Chapter 304: The First White Cloak

At this, even the faces of those knights who had originally maintained their restraint turned extremely ugly.

But they were aware of the identity of this Prince of Dorne… the maternal uncle of Prince Aegon.

Most of them forced themselves to endure it, not lashing out.

But Sir Boggs, that semi-savage nobleman from Crackclaw Point, did not have so many courtly scruples.

He let out a roar, gripped his greatsword with both hands, and charged fiercely at Oberyn like an enraged wild boar!

His heavy footsteps made the ground thud with every stride, and the greatsword, whistling through the air, came crashing down towards Oberyn!

This strike was powerful and heavy, delivered with fury.

Just at the moment the greatsword was about to strike, Oberyn moved.

He did not retreat; his body spun lightly to the left like a willow catkin, and the greatsword grazed the edge of his leather armor, striking empty air.

Immediately following this, using the momentum of his spin, Oberyn swept his spear along the ground like a viper, the shaft striking precisely at the back of Sir Boggs’s knee, which had been exposed by his forward charge.

“Thud!” Sir Boggs’s knee went numb, and unable to stop his forward momentum, he fell face-first onto the ground in a sorry state, getting a mouthful of sand.

He tried to struggle to his feet, but the cold tip of the spear was already pressed against the gap in the armor at the back of his neck.

Oberyn looked down at him: “If this weren’t just a sparring match, my spear tip would have already pierced your throat, and the poison on it would flow through your blood throughout your body… That way of dying is far more painful than being beheaded.”

He withdrew his spear, his gaze passing over the ten knights with their various expressions, and landed on Aegon upon the high platform.

Sir Boggs’s face turned a mixture of pale and green; he climbed up from the ground without a word, picked up his dropped longsword, and strode out of the training grounds without looking back.

The guards did not stop him.

Aegon looked at the suddenly arrived Oberyn: “What brings you here today?”

Oberyn planted his spear on the ground, rested his hands crossed over the butt of the spear, and looked at Aegon, setting aside his usual mockery for a rare moment:

“When I came to your side, I said that I would protect the last bloodline my sister left in this world. And you?”

“Yet here you are, trying to pick seven from this bunch of misfits to be your guards, your ‘white knight’.”

He spread his hands: “What, do you mistrust your uncle this much? You’d rather find these… people to serve as your personal guards?”

Aegon looked at him expressionlessly, speaking in a tone that was indifferent:

“So, is the protection you speak of protection in a brothel? From King’s Landing to Harrenhal, and back from Harrenhal, I certainly didn’t see your ‘protective’ figure by my side.”

Oberyn complained indignantly: “Can you blame me? You flew off from King’s Landing on that three-headed dragon without a word!”

“I chased you all the way to The Riverlands, but you were flying all over the sky on your dragon, traveling a thousand miles a day. How was I, with my two legs, supposed to catch up? How was I supposed to protect you?”

Aegon opened his mouth, momentarily speechless.

After a moment of silence, he looked at Oberyn again, his gaze scrutinizing: “So, you came here today to ask for a White Cloak for yourself?”

Oberyn met his gaze, setting aside all mockery and flippancy, his tone serious and direct:

“Give me a White Cloak. I cannot rest easy leaving the last remnant of my sister in this world to this bunch of misfits.”

The training grounds fell silent.

The ten knights all wore expressions of humiliation, but constrained by the strength Oberyn had just demonstrated and his status, no one dared to speak out in rebuttal.

Aegon looked at Oberyn.

The Red Viper, truly lived up to his reputation.

Not only was he poisonous, but his tongue was even more venomous.

Judging by that series of actions and words just now, Oberyn’s mouth simply could not stop.

But Aegon could clearly feel the protective affection for his sister’s orphan hidden beneath that venomous tongue.

Since they first met, there seemed to be a constant feeling of tit-for-tat between them, with endless mutual sarcasm.

Aegon knew that this wasn’t Oberyn targeting him personally, but rather… perhaps it was that his own face looked too much like that person.

Whether it was Jon Connington’s reminiscences or the complex look that appeared in Oberyn’s eyes when he occasionally lost focus, both told him that he and Rhaegar Targaryen were practically cut from the same mold.

He looked at Oberyn and finally spoke: “Then, as you wish.”

He waved his hand.

The attendant understood, and immediately someone walked forward quickly, holding a neatly folded, snow-White Cloak in both hands.

Aegon took the White Cloak from the attendant, walked down the high platform, and came before Oberyn.

He handed the White Cloak over himself: “You should be aware of the duties and vows of the Kingsguard. If you do this, will Prince Doran agree?”

Oberyn took the White Cloak, shook it open casually, and draped it over his shoulders in a somewhat careless manner, crooked and devoid of any solemnity: “A prince does what he wants; Doran just needs to worry about himself and his gout.”

“As for the vows of the Kingsguard? In any case, Doran is holding down the fort in Dorne, and my daughters have all grown up. These rules don’t matter to me.”

Aegon looked at the crooked White Cloak on his shoulders, was silent for a moment, and added calmly:

“Do not mess around in my White Sword Tower.”

Having said that, he did not linger, turned, and led his attendants as he walked out of the training grounds.

Oberyn stood where he was, watching his retreating back, pursed his lips, and muttered in a low voice: “Tch, quite controlling, aren’t you.”

He looked down at the pristine White Cloak on his shoulders, reached up to adjust it casually, yet at an angle unnoticed by others, the corners of his mouth curled up slightly.

And in the direction Aegon had turned to leave, in the shadows where no one could see, the corners of his mouth also lifted in a barely perceptible arc.