Fine armor!

Davion understood at once!

What "assisting" nonsense? Tobho Mott had clearly handed the entire job of making the armor over to his apprentice, Gendry.

Tobho Mott was the finest smith in King's Landing, a seasoned craftsman. How could he possibly have overlooked the armor's weight?

He had offered such a flimsy excuse only to save face, not daring to say outright, "I let my apprentice make your armor, and he botched it."

If word got out, it would not only ruin his own reputation but also insult Davion, a young nobleman.

Having worked that out, Davion chuckled.

But that chuckle instantly sent Tobho Mott's heart into his throat. Thinking Davion had already spotted the truth, he hurriedly explained in a panic:

"Young master Davion, please don't misunderstand! Gendry has been an apprentice in my smithy since he was a child. He's gifted, and his craftsmanship is almost on par with mine. This was just a momentary oversight. I certainly wasn't trying to fob you off!"

His words were really a defense of himself, an attempt to prove that he had not treated the job carelessly and that the mistake had only happened because his apprentice lacked experience.

Davion shook his head and interrupted his excuses, his tone still calm:

"Whether it was an oversight or something else, take me to see the armor first. I'll only know whether it looks good and suits my needs once I've seen it!"

At that, Tobho Mott felt a little relieved. He quickly nodded and led the way.

Gendry still hung his head dejectedly, his hands behind his back, silently following Davion like a student who had done something wrong.

Passing through the noisy Forge and around a corner piled with ironware, the three arrived at a secluded weapons storeroom.

Tobho Mott reached out and pushed open the heavy wooden door. With a creak, the interior of the storeroom came into view.

A suit of bright silver armor stood firmly in the very center of the storeroom, gleaming cold and brilliant in the dim light.

Davion's eyes immediately lit up. His feet carried him forward without his noticing, his gaze fixed on the armor.

He instinctively glanced back at Gendry behind him and thought:

This lad has good taste! It's just to my liking!

He examined the armor closely, growing more satisfied the longer he looked.

The helmet had a rounded crown tapering to a point, with sharp contours.

A long, narrow V-shaped opening had been cut at eye level.

From outside, all that could be seen was a pitch-black slit. It carried a cold, formidable air of menace, like a god of war from hell.

The pauldrons were made of overlapping plates fitted seamlessly together, offering protection without restricting the arms' upward and downward movement. The design was ingenious.

The arm armor joined directly to the gauntlets, its shape and contours matching the pauldrons, sleek and sharp. Small protrusions over the knuckles offered protection while also aiding attacks.

Most striking of all was the breastplate.

Its center bulged slightly, and a lifelike black bat was painted on either side-the sigil of House Whent.

Yet Davion was not entirely pleased as he looked at those two bats. He had already been planning to replace the family sigil with a dragon once his power grew.

Farther down, several thick cowhide belts encircled the waist, securely fastening the chainmail surcoat below.

The surcoat was short, reaching just above the knees, so it would not trail when he moved.

This combination made the entire suit look imposing and substantial without appearing stiff or cumbersome.

As Gendry watched Davion stare at the armor without a word, his face so calm that no emotion showed, his guilt grew stronger.

Thinking Davion was angry, he hurriedly stepped forward, bowed, and pleaded:

"Young master Davion, I'm terribly sorry. It's all my fault! Please give me another chance!"

"I promise I'll work day and night to make you another light, well-fitting suit of armor before the Hand's Tourney begins. I won't delay your participation!"

Hearing this, Davion slowly turned and gently patted Gendry's shoulder.

"Stand up straight when you speak. A man shouldn't bow to people for no reason. Understand?"

Gendry froze for a moment, then raised his head. Seeing the gentle smile on Davion's face, he immediately breathed a sigh of relief. His tense body relaxed, and he slowly straightened.

He was powerfully built, half a head taller than Davion.

Davion looked at his towering frame, then at the armor he had described as "hard to walk in," and could not help chuckling.

"Do I really look that frail?"

Gendry froze, asking in bewilderment:

"What? Young master, I... I don't understand what you mean."

Davion raised a hand, pointed at the bright silver armor, and repeated:

"I said, do I really look that frail? Are you so sure I can't use this armor?"

Gendry instinctively wanted to nod, but seeing the confidence in Davion's eyes, he swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue.

Yet he remained puzzled. When he had tried it on himself, the armor had been so heavy that he could barely move his feet!

Davion looked somewhat less sturdy than him. How could he possibly manage such heavy armor?

Davion smiled without speaking as he looked at Gendry's bewildered expression.

As he understood it, a normal adult farmer's strength attribute was only five to six points at most, while an ordinary brawny man had around seven.

A knight in his prime like Vereword had eight points of strength while injured. Even fully recovered, his strength would never exceed ten points, already placing him among the best of ordinary men.

And Davion himself?

His current strength was a full twenty-four points.

That was nearly five times that of an ordinary commoner, and more than twice that of a knight in his prime at peak condition.

Saying he could kill a mammoth with one punch at that moment would have been far too exaggerated.

But dragging a mammoth's carcass a few steps would have been well within his abilities, no strain at all.

With such formidable strength, the armor before him, which Gendry considered "hard to walk in," was nothing more than a light outer garment to him!

However heavy it was, how heavy could it possibly be?

"Come, put the armor on me."

Seeing Gendry still standing there in a daze, Tobho Mott angrily kicked him in the backside and scolded him under his breath:

"What are you gawking at? Hurry up and put the young master's armor on!"

"Yes, yes, yes!"

The kick sent Gendry stumbling. He immediately snapped out of his daze and hastily nodded in reply.

He hurried over to the armor and deftly began taking it apart.

Meanwhile, Davion had already removed his outer clothes, revealing the contours of his powerful, full muscles.

Every inch of muscle was smoothly defined and brimming with explosive strength.

He looked like an entirely different person from his usual clothed appearance!

Such a formidable physique was enough to inspire fear at a glance, even without armor.