Game of Thrones: The Wolf of Deepwood Motte

In the Seven Kingdoms, trial by combat was an ancient and sacred tradition.

For thousands of years, nobles and knights alike had used it to settle disputes, determine guilt, and resolve conflicts that words alone could not solve.

Under the eyes of gods and men, the two sides would fight, and the victor would be judged by the gods themselves to be in the right.

In the original course of events, Joffrey Baratheon often relied upon trial by combat to resolve disputes, and those duels were usually battles to the death.

But at this moment, when Joffrey heard Garon openly demand a trial by combat, the prince's arrogant expression instantly stiffened with fear.

No matter how proud or cruel Joffrey was, he still understood one thing clearly.

Death was real.

If he personally entered the duel and lost, no one would save him.

Thus, Joffrey immediately blustered loudly to hide his panic.

"What are you supposed to be?"

"You are not worthy of demanding a trial by combat with me!"

Cersei, who had been calmly watching from the high platform moments earlier, immediately changed expression as well.

She coldly rebuked Garon:

"What right does a mere lord from Deepwood Motte have to demand trial by combat against the prince?"

After speaking, she immediately turned toward Ned Stark.

"Lord Stark, is this how the North treats honored royal guests?"

"Hurry and refuse him!"

The reason she addressed Ned instead of Robert was simple.

Cersei understood Robert too well.

If she directly opposed the duel, Robert would only become more interested in allowing it.

After all, honorable duels between warriors were exactly the sort of thing Robert Baratheon loved most.

Ned Stark, who had initially been caught off guard, slowly regained his composure after hearing Cersei's angry words.

He had never expected Garon to choose such a dangerous path in order to defend both his own honor and House Stark's reputation.

Ned sighed inwardly.

Now that Garon had already gone this far in front of everyone, refusing the duel would only bring even greater humiliation upon House Stark.

As for the fear shown by Cersei and Joffrey, Garon had anticipated it from the very beginning.

He was not worried that Robert or Ned would reject the challenge.

And since he had dared to propose trial by combat in the first place, he naturally had no intention of giving the royal family any chance to avoid it.

"Your Grace. Lord Stark."

Garon calmly spoke again before anyone else could interrupt.

"Considering that Prince Joffrey is still young, he may appoint a champion to fight in his stead."

The terror in Joffrey's eyes immediately faded.

In its place came excitement and cruelty.

Even Cersei looked genuinely stunned.

She stared at Garon as though trying to understand whether he had gone mad.

"Is this boy insane?"

"Or is he deliberately seeking a graceful way to withdraw from the engagement?"

Suspicion flashed through her green eyes.

She still found it difficult to believe what she was hearing.

Meanwhile, Jaime Lannister, who had been lazily leaning against a wooden pillar earlier, slowly straightened his posture.

His sharp gaze locked onto Garon as if trying to see through him completely.

The Great Hall buzzed noisily with confusion.

Almost everyone found Garon's decision incomprehensible.

Only Robb, Ser Rodrik, and a few others remained calm.

They had personally witnessed Garon's swordsmanship over the past few days and naturally possessed confidence in his ability.

Robert carefully scrutinized Garon from head to toe.

Then, suddenly, he slammed his wine cup heavily onto the table.

Bang!

The entire hall immediately fell silent.

Robert narrowed his eyes and asked seriously:

"Are you certain you wish to allow Joffrey a champion?"

Garon nodded fearlessly.

"Good!"

A trace of appreciation flashed through Robert's eyes.

He then turned toward Joffrey.

"Who do you choose as your champion?"

The moment those words were spoken, everyone understood that Robert had officially accepted the trial by combat.

Immediately, several Baratheon knights and Lannister retainers eagerly stepped forward, hoping to be chosen.

But how could Joffrey possibly choose some ordinary household knight?

Now completely relaxed, a malicious smile appeared upon his face.

He looked toward Garon and slowly asked:

"Can I choose anyone?"

Garon finally shed his usual low profile.

Standing proudly in the center of the hall, he revealed the sharp confidence he had concealed until now.

"Of course."

"Whether it is a knight of House Lannister or even a member of the Kingsguard, I accept."

The absolute confidence within Garon's voice caused Joffrey to hesitate briefly.

Originally, he had intended to choose Sandor Clegane.

But now, seeing Garon so calm and fearless, uncertainty crept into his mind.

Soon afterward, however, Joffrey's eyes swept across the hall before settling upon Ser Meryn Trant.

A cruel smile spread across his face.

"I choose Ser Meryn Trant!"

Meryn Trant, who had been watching the entire matter like entertainment, was visibly startled.

He had not expected to suddenly become involved.

Still, since the prince had spoken publicly, refusal was impossible.

Besides, Meryn Trant already disliked the young Northern lord who seemed so arrogant and self-assured.

Without hesitation, he stepped forward and bowed.

"It is my honor to serve Prince Joffrey."

Seeing that both sides had accepted, Robert personally rose to preside over the duel.

His authoritative gaze swept across the Great Hall.

"In the name of Robert of House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm…"

"I hereby recognize the trial by combat proposed by Galon Glover, Lord of Deepwood Motte."

"The victor shall earn the right to wed Sansa Stark, daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North."

Whoosh!

The atmosphere inside the hall instantly exploded into excitement.

Nobles, servants, and guards all hurriedly moved tables and benches aside.

Food and wine spilled onto the floor unnoticed.

Within minutes, an open dueling ground formed in the center of the Great Hall.

Robert, Ned, Cersei, and the others remained seated upon the raised platform.

Robb, Arya, Bran, Sansa, and the younger nobles gathered below, all staring nervously toward the center of the hall.

The disturbance finally drew Tyrion Lannister back inside after he had been speaking with Jon Snow outside.

The Imp squeezed laboriously through the crowd before arriving beside Jaime.

"Gods, Jaime, I leave for a short while and return to find Winterfell turned into a tourney ground?"

Jaime ignored Tyrion entirely.

His eyes remained fixed upon Garon.

For some reason, Jaime could vaguely sense danger from the young man before him.

Especially now that Garon's hand rested upon the hilt of his sword.

"Boy."

Meryn Trant sneered while watching Ser Rodrik hurriedly hand Garon a longsword and leather armor.

"Do you need time to change into proper armor first?"

Garon smiled faintly.

"To deal with you, armor is unnecessary."

He calmly handed the leather armor back to Ser Rodrik and kept only the longsword.

Then he stood casually within the center of the hall.

That indifferent attitude immediately enraged Meryn Trant.

"Boy, your arrogance will get you killed."

Garon slowly drew his longsword and casually tossed the scabbard aside.

"Do all Kingsguard knights rely solely on their mouths?"

"Ser Meryn, why are you still standing there?"

Joffrey also became furious.

"Ser Meryn!"

"Kill him! Kill him for me!"

Fully armored, Meryn Trant instantly drew his sword and charged forward murderously.

Meanwhile, Garon remained completely motionless.

Joffrey's eyes lit up with excitement.

He thought Garon had frozen in fear.

But the next instant, the outcome completely exceeded his expectations.

Clang!

At the very last moment, Garon calmly raised his sword and blocked Meryn Trant's strike with absolute precision.

Then, under Meryn's shocked gaze, Garon suddenly exerted force.

Boom!

Meryn Trant was directly forced backward several steps by a single sword clash.

"Thud! Thud! Thud!"

His arms trembled violently as though struck by a warhammer.

Only after retreating several steps did Meryn barely regain his balance.

At that moment, fear finally appeared in his eyes.

"What are you doing, Ser Meryn?!"

"Go kill him!"

Joffrey angrily shouted from behind him.

But Meryn no longer had the energy to pay attention.

His entire focus remained fixed upon Garon.

He slowly circled around him, searching for flaws in Garon's defense.

"Seven hells…"

"How can this brat be so strong?"

Meryn instantly realized that if he continued holding back, he might truly die tonight.

"Why are you standing so far away?"

Garon held his sword loosely in one hand while calmly smiling at him.

"Ser Meryn, if you wish to win this trial by combat, shouldn't you come closer?"

"Or are you afraid?"

"Afraid that my sword is too fast for your reaction?"

Garon slowly stepped forward, continuously pressuring Meryn psychologically with his calm and unreadable tone.

Meryn gritted his teeth.

"Ridiculous!"

"Distance only matters when both sides are evenly matched!"

"And between you and me…"

Before he could finish speaking, Garon's eyes suddenly sharpened.

His hand tightened around the hilt.

Then he moved.

Whoosh!

Garon exploded forward with terrifying speed.

Meryn Trant's expression changed drastically as he instinctively raised his sword to block.

But Garon's strike instantly knocked his blade aside.

The next second, Garon's sword pierced directly through Meryn Trant's throat.

Pfft!

Blood splattered across the hall.

Garon calmly withdrew his blade.

Then, while wiping the blood from the sword, he slowly finished the sentence Meryn had been unable to complete.

"Between you and me…"

"Distance is meaningless."

Gasp!

Meryn Trant weakly clutched at his throat.

Blood continuously poured through his fingers as his body convulsed violently.

Moments later, he collapsed heavily onto the floor.

The entire Great Hall fell deathly silent.