"I want to know." Edric asked curiously, "Can you tell me, Lady Nym?"
"It's just a guess, actually." Lady Nym pointed to the list. "Look at that tall one who chose Ser Ryon Allyrion. That's Daemon Sand."
"He was afraid his father would be defeated in the first round?" Arthur found it hard to keep a straight face. He had actually guessed it from the build and the choice of opponent.
"The other one should be Obara." Lady Nym ignored him and continued speaking to Edric. "She always acts swiftly and decisively. She never plays second fiddle to anyone."
While they chatted, the ten knights in the list, positioned at the north and south ends, were ready. They stood in their respective lanes, poised for action.
The previously noisy grounds fell almost silent.
With a series of rapid horn blasts, ten knights spurred their sand steeds almost simultaneously, clamping their legs tight and leveling their wooden lances.
Forty iron-shod hooves thundered across the earth, shaking the tourney grounds. Champions and challengers rapidly closed in on each other amidst a blur of wood and iron.
Amidst the screams and shouts of the crowd, all ten lances in the knights' hands shattered upon impact with shields and armor.
"Someone's down!" In the chaotic scene, Edric spotted a knight whose pauldron had been struck. He lost his balance and fell from his horse.
Arthur, who had been paying special attention to the Red Viper, added, "It's Prince Oberyn's opponent."
The landed knight might have hit his head in the fall, as he couldn't get up immediately.
Squires quickly ran onto the field and carried him out.
Meanwhile, the other eight knights circled back to prepare for the second tilt.
They tossed aside their broken lances, and squires handed them new ones.
Prince Oberyn, having already decided his match, dismounted and flipped up his visor. He waved to his paramour and daughters in the stands, then sat in front of his champion's pavilion to watch the other matches.
When the audience realized that all ten lances had broken, a thunderous roar of applause erupted.
This was a great omen for the tourney, showcasing the exceptional skill of the participants.
Amidst the cheers, the knights spurred their horses once more. With whinnies, the warhorses charged again.
The wooden stands trembled under the horses' hooves. The usually elegant Lady Nym stared intently at the knights in the list, her hand unconsciously gripping Arthur's tightly.
The collision of lances and shields indeed made the blood pump.
Their section of the stands was closest to the lane of the Old Hawk and Count Anders. As the two passed each other, lances splintered.
Arthur could clearly see the Old Hawk sway, nearly falling from his horse.
"It seems the first knight to lose his champion's seat is about to appear," Arthur commented. "Lord Franklyn is getting on in years, after all."
Lady Nym agreed with him. "The Old Hawk was never strong at jousting, even in his youth. It has nothing to do with age."
Sure enough, in the next tilt, Lord Franklyn was unhorsed by Count Anders. However, he immediately sprang up from the ground and drew his longsword.
Count Anders also threw away his shattered lance. Holding his shield, he drew a morningstar and dismounted to fight on foot.
On the other side, Ser Daemon Sand also concluded his match with his father. Daemon knocked his father's helmet off with his lance.
Ser Ryon Allyrion, his face revealed, unaware of the mystery knight's identity, raised his hand in salute to his son and voluntarily dismounted to yield.
He was the first knight to lose his champion's seat.
"Anything can happen in a tourney." Lady Nym looked at Arthur with a smile. "Looks like you guessed wrong?"
In the following rounds, Obara, appearing as a mystery knight, defeated the heir of Salt Shore after breaking four lances.
Obara's shield bore the sigil of a burning tower.
"Two seats taken in the first round of challenges. It seems your plan is going smoothly." Arthur watched as squires hung her Burning Tower shield in place of the Salt Shore heir's.
Two mystery knights winning champion seats in the first round made the crowd cheer even more fiercely.
"There are still three days. Only those at the end are the true champions." Lady Nym said.
"Mystery knights hide their names and have no fame. They will be challenged by many knights later. I tried to persuade Obara... obviously, it didn't work."
Arthur: "What about Daemon? He doesn't seem like an impatient man."
Lady Nym winked at him. "Bastards crave honor, and even more, they crave recognition from their fathers."
Just then, Edric shouted, "The two counts are about to decide the winner!"
Arthur looked closely. Count Anders' shield had many cracks from the longsword strikes.
The black portcullis sigil on his shield had become a broken gate.
The Old Hawk wasn't faring well either. The blue hawk crest on his helmet had been knocked to the ground, and his shield was dented and pitted by Anders' morningstar.
He had been on the defensive for a while, clearly lacking the strength to counterattack.
After another flurry of blows from Count Anders, the Old Hawk lost his grip on his shield and it fell. He raised his hand decisively to yield.
With their match decided, only Ser Elwyn Blackmont and Ser Ulrick Uller remained in the lists.
They had broken eight lances and were still deadlocked.
In the ninth tilt, under the shocked gazes of the crowd, Ser Ulrick voluntarily dropped his shield and wielded his lance with both hands.
Lady Nym clicked her tongue. "There's a saying in Dorne about the Ullers: half of them are half-mad, and the other half are worse."
Arthur nodded in agreement. "Rumors don't come from nowhere."
In a joust, knights typically held a shield in one hand and a lance in the other.
The shield provided significant protection and buffer. Voluntarily giving up the shield was extremely dangerous—similar to using [Undress]. It was a desperate, all-or-nothing tactic.
Beside them, Edric covered his eyes, daring only to watch the charge through his fingers.
As the horn blew, the charge began.
Ser Ulrick, controlling the lance with both hands, struck the vulture's head on his opponent's shield. Simultaneously, with a shake of his hands, the lance curved in an arc and stabbed toward his opponent's chest.
Ser Elwyn's lance, for some reason, went wide, only shattering against Ulrick's breastplate.
The sand steed with yellow and black caparison beneath Ser Elwyn reared up from the impact, throwing Ser Elwyn out of the saddle and slamming him hard onto the ground.
Lady Nym asked, "How does it feel to see your enemy fall so wretchedly?"
Arthur shrugged. "A splendid fight. Well done."
Ser Elwyn was the commander who had led the Blackmont army under the guise of supporting Starfall, while harboring ill intentions.
Over the past year and a half, there had been much friction between Starfall and Blackmont, both in the Torrentine valley.
Viscount Dimitri of High Hermitage, who loved feasts and food, hadn't come to this tourney partly due to this consideration.
Previously, Arthur, Maester Oswell, and Ser Clegg had discussed and analyzed House Blackmont's motives.
In the end, they reached a consensus: House Blackmont likely saw that Edric was young and coveted the title of High Marshal of the Torrentine held by House Dayne.