A lad on a cold bed, burning hot enough to keep warm

Word of how Davion had intimidated House Vance spread quietly only among the lesser nobles around Harrenhal's lands, stirring up little trouble.

Ordinarily, unless the nobles of King's Landing specifically sent people to gather intelligence in the Riverlands, they would never notice the trivial affairs of a down-and-out earl's domain.

Besides, Littlefinger was a busy man who also served as the kingdom's Master of Coin. With the king's enormous debts and the financial mess of the Seven Kingdoms to deal with, how could he have the leisure to concern himself with a nobody?

Yet Littlefinger knew, and knew in such detail.

Davion considered it privately. Either Littlefinger had already fixed his attention on the Riverlands, where not the slightest disturbance escaped his informants.

Or the intelligence network he had built upon his brothels already spanned the Seven Kingdoms, its web fine enough to catch even the most obscure news.

Either possibility was enough to show that Littlefinger had already drawn up a clear framework for his future plans, with every step accounted for in his calculations.

Seeing Davion's humble manner, Littlefinger felt thoroughly satisfied and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief:

It seems I was overthinking things. Even if this Davion has a little more courage and cunning than the rumors suggest, he is still just a down-and-out noble.

Those changes in him are nowhere near enough to affect the situation in King's Landing or my plans.

Having reached that conclusion, Littlefinger had no further interest in Davion.

An insignificant young lord was not worth any more of his energy.

He gave Tyrion a slight nod, the same falsely elegant smile still on his face, then turned and walked out of the brothel.

The conversation between Davion and Littlefinger had been so cryptic that Tyrion was utterly bewildered, unable to grasp the veiled exchanges between them.

Though he was somewhat curious and wanted to ask a few questions, something else concerned him more at that moment.

That was asking Davion for his special techniques for conquering women.

After all, Tyrion truly loved visiting whores.

Once Littlefinger had left, an eager smile appeared on Tyrion's face, and he waved Davion over:

"That tiresome fellow has finally gone. Come sit down, lad!"

"You must share your experience with me today. Just how did you get those treasures of Shataya's so utterly devoted to you?"

"Shataya, go fetch a few girls to drink with us and liven things up!"

Davion chuckled inwardly. What "special techniques" did he have?

He had merely been an ordinary person in his previous life. After crossing into this world, the dragon blood within him had simply given him extraordinarily abundant energy.

It was purely a case of "a lad on a cold bed, burning hot enough to keep warm."

Purely an overpowered stat monster!

But he was particularly interested in Tyrion himself.

This dwarf seemed flippant and devoted to wine and women.

In truth, he valued affection and loyalty, thought meticulously, and possessed extraordinary intelligence.

Even mired in filth, he had always held to his principles, and his political skill far surpassed that of the other Lannisters.

His sense of family honor was extremely strong!

Yet his ruthless father Tywin, his arrogant, overbearing sister Cersei, and even his seemingly close brother Jaime had pushed him step by step into the abyss, severing with their own hands every attachment he had to his family.

Davion privately calculated that such a man was best suited to being a minister whose sole allegiance lay with his ruler.

If he could achieve something in the future, or even ascend the throne, Tyrion would unquestionably be the best choice for Hand of the King.

Though he was still only a down-and-out earl bullied by his own vassals, Davion had never doubted his future.

Having crossed into this chaotic world, would he not be squandering his new life if he failed to seize the chance to carve out a place for himself?

His goal had never been merely to restore Harrenhal, but to carve out a realm of his own amid the turmoil of the Seven Kingdoms.

As these thoughts ran through his mind, Davion smiled gladly, strode over to the dining table, and sat down, giving Tyrion a slight nod:

"Thank you for thinking so highly of me, Lord Tyrion."

Beside them, Shataya finally felt the weight lift from her heart when she saw Tyrion treating Davion with such enthusiasm.

She had been secretly worrying all along. Tyrion had always cared about his pride and been infatuated with beautiful women. Now that Davion had taken the girls he fancied, he might find an excuse to make trouble for him. It seemed she had worried needlessly.

Shataya bowed with a smile:

"Please enjoy your conversation, my lords. I'll fetch the girls right away!"

Tyrion waved a hand, but his gaze remained fixed on Davion. Clearly, he could hardly wait to learn Davion's special techniques.

His stare made Davion somewhat uncomfortable, and he joked:

"Lord Tyrion, if I didn't know your reputation, the way you're staring at me would make me think you were interested in me as a man!"

Tyrion immediately looked disgusted and curled his lip:

"Oh, please. I haven't the slightest interest in men. In this life, I'm only interested in pretty girls."

He looked Davion up and down, sounding somewhat puzzled:

"You're so ordinary-looking that no one could pick you out of a crowd. As for your family..."

His gaze fell on the House Whent sigil on Davion's cuff, and he shook his head lightly:

"Nothing special, either."

That was already putting it very generously.

House Whent had long since declined. Calling it nothing special was an understatement; it was thoroughly unremarkable and did not rank among the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms at all.

"I just don't understand. Why are the girls so mad about you?"

Davion shrugged, a somewhat smug smile appearing on his face:

"I wouldn't know. Perhaps I'm naturally charming! You'd have to ask the girls for the details!"

Tyrion gave a disdainful scoff and curled his lip:

"If you won't tell me, just say so. Why act so mysterious?"

"But no matter. As someone with more experience, I can teach you a secret!"

"Guaranteed to send those girls into ecstasy over you."

As he spoke, he turned his wrist and placed a gleaming stack of gold dragons on the table.

"Gold dragons!"

"There isn't a girl in this world who can resist the lure of gold dragons!"

"And as it happens, that's the one thing we Lannisters never lack. Hahaha!"

Just then, Shataya entered with a group of girls dressed in sheer gauze.

The instant the five young girls who had spent last night with Davion saw him, their eyes lit up, and they ran lightly over, their faces full of delight.

"Lord Davion, you're back!"

Mary, the girl from Volantis, and Shataya's daughter Alayaya sat on either side of Davion, affectionately linking their arms through his.

The other three girls stood behind him, gently kneading his shoulders and patting his back.

Tyrion's laughter caught in his throat, and the smile froze on his face.

Watching the girls being so affectionate toward Davion while completely ignoring him, he could not help feeling a strong pang of jealousy.

He gritted his teeth inwardly:

Damn it, what kind of magic does this boy have?