Afterward, Davion talked with Tosmio for a long while.
From the number of people in the domain to the circumstances of the neighboring nobles and the castle's stockpiles, Tosmio answered every question clearly and methodically.
Davion also grew increasingly certain that Tosmio was a maester through and through.
His mind held nothing but his research, healing the sick, and fulfilling his duties as a maester.
His tone when answering questions was always flat and calm, without the slightest fluctuation.
His answers were like the model answers on an examination paper, neither impressive nor unexpected.
As their conversation drew to a close, Davion said:
"There's one more thing. Sorry for the trouble, Maester Tosmiu."
"Tomorrow, write a few letters and send them to the nobles who owe our House Whent money, as well as the neighboring nobles who have taken our people and occupied our lands."
"Give them a deadline to repay their debts, send back the people they took, and return the land they occupied."
"Use stern language!"
House Vance was not the only house that owed House Whent money. Several lesser nobles in the surrounding area, sworn to other great lords, did as well.
Not only had these people refused to repay their overdue debts, they had brazenly crossed the borders and taken away many of Harrenhal's people.
Some had gone further still, simply incorporating several villages on the fringes of Harrenhal's domain into their own lands.
They were counting on the original owner's weakness, certain he was easy to bully and would not fight back.
But things were different now. He was Davion Whent, not that young earl who let others push him around.
He needed money and people, and above all, he needed to restore Harrenhal as quickly as possible before war broke out.
He needed to rebuild this once-magnificent castle into the safest fortress in Westeros.
Tosmio thought for a moment before saying:
"My lord, forgive my bluntness, but these people won't willingly repay their debts just because of a letter!"
A confident smile spread across Davion's face.
"That's fine. Just send the letters!"
"I shall see to it!"
"All right, it's getting late. You're in poor health, so you should go back and rest."
Davion waved a hand and said to Pia:
"Pia, escort Maester Tosmiu back to his room. Be careful on the way."
Pia promptly replied, "Yes, my lord."
Tosmio slowly rose, bowed slightly to Davion, then walked slowly toward the door with Pia supporting him.
Just as the two were about to leave the room, Davion added:
"Oh, and Pia, when you have time, bring in some craftsmen and replace the windows in every occupied room in the castle with glass. We can't keep boarding them up forever. It blocks the light and doesn't keep the rooms warm."
"Yes, my lord. I'll remember!"
Pia turned back to answer.
Before they knew it, a week had quietly slipped by.
Just as Maester Tosmiu had expected, the letters he had sent out a few days earlier vanished without a trace, receiving no response whatsoever.
Davion did not mind at all. In fact, he was rather pleased.
Their response had never been what he wanted.
In his distant homeland, there was an old saying: do not say you were not warned.
It meant, do not say I failed to warn you beforehand.
Now that he had warned those nobles, he had his pretext. Whatever action he took against them in the future would be fully justified!
Compared with the "quiet" on Tosmio's side, Ser Vereword's efforts to recruit guards were going very poorly.
For an entire week, he had traveled far and wide, visiting every town and village around Harrenhal, yet in the end, he had recruited only five men.
Those five, however, were all strong, tall, and powerfully built, almost on a par with Vereword himself.
Perhaps his difficulty recruiting men had something to do with Vereword's strict requirements.
As Davion saw it, the number of recruits was not crucial at the moment.
What he needed most right now was to take a stand.
A stand that said he would restore Harrenhal and no longer let others bully it.
He wanted those serving him to see hope, to stop being held in thrall by Harrenhal's terrifying legends, and to stop losing faith in this dilapidated castle.
For that reason, he treated these first five guards with particular generosity.
Not only did he provide them with complete sets of brand-new equipment, he spared no expense on their food either. They had fresh meat once a day and plenty of ale.
The new guards soon expressed their determination to live and die with Davion and Harrenhal.
Davion merely smiled faintly without saying much.
He knew full well that their loyalty, for now, was largely built on full bellies and favors.
If one day Harrenhal found itself in desperate straits again, with no food or Gold Dragons to hand out, and these men could still remain true and not flee in the face of battle, only then would talk of loyalty hold greater meaning.
Meanwhile, Pia's performance as Harrenhal's steward exceeded Davion's expectations.
In just one week, she had recruited six or seven capable manservants and more than a dozen young, hardworking maids, keeping Harrenhal in good order.
Pia had also led the newly hired servants in thoroughly cleaning Kingspyre Tower and the Hall of a Hundred Hearths.
At least it finally looked somewhat different from a ruin.
At noon that day.
Davion was dining in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths with Pia, Vereword, and Maester Tosmiu.
They first discussed their recent work.
Once they finished discussing work, Vereword brought up the gossip he had heard at a tavern in Harren Town.
"My lord, I think I've found out why I can't recruit any guards."
Drinking his ale, Davion joked:
"Oh? Isn't it because your requirements are so strict that you've scared away everyone who wanted to come, Ser Ward?"
Somewhat embarrassed by the remark, Vereword scratched his head and gave a sheepish chuckle.
"You jest, my lord. I just don't want to recruit useless weaklings. But this time, it really isn't my fault. I suspect all the capable fighters in the area have gone to King's Landing!"
"I heard King Robert is celebrating Prince Joffrey's fifteenth Name Day by holding a grand Hand's Tourney in King's Landing, on an unprecedented scale."
(The characters of this generation were too young in the original, so I tweaked things a little. I'll try not to mention ages going forward.)
Hearing the words "Hand's Tourney," Davion involuntarily pictured the Hand's Tourney held at Harrenhal many years before.
It had been a spectacular gathering on an unprecedented scale.
The finest knights of the Seven Kingdoms had gathered here, lances in hand, charging at one another on horseback. The clash of armor, the neighing of warhorses, and the cheers of the crowd were all vivid in his mind.
He suppressed those thoughts and asked in confusion:
"Aren't Hand's Tourneys only open to knights? How would that affect your recruitment of guards?"
Vereword hurried to explain:
"There's something you don't know, my lord. It isn't only noble knights who can take part."
"Whenever a great Hand's Tourney like this is held, skilled sellswords and landless hedge knights flock there to look for opportunities."
"The lucky ones might catch some great noble's eye and be taken on as sworn knights."
"If they can defeat a famous opponent in the lists and make a name for themselves in a single fight, they might even be made landed knights, with lands and subjects of their own."
"And these men like King Robert's Hand's Tourneys best of all."
There was a hint of longing in Vereword's voice.
"Because King Robert is the most generous and spends lavishly. Both his prize money and his rewards are far richer than those at Hand's Tourneys held by other nobles."
"More importantly, if someone's performance at the tourney wins King Robert's favor, he might knight them on the spot."
"That would mean being knighted by the king himself. No amount of wealth can buy that honor. Who wouldn't want to try their luck?"
Hearing this, Davion nodded in understanding.
"Oh, I see! They all want to follow Ser Duncan the Tall's example, make their name at a tourney, and change their fortunes!"
Vereword nodded repeatedly.
"Yes, exactly! You're absolutely right, my lord!"
"A lot of people are thinking just that and want to try their luck in King's Landing."
"And I also heard that the prizes at this Hand's Tourney are higher than at any previous one! The champion of the joust will receive a full twenty-five thousand Gold Dragons! The champion of the melee will receive fifteen thousand Gold Dragons!"
"Twenty-five thousand Gold Dragons? Fifteen thousand Gold Dragons?"
At the key words "Gold Dragons," Davion's eyes instantly lit up.
He had been worrying that the four thousand or so Gold Dragons he had obtained from House Vance were nowhere near enough to cover Harrenhal's repairs, the guards' wages, and daily expenses. They would run out before long.
Yet he had never imagined that, in the blink of an eye, a way to make money would come knocking at his door.
He quickly calculated in his head:
"So, if someone wins both the joust and the melee, they'll take home a full forty thousand Gold Dragons in prize money?"
Beside him, Pia was chewing a piece of beef. At the astonishing figure of "forty thousand Gold Dragons," she abruptly froze and nearly choked. She hurriedly picked up the ale on the table and took a sip. Once she recovered, her eyes were full of shock as she murmured:
"F-forty thousand Gold Dragons... That much! King Robert is far too rich!"
Maester Tosmiu, who had been eating in silence, slowly set down his knife and fork and joined the conversation.
"Little Pia, don't forget that our King Robert's queen is a Lannister."
"House Lannister is as wealthy as a kingdom. With the gold mines of the Westerlands in their possession, they certainly don't lack such a trifling sum of Gold Dragons."
Davion said nothing at that.
He knew Tosmio was only half right.
King Robert might seem lavish with his money, but in truth, he was already buried in debt.
Not only did he owe House Lannister an enormous sum, he owed money to the Iron Bank as well.
Those seemingly glorious rewards and prizes were nothing more than putting on a wealthy front to maintain his dignity as king.
Davion did not care how much Robert owed!
What occupied his thoughts now was this!
How should he spend those forty thousand Gold Dragons once he got them?
"Pia! Prepare the carriage! I'm going to King's Landing!"
Before you continue