A Knight Of The Seven Kingdoms Premieres On HBO

Westeros is alive and kicking once again, but this time, the dragons are mostly made of wood and cloth. HBO’s latest dive into George R. R. Martin’s sprawling fantasy universe, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, premiered on January 18, 2026, marking a return to the world of lords, banners, and brutal tournaments—albeit with a twist that’s already catching viewers off guard. The series, based directly on Martin’s beloved Tales of Dunk and Egg novellas, especially the first, The Hedge Knight, is set roughly a century before the events of Game of Thrones and about seventy years after House of the Dragon (according to Decider and Nerdist), placing it squarely in a time when the Targaryens still sit the Iron Throne and the last dragon’s memory lingers in the air.

But don’t expect fire and blood—at least not yet. The new series has been described by Slate as a “jolly good time,” a far cry from the relentless brutality and high-stakes politicking that defined its predecessors. The first episode, written by co-creator Ira Parker, opens not with a beheading or a dragon’s roar, but with the gangly Ser Duncan the Tall (Peter Claffey) burying his mentor, Ser Arlan of Pennytree. Dunk, a lowborn squire-turned-knight, is left with little more than his master’s battered armor and a handful of horses. With dreams of glory—and a little white lie about being knighted—he heads to the famous tourney at Ashford, where fortunes can be made or lost in the tilt of a lance.

The tourney at Ashford, set in 209 AC, is a legendary event in Westerosi lore, as Nerdist points out. House Ashford’s orange banner with a white sun-and-chevron flutters over the bustling market town, just a stone’s throw from Highgarden and the mighty Mander River. Dunk’s journey quickly becomes a crash course in the customs and class divides of the Seven Kingdoms. As a hedge knight—one of the many who roam the realm without lord or land—Dunk is looked down upon by the blue-blooded knights and their squires, who sleep under banners rather than hedges. The term “hedge knight,” Ser Arlan once told Dunk, describes the “truest” kind of knight, though most see it as sadder than noble.

It’s not long before Dunk crosses paths with an unlikely companion: a bald, scrappy stable boy who insists on being called Egg. Played with mischievous charm by Dexter Sol Ansell, Egg is soon revealed to be none other than Prince Aegon Targaryen, a revelation that promises complications in the episodes to come. Their odd-couple chemistry—Dunk, the gentle giant, and Egg, the resourceful scamp—anchors the show’s lighter tone. “The bald stable boy, who goes by Egg, has got to be the most adorable addition to the GoT-iverse to date,” Slate’s Nadira Goffe gushes, and it’s hard to disagree.

The supporting cast reads like a who’s who of Westerosi history, with familiar names and sigils everywhere you look. Daniel Ings brings a boisterous energy to Ser Lyonel Baratheon, known as the “Laughing Storm” and ancestor to Robert, Stannis, and Renly. His giant antlered crown is a nod to the black stag of House Baratheon, and his fondness for drink and mischief is already winning fans. House Dondarrion’s purple lightning bolt banner is present, as is House Fossoway’s iconic red apple on gold—reminders of the deep roots and rivalries that define the Reach. Even the minor houses get their due: House Beesbury’s three beehives on black and yellow, a callback to Lord Lyman Beesbury’s ill-fated stand in House of the Dragon, makes a subtle appearance.

The show doesn’t shy away from poking fun at its own mythos. The jousting tournament, a staple of southern Westeros where the Faith of the Seven dominates, is described as possibly originating “four thousand years earlier,” a tongue-in-cheek nod to the muddled timelines that fans love to debate. Dunk’s entrance into the tournament is met with skepticism and a healthy dose of mockery, especially from Ser Steffon Fossoway, whose “snotty rich-kid villain” vibes are already drawing comparisons to the worst of Westeros’s aristocracy. Yet, as Slate’s Sam Adams notes, even the antagonists here are more annoying than truly evil—at least so far.

One of the episode’s standout moments is a puppet show performed by Tanselle, a Dornish puppeteer played by Tanzyn Crawford. The show-within-a-show retells the legend of Serwyn of the Mirror Shield, who outwitted the dragon Urrax with a polished shield and a well-aimed spear. It’s a story beloved by the smallfolk, and its inclusion is a clever way to remind viewers of the blurred lines between truth and legend in Martin’s world. “No one cares much if his story as its now told makes no sense,” Nerdist observes, “but, like all good stories, the facts don’t matter when the puppet show is that good.”

What truly sets A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms apart, at least in its opening salvo, is its willingness to embrace the mundane and the comedic. There’s a scene—already infamous among critics—where Dunk, dreaming of glory, is abruptly brought back to earth by a bout of food poisoning. “If you were expecting Game of Thrones—don’t,” Slate quips. The violence is mostly metaphorical, and the stakes, while real to the characters, feel refreshingly low compared to the existential threats of White Walkers and dragons.

Yet, beneath the humor and humility, there’s a sense of real heart. Dunk’s belief in defending “the weak and innocent, and serv[ing] the realm with all my might” might make him a bit of a doofus, as Adams puts it, but it’s also what makes him so endearing. Even the hardened townsfolk and lords can’t help but be disarmed by his sincerity. “For everything Ser Dunk is not—politically savvy, generally intelligent, good with people—he is so darn pitiful that even the Baratheon lush can’t help but take a turn on the dance floor with him,” Goffe writes. In a world where cynicism usually wins, Dunk is a breath of fresh air.

HBO seems confident that audiences will agree. The network has already renewed A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms for a second season, slated for 2027. The first season will run for six episodes, airing Sundays at 10 p.m. ET through February 22, 2026, on both HBO Max and the traditional HBO channel (Decider reports). For those without cable, a variety of streaming bundles and subscription options are available, though the price tags—ranging from $10.99 to $33 a month—are a reminder that even in Westeros, nothing comes cheap.

As Westeros fans tune in each week, they’ll find a show that’s at once familiar and strikingly new—full of lore, laughter, and the promise of more adventures for Dunk and Egg. For now, it’s clear: in a world of dragons and dark lords, sometimes all you need is a hedge knight with a big heart and a squire named Egg.