The second day of the tourney at Harrenhal began with fresh sunlight and renewed excitement. The crowd buzzed as the trumpets blared. Nobles took their seats while commoners scrambled for any vantage they could find. Levi stood in his usual place, hands behind his back, with Arl beside him and a few caravan guards mingled among the spectators.

Rhaegar Targaryen rode again.

Levi placed another 1,000 golden dragons on the prince without hesitation. The competition today was fiercer. One of Rhaegar's matches was against none other than Brandon Stark.

The crowd leaned forward as the two heirs faced off. Lances shattered. Dust rose. Then, in a blink, Brandon was unhorsed.

"Again," Arl muttered. "Rhaegar rides like no other."

Levi nodded, eyes fixed. The prince barely looked winded. His posture was perfect, regal even beneath the armor.

The second bet was another win. Levi was now 2,000 golden dragons coins richer, and the Braavosi bookkeepers he bet with kept their stone-faced composure, but Levi saw the tension in their eyes.

By midday, the jousting was over.

Then came the horse races. A field was cleared, and riders lined up. Levi shrugged and placed a modest 100 dragons on a lean, grey mare with an aggressive stride.

She lost.

"A lesson," Levi muttered. "Don't bet without knowing the field."

Arl laughed. "A hundred golden dragons coins for a lesson? You're the only one i know who would sacrifice a hundred golden dragon coins for a lesson."

That evening, Levi returned to the tavern to the hum of whispers. Rumors rippled through the crowd faster than the ale flowed.

"It's true. Lady Lyanna Stark is promised to Lord Robert Baratheon," one man said.

"And Ser Jaime Lannister's been named to the Kingsguard," another added. "His Majesty, King Aerys Targaryen himself did it. Sent him straight back to King's Landing to guard the queen."

"The Lion turned white-cloak? At fifteen?"

"Says a lot about the king's mind these days."

Levi sat still, the words striking harder than expected. He thought of the girl he had glimpsed from afar, Lady Lyanna Stark. Proud. Wild. Beautiful. And now promised to another.

A heaviness settled in his chest, unexpected and unwelcome.

Lysa noticed. "You alright, Levi?"

He took a slow breath, his voice low. "So, it's true then. Lady Lyanna Stark and Lord Robert Baratheon."

Lysa gave a small nod. "It's causing quite the stir when it was announced before the tourney. Some talk about it now again because Lord Baratheon seems to spent some of his time in brothels."

Arl leaned in, eyebrows raised. "What is it Levi? Something wrong?"

Levi stared into his cup. "No. But it feels... wrong somehow."

Arl patted his back. "That's the world for you. Marriages are wars without swords but hey, that's noble talk."

Levi gave no answer. He simply drank.

The third day arrived. The jousting resumed, but it wasn't the final round yet.

That morning, murmurs began about a strange new knight who had appeared on the lists. A figure clad in mismatched armor, bearing a weirwood shield painted with a laughing face.

"They're calling him the Knight of the Laughing Tree," someone said near Levi.

Levi raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. A nobody claims to be a knight with mystery. Let's see if he can win the jousting match of one against three."

The story unraveled quickly. It was said that the day before, three squires had tormented a crannogman from the Neck a small and quiet visitor. Now, this mysterious knight had challenged the squires' masters: Ser Benfred of House Blount, Ser Robin of House Frey, and Ser Darreth of House Haigh.

Levi placed a 1,000 golden dragon coins bet on the Knight of the Laughing Tree for every knight he fights.

The duel began. The first to fall was Ser Benfred Blount, cleanly unhorsed in a single pass. Next came Ser Robin Ryswell, who held a little longer before being struck to the ground. Finally, Ser Darreth Haigh fell after two tense tilts. Each victory was met with gasps and cheers.

The crowd buzzed. The knight was small in frame, but skilled each strike measured, each pass calculated.

After unhorsing the last of the three, the knight addressed the royal stand. A herald announced the words for him: he sought no reward, only that the knights should teach their squires humility.

Then, just as suddenly as he had come, the Laughing Knight vanished. By sundown, he was nowhere to be found.

Some claimed King Aerys had taken offense at the weirwood sigil and sent men to find and unmask him.

"Vanished into the woods," one gossip said.

"Or killed," whispered another.

Levi pocketed his winnings and frowned. "Knight of the Laughing Tree," he said. "How he rides is so familiar. He's not that tall, and it feels like another woman in it... could it be the woman from the archery? But something feels different."

The final event of the day was the grand melee. A brutal contest of endurance. Hundreds entered the field. Knights, hedge knights, free lances all hungry for coin and glory.

Blunted swords clanged. Shields splintered. Dust and blood mixed with sweat as the field became chaos.

Levi didn't watch he was too busy thinking about The hooded archer and The knight of the laughing tree.

No bets this time. Too unpredictable.

Some said Ser Barristan Selmy made it to the end. Others claimed it was Ser Gwayne Gaunt or a nameless knight from the Dornish Marches. In the end, people who watched it kept talking about who won, but Levi didn't care he didn't participate nor gambled.

As the sun dipped behind the broken towers of Harrenhal, Levi and his companions returned to the tavern. Their purses heavier, but their minds weighed by the day's strange turn.

"What did I say about betting on mysteries?" Arl chuckled.

Levi only smiled. "Sometimes, Arl, the strangest shadows hold the greatest profits."

The laughter of merchants echoed into the night, as the tourney entered its final stretch.