Within just a few short hours, the news that Glover and the knights of the Vale would decide the army's command structure through a Trial of Seven spread rapidly throughout the entire Gates of the Moon.
Whether they were slightly famous knightly officers, ordinary soldiers, or even the servants responsible for sweeping the keep, everyone was eager to catch a glimpse of the grand spectacle of a combat trial.
Because of this, Lord Royce, seeking to ensure absolute fairness for the bout, decided to hold the contest directly on the open plains outside the Gates of the Moon.
At two o'clock in the afternoon, it was as if even the gods were anticipating this Trial of Seven—the sky was entirely cloudless, and the weather was bright and clear.
On the contest grounds, ringed by tens of thousands of troops, the crowd was packed shoulder to shoulder.
The soldiers gossiped and made bets with one another as they waited for the duel to begin.
Along the outer perimeter of the arena, Lady Catelyn, Lord Royce, and other key lords of the Vale waited with varied expressions.
Mya, using the excuse of taking care of Catelyn, managed to squeeze into a position with the clearest view.
Right now, as she gazed at Galon standing dead center in the arena, her heart was a mix of intense excitement and anxiety.
'May the Seven bless Lord Glover with safety and good health!'
'It would be truly magnificent if he could win this!'
Mya blinked her blue eyes, her heart practically leaping into her throat.
Galon was completely oblivious to Mya's inner thoughts. He stood alone in the center of the field.
Opposite him stood the Vale knights led by Andar Royce: Andar Royce, Morton Waynwood, Jasper Redfort, Symond Templeton, Marwyn Belmore, Harlan Hunter, and Lord Corbatt.
Apart from Lord Corbatt, the remaining six were essentially the direct heirs of the Lords Declarant of the Vale.
They represented the core vassal forces of the Vale. Subduing them was equivalent to subduing the entire Vale!
Tricky business, Galon thought, rolling his eyes slightly as he reached a quiet decision in his mind.
'These people have special statuses, so it's best not to kill them.'
'I need to resolve this swiftly, taking away their combat capability at the fastest possible speed.'
At that moment, Lord Royce walked to the center between the two parties and reminded Galon once more.
"Lord Glover, are you certain you will not wear your Valyrian scale armor? A Trial of Seven does not end until the very last moment!"
Galon remained composed and composed, replying with a mild smile.
"Scale armor is far too tough. Ordinary weapons cannot hurt me through it at all.
Even if I win, it would hardly be a fair victory. So, wearing leather armor will suffice."
Seeing this, Lord Royce nodded and said no more. Drawing a deep breath, he announced in a loud voice.
"In the name of the Defender of the Vale and of House Royce of Runestone,
I hereby declare that the Trial of Seven between Glover of the North and the knights of the Vale officially begins!
The victor shall gain command over the opposing force!"
Having spoken cleanly and decisively, he immediately returned to Catelyn and the others, looking on at the impending Trial of Seven.
In the center of the field, the fully armored Andar and his companions slowly drew their weapons, pointing them at Galon a short distance away.
"Lord Glover!
Blades and swords have no eyes in the heat of battle.
If you find your life in danger, I hope you will drop to your knees and surrender in time!"
Harlan Hunter mocked with a laugh, twisting his neck and brandishing his longsword.
Galon did not bother wasting words with them.
He extended his left index finger and hooked it in a mocking gesture. "I am in a hurry. Come at me all together!"
Harlan and the others instantly flew into a rage.
"I hope you won't regret this in a moment!"
"Glover, go to hell!"
Lord Corbatt let out a cold laugh, sweeping his warhammer as he lunged toward Galon.
Behind him, Andar and the rest moved with quick, practiced steps, closing in on Galon from all directions with their weapons bared.
Galon gripped the greatsword that had accompanied him through numerous battles in his right hand, his red eyes completely calm.
Ah—it's coming from the right!
The moment Corbatt swung his warhammer toward him, Galon's body burst into motion.
The strength flowing from his bloodline allowed him to effortlessly read the direction of Corbatt's strike.
Galon sidestepped to the left. Failing to pull back his force in time, Corbatt stumbled, dragged sideways by the weight of his own hammer.
At the same time, taking advantage of the moment before Corbatt could regain his footing, Galon brought his greatsword down in a brutal slash against the man's greave-protected right leg.
A heavy thud echoed out.
Corbatt felt an agonizing pain in his right leg, and his body crashed heavily to the ground.
In the next instant, Galon shifted his stance and leapt forward.
His greatsword descended from high above, chopping toward Andar, who was right behind Corbatt.
Clang!
Andar's eyes widened. Without time to think, he instinctively raised his longsword to block.
But a overwhelming force surged down the length of the blade, instantly numbing his arms.
The longsword flew out of his grip in a flash.
Not good! he screamed internally, instinctively trying to retreat.
Galon gave him no such chance.
With a sudden twist of his body, the pommel of Galon's sword slammed into the side of Andar's head at lightning speed.
A sharp hum filled Andar's ears, and he collapsed onto the ground, losing consciousness on the spot.
Morton and the remaining knights were horrified, their feet involuntarily slowing their charge.
Unfortunately, before they could come to a complete halt, Galon's assault was already upon them.
"Kneel before me!"
Galon's cold gaze swept over Harlan.
Like a phantom, he appeared at Harlan's flank, raising his greatsword high before bringing it crashing down.
Unable to dodge in time, Harlan could only grip his sword with both hands in a panic to block the blow.
The outcome was entirely predictable. Like a battered sack of rags, Harlan was blasted backward by the impact.
Before he could move, Galon closed the gap in a few swift strides.
Changing his sword's path from a slash to a thrust, the tip of the blade struck Harlan's kneecap with pinpoint precision.
Crack!
The crisp sound of shattering bone reached everyone's ears with terrifying clarity.
As Harlan let out a agonized scream, the remaining four finally realized that the man standing before them was an absolute monster.
In just a few brief breaths, three of the seven knights had already fallen.
"Join forces!"
"Encircle him!"
Sweat poured down Morton's forehead as he shouted urgently.
Understanding his intent, the other three immediately formed a tighter arc and closed in on Galon.
Galon stood in place, steadying his breath.
His sharp red eyes scanned the four men as if looking at a flock of defenseless sheep.
Stepping over Harlan's fallen body, he advanced toward the remaining four with an easy, effortless stride.
When only ten paces remained between them, Galon accelerated abruptly, raising his greatsword once more to strike at Morton.
Morton's eyes were filled with grim resolve. Uncurling his flail, he attempted to use the chain to trap Galon's sword.
Yet Morton, too, had underestimated Galon's monstrous strength.
In an instant, his body swayed violently.
The sheer force of the greatsword crushed him downward, and with a sharp burst of pain in his knees, he was forced onto the ground.
Even so, Morton gritted his teeth against the pain, using the flail's chain to bind Galon's blade with everything he had.
"Now!"
Ser Symond of Ninestars, moving like a massive bear, swung his heavy warhammer savagely toward Galon's arm.
Galon stepped back, dodging Symond's attack by a hair's breadth.
But that single step gave Marwyn Belmore and Jasper Redfort their opportunity on his flank.
Almost simultaneously, their two longswords thrust out from Galon's blind spot on left and right.
Oh?
By the time he sensed the danger, the two blades had already struck him.
One sword slashed his left arm, leaving a deep gash that exposed the bone.
The other stabbed into the leather armor covering his right thigh, the wielder pushing with all his might to inflict a critical wound.
Galon spun his torso and snapped his left leg out in a brutal kick, forcing the attacker to withdraw his blade and leap backward.
A shower of blood splattered onto the grass.
"Haha, now this is getting interesting!"
Galon glanced down at his wounds, tightened his grip on the hilt of his greatsword, and exerted a sudden surge of strength.
The blade broke free from Morton's chain and thrust straight toward his chest.
"Oh no!"
Realizing that a direct hit from this strike would leave him gravely injured, Morton let go of his weapon and scrambled frantically out of the way on the ground.
Swinging the flail away, Galon swept his greatsword in a flawless arc.
The frigid glint of the blade crashed straight into Symond.
With a heavy thud, Ser Symond was launched off his feet by the flat of the sword, falling to the turf unconscious.
Having landed the hit, Galon did not pause for even a moment.
Ignoring Morton, who was still sprawling on the ground, he locked his eyes onto Marwyn and Jasper, the two who had managed to wound him.
Blood dripped onto the grass beneath his boots.
Galon let out a fierce grin and charged toward the pair.
In the blink of an eye, neither Marwyn nor Jasper could hold out for more than a few exchanges.
One after another, they crashed to the ground, unable to rise again.
The contest was decided.
The sole survivor, Morton, stared at Galon with a face full of absolute terror, not daring to take a single step forward.
Across the entire arena, there was only dead silence.
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