So angry he laughed!

Wes wore a fawning smile as he walked and said:

"You see? What did I tell you? His lordship is blessed with good fortune and protected by the Seven. How could anything happen to him so easily?"

Behind him, Pia curled her lip in disdain and silently cursed:

Wes really has no shame. That wasn't what he said before!

Davion was carefully examining Vereword's injuries.

He showed no reaction whatsoever to Wes's blatant flattery.

The expression on Wes's fat face froze for an instant before returning to normal.

He said with a smile:

"My lord, this dungeon is cold and damp. You've only just recovered from a serious injury, and here you are. You must be careful not to catch a chill. As you know, Harrenhal has long since fallen on hard times. We can't even scrape together enough money for medicine."

Wes unconsciously spoke hurtful words in a familiar tone, having grown accustomed to psychologically manipulating the body's original owner.

But he did not know that the earl before him was someone else on the inside now, someone who would not fall for his tricks.

"Shut up!"

Wes's voice cut off abruptly.

His little eyes widened as he stared at Davion's back in disbelief.

In his memory, Davion had never spoken in such a tone.

This lord had been fairly bright as a child, but as House Haigh declined day by day, he had grown ever quieter and more cowardly.

Especially in front of other nobles, he always kept his head lowered and stumbled over his words, like a peasant child who had never seen the world.

Yet now, though Davion's tone was calm, it carried the innate authority of a ruler.

It made Wes instinctively think he was facing a noble lord as exalted as the Protector of the Seven Kingdoms. He obediently shut his mouth, not even daring to breathe too loudly.

Davion pulled aside Vereword's clothes and saw the sword wounds on his forearm and shoulder healing at a visible pace.

His muscles, which had shriveled somewhat from prolonged dehydration, were also rapidly returning to normal.

Davion counted silently. When he reached thirty, that vast life energy abruptly vanished.

Just as when Davion had used the healing salve before, the healing effect stopped the instant the time ran out.

By now, Vereword's sunken face had filled out a little, and his spirits were greatly lifted.

His eyes shone as he looked at Davion.

Though he did not know what Davion had fed him, the miracle that had taken place in those brief thirty seconds was already deeply etched into his heart.

Vereword hurriedly rolled over and got up, then dropped to one knee before Davion. He respectfully gave a knight's salute and said:

"My lord, I, Vereword, thank you for healing me. I will remember your kindness forever, until my dying breath!"

Vereword choked up before he could finish the sentence.

Over these past days, he had drifted in and out of consciousness, but he had clearly understood his predicament.

After all his efforts to bring his lord back to safety, he had actually been thrown into a cell and left to fend for himself.

Anyone treated like that would have felt deeply wronged.

But Vereword understood Harrenhal's situation very well. He knew that although his lord was cowardly, he would never do such a thing.

His lord must have been gravely injured, and Wes must have acted on his own authority.

Still, what he had suffered was all too real.

Now his lord had suddenly appeared in the cell like a messenger sent by the Seven and healed his wounds through miraculous means.

Vereword was moved beyond measure.

Even if he were told to attack House Vance's castle single-handedly right now, Vereword would have done so willingly.

Davion reached out and lifted Vereword to his feet without exerting any strength at all.

He looked Vereword up and down, taking in his completely renewed appearance, and said:

"Ser Ward, how do you feel now?"

"I feel very well now, even better than before I was injured." As Vereword spoke, he stretched his arms and legs and even thumped his chest.

Suddenly, Ser Ward sucked in a sharp breath.

His brows knitted together.

One look at Wode's reaction told Davion that his injuries had not fully healed.

"Ser Ward, where else does it hurt? There's no need to put on a brave face."

Vereword still wanted to tough it out, but when he met Davion's sincere gaze, his bravado ebbed away. He lowered his head and said:

"My lord, I think the injury to my ribs hasn't healed yet."

Davion nodded.

He thought to himself:

It seems the Tango's healing effect isn't even a third as strong as the healing salve's. Still, I don't know whether some other factor affected the Tango's healing. Could it have something to do with the type of tree targeted? What would happen if I used a weirwood next time?

When Wes saw Vereword roll over and salute with such nimble movements, his mouth immediately fell open in astonishment, and his little eyes went wide.

He knew just how serious Vereword's injuries were. Maester Tosmiu had said that without medicine, Vereword would not last three days.

That was why he had thrown Vereword into the dungeon and left him there.

What's going on? How did his injuries heal? The earl actually woke up on the same day as Vereword. They must have used some method I don't know about.

Wes's little eyes darted from side to side as he hurriedly spoke:

"Oh, congratulations on your recovery, Ser Ward. The Seven truly have blessed you. Even Maester Tosmiu said Ser Ward's injuries were beyond treatment. He..."

Davion abruptly turned and gazed calmly at Wes.

There was no emotion in his eyes, as though he were looking at an inanimate object.

"Wes, I told you to shut up just now. Didn't you hear me?"

Wes instinctively wanted to explain, but when he met Davion's gaze, he felt as though he had plunged into an ice pit. The dungeon seemed even colder than before.

His lips moved twice, but no words came out.

Davion spoke coldly, his face expressionless:

"Ser Ward, teach this ill-mannered servant a lesson for me."

"As you command, my lord."

Vereword answered and rose to his feet, standing a head taller than Davion.

He took two steps forward, raised his hand, and slapped Wes across his fat face.

The blow left Wes dazed, and the oil lamp in his hand fell to the floor.

Pia hurriedly bent down to pick it up.

Then she heard a second sharp slap.

After that, Vereword's slaps rained down relentlessly on Wes's face.

Only when Vereword was slightly out of breath did Davion speak:

"That will do, ser."

Vereword sneered at Wes, who had collapsed on the floor, then turned and took his place half a step behind Davion.

Davion looked down at Wes's badly swollen cheeks and smiled for the first time.

But to Wes, that smile was even more terrifying.

Davion said:

"After Ser Vereword risked his life to bring me back, who had him put in the dungeon?"

Wes's cheeks were numb now, and he could feel no pain at all. Hearing Davion's question, he instinctively explained:

"My lord, you know Harrenhal's situation. We only have a handful of servants, and Pia had to look after you. Mrs. Emmabelle was the only one who could spare any time, but she also had to work in the kitchen..."

"I asked who made the arrangements."

Davion's voice was calm, yet it cut off Wes's eager excuses.

Wes's little eyes blinked in panic.

He stammered:

"I-it was me. But, but my lord, you were unconscious. Someone had to take care of these little matters, didn't they? The dungeon is closer to the kitchen, so it was easier for Mrs. Emmabelle..."

"You shoved a noble knight, gravely wounded after risking his life to save his lord, into this dark, damp, filthy cell, and now you're telling me it was for his own good?"

At this point, Davion found it so absurd that he could not help giving a quiet laugh.

"Ser Vereword is House Whent's most loyal sworn knight. You threw him into the dungeon and left him to live or die. How dare you?"

"And where are Ser Ward's armor and longsword?"

Under Davion's increasingly cold gaze, Wes felt as though even his soul had frozen.

He instinctively averted his eyes and said quietly:

"It's too damp in this dungeon. I was afraid his armor and longsword would corrode..."

Davion truly laughed in anger.

"What's up!" (With Hua Qiang's melon-buying expression.)