Game of Thrones: The Red Dragon Lord

Gavin took a deep breath, as if he wanted to inhale all the blood and gunpowder smoke that filled the battlefield. Slowly, he turned around and looked at the three people charging alongside him.

Though they managed to hold on and not fall, the wounds on their bodies were shocking, with blood continuing to seep out and stain their clothes. One of them had a bloody wound on his abdomen, while the other two bore long gashes from sword slashes.

Gavin turned his attention back to the stadium. After the chaos before the battle, fewer than a hundred people remained. The once noisy and chaotic battlefield had grown quiet. The people still present had scattered into several factions.

One of them was composed of the Hightower family at its core. Thanks to their effective initial defense, their strength remained relatively intact, and their morale had not wavered. The other groups had suffered more casualties.

After the charge and ensuing battle, Gavin now had a clear understanding of his own abilities. With his sophisticated armor and masterful swordsmanship, he could easily defeat any team on the field.

He felt the power surging in his muscles, filled with boundless potential. Though he had expended some energy, his body showed no signs of fatigue. On the contrary, he grew more comfortable with each passing moment, the battle fueling him. He turned to the three teammates, signaling that they could leave.

Gavin watched as his companions left the field and bent down to pick up the spear with the flag from the ground. Adjusting his stance, he raised the spear upright and slowly advanced toward the Hightower family. Confidence gleamed in his eyes, as though the enemies before him were nothing more than a swarm of ants awaiting his conquest.

The nobles in the stands erupted in whispers. Curiosity rippled through the crowd. Many wondered what this young man was planning. Did he intend to take on the tightly united and prepared Hightower family alone?

Some people looked frightened, thinking the young man was being reckless. Others, their eyes shining, hoped he might create a miracle. A few looked on with disdain, convinced this was a foolish act born from overconfidence.

Edmund in the stands was frantic, as anxious as an ant on a hot stove. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead as he shouted Gavin's name, waving his hands desperately to attract his attention. But his shouts were drowned out by the ongoing murmur of the nobles.

Meanwhile, Vilas, observing this scene, couldn't help but mutter to himself, "I didn't expect your swordsmanship to be so strong. I wonder how many more surprises you have in store."

Margaery Tyrell, overhearing her brother, asked curiously, "Brother Vilas, do you know him?"

Vilas smiled and gently ruffled Margaery's hair. "I met him at a banquet once. His name is Gavin Flower. He's talented at managing territories. I've been thinking of recruiting him to the High Court."

"But if he's not a knight, can't you accept him as a squire?" Margaery blinked her big eyes and asked, full of curiosity.

Vilas chuckled. "Of course not. He's only fifteen and hasn't undergone his adult ceremony. How could he be a knight?"

As he spoke, a trace of melancholy crossed his face. He sighed softly. "After seeing his swordsmanship, I thought about making him my attendant, but he's the illegitimate son of the Cotoin family."

"I see... I understand," Margaery replied, her brow furrowing slightly.

"Oh? What do you understand?" Vilas asked, intrigued. He knew his sister, though only thirteen, had wisdom far beyond her years.

Margaery, deep in thought, began speaking again. "The only members of the Cotoin family are Earl Horton and Sir Edmund. Sir Edmund's wife, Lilith Tyrell, is pregnant with their first child, and she is part of the Tyrell family. Gavin Flower, though illegitimate, is the only male heir of this generation. Even if he is just an illegitimate child, he's still an heir. You propose bringing him into the High Court, but doing so too quickly would be seen as taking sides with Lilith, which could create tension. We must wait for the Cotoin family to initiate this, rather than acting ourselves."

Vilas nodded in agreement, impressed by his sister's insight.

After a brief pause, Margaery's eyes twinkled with a sly smile. "But I have an idea."

Vilas raised an eyebrow. He knew Margaery was capable of devising clever solutions. "What's your idea? Tell me."

Margaery winked mischievously. "I could make him my guardian knight on my name day. A noblewoman's guardian knight is purely honorary, which wouldn't provoke Sir Edmund. This would also allow him to stay within the High Court afterward."

Vilas laughed helplessly. "You little schemer. But you'd better check with our grandmother before you make any decisions."

Margaery puffed out her chest proudly. "I understand. I've seen his swordsmanship, and it's very impressive. But his true test will come when managing territories."

Vilas looked at his sister with a mix of pride and curiosity, eager to see what she would do next.

As Gavin advanced, the crowd fell silent. No one attempted to stop him. Clearly, everyone was aware of the conflict between him and the Hightower family, and pairs of eyes were now fixed on him, waiting to see what would happen next. The tension in the air was palpable.

Some spectators had already stopped paying attention to other teams, their focus now solely on Gavin. If he could disrupt the Hightower family's carefully crafted formation, it would certainly benefit those watching.

Gavin planted the spear firmly into the ground, creating a flag on the battlefield. The audience gasped in astonishment. "He didn't even use the spear's point—what strength it must take," they whispered.

The Hightower family's members stiffened at the sight of Gavin's display of strength. The air seemed to freeze, and the previously relaxed atmosphere turned cold and tense. Their weapons were gripped tightly, and their eyes were filled with wariness as they quickly adjusted their formation. The tension grew, spreading like wildfire through the crowd.

Gavin's eyes hardened into sharp, determined slits. His right hand seized the hilt of his long sword, pulling it free with a violent motion. The blade gleamed with a frosty light, as if it were hungry for blood.