King's Landing stood at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush, built along the river and facing the sea.
Long ago, Aegon I Targaryen, Aegon the Conqueror, had landed here on his dragon and united the Seven Kingdoms.
Afterward, he had named this land King's Landing and made it the capital of the Seven Kingdoms.
After settling everything at Harrenhal, Davion packed a few simple belongings, slung his longsword across his back, and set off alone on his warhorse for King's Landing.
He followed the Kingsroad south.
Before leaving, he had estimated from the map that Harrenhal was not particularly far from King's Landing, but only once he began the journey did he discover that its hardships far exceeded his expectations.
He spent a full fifteen days jolting along the road, eating in the wind and sleeping in the open.
With a week remaining before the tournament opened, Davion finally reached the capital of the Seven Kingdoms.
Leading his weary warhorse, he entered through King's Landing's old city gate.
Looking up, he saw a red castle standing atop a hill, its walls built of red sandstone. Grand and imposing, it soared into the clouds, gleaming a muted red in the sunlight.
That was the Red Keep!
Home to every king since Aegon I, it was also the most conspicuous and imposing building in King's Landing.
Davion could not help taking a few more looks.
Travel-worn and exhausted, all he wanted was to find an inn, have a proper bath, and get some sleep to ease the strain of days on the road.
He led his warhorse through the streets and alleys of King's Landing, asking around for a decent inn.
In the end, both man and horse got lost in King's Landing!
After fifteen days of travel, the warhorse was utterly exhausted. Now it stood with its head drooping, snorting, and refused to move another step no matter how Davion tugged.
"Damn it!"
Davion could not help cursing aloud:
"The locals in King's Landing are so damned unfriendly! Ask for directions, and they point you the wrong way! Fuck, can't they see the House Whent sigil on my cloak?"
After cursing, he looked around and realized that his warhorse had stopped in front of a shop.
Its storefront was distinctive, utterly unlike the low, dilapidated houses around it.
The dark solid-wood doors were heavy and finely crafted, carved with winding vines and flowers in full bloom. Clearly, considerable care had gone into them.
A row of red glass lanterns hung beneath the ground-floor eaves, already lit and casting a suggestive pink glow.
Looking at this familiar sight, Davion could not help sinking into thought.
Just then, the solid-wood doors opened, and cheerful voices and laughter drifted out.
A voluptuous, dark-skinned woman emerged, her arm linked with that of a man dressed in lavish silks.
The man wore splendid clothes and an exquisite sword at his waist. At a glance, he was clearly a young nobleman.
The black woman rose onto her toes and kissed his cheek.
Laughing, the man pinched her bottom, then hurried away into the depths of the alleys, still looking somewhat reluctant to leave.
Only when the black woman turned to go back inside did she notice Davion blocking the entrance to her establishment.
She had a keen eye. A single glance caught the family sigils on Davion's clothes and cloak, along with his distinctive bearing.
Shataya understood at once that the youth before her must be a nobleman.
She immediately put on a seductive smile and swayed briskly over to Davion:
"Young master, you must be tired after your journey. Are you looking for somewhere to relax?"
Before Davion could answer, Shataya took his arm and pressed her soft body against him:
"You've certainly come to the right place. Here at Shataya's, I have the finest girls and the best surroundings in all King's Landing. Far better than those streetwalkers, I assure you. You'll be satisfied."
Sure enough, Davion thought, no matter the world, a place bathed in this sort of suggestive pink light is synonymous with a brothel.
He pushed his thoughts aside, a playful smile curling his lips as he asked:
"Your name is Shataya? You own this brothel?"
"Yes, young master."
Shataya nodded with a smile, a trace of pride flashing in her eyes:
"My brothel is the best in all King's Landing!"
"We have beauties from all over the world. Braavos, Lys, the Summer Isles, even Volantis-everything you could want!"
"Come inside and give us a try, young master. You won't be disappointed."
Davion was indeed somewhat tempted.
As time passed, the dragon bloodline within him exerted an ever greater influence on him.
Fortunately, it had not disturbed his mind. It merely made his appetite grow larger and his energy astonishingly abundant.
During these fifteen days on the road, he had needed to practice his swordsmanship for several hours before resting each night, exhausting his excess energy before he could sleep peacefully.
Now, after hearing Shataya's introduction, Davion wanted to say just one thing:
"I'll take on ten!"
He looked Shataya over.
The woman was in her thirties, with a voluptuous, shapely figure, a slender waist, full hips, and exquisite curves.
Though dark-skinned, she had delicate features, with a touch of seductiveness and shrewdness about her eyes and brows. She very much suited Davion's tastes from his previous life.
Davion slipped an arm around Shataya's waist, finding it soft and smooth beneath his hand:
"Then I'll take the madam's advice and give it a try! But I've been traveling and I'm covered in sweat. Find me a private room first. I want a bath!"
Hearing this, Shataya was delighted. Another nobleman secured, she thought.
Almost all the patrons of her brothel were nobles, and the most distinguished among them was King Robert, Protector of the Realm of the Seven Kingdoms.
Even Littlefinger, Petyr Baelish, coveted her clientele. He had offered several times to buy the brothel at a high price, but Shataya had refused every time.
The clever woman knew that her brothel's greatest advantage was its gathering of nobles from all quarters, allowing her to hear all manner of secret information. That value was far beyond what money could measure.
She would never readily hand her money tree over to someone else.
Shataya immediately called over a groom and instructed him to take good care of Davion's warhorse, lead it to the stable in the back courtyard, and give it plenty of fodder and water.
Then she personally led Davion inside.
The moment he entered, an enchanting fragrance greeted him.
It was a blend of several expensive perfumes, rich in layers without being overpowering, and instead wonderfully mellow and pleasant.
It instantly dispelled Davion's fatigue.
There were few patrons in the dimly lit hall at that moment, and a group of young women in thin gauze garments sat in a corner.
Their skin tones varied, some fair, some dark, and some wheat-colored.
Their hair was just as varied, a mingling of gold, silver, and brown.
The sight left Davion's eyes dazzled.
Shataya led Davion upstairs to a large, lavishly decorated private room.
Heavy velvet drapes hung along the walls, their dark red fabric embroidered with gold-thread patterns. Soft wool carpets covered the floor, making every footstep silent.
An enormous carved bed stood in the center of the room, covered with a snow-white silk quilt, soft and fluffy.
Gilded candlesticks filled the room, their dim yellow flames flickering and enveloping the entire chamber in a suggestive atmosphere.
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