Chapter 17 sparks outrage

Pointing at the unconscious Bart, he sarcastically said:

"This knight seems to be very unfriendly to me, and he is even more discriminatory towards us, the people of Dorne."

"this is not right."

After the spear cut off one of Bart's ears, the Dornish youth said: "I heard a saying that the women of the valley are not as beautiful as the goats. Is this true?"

"To be honest, I haven't experienced what it's like to be a woman in the upper valley. I don't know if they are really inferior to goats."

He kicked Bart in the head and said mockingly: "Hey, Knight of the Valley, tell me your opinion and give me some reference."

 Multiple wounds caused Bart to bleed profusely and make him dizzy.

As the Dornish youth chattered endlessly, Bart took a strong breath and twitched the corners of his lips, as if he wanted to say something.

The Dornish youth knelt down, pulled his hair up, and said with a cruel smile: "If you want to speak, speak louder."

 “Ahem, son of a bitch…Dorne…monkey…”

Coughing out two mouthfuls of blood, Bart spat a mouthful of **** phlegm all over the other person's head and face, laughing and cursing weakly.

 “Haha, **** Gudi Lao.”

The Dornish youth was angered by the filth, but he did not kill him.

 A happy death is a gift.

 He didn't want this valley old to die so easily.

 The spear pierced Bart's limbs one after another, each time spinning and churning in the flesh, causing extreme pain.

 The torture lasted for ten full minutes.

 When Bart finally couldn't hold on any longer, he pierced his throat with the tip of his spear.

 End his suffering.

 “Damn Dornish, you will be punished!”

Suddenly, a curse came from the seats outside the venue, followed by an empty wine glass being thrown.

  With a loud thud, he fell into the muddy field.

This yell was like blowing a clarion call to vent.

More and more people in the audience stood up, yelled, and threw things at the Dornish youth.

 Wine glasses, apples, dinner plates…

 Even several women's high heels.

Rhaenyra stood in the crowd, staring expressionlessly at the Dornish youths who were dodging back and forth, mocking and laughing.

 As the princess of the kingdom, she had no good impression of the Dornish people.

And her mother, Emma Aylin, was from the guardian family of the valley.

The youth of Dorne not only killed the knights of the Vale who were loyal to her, but also mocked the women of the Vale unscrupulously.

 Surely it no longer irritated Rhaenyra to murderous intent.

 “Cole, go out and fight him and kill him for me!”

Rhaenyra turned her head and gave Cole instructions.

Cole looked embarrassed: "I am happy to serve the princess. That Dornish man is indeed hateful."

"However, I am a member of the Kingsguard, and I cannot take the initiative to enter a duel without the king's order."

 “Then I’ll find someone who can make the decision.”

Rhaenyra threw Cole away, walked to Viserys, and lowered her voice: "Father, that man is too arrogant. He is slapping the kingdom in the face."

"I can ask Cole to take action, and he will definitely avenge Bart Knight."

Viserys was already very angry.

Although he agreed with his daughter's proposal, he still maintained his rationality and advised: "Wait a minute, there are many brave knights in the kingdom, and the Kingsguard cannot touch them without permission. They must give young people a chance to show off."

These words made sense. Rhaenyra almost wanted to refute, but she suppressed the words that came to her lips.

The jousting must continue, and Leonor spoke out to stop the audience from insulting and attacking the Dornish youth.

In front of everyone, the young man from Dorne said arrogantly: "The knights in the valley are vulnerable. Are there any more powerful players? I long for real opponents, not just cowards and cowards."

He laughed heartily, as arrogantly as he wanted.

"I come!"

 Such a hateful guy attracted the hatred of a large number of players. A middle-aged knight in silver-gray armor stood up.

He took the initiative to walk to the competition ground, holding a long sword in his hand, and said in a deep voice: "My name is Saul Barot. I come from the storm land. Let me teach you how to be reverent as a man."

The young man from Dorne smiled playfully: "Really? I hope you will be as majestic as before, Knight of the Stormlands."

On the other side, the banquet area.

Luxury delicacies filled rows of dining tables, and many aristocratic women and ladies chatted around a table, like a tea party.

Rhaegar occupied a dining table alone, clearing a large space in front of him and placing the same pastry.

 Tell me what the name is.

 Similar to chocolate biscuits, but in the shape of an egg tart, with a sweet and chewy texture.

 “It’s so delicious. Who researched this thing?”

Tasting the delicious food, Rhaegar frowned, feeling so unhappy.

“No, I have to ask Allison when I get back which cook is so good, and ask him to make pastries for me in the future.”

Rhaegar thought so.

While he was eating, a figure suddenly sat next to him.

 In Rega's doubtful eyes, he took a plate of chocolate pastries and put it into his mouth to chew, looking very intoxicated.

 “Where did this man come from, and why did he eat my cake?”

Rhaegar cursed secretly, but didn’t say much after all, since there were still several games left.

However, reality taught Rhaegar a lesson.

 When something makes you unhappy, if you don't stop it, it will only make you more unhappy.

Rhaegar had just taken a few bites, and the other party was already devouring it.

 A plate of pastries was eaten up in the blink of an eye.

 “It tastes really good, a good and conscientious cook.”

The other person muttered something, and without waiting for his reaction, he took away another plate of cakes.

 Then the third set, the fourth set...

 With only the last game left, Rhaegar finally couldn't stand it anymore.

He stood up from the chair, protected the last plate of pastries in front of him, and asked loudly:

“Do you know who I am? Have you always been so brave if you dare to steal my cakes?”

He speaks with great energy, but it’s a pity that he is too young.

  Not to mention his childish voice, his increasingly plump face is also harmless, like a child playing around.

The other party scratched his curly hair in distress and said with a smile: "You are a prince, but the pastries are placed on the table for guests to eat?"

Rhaegar became even more angry: "You know I'm a prince and you want to steal my cakes?"

“You won’t let go of the last plate. How shameless are you to compete with children for food?”

"Well…"

“No one is old or young when it comes to delicious food. Besides, Prince, you are a child. Eating too much sweets will cause tooth decay.”

 “If you can’t control it, just give me the pastries. I’m not afraid of tooth decay.”

The other party is shamelessly stubborn.

“You bastard, you still want to fool me, do you really think I am a three-year-old child?”

Rhaegar pointed at the other person and ordered Ilic: "Sir, teach him a lesson, let him improve his memory, and see if he still dares to act rogue."

 Ilik:…

 “Yes, Prince.”

Although he was unwilling to take action at the banquet, the other party bullied the prince because he was young, so he had to take action to maintain the prince's dignity.

Ilic did not draw his sword. He strode behind the opponent and stretched out his big hand to hold his shoulder.

“No, no, no, Lord White Knight, I think there is a misunderstanding between us.”

"I can't control it. If you provoke people you shouldn't provoke, you will have to bear certain consequences."

Elic didn't have time to chat with him, so he pinched his shoulders and tried to knock him down.

Snapped-

 In the lightning flash, an afterimage hit the back of Ilic's hand, crisp and precise.

 Feeling the pain, Ilic subconsciously let go, and a purple line appeared on the back of his hand.

   Thanks to the Bank of China for the 500-point reward.

  

  

 (End of this chapter)

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