Logically, a proper, long-lasting stone arena should be built here — it would be a significant one-off expense, but it would result in a high-quality, attractive structure, and the issue would not need to be revisitedя
Currently, all the stands and benches are filled to capacity. Several dozen people have even climbed trees so as not to miss anything.
The royal box is filled with the most distinguished people representing the cream of Westeros. Of all those I have come to know and remember, only two were missing — Lord Tywin and Lady Olenna.
The archers competed first. First place went to a knight of the Kingsguard, Ser Baylon Swann, and second place went to Jalabhar Xho. The native of the Summer Isles was once again unlucky. He also took second place in the tournament of the Hand.
I was particularly pleased that Lord Tywin, who was in charge of the entire organization, clearly had no intention of throwing money around, and the prizes were not as huge as they had been under King Robert.
Thus, Ser Baylon Swann received three thousand gold dragons.
Then there were individual duels, in which Oberyn Martell proved himself to be the best — he went through the entire tournament with a spear and looked very impressive. He received a prize of five thousand dragons. There was no money for second and third place.
The Red Snake jumped into the saddle, clearly showing off, led his horse in a majestic passage along the stands, and placed a wreath on the knees of his beloved paramour Ellaria Sand.
Ah, if it were up to me, I would have reduced the prize money even more — after all, it's money from the treasury, which is not in the best shape. Although, on the other hand, it is not fitting for a king to show strong greed.
In our stands, people were joking and chatting cheerfully. The ladies discussed their suitors, while the men talked about their favorite moments from the previous fights.
Mace Tyrell, watching the triumph of Oberyn and all of Dorne, did not look like the happiest man in the world.
Cersei was clearly bored, while Tyrion was having a great time, sipping wine and cracking jokes.
During the fights, I noticed Ser Bronn of Blackwater, Tyrion's man. Ser Bronn looked damn dangerous, moving smoothly like water and swiftly like an arrow in flight. If Oberyn hadn't gotten in his way, perhaps he might have made it to the final. Yes, my uncle had found himself a very dangerous fighter.
The event ended in the late afternoon. All this time, Margaery and I were in the central box, and all the most interesting things were happening around us.
Many wealthy knights had pitched their tents near the tournament grounds, and now hundreds of pennants and banners fluttered in the wind. Almost every tent had a shield covered with silk and bearing the owner's coat of arms on a special stand. There were all kinds of coats of arms there — the black lattice of the Ironwoods, the crowned skull of the Manwoods, the black vulture with a baby in its claws of the Blackmonts, the scorpions of the Qorgyls, and, of course, the sun pierced by a spear of the Martells — all the Dornish houses Margery had told me about.
"It's a pity that Ser Gerold Dayne, the Darkstar, is not here," said Lord Kivan. "Rumor has it that he is the most dangerous knight in Dorne, and even Prince Oberyn himself is no match for him."
"The Darkstar?" I became interested and turned to my great-uncle.
"Yes, Your Majesty. He is a distant cousin of the famous Arthur Dayne, Sword of the Morning. Almost all the men in their family have moniker related to the Star," explained Kivan. All this time, he had been attending the tournament with a less than cheerful expression on his face.
It seemed that Lord Tywin had sent his younger brother to a public event while he himself remained in the Red Keep to rest or do something more useful and important.
"And the Dayns are one of the oldest families in Westeros," added Tyrion, who had been listening to our conversation. "They are over ten thousand years old. Can you imagine that, nephew?"
Yes, Tyrion is true to form — he cannot live peacefully.
"And you, uncle, can?"
"Well, at least I can count to ten thousand," he smiled sarcastically.
"It's great that the master of coin hasn't lost that ability," I retorted, and saw my uncle frown. It seems that talking about the treasury, which is most likely empty, does not put him in a good mood.
"Very kind of you to remind me of that," Tyrion finished his wine in one gulp, demanded Pod for a refill, and I heard him mutter through clenched teeth, "Bitch! Damn Littlefinger!"
"Life isn't all sunshine and rainbows, uncle," I chuckled and turned back to the field.
The Reach was presented with an even more impressive number of houses. I asked Margery, and she enthusiastically listed her own subjects — the white tower of the Hightowers, the red hunter of the Tarlys, the oak shield of the Hewetts, the grape cluster of the Redwyns, the colorful flowers of the Meadows, the feathers of the Cockshaws. And these were only the larger houses. And there were countless smaller ones.
And of course, there were plenty of vassals serving Casterly Rock. When Margery asked me to tell her about some of the knights, I called Jacob Liddon over and made him explain. I listened to the steward and tried to quickly memorize the houses close to me — the burning tree of the Marbrand family, the golden wedge and golden sun of the Lefford family, the purple unicorn of the Brax family (the house of my second steward), and the bristling boar of the Crakehall family.
Unfortunately, the Lannisters themselves were absent. Jaime couldn't fight because of his hand, and in any case, he would have fought as a Kingsguard under a simple coat of arms in the form of an ordinary white shield. Otherwise, he would have shown them all how to fight. I watched his eyes burn and understood that at that moment, Ser Jaime was not here, but there, on the battlefield.