Gendry watched for quite a while before suddenly realizing something. Astonishment crossed his face, and he turned to Davion:
"Wait, my lord!"
"They all have tents to stay in, but where's yours?"
"The luggage we brought probably couldn't even hold the smallest tent, could it?"
Davion chuckled and turned his wrist. A gleaming Gold Dragon appeared in his hand.
With a light flick of his thumb, he sent the Gold Dragon arcing through the air to land squarely in Gendry's hand.
Davion pointed at the disorderly camp and said:
"Take this Gold Dragon and look around the camp. Pick out clean, tidy tents with room for two, and ask whether their owners will sell."
Holding the Gold Dragon, Gendry hesitated, then frowned and said:
"My lord, will that work? I don't think one Gold Dragon will be enough."
"Just go when I tell you to! Enough nonsense!"
Davion gave a soft snort:
"Do you think all these knights are rich? Let me tell you, in the Seven Kingdoms, plenty of earls live little better than commoners. Behind closed doors, they're still gnawing on black bread!"
At this point, Davion flushed, inwardly embarrassed.
Hadn't his own household been just like that a little while ago?
Gendry pursed his lips, but dared not disobey Davion's orders. He quickly handed Davion the reins he was holding and answered quietly:
"All right, my lord. I'll give it a try."
"Wait! When you speak to them, sound more arrogant. Act as though everyone is beneath you. Understand?"
Gendry scratched his head and looked at Davion in confusion:
"Why? If I anger these knights, won't they just draw their swords and cut me down? I can't beat them."
Davion said:
"If they had that kind of nerve, they wouldn't be living in such shabby little tents!"
"In this world, the meek get bullied, just as docile horses get ridden."
"Just be firm and act like you have a powerful family backing you, and they won't dare step out of line!"
"After all, no down-and-out knight wants to offend a nobleman whose background he knows nothing about."
Gendry nodded without quite understanding, then turned and headed into the camp.
Davion remained where he was, holding the horses' reins as his gaze slowly swept over the entire camp.
Within a few minutes, Gendry returned with a middle-aged man.
The man looked to be in his thirties. He wore a somewhat worn coat of mail, and his face was weathered. His murky eyes held a hint of shrewdness.
"My lord, this is Ser Koby. He's a hedge knight, and he's willing to sell his tent."
Gendry stepped up to Davion and bowed:
"I took a look. His tent is very clean inside, with no unpleasant smells, and there's enough room for both of us."
"But he insisted on meeting you before agreeing to the deal."
The middle-aged man named Koby darted his eyes about, looking Davion up and down.
A moment later, he dropped straight to his knees with a thud and spoke respectfully:
"Your humble servant Koby pays his respects, young master!"
"I'm a hedge knight who has spent years wandering. I'm skilled in scouting and archery. I beg you to take me in, young master!"
"Let me enter your service, attend at your side, and serve you with all my strength!"
Davion frowned, displeasure immediately rising within him.
He grumbled inwardly:
Gendry is still too young and too honest!
Any other nobleman's servant would have simply tossed the gold coin into this man's arms and told him to move out at once!
Why let him push his luck like this and even dare demand to meet the master?
What left him even more speechless was that Koby's name sounded like a rapist's name.
Davion sneered inwardly:
At least pick someone normal! Who would dare take in a rapist like this? Wouldn't accepting him into my service ruin House Whent's reputation? Who knows what trouble he'd cause then.
Davion ignored Koby kneeling on the ground and turned his gaze to Gendry:
"Gendry, I sent you to make a deal, entirely by mutual consent."
"If he's willing to sell, make the trade on the spot. He takes the gold coin and moves out."
"If he won't sell, go find someone else."
"What purpose does bringing him before me serve?"
Gendry was stunned as well. He had never imagined Koby would pull something like this!
This was no sale of a tent. He was plainly demanding repayment for a favor, using the sale as a pretext to pressure Davion into taking him in!
He was nothing short of a cold-blooded viper, repaying kindness with ingratitude.
Guilt crossed his face, and he hurriedly bowed in apology:
"I'm sorry, my lord. I understand. I'll take him away right now."
With that, he stepped forward, hauled Koby up from his knees, and forcibly dragged him deeper into the camp.
Koby tried to struggle, constantly pleading, "Take me in, young master," but Gendry held him fast, leaving him unable to break free.
Davion watched their retreating backs and curled his lip in disdain.
"If you want to enter someone's service, at least show some sincerity! What's this business of trying to force my hand? Too clever for your own good!"
In truth, Davion's displeasure had not been without reason.
Accepting a knight into one's service was fundamentally different from recruiting ordinary guards.
In Westeros, knights counted among the strongest fighters. Not only were they skilled in combat, but when necessary, they also had to lead troops into battle and command a small unit, bearing very real responsibilities.
Davion had only just arrived, and his footing was not yet secure. How could he entrust such an important burden to a hedge knight he had never met, who also showed signs of opportunism?
If he took such a man into his service, there was no guarantee the man would not switch sides in battle or cause trouble that would be difficult to resolve.
After Davion's reprimand, Gendry dared not delay in the slightest. He immediately followed Davion's instructions and plunged back into the camp to search for a suitable tent.
This time, he kept Davion's instructions firmly in mind. His tone was forceful, his manner overbearing, and he acted as though a powerful family stood behind him. Sure enough, things went much more smoothly.
Before long, Gendry found a clean, tidy tent. Its owner was an elderly hedge knight in worn clothes, his face haggard. He was clearly living in considerable hardship.
When Gendry produced the gleaming Gold Dragon, the old knight's eyes instantly lit up. Without even hesitating, he agreed to sell his tent on the spot.
After taking the gold coin, he briskly packed his belongings and hurriedly moved out of the tent.
Time slipped quietly by, and evening soon arrived.
The sun sank in the west, its golden afterglow spilling over the glittering Blackwater Rush and bathing the entire tourney camp in warm orange light.
The shrewd restaurant and tavern owners of King's Landing had long since spotted the business opportunity. They sent people pushing carts loaded with packaged wine, meat, bread, and ale to sell outside the camp. Their cries rose one after another, making for a lively scene.
However, these food carts mostly found customers only in the area occupied by mercenaries and hedge knights where Davion was staying.
The noble knights of illustrious birth either brought their own cooks, who could prepare fine meals right in the camp.
Or their accompanying servants were skilled cooks, leaving them no need to buy food outside.
Only the mercenaries and hedge knights in this area, most of them destitute, had neither cooks nor servants and could only buy these packaged provisions to fill their bellies.
As a result, business here was particularly brisk.
Before long, the wine, meat, and bread on the carts had all been snapped up.
Quite a few hedge knights who had failed to get any food actually began brawling with one another.
Fortunately, Gold Cloaks of the City Watch were patrolling nearby. The guards in golden armor rushed over in time, shouting as they pulled the brawlers apart, and only barely managed to bring the situation under control.
Davion stood outside his tent, watching the chaos before him with a deep frown.
The noise and the stench of alcohol mingled with sweat assailed him without pause, making him increasingly impatient.
Leaning against a tent pole, he silently made up his mind:
Whenever I attend another Hand's Tourney, I'll make proper preparations in advance. I'll buy a luxurious, spacious tent and keep it in my storage space for when I need it.
I absolutely refuse to stay in such a motley area again, much less listen to this lot carry on in drunken fits all night.
Before you continue