"Now entering the lists," the herald bellowed, "Ser Balman Byrch of House Byrch… and Ser Neo Presto of House Presto, second son of Duke Ni Shiming of the distant Great Tang Empire, who has sworn fealty to King Robert!"
The crowd roared.
Most of the cheers were for Balman.
He'd put on a strong showing at the recent Duskendale tourney, so the stands were firmly behind him.
Balman rode a black destrier into the arena. His shield and the caparison on his horse both displayed House Byrch's sigil. He wasn't wearing his helm yet. His once-wavy golden hair was streaked with gray, proof he'd been a handsome knight in his prime. Now he was older, a little soft around the middle, but the crowd still loved him.
Someone shouted, "Ser Balman! Knock that eastern bumpkin on his ass!"
Balman waved to the stands, soaking up the noise, then trotted to the royal platform and gave the king and royal family a respectful nod.
On the opposite side, Leo rode forward in his full Seventh Legion plate, helm off for now. His striking black hair and dark eyes drew plenty of stares. A custom banner hung from his saddle—his newly designed house sigil: a downward-pointing sword behind a set of scales, framed by two sheaves of wheat. It stood for knight, merchant, and farmer—the three pillars he planned to rule by if he ever got lands of his own.
His entrance earned scattered cheers, mostly from the smallfolk women in the cheap seats. They couldn't help themselves when they saw his young, handsome face.
The noble ladies on the high platform were just as struck by his looks, but they kept their "proper" composure and only whispered behind their fans.
Leo's senses had sharpened since crossing over. He could hear every muttered comment clearly.
"That's the foreign lord who tried to buy a knighthood with gold?"
"Yeah, the one Lord Gyles called out right in front of the king. Almost got away with it too."
"Disgrace to the whole order. If it weren't for Lord Gyles speaking up, the king would've been tricked."
"Good thing His Grace saw through him. The idea of that cheat becoming a knight makes me sick."
"I heard he had to beg Barristan Selmy for two months of crash training just so he could pretend to earn it in the lists. Supposedly he never touched a sword before."
"Two months? Please. You can't cram a lifetime of training into that. The Seven won't smile on a man who takes shortcuts."
"Hah! Serves him right—first match against Ser Balman. Balman crushed it at Duskendale. This kid's getting unhorsed in the opening tilt."
"I already sent my squire to bet on exactly that—first pass, Balman wins."
"Me too!"
Leo ignored the trash talk. He rode straight to the center of the field, calm and collected.
He was determined to make every last one of them choke on their words.
When both riders reached the middle, Robert stood up and walked to the edge of the royal platform.
"Give us a good show, both of you!" he called down. His eyes locked on Leo. "Especially you. Don't disappoint me."
"You have my word, Your Grace," Leo answered, chin high. "I won't let you down."
Robert grinned, satisfied, and waved for the match to begin. He returned to his seat.
Balman's face twisted with jealousy the second he saw the king cheering for the foreigner. So the rumors were true—this slick-tongued easterner had charmed the king with lies and gold.
He rode closer and sneered. "Neo, was it? I've crossed lances with some of the best knights in the Seven Kingdoms. You're no match for me. Yield now and spare yourself the embarrassment—and the broken bones."
Leo answered with an easy smile. "Appreciate the concern, Ser Balman. But you might want to have a maester standing by. Wouldn't want you scrambling for help when you get hurt."
"Arrogant little shit," Balman growled. "Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you."
He wheeled his horse and trotted back to his starting mark.
Leo shrugged and did the same.
At the ready area Varyn handed him his helm, double-checked the saddle and reins, then passed over a blunted tourney lance. "Everything's perfect, my lord."
Leo slid the helm on, lowered the visor, and locked his gaze on Balman through the narrow eye slit.
This was his first real joust against anyone besides Barristan. His stomach was tight, but he forced it down.
Barristan is a living legend. Only a handful of men in the Seven Kingdoms can match him on horseback. I trained with him for two full months and sparred him dozens of times. Just do what we practiced. You've got this.
Plus… I've got the system.
The tension in his chest eased. His focus narrowed until the entire world shrank to the man on the black horse at the far end of the lists.
The horn sounded.
Balman kicked his destrier into a gallop, lance couched, thundering straight at Leo.
Leo gave a sharp shout, dug in his heels, and sent his swift white stallion surging forward like a white bolt.
The crowd exploded—fists pumping, feet stomping, voices roaring.
"Balman! Balman!"
"Unhorse him!"
"Knock that eastern bumpkin into the dirt!"