Refusal!

Davion kept a polite smile on his face and nodded to the cheering crowds in the stands, but inwardly he grumbled:

Bat Knight? What an awful nickname. Once I get back to Harrenhal, I'm changing my sigil to a dragon!

He urged his horse forward, preparing to make a circuit of the grounds.

Loras, the young knight renowned throughout the Seven Kingdoms, rode his white horse briskly after Davion and drew alongside him.

By now, the arrogance in Loras's eyes before the match had vanished, replaced by an intense curiosity about Davion.

"Earl Davion, correct?"

"Your holding is Harrenhal? I've heard it's the largest castle in the Seven Kingdoms!"

He rapidly searched his mind for scraps of information about Davion and struck up a conversation naturally, without the slightest embarrassment over his defeat.

His voice, intonation, and manner of speaking were all elegant and pleasant to hear.

Davion nodded slightly.

"Yes, Ser Loras. Harrenhal is indeed very large, though these days it inevitably feels rather empty!"

He already had a fairly favorable impression of House Tyrell.

Compared with other calculating, ruthless nobles, the three Tyrell brothers almost perfectly matched every commoner's fantasy of nobility.

Elegant, valiant, and honorable!

Those qualities were especially rare among the scheming nobles of the Seven Kingdoms.

More importantly, House Tyrell was rich. Very rich!

At that moment, Davion was entirely occupied with calculating how many gold dragons Loras would pay to ransom his magnificent armor.

Loras looked at Davion, a flicker of wonder crossing his eyes.

"Earl Davion, your skill with a lance is truly exceptional, especially your strength. It's unbelievably formidable. I even feel that your strength is more astonishing than the Mountain's."

Recalling the tremendous force of their charge moments earlier, he still felt a lingering dread.

"May I ask which knight you trained under? Why have I never seen you at previous Hand's Tourneys?"

Davion waved to the commoners below the stands as he answered casually:

"Thank you for the compliment, Ser Loras!"

"I've never served any knight, nor have I received formal training. My prowess comes entirely from strength!"

At those words, Loras's eyes widened in surprise. Even the hand he had been waving to the crowd froze in midair, and his voice was full of disbelief:

"You mean you aren't a knight yet?"

In his view, anyone with such formidable prowess ought to have been formally trained and knighted.

Davion shrugged indifferently.

"That's right. I'm already the Earl of Harrenhal, with lands and power in my hands. What difference does it make whether I'm a knight?"

To him, a knighthood was merely an empty title, nowhere near as substantial as actual gold dragons.

Seeing Davion's composure, Loras admired him all the more and even felt some desire to befriend him.

His eyes shifted slightly as an idea quietly came to him. An elegant smile curled his lips, and he smoothly changed the subject:

"I have heard that whenever you win a match, Earl Davion, your ransom demands are extremely harsh, sometimes even dozens of times the usual amount. Is that rumor true?"

Davion inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

Finally, we're talking about gold dragons!

But on second thought, he felt puzzled. Who exactly was spreading these rumors?

He had merely demanded some extra gold dragons from House Leygood in retaliation. He charged other houses the market rate for their ransoms. Where had this talk of dozens of times the usual amount come from?

House Leygood must have borne a grudge and deliberately spread rumors to ruin his reputation.

Davion snorted inwardly in disdain, but his expression remained unchanged.

"Spoils are spoils. As the name suggests, once I win, they're all mine!"

As Davion spoke, his gaze traveled over Loras's magnificent armor and his splendid white horse.

"Naturally, I decide what they're worth."

Noticing his gaze, Loras showed no displeasure. Instead, he smiled faintly, raised an eyebrow, and teased:

"Earl Davion, are you appraising your spoils?"

At the look in Loras's eyes, goosebumps instantly rose across Davion's back.

Fuck, doesn't that sound a little suggestive? He hasn't taken a fancy to me, has he? I only want gold dragons!

He was clearly overthinking it.

Loras's affection for Renly was deep and unwavering. He had never entertained any thought of falling for someone else.

His tone just then had merely come from admiration for someone strong, unconsciously taking on a little more warmth.

Davion smiled and said:

"You jest, Ser Loras. As for the ransom, pay whatever you see fit. I trust House Tyrell's generosity certainly won't leave me shortchanged!"

Just as he finished speaking, the two arrived before the main stand.

Robert, seated on his throne, had long since grown utterly impatient. Before they had even come to a proper halt, he waved a hand.

Seeing this, Davion tightened his reins and was about to turn his horse around and leave the grounds.

But then Loras suddenly raised his voice beside him, addressing Robert:

"Your Grace, Earl Davion possesses formidable strength and exceptional skill. He is a young hero rarely seen in the Seven Kingdoms. Such talent is truly hard to come by."

"But he is not yet a knight."

At that moment, Jaime Lannister and Barristan Selmy, who were about to compete in the third and fourth matches, were preparing to turn and leave the main stand.

Hearing Loras's words, they stopped in their tracks.

Both turned their eyes toward Davion and Loras below the stand.

Loras continued:

"I would like to personally knight Earl Davion in my own name, in recognition of his strength and valor."

With that, he turned to Davion. "What do you think, Earl Davion?"

"I refuse."

Davion blurted it out without a moment's thought.

Then he gave Loras a slight nod.

"My apologies, Ser Loras!"

He immediately turned his horse and quickly rode out of the grounds, leaving everyone astonished.

Loras was not annoyed. He merely smiled helplessly and bowed to Robert on his throne.

"It seems Ser Davion has his own ideas, so I won't insist! Your Grace, I shall take my leave."

With that, he rode his white horse calmly out of the grounds.

On the main stand, Jaime's and Barristan's eyes had lit up simultaneously the instant Davion said, "I refuse," each making his own calculations.

In their view, Davion must have refused Loras's offer of knighthood because Loras had lost to him.

The pride of the strong would not allow him to accept a knighthood from someone he had defeated. Such spirit was rare indeed.

Jaime thought to himself:

Now this is interesting. Unless something unexpected happens, I'll face Davion in the next round.

If I defeat him and then offer to knight him, I wonder whether he'll accept?

But on second thought, he shook his head mockingly at himself, a trace of bitterness rising within him.

Jaime, what are you thinking? You're the Kingslayer, despised by the nobles of the entire Seven Kingdoms. What man who truly possesses the qualities of a knight would willingly accept a knighthood from a kingslayer?

Meanwhile, Barristan had also begun to consider knighting Davion.

He even recalled some memories of serving alongside Davion's uncle, Oswell Whent.

After Davion left, the Hand's Tourney continued.

The winners of the next three matches were never in doubt.

Jaime Lannister, Barristan Selmy, and the Mountain, Gregor Clegane.

Of those matches, the Mountain's was particularly striking to watch.

The Mountain was tall and powerfully built, his frame as massive as a giant's. His warhorse was exceptionally strong as well, black all over, with thick legs.

When the Mountain charged on his warhorse, the heavy hoofbeats rolled like thunder, as though the entire ground were shaking with them.

As everyone knew, the force of a head-on charge was closely tied to speed and mass.

The Mountain himself weighed several hundred pounds. Together with his powerful warhorse, the two hulking bodies were like a small mammoth, unstoppable.

His opponent was merely an ordinary noble knight, utterly powerless against the Mountain.

The impact of their charge sent him tumbling from his horse. He struck the ground hard and lost consciousness.

The Mountain threw back his head and let out a deafening roar!

His savage, bloodthirsty appearance instantly ignited the spectators' excitement and their latent bloodlust!

Cheers and shouts rang throughout the Tournament Grounds.