Chapter 224: The Worst Generation of White Knights

Unfortunately, Dany was not Coach Anxi.

"If I appoint you as a Kingsguard, won't the world assume I sent you to assassinate Myrcella? Even Prince Doran might suspect me of stirring trouble, deliberately provoking Dornish-King's Landing 'friendly neighborly' relations."

Dany shook her head repeatedly.

"This boy is cunning. He might be lying just to save his life." The White Knight said this but still moved Sun Swallower away from Darkstar's neck.

A person's final cries in their last moments—while they might contain some theatrics—wouldn't be entirely false.

"I am Darkstar, a being of the night. A white cloak is too conspicuous for me. Your Grace, let me join your ranks and do the things you desire but cannot do yourself!" the hook-nosed man declared.

Hmm, though I quite enjoy hearing such words, I can't just openly accept them, can I? If I agree, wouldn't that be admitting that I have deeds that must be hidden from the public eye?

"I ask you this: If you long for the glory of the Kingsguard and aspire to become a legendary knight, why not go to King's Landing? With your status and skill, I imagine neither Robert nor Cersei would refuse a 'Dayne'—even if you are just a 'knockoff' from the neighboring house."

Dany fixed her gaze on Darkstar, scrutinizing even the subtlest expressions on his face.

"I admire Ser Barristan, but I am not him," the hook-nosed man glanced at the armored knight before saying resolutely, "I have my own thoughts and ideals.

Robert was no wise king, and Cersei and the Lannisters are nothing but a den of treacherous villains.

I would rather remain Darkstar, wandering the endless deserts of Dorne, than don a dazzling white cloak and serve those people."

The old knight couldn't hold back any longer. His grip tightened around his sword hilt—he was itching to cut someone down!

"Don't be angry, Ser," the young man sighed, his expression complicated. "You are not Dornish; you could never understand the fury and humiliation we felt when news of Princess Elia and her children's fates reached us.

In such circumstances, no Dornishman would ever go to King's Landing to lick the boots of the Usurper.

As the saying goes, 'Dorne's warriors are as numerous as grains of sand.'

But have you noticed?

From Robert to Joffrey to Tommen, the Kingsguard has seen many members come and go, yet not a single one was from Dorne.

For the past fifteen years, it's as if Dorne has separated from the Seven Kingdoms, completely uninvolved in Westerosi affairs.

Myrcella being sent as a hostage to the Water Gardens, and Prince Oberyn representing Dorne in the Small Council—these could have been opportunities to break the stalemate. But you saw how that ended."

"To put it bluntly, the current Kingsguard… ha, I wouldn't be caught dead among them," the hook-nosed man finished with scorn.

Even the old knight himself deeply despised his former brothers. Their martial prowess was one thing, but their pursuit of honor was another matter entirely.

—On the day he was stripped of his white cloak by Joffrey, those so-called brothers didn't even try to dissuade the boy-king. Instead, they laughed at their own captain, displaying neither loyalty nor a shred of honor.

Yet, no matter how he felt, he had been a Kingsguard for forty years. Now, as the Lord Commander once more, he couldn't help but snort coldly.

"Just earlier, when you shamelessly attempted to assassinate the very child you should have protected, it was only the Kingsguard who stood in her defense—ultimately giving their lives in battle."

"Hah! Oakheart wasn't trying to protect the little lion at all!" The hook-nosed youth sneered. "Ser Arys Oakheart served alongside you for ten years. Are you telling me he didn't know how to properly protect his charge? Think about it—if you had been in his place, would I have had the chance to strike at Princess Myrcella?"

"This—" The old knight was stunned. That was precisely what he had never understood.

No matter the time or place, a Kingsguard's core duty was to protect their charge. The odds had been against them, yet the enemy had no intent to slaughter them all. There had been no need for the Kingsguard to throw his life away.

And if he hadn't left Myrcella's side, Darkstar wouldn't have found an opportunity to strike.

"I saw that Kingsguard standing in front of Princess Arianne," Dany said hesitantly.

"Hahaha! Exactly! That 'honorable' White Knight was one of Arianne's many lovers. Perhaps, even as he died, he believed he was her only one.

Maybe out of shame, or maybe fearing that his lover would be cast aside or executed by the Prince… Either way, at that moment, his mind held not even a shadow of his sworn charge."

"This… How could that be possible…" the old knight murmured in disbelief.

"Why not? Ever since the Kingslayer slew his own king, the Kingsguard has never been as noble and pure as it once was!"

Darkstar laughed bitterly, his expression filled with mockery and sorrow. "And you? You've sworn service to Targaryens, Baratheons, and Lannisters in turn—"

"I have not!" The old man's face turned red as he argued back, "I am a Kingsguard. I serve the king, no one else!"

"Suit yourself," Darkstar smirked and continued, "Jaime slew his own king, then bedded the queen, and even sired three bastard children who usurped the throne.

Arys Oakheart was seduced by a woman and abandoned his charge.

The one who took your place, the Hound—Sandor Clegane—fled during Stannis's siege, abandoning the king when he was needed most.

Boros Blount was a coward who handed over the prince he was sworn to protect (Tommen) to a band of disguised outlaws (Tyrion's men), just to save his own life."

The remaining knights were in an even more miserable state—too tragic to behold. The so-called "strongest knight of the Seven Kingdoms," a Kingsguard in full armor, was actually torn apart by ragged street mobs. Tsk, tsk.

The Kingsguard members who were added in the past two years were even more pathetic. Loras Tyrell of Highgarden—heh, I really wonder what his real motive was for joining a band of burly knights.

Would you dare to bathe with him in the bathhouse?

And that Osmund Kettleblack—just a mercenary whose name I'd never even heard before.

"This is the Kingsguard of today? I'd rather slaughter infants than join them!" The hook-nosed knight declared firmly.

Not only was the old knight utterly shocked, but even Daenerys was taken aback. The once-proud Kingsguard had fallen this low?!

"I currently have three sworn protectors under my command. Besides Ser Barristan, there's Jorah Mormont—a knight who exiled himself for selling slaves—and a eunuch from the fighting pits of Meereen who, apart from having a strong appetite, has no redeeming qualities whatsoever.

If I were to accept you, someone who assassinates children, I fear my Kingsguard wouldn't be any 'worse' than Tommen's." Daenerys teased with a chuckle.

"Uh..." Now it was Darkstar's turn to be dumbfounded.

Could it be that this is just an era of mediocrity?

Why is it so hard to find a worthy ruler to serve?

"Sigh, you have dragons—whoever possesses dragons rules the world. You liberated Slaver's Bay—you have virtue, and virtue wins people's hearts. You dared to venture alone into the Seven Kingdoms to assess your enemies—you are both brave and cunning."

"In all of the Seven Kingdoms today, only you are truly worthy of being king." Darkstar's tone carried a hint of sorrow and grievance—as if he were forced to pick the best among the worst. The gods never gave him a choice!

"How about this," Daenerys pondered for a moment before saying, "I'll give you two choices. First, swear on the name of House Dayne that you won't reveal my secrets, and I'll let you leave. Second, I'll assign you several suicide missions. If you complete them, I'll consider making you the first reserve."

"First reserve?"

"If we're truly short on men, I'll let you join the Kingsguard as a substitute."

Darkstar's face remained expressionless, but inwardly, his mind was screaming: You'll give me 'several' 'suicide' missions and then 'consider' making me the 'first reserve'?!

Yes, I admit that assassinating children was wrong, and you have every reason to look down on me.

But I am a noble of House Dayne from High Hermitage, a lineage with ten thousand years of history! A relative of the wielder of Dawn, the legendary Sword of the Morning! You can't just trample on my dignity like this!

As he hesitated, Barristan immediately interjected, "Your Grace, this man lacks knightly honor. He is unworthy of being your sworn protector, not even as a 'first reserve.' Besides, a few words alone aren't enough to judge his character."

And yet, didn't the hulking Bevos serve as first reserve for half a year?

He fought alongside the Queen in her campaigns for just a month and was immediately promoted to a full-fledged Kingsguard.

Before Darkstar could argue, the old knight continued, "Furthermore, if we add him, that would fill four of the seven Kingsguard positions.

To be honest, aside from myself, Mormont, Bevos, and this Darkstar, none have a great reputation or noble lineage. They offer little advantage to Your Grace's cause of reclaiming the throne."

"My lineage is inferior?" The hook-nosed knight nearly exploded with rage.

"Compared to the Daynes of Starfall, yes, by a long shot."

The House Dayne of Starfall held an extremely prestigious status. Before Nymeria led the Rhoynar to Dorne, the Daynes had ruled as Kings of the Torrentine for thousands of years.

Even when Nymeria unified Dorne and abolished all other kings, she still had to marry the Sword of the Morning of that era to solidify her rule.

Yes, Sword of the Morning wasn't a title exclusive to Ser Arthur Dayne. Every Dayne who wielded Dawn, the greatsword, earned that name.

As for Nymeria's marriages…

It's unclear how many times she married in her lifetime, but in Dorne alone, she had three husbands.

Her first husband was Mors Martell. Back then, House Martell wasn't even the most powerful house in Dorne. Only with the help of the Rhoynar, their advanced technology, and their water magic secrets did the Martells begin unifying Dorne.

But unifying Dorne meant war. Dorne had countless fierce warriors, and there was no shortage of brutal kings like the Sword of the Morning. Before long, Nymeria's first husband, Mors Martell, died in battle.

Afterward, Nymeria married the Count of Hellholt from House Uller, securing the central regions of Dorne.

But not long after, her second husband also perished in war. Nymeria married again, this time choosing the Sword of the Morning of that era—Ser Davos Dayne.

"The Sword of the Morning, the greatest in the world!"

That title was not given lightly. No one could kill him. Nymeria, whose previous husbands had all met grim fates, finally had a spouse who survived.

If you look at a map of Dorne, you'd see how brilliant Nymeria's marriages were. She gained control over House Martell, which ruled the lower Greenblood River; House Uller of Hellholt, which controlled the Sulfur River; and House Dayne of Starfall, which dominated the Torrentine River.

These three regional lords ruled the western, central, and eastern parts of the narrow, rugged land of Dorne.

By securing these three men, Dorne became hers.

Although the title of Prince of Dorne was ultimately passed down to House Martell's children, Nymeria and Davos Dayne also had children.

In other words, the Daynes of Starfall and the Martells of Sunspear shared the same grandmother. That's why the Daynes of Starfall held such a high status—far superior to the Daynes of High Hermitage.

(End of Chapter)

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