Taking on an attendant

Gendry took the armor apart, first pulling out a thick padded lining.

The lining was tough, like a heavy jacket, specifically designed to separate the armor from the skin and cushion impacts.

Then Gendry helped Davion put on the chain mail, breastplate, pauldrons, and arm guards joined to the gauntlets, one after another.

Each thigh guard was a separate plate that covered only the front of the thigh, providing protection without restricting leg movement.

Last came the sabatons connected to the greaves, enclosing his entire lower legs and feet and making dull thuds against the floor.

Putting on the armor was a tedious, complicated process. Every plate had to be carefully secured; it was by no means something one person could accomplish alone.

Gendry worked until sweat covered his forehead, while Tobho Mott lent a hand from time to time.

Once all the plates were properly in place.

Davion raised a hand and swept his long, dark brown hair back, picked up the round-domed, pointed helmet, and slowly lowered it onto his head.

The instant the helmet closed, the entire suit of armor underwent a transformation.

What had merely been an exquisite piece of ironwork now seemed to have been infused with a soul.

A chilling, deadly aura spread from the armor, its overwhelming pressure making it hard to breathe.

Tobho Mott and Gendry instinctively stepped back, their faces filled with fear as they stared fixedly at the figure before them.

That was no boy-he was clearly a god of war on the battlefield!

Davion moved his neck and limbs, then shifted lightly a couple of steps, the plates clattering crisply against one another.

He barely even felt the armor's weight.

Then he strode out of the storeroom and went straight into the spacious forge.

He instantly drew the attention of the other apprentices in the forge.

Gendry and Tobho Mott followed close behind with wide eyes, staring at Davion's back in utter disbelief.

Tobho Mott had personally hefted this suit of armor. It weighed far more than ordinary knight's armor, and he simply could not believe that a boy of Davion's build could still move so swiftly while wearing it.

Gendry was even more astonished. He knew the weight of this armor better than anyone.

When he had tried it on, he could barely stand steadily, much less walk. Yet Davion moved with such ease, his steps steady. Gendry could not help murmuring inwardly:

Was he even human? How could anyone put on this armor and still move so freely?

There was plenty of room in the forge. Davion stopped and gripped the longsword at his waist with his right hand.

The longsword left its sheath with a clear ring, its blade gleaming coldly.

With a slight turn of his wrist, he spun the longsword through a graceful flourish in the air, his movements smooth and natural, completely unhampered by the armor.

Then he moved, executing a series of slashes, upward cuts, and straight thrusts.

Next, he sprinted back and forth across the forge twice, his steps light, without the slightest sluggishness.

The heavy armor seemed to place no burden on him at all. His speed left everyone present dumbfounded.

After this series of movements, Davion slowly walked over to Tobho Mott and Gendry, who were still standing in a daze.

He reached up and pulled off his helmet in one motion. His long, dark brown hair fell to his shoulders, yet there was not a single bead of sweat on his forehead, and his breathing remained steady.

Looking at their shocked expressions, he gave a faint smile:

"That will do, Master Tobho, Gendry. I'm very pleased with this armor. Thank you both for your hard work!"

"Huh? Ah!"

Tobho Mott came to his senses first. He hurriedly composed his shocked expression and repeatedly nodded and bowed, his tone filled with awe:

"As long as you're pleased, young master Davion! As long as you're pleased! We were only doing our duty. It's our honor to make armor for you!"

Gendry also hurriedly bent into a bow, his voice trembling slightly:

"Thank you, young master Davion! It's my honor to make armor for you!"

"However..."

Gendry's and Tobho Mott's hearts clenched. Their smiles froze instantly, and their expressions turned anxious.

"However, putting this armor on is far too much work. Without someone to help, there's simply no way to get it all on properly by myself."

"I didn't bring an attendant with me on this trip to King's Landing, which has been rather inconvenient."

His gaze settled on Gendry:

"I noticed how deft and practiced you were when helping me into my armor just now, Gendry."

"Why don't you serve as my attendant for a while? I'll pay you accordingly. I certainly won't treat you poorly."

In truth, Davion had had this idea for some time.

At first, he had thought bringing an attendant would be too much trouble, since he would have to accommodate him in everything, so he had put it out of his mind.

But over these past few days in King's Landing, he had gradually come to understand that nobles, especially knights, needed a capable attendant or squire by their side more than anyone.

On ordinary days, a squire had to maintain his knight's armor, wipe down his weapons, and take care of miscellaneous belongings.

During a tournament, he also had to hand his knight a lance and change his weapons promptly.

Davion had only recently arrived in King's Landing and could not find anyone suitable on short notice. After considering his options, Gendry had become the best candidate.

He was quick and deft, familiar with armor and weapons, and honest and straightforward by nature. He also seemed quite dependable.

More importantly, Davion knew his background.

If he could use this opportunity to bring Gendry into his service, he would have grounds for taking action in the future.

At Davion's proposal, Tobho Mott's face filled with shock. Turmoil surged within him, leaving him deeply conflicted.

He knew Gendry's talent better than anyone.

The boy had a remarkable gift for smithing. His skills had advanced by leaps and bounds in recent years, and he had mastered forging, shaping, and polishing alike, long since surpassing the master smiths of ordinary smithies.

Otherwise, he would never have felt comfortable entrusting this noble commission from Davion entirely to Gendry.

But if Gendry became Davion's attendant, his smithy would lose a capable worker. What would he do about the everyday work?

What worried him even more was that, if Gendry followed Davion and got along well with the young nobleman, he might never want to return to help at the smithy. Wouldn't his shop then lose a major source of help?

Yet the thought of refusing Davion filled Tobho Mott with apprehension!

Davion was a noble lord. If he made an issue of the armor being too heavy and caused trouble for the smithy, an ordinary smith like Mott would have no means of standing against him.

On one side was the smithy he depended on for his livelihood; on the other was a noble he could not afford to offend.

For a moment, Tobho Mott found himself caught in a dilemma, his conflict written all over his face.

It was entirely different from Tobho Mott's inner struggle.

At Davion's proposal, Gendry's eyes instantly lit up. Excitement he could not conceal filled his face, and his breathing quickened.