournaments, did not come to watch. Of course, his absence might also have had something to do with the fact that he had been beaten black and blue the previous day, his swelling still not completely gone.
Because of this, even though the number of participants in the jousting competition was the highest in history—with over eight hundred knights competing for the final championship—the atmosphere in the arena was unusually quiet. Most of the spectators were merely friends, relatives, and companions of the knights.
This subdued atmosphere affected the competitors as well. Many lost their fighting spirit and became careless. As a result, accidents occurred frequently in the lists, and many knights who were originally quite outstanding ended up losing for all sorts of inexplicable reasons.
Ironically, it was precisely this disastrous level of competition that attracted quite a few spectators who had already lost interest. However, what they came to see was not thrilling clashes between knights, but rather the embarrassing sight of lofty knights falling to the ground because of absurd mistakes.
In contrast to the coldness of the tournament grounds, taverns throughout King's Landing and its outskirts were extraordinarily lively. Those who had withdrawn in time and avoided participating in the group melee rejoiced at having escaped disaster, while at the same time discussing yesterday's battle.
Yet the topic of discussion gradually shifted—from the various exciting moments on the battlefield to debates about the true combat strength of the Bear Hunter, Lind.
Lind's performance yesterday had been far too dazzling. He had far surpassed everyone else in the arena, and his near-completion of a hundred-man kill alone left countless people utterly captivated.
Especially after learning of Lind's background, many low-born warriors gradually began to regard him as an object of admiration—much like the knights of the Seven Kingdoms once revered the Sword of the Morning, Arthur Dayne.
However, no matter how great a person was, they would never lack detractors—and Lind was no exception.
Many people who were jealous of Lind's sudden fame, as well as the relatives and friends of those killed by Lind in the arena, openly sneered at his character. In their view, most of the warriors Lind had slain were killed when he attacked them from behind while they were already engaged in combat with others. Thus, even if Lind was undeniably strong, his conduct was despicable.
Lind's admirers, however, held a completely different opinion. To them, yesterday's arena had been no different from a battlefield. Killing the enemy by any means necessary was what truly mattered. Whether it was despicable or not was irrelevant—because only those who survived had the right to be judged afterward.
The two sides argued fiercely, eventually coming to blows. Of course, among them were also many drunkards who simply wanted an excuse to fight.
As a result, the Gold Cloaks of King's Landing were more than ten times busier than usual. From morning until night, squads of them could be seen constantly entering taverns across the city, arresting troublemakers and tossing them into the dungeons.
Although the Gold Cloaks complained bitterly, they were secretly delighted. Every person arrested had to pay a fine, and while most of that money went to the crown, a small portion could be skimmed off for themselves—an undeniable extra source of income.
The residents of King's Landing were even happier. They had no complaints at all. In their eyes, the brawls inside the taverns were far more entertaining than knightly duels. Thus, crowds of idle commoners gathered around taverns everywhere, watching the chaos inside with great relish, occasionally shouting encouragement to stir things up even further.
However, not all taverns were so lively. Some of the high-end establishments located along Silk Street were comparatively calm.
Although the patrons there also discussed the Bear Hunter Lind, most of them did not think he was anything special. No matter how terrifying his combat strength appeared, in their eyes he was merely a high-level enforcer—at best, another version of the Mountain.
What they truly envied was House Tyrell.
Because Lind belonged to House Tyrell, news had spread from the Red Keep the previous night: not only did King Robert bear no resentment over being beaten by Lind, he actually admired him greatly. He believed that Lind did not fear the king's status and dared to strike in the arena—a true warrior. As such, Robert intended to grant Lind additional rewards beyond the championship prize.
For this reason, Robert's attitude toward House Tyrell had also changed. It seemed he was no longer concerned with what the Tyrells had done during the War of the Usurper a year ago. This meant trade with the Reach would soon return to normal—and that was the real reason these people gathered in such high-end taverns.
In the topmost private room of Todd's Pumpkin, Littlefinger—who had not returned to Gulltown—had just finalized several deals with major merchants from the Reach. Wearing a pleasant smile, he carefully placed the signed contracts into a small box beside him.
Judging by the thickness of the contracts inside the box, these merchants were clearly not his first completed transactions.
Unlike others who were still merely discussing the restoration of southern trade, Littlefinger had already foreseen what would inevitably happen. In his view, King Robert's resentment toward House Tyrell had already been worn away during the past year of neglecting the Duke of Tyrell. Reconciling with House Tyrell and fully bringing the Reach under control was only a matter of time. Lind's emergence had simply given Robert the perfect stepping stone.
Thus, while everyone else was still observing from the sidelines, Littlefinger secured over a dozen major contracts related to the Reach at rock-bottom prices. Once trade with the Reach resumed, these contracts alone would bring him a fortune worth hundreds of thousands of gold dragons—bringing him one step closer to his long-cherished dream of entering the core of power in the Seven Kingdoms.
"My lord, the items have been delivered," one of his subordinates reported as Littlefinger reviewed the list of merchants he was scheduled to meet next. "He is very satisfied with your gift, especially the Valyrian-era antiques."
Littlefinger reached down and lightly touched the dragonbone dagger he had kept at his waist."Only satisfied with the antiques?" he asked. "What about the dragon egg?"
The subordinate hesitated before replying, "He said the dragon egg was fake—an exquisite piece of art, but fake nonetheless."
"Fake?" Littlefinger paused for a moment, but said nothing more. To him, items related to dragons and Valyria were flooded with counterfeits. It was entirely normal for his people to buy a fake. What mattered was that his objective had already been achieved.
The subordinate continued, "That lord said that as long as you can achieve something noteworthy in Gulltown, he is confident he can persuade Lord Jon Arryn to transfer you to King's Landing."
A confident smile spread across Littlefinger's face. Achieving results in Gulltown was easy for him. The real difficulty lay in getting those results to reach Jon Arryn's ears.
That was precisely why he had not chosen to have Lysa Tully speak on his behalf. Jon Arryn was naturally suspicious, and using Lysa might only arouse his doubts. Lysa Tully was one of Littlefinger's most important pieces on the board—unless absolutely necessary, he would never use her.
Now that he had found someone suitable to spread the word and build momentum for him, the rest would follow naturally. Perhaps he wouldn't even have to wait until next year before he could reside permanently in King's Landing.
Thinking this, he could no longer suppress the joy on his face. He picked up a bottle of fine Arbor wine from the table, poured himself a glass, and toasted in advance to his brilliant future.
Just as he drank the wine, the tavern hall below suddenly fell silent. Immediately afterward, a grand and stirring song drifted up to his ears.
It was the first time he had heard this heart-stirring melody. He couldn't help asking the subordinate beside him,"What is this song called?"
"It's called The Song of the Bear Hunter," the subordinate replied. "It's the most popular song in taverns these past two days. Almost every bard is singing it—though the best performances come from the bards of the Reach."
Littlefinger listened for a moment, then asked,"The Song of the Bear Hunter? Is the person in the song the Bear Hunter Lind?"
"Yes." The subordinate nodded. "The song tells of Lind avenging his father, entering the forest alone to hunt a mountain bear, and later being recognized by Joel Crayne of House Crayne, who brought him along for a bandit-suppression operation near Red Lake Forest in the Reach. That's the older version. Now some bards have already written yesterday's events at the arena into new lyrics. That song will probably be popular in King's Landing for a very long time."
"Bear Hunter Lind…"Littlefinger listened to the melodious singing rising from below, rolling Lind's name around in his mouth, a thoughtful expression appearing on his face.
Over the past two days, this was the name he had heard most often. His impression of Lind had stopped at that of a powerful warrior—but after hearing The Song of the Bear Hunter, he faintly sensed a certain similarity between Lind and himself. This sparked a trace of curiosity toward Lind.
At the same time, in House Tyrell's camp, Lind received an invitation.
The invitation was for a banquet to be held that night at the Red Keep. House Tyrell also received an invitation, but theirs was addressed to the entire house—while Lind's invitation was addressed to him alone. Clearly, at the moment the invitations were issued, King Robert's appreciation of Lind had already reached the same level as his regard for House Tyrell.
"No, your movements are too stiff. You look like a walking scarecrow. You should do it like this."
To prevent Lind from embarrassing himself at the banquet, the Duke of Tyrell specially sent a etiquette instructor to teach him courtly manners.
Originally, the instructor believed that someone of Lind's lowly background would be very difficult to teach, and thus prepared only a few basic forms. To his surprise, Lind learned quickly. Aside from some deficiencies in speech, his manners were already no worse than those of an average noble.
Inside the tent, Garlan and Fortimo—who had come intending to see Lind make a fool of himself—were also somewhat surprised by his performance. But recalling Lind's many past feats, they felt that this learning ability was nothing worth being astonished over.
"Very good! These gestures are already excellent. Now I'll teach you how to converse with court nobles," the instructor said with satisfaction after repeatedly observing Lind perform flawless etiquette, preparing to go beyond his original task and teach more.
"Let's forget about that."Fortimo interrupted him and looked at Lind."I doubt anyone in the Red Keep would want to speak to him in some ridiculous noble tone. You don't need to learn those tedious courtesies. The sword in your hand is your etiquette—everything else is unimportant."
Lind deeply agreed with Fortimo's words and thus declined the instructor's goodwill.
After the instructor left, several tailors entered the tent to take Lind's measurements. Although they couldn't create a brand-new noble outfit in less than half a day, they could at least alter an existing one to fit his body.
Once the measurements were taken, Fortimo instructed the tailors to leave, then had Raul step outside to stand guard.
With only Fortimo, Garlan, and Lind remaining in the tent, Fortimo's expression turned serious as he asked Lind,"I heard some rumors in the camp today. They say you're selling positions in the cavalry. What's going on? Is it true?"
Garlan also looked at Lind with a serious expression.
Lind nodded calmly."Yes. It's true."
Before Fortimo could speak, Garlan asked anxiously,"Why? You shouldn't be short on money. You wouldn't do this just for a bit of—"
"No, Lord Garlan. I am very short on money," Lind interrupted.
Garlan exclaimed in disbelief,"Short on money? How is that possible? Your prize money is with me—you can take it at any time. That's a full twenty thousand gold dragons! I exchanged it at full value with Rose Bank notes. Not a single copper was withheld."
Lind explained,"I want to forge a set of armor and new weapons. What I have isn't enough."
"What? Twenty thousand gold dragons isn't enough for armor and weapons? Are you planning to forge them out of gold?" Garlan stared at Lind in shock. Seeing Lind's calm expression, he guessed incredulously, "Don't tell me you really plan to use gold?"
Fortimo also looked at Lind in confusion.
Lind nodded."You wouldn't be wrong to say that. I plan to use Valyrian steel to forge my armor and weapons. Its value may even exceed gold. Twenty thousand gold dragons simply isn't enough."
...
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(End Chapter)