These days, it feels like every spin-off in every big franchise has to end like the apocalypse is on the calendar. If you’re not watching the Targaryens get bigger dragons, you’re looking forward to Robert Downey Jr.‘s return as Dr. Doom. The whole thing is just… mind-boggling, and borderline tiring.
However, shows like A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms (AKotSK) have proven that it’s still possible for big franchises to create shows that don’t require viewers to be lore experts to enjoy. There are no dragons here, or secret Targaryen heirs (well, okay, maybe one). Just a giant, sweet himbo of a knight and a little bald kid who’s secretly pulling the strings. And guess what? It’s fantastic and makes the killer argument that maybe, just maybe, the best way to explore huge fantasy worlds like this is to forget the ‘Iron Throne’ and hang out with two supposed “losers” by the campfire.
Dunk and Egg’s Everyday Problems Make the Story Work in ‘A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms’
At its core, the magic of this show is pretty simple. Peter Claffey’s Dunk and Dexter Sol Ansell’s Egg have problems we can actually relate to. In Dunk’s case, he’s like a guy who just got laid off (well, his knight-mentor just died), and now he’s just wandering around, broke, trying to catch a break at tournaments. On his way to his first tournament, he meets a boy at a roadside inn. He needs a squire, and the boy needs to get out of Dodge. It’s not played like is an epic moment; more like a convenient meeting of two people who happen to need each other. They shake on it, and C’est fini.
And that’s why it’s so easy to love, because when trouble finds them at the Ashford tourney, it’s not because of some prophecy from a ‘Red Woman.’ It finds them because Dunk stays true to who he is when he sees Prince Aerion Targaryen (Finn Bennett) bully a puppet-show girl and steps in. Not because he’s trying to be a hero or gain political favor, but because he’s a good-hearted fella with the impulse control of a golden retriever. It’s the kind of ‘You done messed up’ moment some of us are familiar with after a few cold ones.
That one noble, but relatively dumb choice, explodes into an expansive Trial of Seven. But even then, the show does its best not to turn that moment into a ‘Battle of the Five Kings’ scenario. Instead, it focuses on showing you its impact on individual characters like Dunk, who’s sweating his predicament, and Egg, who’s wearing the worried look of ‘My new friend might die because he chose to do the right thing.’ Those are feelings most people can actually connect to.
Beyond the action, the best part of the show is watching these two duke it out over a campfire; Dunk trying to sound noble while being clueless. Egg, rolling his eyes before handing him one reality check after another without making him feel small. Those tiny moments of bickering over stew and morals feel more real than watching Daenerys nuke another castle with her dragons. George R.R. Martin basically described it as having a “… different tone.” As a result, you’re not entering every new week stressing over whomever Cersei Lannister and her twisted family have in their sights (not usually a fun place to be, by the way). You’re just rooting for these two knuckleheads trying to make it to the next town. It’s fantasy, yes, but it’s very relatable. Which makes you wonder… if keeping things small is this satisfying, why are so many franchises still so obsessed with going bigger?
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Why TV Franchises Might Need Fewer Kingdoms and More Campfires
There’s probably an easier way to say this, but big franchise TV suffers from ‘more-itis.’ Every spinoff introduces more characters, more lore, and more “Oh, the world is ending!” stakes. With that in mind, this show is the noise-canceling headset: it keeps all the scheming and politics in the background while focusing on the relationship between the two people who really matter. To say that’s a welcome relief is understating facts. And this isn’t some wild, new idea. For instance, Andor (the Star Wars franchise prequel) didn’t try to give us more Jedi mind tricks or more Skywalkers. No, it just told the story of one guy’s slow, grimy slide into becoming a rebel. It’s the same deal with Hawkeye, where the creators just zoomed in on a beat-up archer and his fangirl/sidekick surviving a messy Christmas in New York. No universe-saving required.
These stories worked because the creators bet on the characters instead of spectacle, and it’s clear that AKotSK studied the same playbook. Watching a giant knight worry about where his next meal is coming from or if he’s made a huge mistake that’ll cost him his life is weirdly cozy. It reminds you that you love these worlds for the people in them, not the fancy castles and epic battles. What’s more, telling stories like this is just… sustainable. The creators don’t have to invent something crazy (wink, wink, Game of Thrones season finale) just to top the previous season. It can take its time; you know, let a quiet joke land well or allow a silent look say everything. It stays with you, unlike the tenth shocking death which just makes you… numb. All in all, if more franchises are paying attention, they might realize that fewer kingdoms and more characters could be the smarter long game. And honestly, that sounds like a win for everyone watching.
So, if you’re tired of all the epicness, go watch AKotSK on Max. Give this small story a shot, and see if you don’t fall in love with Dunk and Egg.
