There was so much delightful stomping around in character development puddles this episode that I truly wanted to open this recap by relishing in cries of “Horsie training! Shirtless karaoke! Crafternoons!”

But then Pointy-Faced Blondie broke Tanselle’s finger and Dunk went all red mist and F*** YEAH PUNCH THAT SONOFABITCH and then adorable lil’ Egg cracked and revealed himself to be a hard-boiled Targaryen and WOOP-WOOP THAT’S DA SOUND OF DA POLICE WHOOP WHOOP THAT’S DA SOUND OF DA BEAST.

With apologies to KRS-One’s searing takedown of systemic racism in US law enforcement, I’m not entirely sure who “da police” are in this scenario, but I can’t help which ass-whooping song my brain pulls up due to the high emotion of it all.

I wasn’t surprised by the revelation that Egg is a Targeryen princeling - it was virtually the only thing about the Dunk & Egg stories that I DID know going into it.

But I WAS surprised the reveal happened this early in proceedings. I thought it would be at the end of episode 5, or even the cliffhanger ending of episode 6.

Instead, they’ve ripped that band-aid off in spectacular style, saving Dunk’s teeth from a curb-stomping, but probably prompting another involuntary sphincter opening.

Dunk now has to grapple with the fact he’s been threatening to clout a prince of the realm for the past week, and could be accused of Egg-napping. Not to mention the shiner he just planted on Blondie’s face.

Of course the fact that the drama tent melee broke out after a bad review seems entirely appropriate for this little theatre kid. Everyone’s a bloody critic.

But I realised something while watching this episode.

We’re never getting out of this tourney, are we?

I’m so used to the epic scale of Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon that I’m still expecting the story to move on from the Ashforth Ren Fayre and onto some great Battle or Trial or Historic Consequence.

I’ve known this is not that show since those first loose stools arced gracefully across the screen.

But it took this episode - and being edged once again by a delay in Dunk’s tilt - to realise this meeting of the Reach chapter of the Society for Creative Anachronism IS the whole world. Dunk’s victory or defeat here will have just as bone-shaking an emotional consequence as the Battle of the Bastards.

It may be smaller, more intimate, but this whole world is still a stage. There are many men - and some women - ready to play their parts. It just remains to be seen whether they’ll get bouquets or brickbats.

S1E2: The Squire

Thunder, Dunk’s glossy brown war horse, is thoroughly unimpressed by Egg’s insistence that they greet the pre-dawn with an early workout.

It fails to intimidate Egg, who hilariously opened the episode by staring at Dunk’s sleeping face in much the same way my cats do when I fail to rise early enough for their breakfast.

And look, I’m with Thunder. I’d love to be a Morning Workout Person, I really would. They’re so Wholesome. So Efficient. So Look-My-Life-Is-In-Order-I’ve-Probably-Also-Made-Breakfast. Brisbane is a hot city, and therefore ruled by the Morning Workout Person. They are Legion. They are Latte. They are Lycra. But I just can’t flip the switch on my bio-rhythms, OK?

I’ve been like this since I was a kid, and used to tell my neighbourhood friend to come over at 6am on Saturday morning so we’d get a really good day of playing shops or dress-ups or Monopoly or whatever the hell we did before the internet came along to relieve us of the horror of having to amuse ourselves.

Neighbourhood friend would show up, waking my Dad, insist that “Natalie told me to come over now”, only for Dad to find me snoring my head off under my floral doona cover. And so life is still for this night owl.

Egg, however, is so enthusiastic about being an effective pit crew for Dunk that he convinces the steed to embrace it - although not before some Thunder droppings sees the series go two-for-three on scatology.

There’s some glorious shots of Thunder, riderless, pounding out sprints on the muddy ground as Egg cheers him on. We also see Egg, looking like a miniature David Carradine in Kung-Fu, spinning swords and lifting lances, all while the Rocky theme plays on loop in his little montaging brain.

A post-workout sit down is interrupted randomly by Mad-Eye Moody from the Harry Potter novels, prompting Egg to move slowly but deliberately behind a fallen tree, just out of immediate stabbing range.

“What’s wrong with your hair?” the eye-patched man asks. “What’s wrong with your eye?” Egg retorts.

*“I see you’ve played Hair-y/Eye-y before.”*

A smash-flashback reveals this man to be the kind of psycho who wouldn’t let a small thing like a lance to the face stop him jousting. Instead, he drew his sword, rode on screaming - with an eyeball hanging out of its socket.

“You’re Ser Robyn Rhysling, the maddest knight in the Seven Kingdoms!” Egg conveniently explains to the barefooted land pirate, who gruffly accuses Egg of … poaching… the horse.

He’s skeptical of Egg’s explanation that he’s a squire to Ser Duncan the Tall, whom Mad-Eye will know about soon enough. Ser Robyn seems to be won over when, after accusing Egg of being too small to be a squire, the child responds that Dunk is big enough for both of them.

Speaking of Dunk, he seems a bit cranky-pants to have woken up and found no sign of Egg or Thunder. But instead of attempting a search, he seems to have picked up needle and thread and started passive-aggressively sewing.

Dunk attempts some discipline, telling Egg he needs to get the brushes out for Thunder, and he’ll only get some salt beef when he’s finished, but can’t keep up the gruff exterior.

Instead he teaches Egg how to sew AND BE STILL MY BEATING HEART. Dunk’s delight when Egg successfully completes a whipstitch is more appealing than any body-ripping Bridgertons.

There’s a memorable line in Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle where a Jewish stoner is trying to explain how good Katie Holmes’ boobs are in the movie The Gift. “You know the Holocaust? Picture the exact opposite of that.”

I feel somewhat similar here. You know those Epstein files? It’s the exact opposite of that.

Preparations done, Dunk thinks it’s time for him to join the lists, and spends a good half hour vomiting behind a low stone wall while Egg whittles a branch and sings.

It took me a second watch to hear both Dunk vomiting in the background and the actual lyrics to Egg’s fun little patter song.

I feel it’s worth copying the lyrics here, not only for the naughty substitutional wordplay, but also because they point to a reference I have heard before in Game of Thrones lore - something called the “Blackfyre Rebellion”:

Prince Baelor was the first born, Prince Maekar sprang out last
Daemon was the bastard, so they kicked his bastard–

Grass is green in summer, green grass I adore
But grass is red all over when you kill a rebel–

Horses die in battle, this battle was the front
Blackfyre’s not a trueborn, he came from the wrong–

Country was in peril, the Anvil was a rock
The Hammer smashed the bashed with his giant veiny–
Host of Dornish spearmen.

As I’ve previously mentioned, I’ve been avoiding reading too much about Targaryen dynastic history lest I spoil the fun of reacting to the House of the Dragon end game.

So while I don’t know if the Anvil and the Hammer refers to Baelor and Maekar, or two other warriors or knights, it does seem to point to Blackfyre being a bastard Blondie named Daemon who tried it on and failed.

Dunk swallows his nerves and asks for his squire to pass him his armour so he may finally enter the lists. Hooray! This is what the end of last week’s episode hinted at! Dunk showing these rich tosspots what true honour and wide shoulders really mean!

….except it’s not to be. We got edged again.

The first bouts can only be contested by knights of high birth and renown. Dunk, being neither of these things, must wait longer.

“Then what have I been vomiting for?” he protests.

The day is spent pleasantly enough (see Best Moments below), prompting Egg to muse that he could be happy in a place like this. Dunk, ever literal, responds “You are in a place like this.”

Dunk admits Egg is a good worker, and we see his growing fondness for the lad. His opinion of himself is shaky at times; he likes the man Egg reflects back at him. He even commits to letting Egg stay on as his squire should he be victorious in combat.

Of course that victory is no guarantee, and we realise that Dunk had good reason for only promising Egg a few days’ of work. A first round disaster would see him lose everything, and he is too honourable to want to tie Egg down.

Just then, the opportunity to create a brilliant debut performance presents itself.

It turns out Lord Ashford has overspent on the tourney and needs to recoup a bit of cash.

The best way to do this is have his son Ser Androw, the local favourite, knocked out early by a random newcomer - and have a bunch of money staked on this very outcome.

Of course they need to ensure Ashford Junior doesn’t snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, so the Master of Games attempts to recruit Dunk as… well, “fall guy” is not quite right. “Get up guy”?

Dunk bristles at this inference he needs to cheat to win. “Just think about it,” says the MoG, offering a guaranteed financial windfall to make it happen.

It’s telling Dunk doesn’t mention this to Egg, who would no doubt tell him to tell the Ashfords to f*** right off with this ignoble display of nobility.

But it’s more complex for Dunk. He said last episode that even winning one match might be enough to bring him to the attention of a great house looking for muscle.

The question is - can he live with his inner self-critic if he goes through with the deal?

The PROPER GODDAMN MEDIEVAL TRUMPETS sound again, and it’s time to see Prince Aerion “Bright Flame” take to the jousting stage.

They say when a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin. In Aerion’s case, I think it must have been one of those grifty Donald Trump commemorative coins that have him on both sides. Either way it’s not going to end well.

There’s no sign of his Dad, Prince Meerkat, and Prince Baelor looks distinctly unimpressed as he gives his nephew a cursory nod. Aerion also confronts his brown-haired cousin Prince Vhalar (Valar/Valarr/Val-argh?), saying he won’t embarrass him today.

Up for embarrassment is some other knight of high birth/renown, but their clash doesn’t last long - and doesn’t go the way Egg hopes, as he urges the challenger to “Kill him! Kill him!”

Aerion gets in an early blow, much to the crowd’s disgust. He then rounds back with his lance deliberately pointed down. “He’s too low,” murmurs Dunk, a split-second before the point goes straight through the opposing horse’s neck with a sickening squelch.

The injured equine bucks and falls, crushing the challenger knight beneath its body.

Prince Baelor flinches in the stands while the boos of the crowd increase. Sure, they may be full of sporting bloodlust, but nobody likes a cheat.

I also got the sense that while human life is cheap, horses aren’t. Everyone watching would know the work and care that goes into an animal like that, and to see it so ruthlessly targeted helps to inflame passions in the stands.

Dunk looks somewhat cluelessly around as the human mass surges in anger. There are moments that - whether intentional or not - are reminiscent of the Hillsborough stadium disaster. The Kingsguard ride out to quell the unrest, but Aerion sits astride his horse, smugly revelling in the chaos he has caused.

“That was a terrible sight,” Dunk tells Egg after escaping the melee. He expresses to his squire that he too could suffer a mishap when he competes, and for the first time, Egg seems to want to confess… something to Dunk. “That was no mishap,” he states gravely.

Where do you go when the fighting’s done for the day, the drizzle is setting in, and you’re feeling a little glum?

Why, LORD LYONEL BARATHEON’S SAUCY SINGALONG SUPPER CLUB, of course!

*If this guy is not bisexual, I’ll eat a rainbow.*

I love that Lyonel’s only appearance this episode saw him belting out a bawdy ditty about a girl who turned an unfortunate attrition of digits into a highly specialised sexual service.

Even more delightful was Dunk and Egg engaging in deeply philosophical music criticism about whether the titular “Alice” was real, and if so, whether her name really was Alice.

Egg is fascinated by the idea that a woman’s actions in the service of men - aka, being “so good at pleasuring men in their bums” - was worthy of musical immortality, but her humanity, her name, was interchangeable, or worse, forgettable.

Ahhh, welcome to the patriarchy, young squire.

Egg concludes the discussion by nobly rebranding the determined Alice as “Hope”, a name that belongs to all who invoke it.

Right on cue, the Laughing Storm strikes up the song again, neatly undercutting Egg’s attempt at proto-feminism with another display of homo-erotic bonding.

It was nice to check in with the Fosseys’, sorry, Fossoways’ lovable cousin, Everybody Loves Raymun.

(I realised as I was typing this joke that it seemed familiar - and for good reason. I did use the same nicknaming rhyme in Season 1 of House of the Dragon for Lord Corlys Velaryon’s brother Vaemond. That dude got his head sliced prettily in half by Daemon Targaryen, so I figure I can rip myself off and re-use it here.)

They run into Raymun in the tent village, with neither Dunk or Egg particularly keen to take up the jolly young man’s offer of home-made cider.

A few metres away, they can see Tanselle spruiking that night’s puppet show. Egg makes his excuses easily, saying he’ll watch the show then collect Dunk’s newly-painted shield at the end.

Dunk looks longingly over at Tanselle, but cannot make himself be rude to the grinning young man.

Besides, it’s a chance for him to flag the idea of taking on Ser Androw Ashford, the local favourite the Master of Games has asked him to beat. “So you mean to play the villain?” inquires Raymun.

The talk turns to the day’s events - apparently Lord Ashford made Prince Aerion surrender his horse as restitution for killing his opponent’s. Dunk naively repeats Egg’s claim that Aerion meant to kill the horse - and with that, the floodgates open.

Everybody may love Raymun, but he has no love lost for the Targaryens, labelling them “incestuous aliens” who are occupying their lands and breeding successively madder kings.

His condemnation is swift and savage, ending with a call for Targaryens to, ahem, spill their seed outside their wives’ waiting wombs. Dunk’s blue eyes wide with surprise.

“Sorry, I got a bit carried away there,” Raymun says with the sheepish air of a young man still spilling his own seed into a crusty gym sock.

Still, it’s an interesting critique we’ve not seen before - in Hot D, the Targaryens’ ascension and power is treated as almost an inevitability, while by the time of Game of Thrones, they’re fading into memory due to abusing that power.

Here, we’re in the middle place. House Targaryen remains in charge, but only Baelor seems concerned with hearts and minds campaigning. The rest are cruel, drunk, missing (presumed dead) or in the case of one of Prince Meerkat’s sons - “so useless they’re going to ship him off to the Citadel to make a Maester of him”.

Once again there’s another bit of excellent editing, where Raymun is just about to describe what Prince Meerkat’s youngest son is like…. when Egg runs in, panicked.

“You must come! He’s hurting her!”

Over at the makeshift theatre, Tanselle has been delighting the crowd with another dynamic physical theatre work involving the giant dragon puppet.

Dressed as a knight, she parries with the creature, blocking its fiery breath with her shield in an impressive display of in-house pyrotechnics.

Did they do a risk assessment for that? Is the tent constructed of non-flammable fabric? Is there haze? What’s their public liability coverage in case an errant spark hits a litigious punter?

Sorry, arts producer brain taking over again.

Tanselle’s knight eventually triumphs, thrusting her sword into the beast’s neck and sending red confetti “blood” sprinkling out over the audience. I was very gratified to see this special effect, as I have used similar in my shows, putting me on equal footing with a quasi-medieval travelling puppet group. Boom, things are really looking up for me.

But not everyone is thrilled.

The crowd parts like the Red Sea to reveal a very displeased Aerion. Already in a bad mood after being punished for the tourney shitshow, he takes a more John Wilkes Booth approach to political criticism.

Dunk whooshes open the curtains in time to see Aerion break one of Tanselle’s fingers. And she needs those for painting!

Dunk’s face is the real picture, as instinctive righteous fury kicks in and he slams the hell out of Aerion’s smug face. It takes four of Bright Flame’s bodyguards to get Dunk under control, at which point he asks why Dunk would throw his life away on “that whore”.

“She’s a traitor,” he explains. “The Dragon should not lose.”

Now Australia’s favourite critic, Margaret Pomeranz, has the decency to keep her public dismantling of inferior artistic output to words only - although I have no doubt she could cut a bitch.

But Aerion is definitely harkening back - or should that be forward - to Joffrey Baratheon forcing a bard to sing an insulting song about his mother, then having his tongue cut out. Freedom of expression is not a thing. It’s all very Adelaide Writers Festival.

Also, quick aside - is it a coincidence that Tanselle suffered a finger-related injury not long after the Cackling Downpour and his cronies celebrated a woman with finger loss in song? Is there a meta-commentary there about indignities heaped on women in a way that compounds their oppression? That their pain is relegated by misogyny into mere jokes?

…breathe, Natalie. Think of Dunk sewing.

Oh yes, Dunk! Despite not having legal training, his gut instinct is on point - don’t talk without a lawyer.

When his cajoling doesn’t work, Blondie instead decides to move into the “tooth for a tooth” model of restorative justice.

Dunk is shoved to the ground and his mouth forced open, bringing a new meaning to the term “he cut his teeth on the stage”.

But then - here comes Mighty Mouse to save the day!

Dunk yells at Egg to shut up, stupid boy, or they’ll hurt you. AWWWW. His first thought is the little lad’s safety.

“No they won’t,” Egg responds, ordering guards by name to stand down in a sudden burst of authority that must have… scrambled… their minds.

“What did you do to your hair?” Aerion asks, with a frustrated sigh of recognition.

Unlike his earlier encounter with Ser Robyn “Mad Eye” Rhysling, there’s no reason to act coy now.

“I cut it off because I didn’t want to look like you… brother.”

It’s the ultimate stinging rebuke to a Prince who thought no uppance would come to him.

Sure, Egg is younger, but he has more heart and certainly a soul, and the room falls silent in recognition.

Of course, what happens now after this plot twist? How is will this striking first act cliffhanger get resolved?

Because for a performer like Aerion Brightflame, there’s no humbly retiring from the stage. The pathetic masculinity he calls a show… must go on.

Yay! Best Moments

Dunk’s Blondie smackdown and Egg’s timely reveal were the most blood-pumping, but once again the most joy I experienced in this episode was in the quiet moments.

The montage of Dunk and Egg enjoying their morning at the fair, with Dunk miming to a market stall holder in order to buy goose eggs, then awkwardly showing them off to a passing Tanselle (in a stunning blue gown amidst the grey and brown) prompting “OooOOOoooOOOoooh loverrrrzzzz” style teasing from Egg only topped by the two of them enjoying a hearty goose egg and bacon sub back at the campsite.

Watching and cheering the tilts like any other football hooligans, Dunk adorably hugs a stranger and takes a gulp from his flask, only to immediately spit out the offensive contents. Dunk and Egg adorably rib each other about Egg being fancy and ale being disgusting.

It was truly affectionate and heart-warming, and something of a balm to the soul.

Zing! Best Lines

Dunk may be teaching Egg many lessons, but there are some lines he refuses to cross.

Egg: “Ser, is it odd that I have black hair growing out of my stones?”

Dunk: “It’s odd that you’re telling me.”

Ew, gross

That poor, poor horsie. Not Thunder - the one whose neck got spit-roasted, and not in a good way. Not that there’s a good way…. Look, you know what I mean.

Boo, sucks

A fortune teller interrupts Dunk and Egg’s post-singalong stroll through the markets, offering them the kind of future-sight any theatrical producer would love to have.

Mystic Meg tells Dunk he’ll be famous and richer than a Lannister - but recoils from Egg with the kind of review that tanks a show three weeks after opening.

“You’ll be king, but you’ll die in a fire, and everyone will dance in your ashes, ‘cause WOW.”

It’s to Dunk’s credit that he takes both fortunes with a grain of salt, his laughter breaking the tension of Mystic Meg’s gloomy prognostication.

But in these stories, psychics are always real. Nobody is ever a grifter, like my own 100% Legitimate Psychic character The Great Grandiosa.

*Available for hire at reasonable rates. Success!*

Is this what lies ahead for this sweet, kind boy? The one we’re all already willing to take a dagger to the gut for? Who’s the real sweet summer child here - Egg…or us?

Thank you so much for reading, kittens! Remember you can find my Patreon here should you wish to support this writing. A huge thank you to my wonderful existing subscribers - I couldn’t do it without you.