A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms: where a knight can still dream

Luca Fontana

20.1.2026

Translation: Katherine Martin

In the wake of tales about dragons, intrigue and the end of the world, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms represents a return to human stories. Stories of dust, sweat and dignity. And of a hedge knight who believes knighthood is about more than power.

Fear not, the following review contains zero spoilers. I won’t be revealing anything that hasn’t already been revealed in trailers. A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms has been running on HBO Max on a weekly basis since 19 January.

The blond boy leafs through a heavy book. He’s too young for the crown, and too cruel for the power it gives him. Perhaps that’s why Joffrey Baratheon looks visibly unimpressed as he’s reading the Book of the Brothers, the famous tome recording deeds committed by knights of the Kingsguard. Names, battles, heroic stories.

Lives condensed into the space between two book covers.

Joffrey pauses. «Four pages for Ser Duncan the Tall,» he says, eyes darting mockingly upwards. «He must’ve been quite a man.» Jaime Lannister’s standing next to him. A man who killed a king to save the kingdom – and has been despised for it ever since. «So they say», he answers quietly, almost indifferently.

Joffrey continues flicking through the book. Finds Jaime’s half-filled page. A meagre legacy for one of the most despised but also one of the most capable knights of his time. His right hand was cut off when he was taken prisoner. As a result, he’ll probably never get the chance to prove himself a worthy knight after all.

The boy grins. Jaime doesn’t.

It all starts with a dream – and diarrhoea

It’s a short scene. An incidental one, in fact. But even so, it tells us more about Westeros than many an epic battle. Rather than being about power, it’s about memory. About how history not only judges, but also condemns, and how mercilessly it simplifies things.

One hundred years before this scene, Ser Duncan the Tall isn’t yet a name in the book. Not an entry. Not a knight of the Kingsguard. He’s Dunk. Just Dunk. A hedge knight with no title, no land and no glory. He’s tall, strong, genuine – and not the sharpest knife in the drawer. But he has a dream. A dream of being a good knight in a world where that’s the hardest thing to do.

In reality, his Knight of the Seven Kingdoms journey could hardly get off to a crappier start. Literally. It begins with Dunk gazing meaningfully into the distance, dreaming of grand deeds. Tournaments. Honour and fame. The familiar Game of Thrones theme tune by Ramin Djawadi begins to swell in the background, promising greatness and pathos. Maybe even an epic destiny.

Cut.

There’s Dunk again. Leaning against a tree, pooping his guts out like there’s no tomorrow. Welcome back to Westeros.

The hedge knight of Westeros

Even if you’re unfamiliar with the novellas, you’ll probably have realised by now that this isn’t the Game of Thrones of kings, queens, lords, dragons, zombies and impending apocalypse. This is the Westeros of the little guy, more concerned with his stomach than his legacy in the world. Even though Dunk’s obviously anything but little.

Instead, he’s a man from the gutters of King’s Landing. Someone raised by a hedge knight, whose most important teaching was about the true meaning of knighthood. Not power. Not status. But decency. Honesty. And the willingness to protect the weak, even when it hurts you personally. Dunk, for one, gets hurt pretty often.

But he doesn’t let this get him down. He knows that the world is cruel, but refuses to let it shape him. When his master dies and knights him shortly beforehand, Dunk sets off for Ashford to take part in a grand tournament. He’s keen to earn gold for a decent suit of armour, a proper sword, food and yes, maybe even some wine.

Only, there’s suddenly a bald-headed child, Egg, hanging on his coat-tails. What’s the deal with him?

Simple, but not simplistic

Possibly the best thing about A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms is how easy it is to immediately start rooting for Dunk. Though it’s hardly surprising, given that no other narrative trick works as easily as the underdog-making-it-against-all-odds chestnut.

As simple as this trick is, it does work. Perhaps because A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms doesn’t try to cynically break with it or comment on it ironically. The series believes in its stoically good-hearted protagonist. And trusts that we will too.

This represents a stark contrast to later Game of Thrones seasons, and especially to its first spin-off, House of the Dragon. Almost every character in that series is an unlikeable aristocrat with an agenda. Yes, the downfall of the once noble House Targaryen may be interesting. Yes, the Dance of Dragons really was visually spectacular. But the tension fizzles out when you’re never really sure which side you want to take.

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms does the opposite, feeling strongly reminiscent of the early seasons of Game of Thrones, which rarely focused on the big picture. Okay sure, the White Walkers were immediately introduced as the ultimate villains in the first scene of the series. For several seasons after that, however, much of the action took place in small rooms containing a negligible number of characters.

It was essentially a chamber play.

The show didn’t become a spectacle until later, growing louder, bigger and ultimately emptier. A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms reverses this trend, placing more emphasis on the common people, far from the nobility playing the game of thrones. Everything’s focused on a single, seemingly insignificant tournament.

The stakes are lower and, as a result, more brutal than in any other Westeros series. Dunk isn’t fighting for a kingdom – he’s fighting for his dignity. For the right to remain true to himself in a world that reads decency as weakness. His missteps may not cost him political power, but they do put his teeth, bones, money and reputation on the line. With neither a noble house nor a title at his disposal, losing the tourney won’t just mean Dunk’s defeat.

It’ll be a threat to his very existence.

Paradoxically, this carries more weight than House of the Dragon. Why? Well, it’s hard to say. Perhaps it’s the mixture of down-to-earthness, cheeky humour and honest affection for the characters that makes A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms so likeable and completely different from anything Game of Thrones has been before.

Or maybe it’s simply because Dunk never stops believing in chivalry, even though it keeps getting him into trouble.

How to make a lot out of a little

Don’t get me wrong, I had my doubts about the series. Not because of the story – which is genuinely beyond reproach – but because of the format. You see, this season is solely an adaptation of the first of three Dunk and Egg novellas, The Hedge Knight. The German-language edition comes in at just 120 pages long.

Hardly an epic tome, is it? However, it’s a digestible, bittersweet short story that brought a big smile to my face. And maybe even made me shed a tear or two.

Showrunner Ira Parker recently stated that George R. R. Martin considers the novella to be the best thing he’s ever written. And I agree. Wholeheartedly. Precisely because the story’s so focused, with a clear idea of what it’s aiming to tell. However, this made the question of how to create six 35-minute episodes without watering them down or artificially inflating them all the more potent.

The answer turns out to be surprisingly simple, but pretty clever at the same time. Instead of stretching out the plot unnecessarily, Dunk’s inner monologues, which contribute hugely to his character development in the book, aren’t clumsily set to music or explained. Instead, they’re revealed in the dialogue during conversations with other characters. Or even with his horses, when necessary. Or they take shape during short, seconds-long flashbacks reminiscent of JD’s daydreams in Scrubs.

This never feels contrived. In fact, it feels natural. And it adds a nice bonus effect too. Characters who were relegated to pretty functional roles in the original book (120 pages don’t exactly allow for extensive character studies) suddenly take on some depth. Instead of being mere cues in Dunk’s inner world, they become counterpoints and areas of friction. As a result, they spur on Dunk’s growth (though it’s not as if he needs more of that!)

The flipside of this is the series’ leisurely pace. A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms isn’t one of those shows where everything happens in quick succession. Not every episode contains an explosive moment forcing you to immediately hit «Play» on the next one. If you’re looking for spectacle, you won’t find it until near the end. Then again, that’s no different to the early seasons of Game of Thrones. They also relied more on relationships between characters than events to ramp up tension.

The fact that A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms is only comprised of six relatively short episodes reinforces that impression. Watching week after week, it might feel a little fragmented in places. I honestly think the series comes off better when watched in one go – or at least in large chunks. That makes it all look more cohesive, and more like what it actually is: one continuous story, not six individual events.

Luca Fontana

Senior Editor

Luca.Fontana@digitecgalaxus.ch

I write about technology as if it were cinema, and about films as if they were real life. Between bits and blockbusters, I’m after stories that move people, not just generate clicks. And yes – sometimes I listen to film scores louder than I probably should.

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