Game of Thrones: I Created the Magic Web

Chapter 6: The Champion's Ten Thousand Gold Dragons

The sunlight gradually dimmed.

Inside the tent, "The Hound" Sandor Clegane silently wiped the greatsword on his lap.

This calmed him.

When he wasn't serving Prince Joffrey, he never knew what else to do.

Since leaving House Clegane to join the Lannisters over a decade ago, the Hound had been Joffrey's bodyguard.

Night and day, he had personally watched the prince gradually turn into what he was today.

He had become Joffrey's most loyal dog.

No matter how foolish or willful the prince's orders and actions were, he simply obeyed.

He allowed Prince Joffrey to dominate his body, while allowing "The Mountain" Gregor Clegane to scorch his soul.

Gregor Clegane!

The hideous burn scar on his left face constantly reminded him of what "The Mountain" had done. Father, sister, family, Gregor had destroyed everything!

The Hound had been afraid of fire ever since.

Behind the firelight were unbearable memories of the past, of the Mountain!

The Hound vowed to kill Gregor with his own hands.

But he was also afraid of this monster.

Anger, sorrow, hatred, and fear tormented him all day long.

Only when he was ordered by the prince to do things could he temporarily forget everything and catch his breath.

This time should have been the same.

The Hound couldn't help but recall the scene from yesterday.

In the silent Kingswood.

He had personally heard the prince say, "Sandor Clegane."

What a strange name.

Usually, he was only called "The Hound" or "Dog."

Only when people compared him to that bastard the Mountain did he hear the word "Clegane."

Gregor Clegane.

Humph! Someone like that can be a knight anointed with holy oil?!

I'd rather be a dog than a knight!

The dog heard the order.

"In tomorrow's tourney, you must win the championship. I need those ten thousand gold dragons."

That was no small sum.

Even if the dog drank the best Arbor Gold wine every day until he died of old age, he might not be able to spend it all.

The dog was about to agree.

But unexpectedly, this time there was a big bone.

The prince smiled confidently, "I know about that. There's nothing to be afraid of from the Mountain. You can defeat him, kill him."

The dog found that the prince seemed to have grown up in an instant.

"Don't worry, as long as I become king, the Mountain won't be a problem at all."

Joffrey was going to help him kill Gregor?

The Hound felt like he was dreaming.

But he thought, if Joffrey really wanted to do it, Duke Tywin probably wouldn't keep protecting Gregor.

Strangely, the dog wasn't particularly happy.

Prince Joffrey, the Mountain, these two most important people in his life, had intersected in a way he could never have imagined.

Kill Gregor, then what?

The Hound hadn't figured it out yet.

But at this moment, he was here wiping his sword, thinking about nothing, just waiting to go into battle and defeat the knights one by one.

The tent flap was suddenly lifted, and pale yellow light shone on the blade, radiating golden light.

"Hound, it's your turn. Your opponent is Dickon Tarly."

Sandor Clegane sheathed his sword.

"Who cares who it is?! I'm going to win the championship!"

He pushed the man away and charged all the way...

After more than half a day of elimination rounds, only 5 contestants remained in the joust.

"The Knight of Flowers" Loras Tyrell.

"Barristan the Bold," Commander of the Kingsguard, Barristan Selmy.

"The Kingslayer" Jaime Lannister, who had a bye in this round.

"The Hound" Sandor Clegane.

Dickon Tarly, the new heir to Horn Hill.

Four more matches would determine the owner of the ten thousand gold dragons.

"Joust, Round Five, Match One, Ser Dickon Tarly versus Sandor Clegane!"

Dickon Tarly rode a tall warhorse, his entire body encased in airtight full plate armor. The armor was ordinary in style but quite practical.

As usual, the Hound wore smoke-grey armor, closed the visor of his dog-head helmet, and faced the battle on his mount, Stranger.

The two faced each other from east and west, more than a hundred paces apart, left arms raised with shields, right hands holding lances.

The Hound was on the east side, and the evening sun became his opponent.

But that didn't matter, he knew he would win.

The red signal flag in the middle of the arena waved down, and the two kicked their horses off at the same time.

Stranger and his opponent instantly darted out, accelerating, accelerating, and accelerating again, challenging their limits.

The Hound silently recited numbers.

One, two, three, four.

Stranger had reached a stable state at full speed. The Hound began to adjust his posture, raising his shield and bracing his lance.

Five, six.

The two sides were close enough to see each other's postures, and the Hound looked for openings in his opponent's defense.

Seven, eight.

If the shield was held too tightly, it would not be able to react in time.

Nine.

The Hound suddenly leaned down. Dickon Tarly remained motionless.

Ten.

Crack, crack, bang.

The two lances shattered crisply almost simultaneously.

Dickon Tarly's lance accurately struck the Hound's small square shield, but his shield failed to defend against the Hound's sudden attack.

Amidst the exclamations, Dickon staggered to his feet.

A dent in the upper left part of his breastplate explained the reason for his failure. No wonder he was eliminated in one hit.

The Hound won.

Those who won the bet cheered, and those who lost cursed and sighed even louder. The Hound didn't care.

The competition continued.

"Barristan the Bold" ultimately lost to the young "Knight of Flowers," like a cycle of reincarnation.

Semi-finals.

The Hound had a bye.

Loras Tyrell and Jaime Lannister faced off.

The audience gave the highest expectations.

"The Knight of Flowers" and "The Kingslayer" were like the front and back of a gold dragon coin, difficult to tell apart.

In terms of background, both were backed by prominent vassal duke families.

Among the Seven Kingdoms under the Iron Throne, the Westerlands of House Lannister were rich and prosperous, producing gold, while the Reach of House Tyrell had developed agriculture and the largest population.

Both were powerful forces that could compete for the top spot in the Seven Kingdoms.

In terms of martial arts and appearance, Loras and Jaime were both top knights in the Seven Kingdoms, the dream lovers of countless young girls.

The opposition in reputation added to the spectacle of the duel.

The "Knight of Flowers" bathed in sunlight and the "Kingslayer" who was controversial for betraying his oath were simply destined opponents.

Even if there was emotional bias, no one could determine the outcome between them until the very end.

Joffrey couldn't be completely sure either.

Although Jaime was defeated by Loras in the original plot, and Tyrion messed up his mood last night.

But fighting is never 100% certain.

Bang. A figure fell off his horse.

Amidst the fierce noise, Joffrey could still clearly hear King Robert's laughter.

The "Kingslayer" was defeated in one round.

Joffrey felt nothing in his heart.

It didn't matter who won between the two, he just wanted to make money.

The next few months were crucial. He needed a large sum of reasonable and low-key funds.

The tourney prize was the best opportunity: the source was clear and reasonable, it wouldn't cause trouble, and most importantly, the amount was large enough.

At the same time, it wouldn't attract the king's attention.

Looking at the generous and magnanimous "father," Joffrey felt complicated.

In all his plans, Robert was almost always the biggest obstacle. Only because—he was not King Robert's son.

Joffrey Baratheon was the blood of the queen and her twin brother, the "Kingslayer," and it was no longer a secret.

Those in the know included but were not limited to the Lannister forces, Prime Minister Jon Arryn, Duke Stannis Baratheon, Eunuch Varys, and Master of Coin Littlefinger.

Because of this, Joffrey couldn't use the tricks he used on Tyrion to persuade the king to support his actions.

Any information that would help persuade the king could greatly change the future and increase his chances of survival.

This was obviously aiding the enemy.

Also because of this, he couldn't show his abnormality, especially couldn't become smart and rational.

Once his changes aroused the vigilance and unease of any knowledgeable person and they chose to reveal this secret...

Joffrey didn't know what would happen then, but it certainly wouldn't be good for him.

He and Robert, this nominal father and son, were destined to not coexist.

But the current peace of the Seven Kingdoms relied entirely on the king's suppression. Before he was ready to deal with the chaos, removing the king would do more harm than good.

Under such circumstances, he could only lie dormant for the time being and wait for the opportunity.

A sudden burst of exclamation awakened Joffrey from his reverie.

The final was over.

He fixed his eyes on it, stood up suddenly, applauded and cheered. "Good dog! Well done!"

Ten thousand gold dragons were in hand.

In addition to being happy, Joffrey couldn't help but sigh at King Robert's extravagance.

Ten thousand gold dragons for the jousting champion, five thousand gold dragons for the runner-up, five thousand gold dragons for the melee champion, plus banquets and other expenses.

More than 20,000 gold dragons.

Anchored by the price of staple food, 1 copper star is worth about 16 yuan. 1 gold dragon = 210 silver stags = 1470 copper stars = 23520 yuan.

A peasant family in the Seven Kingdoms may not have one gold dragon in decades of savings.

The treasury only receives two to three million gold dragons each year.

Now a tourney would spend 1% of the fiscal revenue, and in his name, uh.

He couldn't be happy.

My money! They take 20,000, and I get 10,000. What a loss!

Thinking of the treasury's astronomical debts and looking at the extremely luxurious scene around him, Joffrey suddenly felt bored.

The setting sun was getting lower and lower.

When the red sun was almost obscured by the distant mountains, the melee of thirty to forty people finally determined the winner—the Earl of Runestone in the Vale, "Bronze Yohn," Yohn Royce.

Joffrey sat behind the king, sipping the golden liquid absentmindedly.

Yohn Royce stepped forward to thank the king.

In an instant.

Beyond the five senses, Joffrey suddenly sensed something indescribable and soul-stirring.

He stared blankly at Yohn.

In the crimson world, a faint blue light vaguely appeared.

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