While waiting for his turn, Mufasa checked Loras's stats.
"Name: Loras Tyrell"
"Identity: Third son of Mace Tyrell, Warden of the South"
"Occupation: Knight"
"Strength: 15 points"
"Speed: 15 points"
"Intelligence: 15 points"
"Spirit: 15 points"
"Magic Power: 4 points"
"Talent: Mad for Love. When the person he loves is harmed or dies, he can unleash three times his usual combat power."
After seeing Loras's stats, especially the final talent, "Mad for Love," Mufasa could only utter a classic expletive.
"If Loras unleashes his potential, perhaps he could do what the Sword of the Morning did: cut down four or five colleagues while taking a piss."
He recalled Jaime saying that the Sword of the Morning could cut down five of the current seven Kingsguard members while pissing, excluding himself and Barristan.
In the original work, after Renly's death, Loras was instantly enraged, cutting down three or four Rainbow Knights one by one. It was safe to say that an enraged Loras reached the normal strength level of the Sword of the Morning.
Mufasa wanted to check Barristan's stats too, but the knight had already ridden out to compete, and the translucent panel in front of Mufasa began to display a white screen.
"How is there no signal? Is it because the distance is too great, meaning I can't see it even if I spent Popularity Points?" Mufasa thought angrily. He had already paid the Popularity Points to view Barristan's data, only for this to happen.
"It seems that checking Drogo and Daenerys's stats using Popularity Points is temporarily out of the question."
Barristan was incredibly brave. Mufasa was right; the old man was hale and hearty, his sword still sharp. It only took three charges to unseat his opponent.
Next up were Jaime, Loras, the Hound, and others.
Mufasa also competed several times.
The tourney was set to last seven days in praise of the Seven Gods: three days for the joust, three days for the melee, and one day for the archery competition.
The "Luck Potion" Mufasa drank was only valid for three days, so he only participated in the jousting tournament.
Mufasa relied on his luck to advance all the way to the finals. His opponent wasn't Barristan, as the veteran had lost in the semifinals. Joining Mufasa in the finals was the Knight of Flowers, Loras.
King Robert roared with laughter as he watched the two young men, Mufasa and Loras, on the final field. He then looked at his son, Joffrey.
"They are both young heroes! Joff, next year, you must perform just like them! Loras is only three years older than you, and Mufasa is the same age."
King Robert lectured Joffrey.
"Yes, Father. If today wasn't my nameday, I would have already been out there. Mufasa and I train together regularly, and we have both won and lost against each other." Joffrey lied without a hint of shame.
King Robert nodded and said nothing more.
In the stands, Tyrion reminded Baelish again not to forget their agreement.
"I never expected Mufasa to be so formidable, making it all the way to the finals, and Sir Jaime was actually defeated by Loras!" Baelish chuckled.
Tywin, sitting nearby, remained expressionless, his gaze fixed on Mufasa.
"Tyrion, I heard you made a bet with Baelish. You wagered on Mufasa winning, didn't you?" Prince Renly sat down beside them. He was an early-round washout himself; though his skill was mediocre, his popularity was very high.
"What, are you looking to place a wager too, Lord Renly?" Baelish asked with a smile.
Renly nodded.
"An unclaimed village in the Stormlands, wagering on Ser Loras to win!"
Although Renly was young—only twenty—he was already a Duke, making him a desirable catch and a prime marriage candidate in everyone's eyes.
"I'll—"
Before Tyrion could finish, an utterly emotionless voice rang out.
"One year's mining rights to the obsidian deposits on Dragonstone, betting on Mufasa to win! Renly, I'll take that bet!" Stannis suddenly interjected.
Although Stannis had been sitting right next to them the entire time, he had barely spoken a word.
But hearing Renly use territory in the Stormlands as a stake infuriated Stannis, prompting him to place a wager as well.
"Brother! What good are the obsidian mines on Dragonstone?" Renly laughed.
"What, are you afraid to bet? Renly, my brother!" Stannis said coldly.
Seeing that the two brothers looked ready to fight, Baelish and Tyrion, enjoying the spectacle, began to egg them on.
"I'll place a wager too: a stretch of beach on the Fingers, betting on Ser Loras to win!" Baelish declared.
"Hmph, a place where birds wouldn't even shit! What good is that? Father, what are we betting?" Tyrion looked at Tywin Lannister.
Tywin Lannister scanned the group with his emerald eyes before speaking.
"Ten thousand gold dragons! Betting on Mufasa to win!"
Tywin, being immensely wealthy, immediately put up ten thousand gold dragons. After all, the prize for the jousting champion was only ten thousand gold dragons, yet he wagered that exact amount directly on Mufasa.
Mufasa was unaware that he had become a plaything in a high-stakes game among several powerful figures.
He was currently facing the charge of Ser Loras.
Since his Strength, Speed, Intelligence, and Spirit were all lower than Loras's, only his Magic Power was higher.
But Mufasa didn't know how to use magic!
"Wait! I seem to recall a low-level spell in the Shadowbinder's Handbook. It doesn't require much magic power; ten points should be enough to activate it. I remember it was 'Visual Displacement,' using the power of shadow to make oneself appear flatter! Approaching a two-dimensional figure on a flat plane."
Mufasa used all ten points of his limited Magic Power to activate "Visual Displacement" and charged towards Ser Loras.
Loras charged toward Mufasa as well, and as the distance between them closed, both adjusted the angle of their lances.
Mufasa appeared flatter—thinner—in Loras's eyes. He felt Mufasa looked like someone who had stepped out of a painting, and Loras couldn't tell where Mufasa's lance was aimed.
Loras's eyes behind his helmet were confused. In the end, to ensure he hit Mufasa, he swung his lance horizontally. This error allowed Mufasa's lance to strike Loras first.
After Loras and Mufasa passed each other, Loras's lance shattered, and he himself was thrown from his horse.
Mufasa breathed a sigh of relief, his magic power completely depleted. He took off his cat-face mask and tossed it into the stands.
Many noble ladies and maidens immediately scrambled to grab the cat-face mask.
"Mine, mine, it's mine!"
"Mufasa's mask is mine!"
"Mufasa, I love you! I want to bear your little lion cubs!"
The brazen words of some noble ladies sent a chill down Mufasa's spine! He was still just a boy!
Mufasa became the final champion. As was customary, he accepted the Crown of Love and Beauty and walked toward the royal box.
Many assumed he would place the Crown of Love and Beauty on Myrcella's head, but Mufasa simply walked past her.
Everyone looked stunned. Myrcella, in particular, seemed frozen stiff.
To the astonishment of the crowd, Mufasa placed the Crown of Love and Beauty on Joffrey's head.
Joffrey's face instantly flushed red with anger. He wondered if Mufasa was trying to insult him.
However, Mufasa's next words instantly turned his anger into delight.
"Today is the nameday of our Prince Joffrey! He is the brightest star today! Let us cheer Joffrey's name! Joffrey!"
"Joffrey! Joffrey!"
"Long live Prince Joffrey!"
Led by Mufasa, the spectators began cheering Joffrey's name. Joffrey himself was thrilled, frantically shaking the Crown of Love and Beauty on his head as he acknowledged the crowd.
After all, showing off was Joffrey's favorite thing to do. Today, he had stolen the entire spotlight, and with so many people loudly chanting his name, Joffrey momentarily felt that he was genuinely loved by the common folk.