A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms – Episode 1 Review: A Smaller Story in a Very Big World
- The Real Perspectives
- Jan 19
- 7 min read
Updated: Jan 19
Reel Perspectives
January 19, 2026
George R. R. Martin's newest book-to-drama HBO show opens with a grounded, character-driven premiere that trades spectacle for sincerity, following an awkward and super tall hedge knight and a persistent orphan as they navigate the unforgiving margins of Westeros.
We Learn Knighthood Is Earned, Not Inherited
If you’re coming to A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms expecting dragons, dynastic scheming, and a morally questionable council meeting every ten minutes, allow this premiere to gently recalibrate your spirit. Episode 1 is less Game of Thrones and more a sad medieval road trip with no music to listen to—and somehow, that’s exactly the assignment.
For timeline girlies who like to be oriented: A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms is set after House of the Dragon but long before Game of Thrones. The Targaryens still sit firmly on the Iron Throne, dragons are a very recent memory, and Westeros hasn’t yet descended into full “everybody betrays everybody” mode. Power is stable. Legacy is intact. And yet, none of that really matters to the man at the center of this story.
The series opens on one of the bleakest sights Westeros has ever offered: Peter Claffey as Ser Duncan "Dunk" the Tall standing over the worst grave imaginable, trying—and failing—to find the right words for his fallen knight, Danny Webb as Ser Arlan of Pennytree. It’s not cinematic grief. There’s no swelling score, no dramatic monologue. It’s awkward. Lonely.
Very much a “I didn’t prepare an eloquent eulogy” kind of energy.
Dunk isn’t mourning a legend. He’s mourning someone the world barely remembers—and Westeros makes it painfully clear it does not care.
So what is an aspiring and unfortunately unknighted knight to do next? Update his LinkedIn profile? Sell his trio of horses? Or—against all common sense—try to make a destiny in a realm that barely notices him?
A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms chooses the latter, following Dunk—after a George R. R. Martin–canon, unfortunately detailed (and loud AF) potty break—as he takes on the mantle of a wandering, landless hedge knight and heads toward Ashford with grief in one hand and hope in the other, poorly armored, emotionally unprepared, and very much on a “we’ll figure it out when we get there” plan.
Along the way, he runs into a bald, sharp-tongued child tending the stables—Dexter Sol Ansell as Egg—who sizes Dunk’s tall ass up immediately. Egg feeds the horses, gives him a once-over like he’s being judged on Project Runway: Westeros, and then, without hesitation, asks to become his squire.
Dunk says no. Politely. Respectfully. With his whole chest.
While Egg hears, “Try again later.”
Their early exchanges are funny, but there’s tension underneath it—the kind that comes from two people who know the world isn’t built for them. Both are orphans. Both are navigating a realm obsessed with banners, bloodlines, and who can co-sign your existence. Egg’s persistence isn’t cute—it’s survival. And Dunk, still shaky after Ser Arlan’s death, isn’t ready to be anyone’s protector yet, especially when he’s barely holding himself together.
That emotional imbalance becomes the episode’s thesis. Dunk moves through Westeros like someone who showed up overdressed and under-informed—too tall, too earnest, and wildly unprepared for how transactional knighthood really is.
As one character sums up his life as a hedge knight with brutal efficiency:
“It’s like a knight, but... sadder.”
And honestly? That’s the most accurate Facebook comment Dunk gets all episode.
This version of Westeros isn’t interested in grandeur, prophecy, or who’s next in line for the throne. It’s interesting what knighthood costs. Win a tilt, and you gain honor, recognition, maybe even land. Lose—and you owe your sword, your armor, your horse, and whatever dignity you walked in with.
Dunk can’t afford to lose—financially, emotionally, spiritually. The more people dismiss Ser Arlan’s name, the more determined Dunk becomes to make it matter.
Dunk tries to make it matter. Call it grief. Call it loyalty. Call it refusing to let the realm erase you.
That quiet resolve finally meets recognition in one of the episode’s most unexpectedly joyful sequences. Enter Daniel Ings as Ser Lyonel Baratheon, loud, unfiltered, and radiating pure “chaotic uncle at the cookout” energy. He reads Dunk instantly and slices through the insecurity with a line that reframes everything the show is asking about knighthood:
“Do it, Ser Duncan. Any knight can make a knight.”
It’s not notarized or official. Nor is it approved by the Iron Throne. But it lands.
For a franchise obsessed with bloodlines and birthrights, this idea that knighthood can be chosen—affirmed person to person—feels quietly radical, especially in 2026.
By the time Dunk and Egg reunite for the night, the decision feels inevitable. Their final scene together unfolds beneath an open sky, deliberately set apart from the silk pavilions and polished armor surrounding them. While other knights retreat into status and soft living, Egg remains awake, already more aware of the world than most men twice his age:
“A falling star brings luck to those who see it. All the other knights are in their pavilions by now, staring up at silk instead of sky.”
It’s a gentle drag. A quiet rebuke. And a thesis statement for the series as a whole.
Dunk’s response isn’t heroic or poetic. It’s tentative. Hopeful. Human:
“So, the luck is ours alone?”
A loyal duo is formed—not by prophecy or blood, but by choice.
And just like that, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms makes its intentions crystal clear. This isn’t a story about who rules Westeros. It’s about who belongs in it. Set during a relatively stable era of Targaryen rule but focused firmly on the margins, Episode 1 favors character over conquest, intimacy over intrigue. Small in scale, rich in heart, and refreshingly uninterested in spectacle for spectacle’s sake, it’s an antidote to everything we thought a Game of Thrones spinoff had to be.
🗡️ Westeros-Level Quotes 🗡️
🥚 “I know that eggs do well to stay out of frying pans.” — Dunk laying down the law early, proving that even in Westeros, boundary-setting is an essential life skill. Protective, cautious, and already tired in a way only a reluctant guardian can be.
🙇🏽 “Yes, my lord.” — Egg being Egg, while fooling absolutely nobody.
💰 “Good armor and a good horse means a good ransom if I unseat him.” — Dunk explaining Knighthood, but make it financial literacy. Dunk understands that honor doesn’t pay the bills, and survival sometimes means knowing the resale value of your opponent’s gear.
🐎 “A knight with no horse is no knight at all.” — Ser Lyonel Baratheon cutting straight through the romance of knighthood to deliver the most practical truth in Westeros. No horse, no status, no debate. Just facts.
⚔️📽️ Behind the Iron Throne ⚔️📽️
For longtime readers of George R. R. Martin, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms represents a deliberate shift in scale. Adapted from Martin’s Dunk and Egg novellas—stories that exist in the same sprawling universe as A Song of Ice and Fire but operate on a far more intimate level—the series resists the franchise’s usual obsession with power and prophecy. Often joked about as coming from Martin’s “30,000-page brain,” The Hedge Knight focuses instead on the margins of Westeros, where knighthood is less about destiny and more about survival. Loneliness and bad luck linger beneath the surface, shaping a story that values character over conquest and small moments over spectacle.
That restraint allows the cast to shine. Peter Claffey as Ser Duncan the Tall anchors the series with an earnest, physical performance that emphasizes Dunk’s awkwardness as much as his size, making him instantly endearing rather than heroic by default. Dexter Sol Ansell as Egg brings sharp intelligence and quiet determination to a role that could have been played for novelty, grounding their dynamic in genuine chemistry. Meanwhile, Daniel Ings as Ser Lyonel Baratheon injects humor and warmth, offering a Baratheon who is loud, blunt, and unexpectedly affirming. Together, the performances give A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms its beating heart—proof that this corner of Westeros doesn’t need dragons to feel alive.
🏰✨ Dat Reel Perspectives Grade ✨🏰
8.6 / 10 — Well-Shod Horses 🐴
A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms earns a solid 8.6 for understanding exactly what kind of story it wants to tell—and telling it with confidence. It’s character-first, refreshingly intimate, and uninterested in racing toward spectacle just to remind us it’s part of the Game of Thrones universe.
The premiere succeeds because it resists excess. Instead of dragons and dynastic chaos, it offers awkward silences, economic anxiety, and a knight who doesn’t quite know where he fits yet. The chemistry between Dunk and Egg carries real emotional weight, and the series’ gentle humor gives Westeros room to breathe again.
Like a knight with a sturdy horse and just enough armor to survive the road ahead, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms may not look flashy—but it’s prepared. If the series continues to honor its small-scale storytelling and character-driven heart, this could quietly become one of the most beloved corners of George R. R. Martin’s world.
Before the road gets longer—and the stakes get higher—here’s a look at what awaits Dunk and Egg this season:
A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms Episode 1 is streaming now on HBO and HBO Max, with new episodes dropping every Sunday.
Follow along with Reel Perspectives for weekly recaps and analysis.
Comments