Spoils!

Jaime and Barristan, who had stood silently behind Robert all this time, wore entirely different expressions.

With their decades of experience in mounted combat, both had already seen through Davion's apparent loss of balance. It had been no accident, but a deliberate performance.

Jaime raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise and turned an amused look toward Tyrion nearby:

"Tyrion, this friend you met in a brothel seems far more capable than you described!"

He knew all too well how dangerous it was to feign a loss of balance in a contest between evenly matched knights.

The slightest mistake would let an opponent exploit the opening and knock him from his horse with a lance, leaving him gravely injured at best, dead at worst.

Yet Davion had not only made the act look natural and convincing, but had also adjusted his posture in an instant.

Even under the tremendous impact of two horses charging toward each other, he had remained firmly in the saddle without budging. Such control and explosive strength were beyond any ordinary knight.

Barristan, meanwhile, gave an amused smile and slowly shook his head.

"That House Legh lad brought it upon himself."

"They were both Riverlands nobles, yet he struck with such deadly force. He clearly meant to kill him. No wonder the Whent boy retaliated like that!"

Beside Robert, Cersei cared nothing for the death on the field.

All her attention was on the quiet exchange between Robert and Tywin. Her eyes filled with disdain for Robert as she silently cursed him:

You fat pig, all you can do is shout!

Without House Lannister's money propping you up, you would have lost your grip on the throne long ago!

Even this Hand's Tourney was paid for entirely by us Lannisters. What right do you have to throw your royal weight around in front of my father? You truly don't know your place!

On the field, Davion rode toward the main stand, waving to the common spectators below the stands as he went.

According to the procedures of the Hand's Tourney, the victor had to return before the main stand to receive the king's words of encouragement.

But Robert clearly had no fondness for this down-and-out earl who had once supported the Targaryens. He merely waved impatiently, his eyes full of distaste.

He would not spare even another word and only wanted him off the field at once.

Davion curled his lip disdainfully, utterly unconcerned by Robert's coldness. Rather than return to his own preparation area, he rode straight to Kalen Leygood's.

By then, the attendants had removed Kalen's helmet and gorget.

A huge purple swelling had risen over his throat.

It had been caused by blood pooling after his windpipe was crushed. His face had turned blue-purple from suffocation, and his eyes were wide open. His expression alone showed how much he had suffered!

Several House Legh servants sat slumped nearby.

Several nobles who had been close to Kalen stood around the body, their faces filled with grief.

They wore no armor and clearly had not entered the joust.

Plainly, Kalen Leygood was as dead as could be.

Davion dismounted and walked up to them in a few strides. Looking down at Kalen's corpse, he shook his head gently:

"Why go to such lengths?"

Despite his words, he could not suppress the smile on his face.

At the sight of Davion's manner, Kalen's noble friends glared at him. One pointed at Davion and shouted harshly:

"What are you doing here? You're not welcome here, murderer! Get out!"

Davion chuckled.

"Of course I came to collect my spoils!

"If I remember correctly, the rules of the Hand's Tourney state that all the loser's equipment, including his armor, lance, and warhorse, belongs to the victor-in other words, me. Correct?"

"You... you've gone too far!"

A noble with House Leygood's green willow sigil embroidered on his cuff trembled with rage as he rebuked him.

His name was Tristan Leygood, and like Kalen, he belonged to a cadet branch of House Leygood.

In other words, neither of them was entitled to inherit House Leygood's title.

But Tristan Leygood had connections. He was a very close friend of Edmure Tully, the heir to Riverrun.

His fury stemmed not only from Kalen's death, but also from Davion's utterly inappropriate timing.

Few nobles would approach their opponent's grieving friends and relatives to demand spoils immediately after his death. It showed a complete lack of noble decorum.

Only hedge knights placed such importance on spoils, and even when asking for them, they would preserve some dignity. They would never be as brazen and blunt as Davion.

Davion's gaze fell on the sigil on his cuff. His eyes lit up, and he said with a smile:

"Good, someone from House Leygood is here. Just as well, let's discuss the ransom!"

"Tell me, how much are you willing to pay to redeem this equipment bearing House Leygood's sigil?"

"If armor bearing that green willow were to end up on mercenaries, I'm afraid it would do considerable damage to House Leygood's reputation!"

The threat in his words could not have been clearer.

If you won't pay the ransom, I'll give this equipment bearing your family sigil to mercenaries and make House Leygood the laughingstock of the Seven Kingdoms' nobility.

Tristan Leygood's eyes widened, his chest heaving with rage. He nearly ground his teeth to pieces, yet there was nothing he could do.

He understood Davion's intentions and knew the importance of his family's reputation. He could only force down his anger and say through gritted teeth:

"Ten gold dragons to ransom all this equipment."

Davion raised an index finger and gently wagged it.

"No, no, no, my noble lord. You've misunderstood."

"I have little interest in this armor, but I am very fond of Ser Kalen Leygood's horse and those lances of his."

"So you may only ransom his armor. I'm keeping the warhorse and lances."

"As for the armor's ransom, let's make it fifty gold dragons."

"Fifty gold dragons? Davion Whent, you're taking advantage of our misfortune!"

Tristan Leygood could contain himself no longer and roared furiously.

Fifty gold dragons amounted to a landed knight's entire annual income!

Davion shrugged indifferently.

"My lord, you shouldn't make such reckless accusations!"

"If you think the price is too high, you're perfectly free to refuse. No one's forcing you. There's no need to hurl abuse at me."

He stepped closer, his gaze icy and his smile tinged with menace:

"Besides, when it comes to taking advantage of others' misfortune, House Leygood seems rather better at it than I am."

"When you seized Harrenhal's lands, plundered House Whent's farmers, and stole our grain and property, why didn't you say you were going too far then? Well?!"

Tristan Leygood took several deep breaths, forcibly suppressing his fury. Instead, he suddenly laughed.

"Good. Very good!"

"Who would have thought House Whent would produce someone as ruthless as you!"

"We'll pay the fifty gold dragons!"

"But let me offer you a word of advice. The Hand's Tourney is still ongoing. You'd better take good care of your spoils!"

Davion waved a hand, utterly unconcerned by his threat.

"You needn't trouble yourselves over that. I'm perfectly capable of protecting what's mine."

With that, he turned toward an attendant trembling nearby and urged him:

"Hurry up! Bring out the warhorse and lances. Don't waste my time!"

Just then, Gendry came jogging over from the other side of the field, his face full of excitement.

"My lord, I'm here!"

"Just in time, Gendry."

Davion smiled and pointed at the warhorse and lances nearby.

"Lead this horse and bundle up those lances to carry. We're heading back."

Gendry hastily agreed. Excitedly, he bound the lances neatly together and hoisted them onto his shoulder, then carefully took the warhorse's reins and followed closely behind Davion.

Davion saw that his experience had risen by ten points! He was in an excellent mood!

It was now 250/300!

He only needed to kill ten more foot soldiers or five knights to level up!

So knights give twice as much experience as those foot soldiers!

He could not help humming a little tune from his previous life:

"Today's a wonderful day, all your wishes can come true..."

Even those who could not understand the lyrics could hear Davion's joy in that cheerful tune.

Over the next two days, the Hand's Tourney continued. Relying on the dragon strength within him and his unfailingly effective "Dragon Tail," Davion defeated three knights in succession without any danger or mishap, advancing smoothly to the finals.

His luck was not particularly good, however. Not one of those three opponents was an "old neighbor" from the Riverlands.

One came from the Westerlands and two from the Reach. None had any feud with House Whent.

So Davion had not struck to kill. He merely unhorsed them and demanded ransoms at market rates, without deliberately making things difficult.

After several rounds of competition, the joust was gradually drawing to a close. Only eight contestants remained eligible for the finals to be held the following day.

It was truly a gathering of formidable fighters!

Barristan Selmy and Jaime Lannister went without saying!

Besides them, the Mountain, Gregor Clegane, and the handsome and highly skilled Knight of Flowers, Loras Tyrell, had also advanced smoothly, becoming favorites to win.

And Davion's opponent in the first round the next day happened to be the Knight of Flowers, Loras Tyrell.

When the news spread, the entire tournament grounds erupted!

Loras was the pride of House Tyrell of Highgarden. Handsome and highly skilled, he was dearly loved by the people!

Davion, meanwhile, was a down-and-out lord who had appeared out of nowhere, battling his way through every round with formidable strength. He too had gained a large following among the commoners.

The people eagerly awaited the next day's contest!