The Mountain of Ice and Fire

Chapter 225: The Night Banquet

The Hound, the Mountain, the Kingslayer, and the Knight of Flowers earned the right to dine with the King and Queen, along with Prince Joffrey and Hand of the King, Eddard Stark.

Sansa, as the Hand's daughter and Prince Joffrey's betrothed, was also present.

Sansa noticed that Joffrey looked particularly handsome tonight, as charming as Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers. Joffrey wore a dark blue, close-fitting tunic embroidered with two rows of golden lion heads, and a delicate crown of gold and sapphires adorned his brow. His hair shone like pure gold.

Sansa's heart fluttered, fearing Joffrey might harbor resentment over the Ruby Ford incident, but her worries were unfounded. Joffrey approached her, a charming smile on his face, and kissed the back of her hand, every bit the dashing prince from the ballads.

"My dear lady," Joffrey said, "I saw a knight present you with red roses." He glanced at the Knight of Flowers. "Ser Loras has excellent taste, knowing who the true beauty is."

"Ser Loras is too kind to me," Sansa replied, not wanting Joffrey to detect her fondness for Loras. She hoped to sound polite and composed. "Ser Loras is a true knight. Your Highness, do you think he will win tomorrow?"

"Of course not." Joffrey looked at the Knight of Flowers, who wore an elegant smile, then at the Hound and the Kingslayer, and finally swept his gaze over the Mountain's massive form. "My Hound will take care of Ser Loras, or my uncle Jaime will. In a few years, when I can compete, I'll defeat them all." He gestured, encompassing the four champions, the King, the Hand, and the Queen.

"Seven hells!" King Robert exclaimed. "Forgive the boy's arrogance!" Lancel Lannister, the wine server, quickly poured the King a goblet of Arbor Gold.

Lord Eddard Stark was forced to offer a disingenuous remark, "His Highness is ambitious and has a martial spirit, much like our valiant King!"

Sansa thought, "Joffrey is nothing like you, my King. Neither in his handsome appearance, golden hair, nor graceful features does he resemble the fat, bloated King." But such words were impolite and not befitting a lady in public.

The Mountain, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings, took out an exquisite rectangular brocade box, drawing everyone's attention.

"What are you up to, Mountain?" Joffrey asked with a smirk.

The Mountain didn't answer. He opened the box and took out a pair of chopsticks tied with red silk, sized for his own use. The chopsticks were made of natural purplish-red wood with fine 'ox hair' patterns, adorned with distinct golden threads. They were crafted from rare sandalwood, without any paint or varnish, showcasing the wood's natural color. This meant that the two chopsticks were not exactly the same shade.

Only artificially produced, oiled chopsticks would have an identical color.

Under different lighting conditions, the chopsticks would exhibit subtle variations in color depth, though this might not be immediately noticeable at a glance.

The sandalwood came from across the Narrow Sea.

The Mountain never forgot his ancestral roots. The knowledge he had acquired, the education he had received for over a decade, and the countless Chinese humanities, history, and classics books he had read all helped him navigate the tricky situations and his own precarious circumstances in this world with ease.

Several small bowls and dishes made of gold and jade were taken from the brocade box, arranged in a row beside the Mountain. Then came several delicate small bags woven with gold and silver threads. These small bags, only the size of the Mountain's thumb, released a rich aroma when opened.

The King laughed heartily, the Queen frowned, Joffrey made playful remarks, Hand Eddard remained silent, Sansa looked amazed, the Hound appeared agitated, the Knight of Flowers maintained his usual charming elegance, and Jaime wore a mocking look of surprise.

"Mountain, what the hell are you doing? Hmm, that smells good!" Robert said with a mixture of amusement and reprimand.

The Mountain glanced at everyone present. He knew none of them had ever seen such a set. Their eyes were filled with curiosity and confusion. In fact, this was a complete set of food seasoning dishes. Tonight, the King's banquet was too lavish, and not bringing out the exquisite seasoning packets would be an insult to his stomach and tongue.

As for what others thought, the Mountain didn't care.

An elephant doesn't consider the thoughts of ants, and an eagle doesn't need to pay attention to the songs of sparrows. In terms of intellect, the Mountain considered himself a giant compared to these people from pastoral and semi-agricultural civilizations.

Compared to China's thousands of years of culinary culture, the Mountain enjoyed his true self, and assimilation was effortless. If he wanted to eat with chopsticks, he would just pick them up and do it, simple.

This was the Mountain's personal behavior, and he had no intention of sharing with anyone, including the King and Queen.

Everyone at the table ate their own way. As long as he felt good, that was all that mattered.

It was just that these guys couldn't control their curiosity and surprise and had to watch him. Well, let them watch. Others had the freedom to observe, and he respected that!

Minstrels sat not far from the King's table, their music filling the air by the Blackwater Rush. A juggler tossed burning wooden clubs into the air. The simple-minded, flat-faced "Moon Boy," dressed in colorful clothes, danced on stilts and mocked every member of the royal court. When he sang a ditty to amuse the High Septon, Septa Mordane lost her composure and spilled wine all over herself with laughter.

The Mountain ignored the King's curious questions, and poured the secret spices—his mother-in-law, Sybelle, was the daughter of a spice merchant, and many food spices and seasonings came from across the Narrow Sea—into the small jade cups and dishes in front of him, mixing them with sandalwood chopsticks. These jade bowls and gold dishes were all designed by the Mountain himself. When gold and jade were not a problem, the Mountain found no reason not to refine his life, and eating was a major life project that could not be kicked out of a person's life, no matter how awesome that person thought they were, they still had to eat!

Dishes were served one after another, including thick barley and venison soup, cold beets sprinkled with nut fragments, spinach and plum salad, and snails cooked with honey and garlic. There was also roasted trout, freshly caught from the river and sealed in clay.

The Mountain pried open the hard clay covering the trout, revealing the tender white fish fillets. He picked out the fish fillets with his chopsticks, dipped them in his gold bowls and jade dishes, and enjoyed them immensely. The temperature of the trout fillets was just right, and the different seasoning dishes offered different flavors, including savory, fresh, sweet, salty, spicy, sour, and bitter. The Mountain tried them one by one, and finally determined that the salty and savory dish provided the best trout fillet flavor.

So he ate most of the roasted trout by himself. This was rude, but the King and Queen knew what kind of person the Mountain was. King Robert was naturally generous and didn't care about trivial matters, and hated aristocratic etiquette even more. As long as the Mountain was happy, he let him do as he pleased.

After that, various kinds of meat dishes were served. The Mountain couldn't name many of them, so he used his seasoning dishes to try out the seasoning combinations that best suited his taste. The Knight of Flowers, Joffrey, and Sansa were all forced to restrain themselves from wondering what kind of deliciousness the Mountain's fragrant seasoning dips would create.

The Mountain was a volatile person. Like the King's Justice, Ilyn Payne, he never knelt before the King, so it was best not to provoke him.

After the meat dishes, there were sweet breads, pigeon pie, baked apples with cinnamon, and lemon cakes sprinkled with icing.

Wine was poured non-stop. The Hound drank a lot of wine and slurred, "Hey, wine server, stop pouring me wine. Are you trying to get me drunk with malicious intentions? I still have to kill my brother tomorrow!" The Hound glared at the Mountain, a provocative look on his face. "You wouldn't dare not accept the challenge, my brother! Look at your bowls and dishes, all gold and jade. Did you make a fortune extorting Lord Hoster Tully of the Riverlands, you barbaric, ignorant, brutal, despicable, shameful, and ugly bastard! I swear on the bread, honey, trout, yak meat, and roast suckling pig on this table that I will kill you tomorrow! My brother!"

The Hound had drunk too much!

The Mountain slowly narrowed his eyes, put down his chopsticks and spoon, stared at the Hound, and said coldly, "Why wait? Dog! I want to see if your head is harder, or my fist is harder! I've given you three chances, there won't be a fourth!"