Gendry

The girl from Volantis approached carefully, cradling the Silver Stags in both hands, and held them out to Davion.

With a hint of anticipation in her eyes, she said in a soft, pleasing voice:

"Young master Davion, these are for you."

Her eyes blossomed with her smile, her expression full of genuine delight.

The other four girls beside her also smiled at Davion, their eyes full of anticipation as they waited for him to accept their gesture.

Davion looked at the Silver Stags, not quite understanding what they meant.

Inside the room, however, Shataya's expression changed abruptly. Her heart tightened. This is bad.

Shataya knew this was a tradition that circulated among ordinary brothels.

If a prostitute felt that a customer had pleased her in body and mind, not only would she refuse his money, some would even take out their own savings and give them to the customer as a token of their feelings.

But those were ordinary brothels, and their customers were ordinary people.

The man before them was the Earl of Harrenhal himself, a man of distinguished standing.

The Silver Stags these girls had saved might be beneath a noble's notice, or might even be seen as an insult.

An insult suggesting that a noble needed charity from prostitutes.

Alarmed, Shataya hurriedly snapped:

"Stop this nonsense, all of you! Put those away at once!"

The smiles on the girls' faces instantly froze.

They had spent several years at Shataya's establishment and rarely seen her so stern. For a moment, they had no idea what to do and stood helplessly where they were.

Shataya hurried forward, intending to push the girls away before they offended Davion, but she had barely taken a step when he reached out to stop her.

The warm smile remained on his face. Looking at the Silver Stags in the girl's hands, he asked softly:

"Are these Silver Stags specially for me?"

Seeing this, the girls hurriedly nodded.

Smiles returned to their faces.

One of the girls worked up her courage and said:

"My lord, serving you made us very happy, and felt very good..."

Before she could finish, Davion picked up her words with a smile, his tone somewhat playful:

"So you want to pay me something to thank me for my services?"

"Yes! Hahahaha!"

The girls answered in unison, then could not help laughing.

They had entertained customers for years, with Shataya teaching them through both words and example, and were thoroughly familiar with nobles' arrogance and fussiness.

But they felt Davion was different. He was flamboyant without being overbearing, forceful without being crude, and had given them respect and experiences they had never known before.

That was why they had dared to pool their saved Silver Stags as a token of their feelings.

Davion chuckled and took the Silver Stags from the girl's hands. He weighed them, estimating there were more than twenty. Clearly, these were all the savings they had pooled together.

He teased with a smile:

"Looks like if my house ever falls and I have nowhere left to turn, I could still earn my keep as a lover to noble ladies and their daughters. Hahaha!"

"Young master Davion! Only the queen and duchesses would be worthy of keeping you as their lover! Hehehe!"

The girls giggled, and the atmosphere in the corridor instantly relaxed again.

Davion waved a hand and said with a smile:

"I couldn't afford to serve the queen. I'd be afraid King Robert would cut my head off!"

He casually slipped the Silver Stags into the pouch at his waist.

"I'll accept the Silver Stags, but I was very satisfied with your service too."

Davion reached inside his clothes, took twenty Gold Dragons out of his storage space, and pressed them into the hands of the girl from Volantis.

"These are my thanks to you! And I'll be staying here for a long time yet, so I hope the quality of your service won't slip."

The girls held the Gold Dragons, their faces full of delighted surprise.

In Westeros, the ransom for a wealthy noble's child was usually only a hundred to three hundred Gold Dragons.

If these five girls could be bought and sold, twenty Gold Dragons would have been enough to buy all five of them.

Davion simply had no concrete understanding of money in this world yet.

That was why he was so lavish.

Including the thirty Gold Dragons he had given Shataya yesterday, that money alone was more than enough for Davion to stay at her establishment for half a year.

"Young master Davion, however long you stay here, I'll keep you company the whole time. I absolutely won't take any other customers!"

The girl from Volantis spoke hurriedly.

"Me too! Me too!" the other girls chimed in.

Beside them, Shataya finally breathed a sigh of relief, her anxious heart settling completely.

Thank goodness this young earl hasn't picked up those nobles' vile character!

Otherwise, these girls who did not know their limits would probably have faced disaster.

She stepped forward and said to the girls with a smile:

"All right, all right, off you go. Young master Davion has things to do. Don't hold up his business."

Reluctant to part, the girls surrounded Davion and escorted him all the way to the brothel's entrance before finally stopping.

Walking through the streets and alleys of King's Landing, Davion glanced down at the Silver Stags in his pouch. Remembering the girls' delighted expressions, he could not help muttering:

"Who'd have thought that even in another world, I still couldn't shake this bad habit of 'urging prostitutes to leave the trade'! I can never help going a little soft on vulnerable girls like these!"

He shook his head helplessly, set his thoughts aside, and followed Shataya's directions along the Street of the Silent Sisters.

He walked all the way to the square before the Great Sept of Baelor. The Street of Steel lay beside the sept.

From a distance, he could see the smithies lining both sides of the street and faintly hear the clear ringing of hammers on iron.

But the farther south Davion walked, the stronger the stench of excrement, rotting food, and sewage grew, making him frown.

Only when he entered the Street of Steel did the stench ease somewhat.

In its place came the scorched smell of coal-fired steel and the cold, hard scent of ironware.

Shataya had been right. Tobho Mott's smithy was particularly conspicuous.

It had the largest storefront and was the tallest building on the entire Street of Steel. From its second floor, one could look down over the whole street.

Plenty of finished ironware, armor, and weapons were displayed outside, making it recognizable at a glance.

Davion pushed open the smithy's wooden door and entered. The shop was dim, and no one came forward to greet him.

Just then, a coarse roar came from the adjoining forge:

"Gendry, you lazy brat! Can't you see there's a customer? Go attend to him!"

The words had barely faded when a tall, muscular youth was shoved out of the forge.

The youth had clear blue eyes, thick black hair, and a burly build. He wore coarse clothes covered in coal dust, and his face still held a trace of boyishness, yet there was a toughness to it.

Hearing the name "Gendry" and taking in the youth's appearance, Davion immediately understood.

This youth was one of King Robert's many bastards.

In the television series and the original novels, Gendry later became a bargaining chip that various factions competed to secure.

Because, in theory, he was one of only two surviving male descendants of Robert Baratheon. The other was at Storm's End, Robert's only acknowledged bastard!

Whoever held him would have the means to control the king and command the lords.

But now, he was merely an apprentice doing odd jobs in a smithy, scolded by the smith every day and unknown to anyone.

Gendry turned back and muttered a curse toward the forge.

His face was full of resentment, but he did not dare resist.

Then he turned around, forced a faint smile onto his face, and hurried over to Davion. Somewhat awkwardly, he said politely:

"Hello, customer. What can I get you?"

"I need a suit of fine armor."

Davion's tone was calm. He did not treat Gendry any differently because of his status as a bastard.

Gendry hurriedly said:

"Please come with me. We have plenty of ready-made armor here, in every style. You can take your pick!"

Davion waved a hand.

"I don't want anything ready-made. I need your smith to forge a suit of armor specifically for me, and I'm in a hurry. I'll be using it in the Hand's Tourney."

Gendry paused, then nodded.

"All right. Please wait a moment. I'll speak to the master right away."

With that, he bowed politely, turned, and hurried back into the forge.

Before long, a stream of curses came from the forge, mingled with Gendry's protests, before the voices gradually subsided.

Soon, Gendry emerged from the forge with a smith of around fifty.

The smith was bald, with a face covered in pale whiskers, though the coal fires had blackened them somewhat, making him look rather unkempt.

His face and hands were dotted with scars, all burns from sparks that had flown during forging.

He looked Davion up and down, his gaze settling on the nine-bat sigil on his clothes.

Only when he saw the sigil did his sharp gaze soften slightly, and his tone grew milder:

"I hear you want some armor forged. Is that right?"

"That's right. And it must be finished before the Hand's Tourney. It can't hold up my participation!"

The smith frowned and said thoughtfully:

"There's only six days left until the Hand's Tourney. That's a little tight. Forging a fine suit of knight's armor will cost extra!"

Davion agreed without hesitation:

"No problem! As long as the armor's quality is up to standard, money is no object!"

The smith patted his chest.

"Rest assured, young master. I, old Mott, am the best smith in all of King's Landing. The armor I forge is strong and durable. It certainly won't let you down in the tournament."

"A full suit of knight's plate, fine mail, and a knight's shield will cost four Gold Dragons altogether. You can pay a deposit of two Gold Dragons first."

Davion took four Gold Dragons from his pouch and handed them straight to Gendry beside him.

"No need for a deposit. A shop this big isn't going anywhere! How long will it take?"

Old Mott paused, then smiled.

"If you have no special requirements, such as engraving fine ornamentation on the armor or stamping it with your house's sigil, then three days should be about enough."

Davion nodded.

"All right, it's settled, then. I'll come collect it in three days."