Outside the champion's pavilion, the shield bearing the sun-and-spear of the Red Viper had been replaced by one displaying a red heart.
Inside, Jimmy was beaming as though he had defeated the Red Viper himself. "My lord, the moment you had both swords in your hands, I knew the joust was yours."
"The tourney isn't over yet." Arthur had Zach Stone shut the tent flap before removing his helm. "Water."
A mystery knight could not remove his helm in public without forfeiting his anonymity. The pavilion was his only sanctuary for rest and refreshment.
Having just endured a grueling battle with the Red Viper, Arthur was not only exhausted and aching but also sweltering. The Rattan Armor was breathable enough, but the rest of his kit was steel and plate; his gambeson was soaked through with sweat.
Taking the waterskin from Vic Five, Arthur poured some over his head to cool off, then took several deep gulps. After consuming a [Peach] card, his stamina and condition were fully restored.
By the time the horns announced the next group of challengers, Arthur was refreshed, re-armored, and ready to step out.
The five champion seats were now occupied by:
Arthur himself.
Daemon Sand, the Bastard of Godsgrace, who had lost once and been unmasked but returned to win his seat back.
Obara Sand, fighting as the mystery knight "The Knight of the Burning Tower," still undefeated.
Prince Quentyn Martell.
Ser Uller of Hellholt, who had defeated Lord Anders to claim his spot.
Daemon Sand rose from his seat as Arthur emerged. "Knight of Hearts, are you holding up alright?"
To break ten lances against Prince Oberyn and then win a vicious melee was an immense physical toll. Daemon had noticed Arthur limping slightly when he entered the tent earlier.
"Ser Daemon, thank you for your concern. I've recovered enough to handle whatever comes next." Arthur's voice boomed slightly, muffled by the steel of his helm.
Prince Quentyn walked over. "Ser, your joust against my uncle was nothing short of epic. Are you a knight from the North? I can't think of anyone in Dorne who could break ten lances with my uncle and then best him on foot."
Quentyn wasn't wearing a helm, allowing Arthur a good look at him. He had thick, dark hair and a plain face—honestly, quite forgettable. Without the Martell crest and fine armor, Arthur would have taken him for a common Dornish peasant.
"Yes, Prince Quentyn. I hail from the North."
"Your Grace," Ser Uller interjected, stroking his beard near the long scar that ran from cheek to lip. "There have been Dornish champions who defeated Oberyn at Sunspear before. Back when Oberyn was newly knighted—young and full of fire—he fought to defend Princess Elia's honor. But his opponent that day was the Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne."
"That was a magnificent tourney, just like today."
Before Quentyn could ask more about that history, three new challengers rode up and struck the shields outside the pavilion.
Arthur's heart shield was the first to be struck. The challenger was none other than his old nemesis, Ser Erwin Blackmont.
Arthur could guess Erwin's thinking: Strike while he's weak. He assumed Arthur would be exhausted from the duel with Oberyn. It was the same opportunistic tactic the Blackmont forces had used against the Starfall army during the battle with the Vulture King.
But Erwin had kicked an iron plate this time. Thanks to the [Peach], Arthur wasn't weak at all. In fact, after the intense bout with the Red Viper, his technique and mental fortitude were sharper than ever.
He was stronger now than he had been an hour ago.
Arthur mounted Violet with fluid ease and rode to the northern end of the lists.
Thrum-thrum-thrum.
The horn blew, and hooves thundered.
Facing the knight in yellow-and-black armor, Arthur showed no mercy. Utilizing Violet's explosive speed, he angled his lance upward, aiming straight for Erwin's gorget.
CRACK! Whinny!
As the horses crossed, the sheer weight of Arthur's strike lifted Erwin clean out of his saddle. His sand steed faltered, its front legs buckling under the impact shock, dropping to its knees as Erwin slammed onto his back in the dirt.
Arthur took a hit to the shoulder but rode the impact, swaying only slightly before regaining his balance.
By the time he turned Violet around at the southern end, Erwin was still on the ground. His squires rushed onto the field, tearing off his helm and shouting for aid. The unconscious Ser Erwin had to be carried off by two servants.
Watching Erwin leave horizontally, Arthur felt a distinct sense of satisfaction. He took a victory lap before returning to the pavilion to watch the other matches.
He spent the downtime chatting with the other champions, listening to their war stories and tourney tales.
Because he was a mystery knight who had defeated the Red Viper, Arthur became the primary target. Almost every round, a new challenger struck his shield.
Arthur didn't need to be brutal anymore. He simply knocked them from their horses or struck off their helms with clean, efficient strikes.
By the time the day's events concluded, Arthur had lost count of his victories. It wasn't until the master of ceremonies brought him the ransom gold—over a thousand golden dragons—that he learned he had won eleven matches that day.
In addition to the gold, two knights who couldn't pay the ransom surrendered their horses and armor to him.
After confirming they were hedge knights, Arthur made them an offer.
"If you are willing to swear your swords to Starfall, I will allow you to keep your horses and gear. The ransom you owe will be deducted from your monthly wages."
"And," he added, "if you distinguish yourselves, the debt may be forgiven entirely."
The two knights looked at each other, the despair on their faces replaced by shock and relief. Without their horses and armor, their only options would have been sellsword work in Essos or perhaps guard duty in Oldtown or Lannisport.
To keep their knightly gear and gain steady employment? It was a lifeline.
"Ser, thank you for your generosity. I swear to serve Starfall," one said.
"As do I," said the other.
Those eleven victories brought Arthur more than just gold and men; they brought him fame.
Or rather, they brought fame to the "Knight of Hearts."
In a single day, the Knight of Hearts became the talk of every banquet in Sunspear and every tavern, inn, and brothel in the Shadow City.
The fat steward, Karen, told him the news later. Because of the name "Knight of Hearts," the peach wine of the same name—which Karen had been struggling to sell cheaply to local taverns—had suddenly sold out.
Customers discussing the mystery knight's identity were apparently very eager to do so over a cup of the now-fashionable "Heart's Wine."
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