Chapter 223: Coach, I Want to Play Basketball

The red sun sank completely into the endless sea of sand, and the western sky resembled a dark purple brocade. The desert itself shifted from the golden hues of daylight to the crimson of dusk, then deepened into purple after sunset. Soon, it would turn a shade of deep indigo.

"You two worthless scum actually dared to chase me?" The knight flicked his longsword with ease, leaving a dark red, wet streak on the sand. Not far away, two riderless desert horses neighed and galloped off, leaving behind two gray-robed soldiers lying motionless on the ground, their blood staining the yellow sand.

Having disposed of the last two pursuers, the knight slowed his pace and rode southwest, away from the Greenblood River.

Just as he crossed a sand dune, his eyes narrowed. He pulled the reins to halt his steed and shouted down at the two figures below, "Who are you?"

"Barristan Selmy." The white knight did not lift his visor, but he still stated his true identity.

"Barristan the Bold?" The knight stepped forward a few paces, his voice tinged with surprise. "Ser, I haven't heard any news about you for years. When did you arrive in Dorne?"

"You..." The white knight scrutinized the man before him—his clean-shaven chin, a prominent hooked nose, dark purple eyes, and thick silver hair cascading over his shoulders, split at the center by a single lock of black. A massive greatsword was slung across his back, and his purple leather armor bore an unfamiliar black longsword insignia.

The outfit seemed somewhat familiar to the old knight, but the emblem was completely unrecognizable.

"Who are you? I've never seen a house sigil with a black sword." The old knight spoke bluntly.

"Oh, this isn't a house sigil." The young man raised his right hand and slowly drew the broad greatsword from his back. Glancing down at his chest, he chuckled. "I gave myself a nickname—Darkstar. As for the black sword symbol... hehe, that's my personal insignia. See it now? This is it."

"You wish to fight me?" Barristan asked coldly.

"Let's not beat around the bush. I can feel the killing intent on you," the hooked-nosed young man licked his lips, his eyes gleaming. "Honestly, I'm quite looking forward to it. Truly."

Dany twitched the corner of her mouth and said, "Just don't kill him."

"I understand."

"Heh, you old man sure boast shamelessly. I'm on the high ground, you're on the low; I have a horse, you don't. Even if you were forty years younger, let alone sixty-something, you'd still be doomed to lose today."

Darkstar sneered, spurred his horse, and suddenly shifted its direction—charging straight at Dany, who was wearing a hooded cloak.

"Sigh!" Letting out a sigh, Dany looked at the young man with pity in her eyes.

Sure enough, the desperate scene he had envisioned—where Barristan panicked to protect her—never happened.

Though he didn't know Dany's identity, he could tell that the white knight valued her greatly.

In the blink of an eye, the woman before him moved with astonishing speed. In an instant, she was at the side of his warhorse, opposite to the direction of his sword swing.

His strike slashed through empty air. Though he had held back seventy percent of his strength, his body still swayed slightly. That tiny flaw was all Barristan needed.

In a flash, the old knight stepped forward, grasped the greatsword's blade with his gloved hand—completely unconcerned about cutting through the iron gauntlet—and yanked with all his might, throwing the young man off balance.

Forced to react, the young man had no choice but to release his sword. But in the next moment, pain shot through his back. With a loud thud, the scabbard struck him, sending him flying from his saddle and crashing onto the sand.

"You—!" He rolled over, his face pale as he saw Barristan holding the greatsword in his left hand—still sheathed. His expression turned ashen as he murmured, "Impossible. This is impossible."

Kid, you've probably had a smooth ride your whole life and never encountered a true pay-to-win player, have you?

Indeed, ordinary lobster-shaped iron gauntlets wouldn't allow for bare-handed sword disarmament in an evenly matched fight—the blade would slice through the protective iron plating before the weapon could be taken.

But the old knight was clad in Valyrian steel armor!

Forget catching him off guard—if you fought him head-on ten times, you'd lose every single one.

"Which family do you belong to?" the old knight asked.

The young man wasn't foolishly stubborn. Revealing his noble lineage might offer a chance to pay ransom for his life. Acting tough and refusing to speak would likely result in the old man treating him as a common hedge knight and cutting him down.

"Gerold Dayne, from High Hermitage, of House Dayne." He answered.

The old knight first looked enlightened, then relieved. "Thankfully, you're not from Starfall. The name of the Dawn Sword remains untarnished."

That remark deeply stung Darkstar. He roared in fury, "I only lost because I miscalculated. If we fought again, the outcome would be uncertain! How does that disgrace my family name?"

Barristan replied coldly, "You tried to kill Princess Myrcella. She was only ten years old, still just a child. And before that, they considered you their companion. You betrayed your friends and assassinated the very person you should have protected with your life."

"How do you know that?" Gerold Dayne's eyes widened in shock, his voice faltering. "Did you swear fealty to that coward Doran?"

Then, with a sudden realization, he muttered, "No, that doesn't make sense. You didn't even know who I was, so you couldn't have been sent by Areo Hotah."

"I was nearby when it happened. I saw everything," the old knight explained.

"I admit it, I did intend to kill her, but I failed." Gerold's expression darkened as he sighed. Then, he explained, "From the very beginning, I never agreed with the plan to crown Myrcella. Doran is too weak—he refuses to start a war. But if we kill that little lioness, King's Landing will have no choice but to declare war on Dorne. Only then can Dorne's disgrace be washed away."

"Who supports Myrcella's claim?" Dany asked.

"Arianne Martell."

Dany knew her—Prince Doran's eldest daughter and heir to the principality of Dorne.

"Why would she do that?"

"To start a war and avenge Oberyn and Elia. More or less the same goal as mine, but she's a fool. She actually thought she could put Myrcella on the throne to challenge her brother Tommen. What a joke."

It seems this guy represents the radical faction of Dorne.

"What is the relationship between House Dayne of High Hermitage and Dawn, the legendary sword?" Daenerys asked the old knight.

"A main branch and a cadet branch, a liege lord and his vassal—Starfall's House Dayne is the main branch."

"I see, just like the Starks and the Karstarks of Karhold," Daenerys nodded.

The Targaryens could actually adopt a similar structure. These branches have almost never rebelled... Well, Baratheon seems to be a cadet branch of Targaryen as well.

The first Duke of Storm's End, Orys Baratheon, was rumored to be Aegon's bastard brother. Could it be because of the "bastard" bloodline?

Darkstar complained, "My family's history can be traced back ten thousand years to the legendary Age of Dawn. Why is my relative the only Dayne that people remember?"

"Obviously, because he was the greatest knight of his era," Barristan said flatly.

"Because he had a great sword," Darkstar retorted indignantly.

"Maybe, but more importantly, he had a great heart. No matter the circumstances, your relative would never raise his hand against a child."

"Ha! Go tell that to the Lannisters! How did Rhaegar's two children die?" Ser Gerold sneered.

Barristan glanced at Daenerys. Receiving her signal, he stepped forward, pulled Gerold's belt off, tied his hands, and tossed him over to the other side of the sand dune.

"Your Grace, what should we do now?" he asked.

"Let him go. This is a Dorne matter; let's not get involved."

To be honest, if this Dayne were from Starfall, considering his "orphaned loyalist" background, Daenerys might have entertained the idea of recruiting him. But this fraud? Forget his strength—his temperament was far too extreme.

Or rather, too self-centered, too headstrong—unfit to be a subject.

The old knight nodded, walked back, and threw Darkstar's greatsword onto the ground before turning away without a second glance.

"Wait!" Gerold shouted, but neither of them paid him any attention.

Gritting his teeth, he called out, "Daenerys!"

This time, the departing pair reacted. Daenerys turned abruptly. "What did you say?"

Gerold's face lit up with joy, and he hurriedly asked, "You're the Dragon Queen, Daenerys Targaryen, aren't you?"

Daenerys didn't deny it. Instead, she curiously asked, "How did you figure it out?"

"Ah, so you really are the Dragon Queen!"

"Yes."

"Then the slave uprisings in Slaver's Bay and the rumors of dragons in Qarth were true?"

"Those are old news," Daenerys said as she squatted beside him. "Tell me, how did you guess my identity?"

"Barristan the Bold, the honorable Kingsguard—I know him too well," the hawk-nosed young man said, nodding toward the armored knight. **"Or rather, we all know him. There's one thing in life Ser Barristan cannot live without—a king to serve.

When that brat Joffrey stripped him of his white cloak, the nobles of Westeros speculated about which king he would serve next. Renly? Stannis? Robb Stark?

Some even traveled to the Iron Islands to ask if Ser Barristan had become so desperate that he bent the knee to that fool Balon Greyjoy."**

"You—" The words were sharp enough that the old knight instinctively placed a hand on his sword hilt.

"What? Did I say something wrong?" Darkstar glanced at Daenerys before asking, "Who are you following now?"

Sigh. The people of Westeros had certainly figured the old knight out.

"Ser Barristan chose justice. He serves justice and righteousness, and I just so happen to be executing justice. That's all there is to it."

Daenerys spoke as if it were self-evident. The old knight's eyes grew misty with emotion, but Darkstar's widened in shock—was it possible for a person to be this shameless?!

The hawk-nosed young man's mouth twitched before he continued, **"When all of Westeros failed to find Ser Barristan, we had two theories: either Joffrey had him assassinated, or he had lost the will to fight and was hiding somewhere, waiting for death.

But here he is, alive, brimming with spirit, clad in armor, strong and skilled in combat.

That leaves only one possibility—Ser Barristan has a new king. A Westerosi king.

And I happened to hear tales of the Dragon Queen at the docks. I knew a Targaryen had survived, hatched dragons, and become the Queen of Astapor.

At first, I didn't believe the stories about dragons. But when I saw you two, when all other possibilities were eliminated, no matter how unbelievable it seemed, it had to be the truth."**

As he spoke, a proud smile appeared on his face.

"You're such a fool," Daenerys sighed.

"What?" The young man was stunned.

The old knight drew Dawn, his voice cold. "You seem clever, but you're actually a fool!"

"Hey, wait a minute!" The hawk-nosed man's expression changed, and he shouted, "I have something to say!"

"It doesn't matter. Accept your fate!" The old knight raised his greatsword and swung it toward the young man's neck.

"I want to be a Kingsguard, Ser!" With his eyes shut tight, he used all his remaining strength to scream in despair.

The blade stopped three inches from his neck. A breeze blew past, and silver strands of hair drifted down onto the sand.

"What are you trying to do?" The old knight asked, puzzled.

**"I may have always mocked you and given myself the name 'Darkstar' to express my disdain for 'Dawn.'

But in truth, I have admired you since childhood. I have admired Ser Arthur Dayne. I have always wanted to become a glorious Kingsguard, to become a great knight like the wielder of Dawn.

My so-called indifference, my so-called contempt, were nothing but a cover for a longing I could never satisfy.

I… I desperately want to be the sworn knight of a true king."**

With a voice almost breaking into sobs, Gerold Dayne shouted these words.

For a moment, Daenerys' vision blurred, and she seemed to see a delinquent youth kneeling on the ground, crying out—

"Coach, I want to play basketball!"

(End of Chapter)

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