Chapter 227: Dany Wants to Be a Mysterious Knight

As it turned out, Dany had guessed wrong. The nobles of Oldtown had not become "debauched and depraved." In most cases—especially during Robert's reign—tournaments served two main purposes:

To provide the idle upper class with an opportunity to gain glory.

To entertain the common folk, allowing them to momentarily forget the hardships of reality.

Simply put, tournaments were the medieval Western equivalent of large-scale reality show competitions.

The "bread and circuses" theory remained effective here.

Dany understood this truth despite never having participated in a tournament, all because she had also studied its techniques.

Just as her etiquette teachers had taught her the common customs of various city-states and peoples, Barristan had taught her the flowery but ultimately useless skills of jousting—skills that had no real value on the battlefield.

Having personally experienced multiple battles, she was more than qualified to make this statement.

Why, you ask?

Because the highlight of a tournament—the joust—involved two heavily armored knights armed with long, brittle lances charging at each other. They could not strike the horse, nor could they aim for the neck, face, or thighs (which would result in penalties). They were only allowed to thrust forward in a straight line, targeting the thickest part of the breastplate.

A low wooden barrier separated the riders, preventing incidents common in real battles, such as tripping horses or head-on collisions.

Moreover, it was turn-based: a smooth charge from start to finish, with only one chance to land a hit in each round.

It was as graceful as a lady taking a leisurely stroll in the garden.

This skill was utterly useless on the battlefield. Well... not entirely. Jousting did require exceptional horsemanship, strength, and precision.

To put it simply, while a tournament champion might lack real combat experience, they undoubtedly possessed the potential to become a formidable knight. Thus, beyond entertaining the masses, lords could also use tournaments to scout for warriors.

If one wished to train in the art of killing, tournaments were of no use. But as a physical exercise and a means of honing riding skills, they were quite effective.

Though Dany often expressed disdain for jousting techniques, her body was far more honest—she had followed the old knight in practicing them for quite some time.

Upon arriving in Oldtown, she and Barristan saw a vast expanse of tents set up outside the city walls near the Honeywine River.

Blue, white, gray, sky-blue, red—some tattered, some luxurious. Some as grand as palaces, others as small as oversized sleeping bags.

Bathed in the blood-red glow of the setting sun, the tents were densely packed within the fenced-off area, resembling pebbles strewn along a riverbank.

Each knight's shield hung outside their tent, and a long row of silk pennants, bearing various family sigils—if they had one—fluttered in the wind. Steel swords and gilded spurs reflected a dull red glow in the twilight.

Night had already begun to fall. The camp was alive with feasting, the music of lutes and harps continuing without pause. Plumes of smoke twisted and curled into the dim evening sky, dense as a birch forest in a winter storm.

Even from afar, the distorted echoes of singers' voices and musicians' melodies drifted toward the distant Rose Road.

As they drew closer, Dany saw a massive sea cow impaled on a log as thick as a man's arm. Beneath it, the coals burned red-hot, while above, its thick fat dripped down in sizzling rivulets, mixing with the aromas of pepper, bay leaves, and roasted apples—a strange yet enticing scent that made every passerby unconsciously swallow.

Her throat moved, her stomach growled, and Dany, eyes fixed on the golden-brown sea cow, said to the old knight without looking away, "I want to join the tournament."

Barristan gently advised, "Not all knights are eligible to attend Ser Tyrell's feast. Even if you enter the camp now, you won't get to taste those delicacies. Besides, sea cow may look plump, but its meat is coarse—not nearly as good as beef."

After questioning a few knights by the roadside, Dany and Barristan soon learned the details of this tournament.

As expected, it was organized by House Hightower, specifically by the heir known as "Laughing Baelor"—Baelor Hightower, the elder brother of Lynesse.

However, outside the grand, palace-like white tent with gold trim at the center of the camp, the banners of House Tyrell of Highgarden were displayed—a golden rose in full bloom on a lush green field.

"Gallant" Garlan, the second son of House Tyrell, was also present. Together with the Hightowers, they were actively recruiting free riders in Oldtown to counter the increasingly rampant Ironborn pirates.

The tournament acted as a great magnet, drawing in free riders not only from the Reach and Dorne but even from the Westerlands and the Crownlands.

They had no intention of selecting a few warlords from the free riders, but gathering three to five thousand elite cavalry? That would be easy.

Westeros had no formal mercenary companies, but similar professions were not uncommon.

As a land built on knightly traditions, the Seven Kingdoms had little room for foot soldier mercenaries. Or rather, if a man didn't even have a horse, no lord would bother hiring him—he wouldn't find work as a mercenary at all.

In terms of rank and status, knights in Westeros generally fell into four categories:

Hedge Knights – One man, one sword, a tattered leather vest, and a poor-quality horse.

Sworn Swords – Free riders hired by lords.

Landed Knights – Knights granted land by their lord.

Noble Knights – Those with noble titles and actual holdings.

At present, Dany and Barristan were nothing more than hedge knights—a category as common in the Seven Kingdoms as grass in a field.

Of course, female knights are extremely rare, and most of them struggle to make a name for themselves.

Take, for example, "Beauty" Brienne and "Beautiful" Merris. Both of them aspired to become great female knights from a young age, but in the end...

Sigh—being mocked was the least of their problems. Someone as strong and unattractive as Brienne—if not for the "protagonist's halo"—would have long been subjected to countless assaults.

Merris, unlike Brienne, had no noble inheritance. She was born into a common household of mercenary knights, and she never encountered her own "Jaime" (Jaime Lannister had saved Brienne). More importantly, she was nowhere near as "safe-looking" as Brienne. In Westeros, she couldn't survive at all.

According to Red-haired Laila, Merris's own lord once led a group of knights, knocked her sword from her hands, knocked her off her horse, and then—amidst laughter and mockery—violated her.

Left with no choice, Merris fled across the sea to the neighboring Free Cities to become a mercenary. But her new companions were no better. One night, after getting drunk, they lost all restraint. More than half of the mercenary company took turns violating her.

Like beasts, they cut off her breasts, bit off pieces of her ears, chewed off her nose, and finally, they carved two deep cross-shaped scars on her cheeks.

She survived only through sheer willpower and an unyielding spirit.

Fortunately, the Ragged Prince took her in. The Windblown Company had a far better reputation and discipline than other mercenary bands. There, Merris finally found a worthy leader, slowly demonstrated her talents, rose through the ranks, and eventually became an officer—the company's inquisitor.

It's said that Merris can torture a prisoner for an entire month, ensuring they don't die before she's done with them.

The world of A Song of Ice and Fire is far too cruel to women. Noble girls are either married off or used for the pleasure of higher-ranking lords (often with their families' approval).

For common girls, it's even worse. The beautiful ones are taken by their lords, while the ugly ones… well, no one is uglier than "Beauty" Brienne, right?

Even she lost her chastity multiple times.

As for strength—if this were a world of high magic and superhuman warriors, things might be different. But even someone as powerful as Brienne or Merris—who could perhaps defeat a male knight one-on-one, or even one-on-two or one-on-three with luck—would stand no chance against five or more opponents. Even Arthur Dayne himself wouldn't be confident in surviving such odds.

As they passed the tourney grounds and lined up to enter the city gates, the old knight leaned in and whispered to Dany, "My lady, women aren't allowed to compete in tourneys."

The sky was dim, and torches burned on both sides of the gate. Due to the upcoming tourney, many hedge knights had arrived from all over, and the line of riders and carriages waiting to enter was long.

"This tourney is mainly for recruiting knights—it doesn't specify who can or cannot compete. Once I put on my helmet, who will know whether I'm a man or a woman?" Dany replied with a smile.

The rules of tourneys were generally fixed, but certain details varied depending on the host and the location.

For example, a devout follower of the Seven might hold a tourney in the name of the gods and require that only knights anointed with holy oils could participate.

But in Westeros, tourneys were well-known social events—almost akin to the Lunar New Year in Asia. Most of the time, as long as you had a horse, anyone could compete.

Even if there was a rule against women participating, no one was checking under a knight's armor to confirm their manhood.

Noticing some people glancing their way, Dany remained composed, pursed her lips slightly, and continued, "I know exactly how Barristan earned the title 'The Bold.'

Fifty years ago, at the Blackhaven tourney, a ten-year-old Barristan somehow 'found' a suit of armor and entered the competition as a mystery knight. He even dared to challenge Prince Duncan himself.

He lost, of course. The prince defeated him and knocked off his helmet, exposing his face for all to see—prompting an eruption of laughter from the crowd.

But Prince Duncan took a liking to him. Instead of mocking him, he showed sympathy and admiration and even gifted him the title 'Barristan the Bold.'"

The old knight, practically a living history book, even knew of the first-ever "jilted prince."

"The armor wasn't just 'found,'" the old knight said wistfully, shaking his head. "At the time, he was a squire to Ser Manfred Swann. When the knight's sons learned that young Barristan wanted to compete, they pooled their money to have a small suit of armor made for him."

Fifty years had passed. Not only were the great knights of old long gone, but even his childhood companions had perished. The thought of it was truly melancholic.

Oldtown bore some resemblance to Volantis. Both cities enclosed their river mouths within their walls, though the Honeywine was neither as wide nor as deep as the Rhoyne. Many gray stone bridges arched over its waters.

Small islands dotted the river, each home to tall buildings connected to the shores by stone bridges. Some islands were so close to each other that bridges had been built between them as well.

Ignoring the difference in architectural style, Dany almost felt as if she had stepped into the Qinhuai River district of Yangzhou. On both sides of the river, three- and four-story brick buildings stretched out colorful paper lanterns.

People strolled leisurely along the banks, and the river was filled with brightly lit pleasure boats. The air was thick with the scent of cosmetics and perfume, accompanied by the distant sounds of women's laughter and the soft melodies of lutes and zithers.

"My gods, the base of this tower is even larger than the Great Pyramid of Old Ghis. The Hightower truly lives up to its name!"

Even from outside the city, they had spotted the towering structure piercing the indigo sky. At 240 meters tall, its topmost level burned with roaring flames, serving as the most prominent beacon for ships navigating Whispering Sound.

But only when they got closer did its full grandeur become apparent. The Hightower occupied an entire island, so massive that it resembled a great castle. Rough estimates suggested it covered more than 10,000 square meters.

"Of course," someone remarked. "The Hightower is one of the Nine Wonders of the World."

(End of Chapter)

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