Anguy looked at the arrows that pierced the bullseye; his own arrows hit the bullseye every time. But his opponent's force was more powerful and direct, as his arrows cut through Anguy's arrows to pierce the bullseye—a divine skill. What was even more terrifying was that his opponent was wearing black scale plate armor and still had strength left.
The Old Man silently watched the cheering taxi soldiers; this archery was indeed astonishing. It seemed that in horsemanship, archery, and strength, this young King was even more outstanding than he had imagined. But such a person was even harder to control.
"I lost," Anguy's face instantly fell, and he sighed. Lord Gendry's black scale plate armor was as dark as eternal night, and Anguy felt his mood also sink into darkness.
"Boy," Lord Gendry looked at Anguy, who had returned. "You are a genius."
"Not anymore," Anguy shook his head, saying dejectedly.
"Don't be discouraged, young man," the Arrow Maker patted Anguy's shoulder. "Your talent in archery is rare in this world; it's just that you met a freak. If you receive more refined training and have a better bow, you will be even more formidable."
"Take your bow, for example; it could be a little longer, and the aim would be better," the Arrow Maker said, pointing with Anguy's bow.
Anguy looked at the old Arrow Maker in surprise, then spoke. "Give it back to me."
Anguy snatched his bow back but still boldly said, "My gold dragons, Lord Gendry."
"I'll give them to you," Lord Gendry smiled. "But I did beat you, after all."
"Then what do you want?" Anguy was dumbfounded. "How about I give you back those gold dragons; I just won't take them."
"That won't do; I want something unique. How about you follow me?" Lord Gendry asked.
Anguy had never felt such importance. Anguy had originally come to the Tourney to earn gold, and being appreciated by a great person was something he could have anticipated. But the courtesy of a "King" still made him feel ethereal, especially since this King was also a Marksman.
"Let me think about it, my Lord. I still want to participate in the Tourney in Westeros to win more gold dragons. It is said that the Tourney in King's Landing is the most generous."
"I can also talk to you; you can take the thousand gold dragons of the champion. I will pay you every month, and I will also spar with you in archery. How about that?" Lord Gendry had long anticipated Anguy's thoughts. Anguy was a Marksman who came to the city to pan for gold, eager for honor and gold dragons. But besides these, Lord Gendry would also give him friendship and respect. If he didn't manage him well, all of this Boy's gold dragons would be spent in brothels, on fine wine and beautiful women.
"My Lord, by following you, I would miss the opportunity to make a fortune in King's Landing," Anguy said. King Robert's Tourney had always been extravagant; if Anguy participated in this competition in King's Landing, he would get ten thousand gold dragons in King's Landing.
"Then I promise to give you double the glory and gold in the future," Lord Gendry said. A thousand soldiers are easy to find, but a single general is hard to come by. Such a super genius is naturally also hard to find.
"I've decided, but I'm not just doing it for the gold; it's because I feel your respect," Anguy's goodwill towards Lord Gendry increased.
"We respect each other."
"Can I get such robes and armor?" Anguy thought for a moment and then asked softly. He was a wanderer, and if someone valued him, he was willing to provide service.
"Of course, welcome. There are no titles here; now there are military positions: soldier, sergeant, officer, and so on."
"That's not bad either," Anguy knew that this system was different from the Lords of Westeros, but it was good enough if he could get gold dragons.
Then the Unsullied presented Anguy with a new robe, which also had Lord Gendry's quartered banner emblem. As for plate armor, scale armor, or leather armor, lamellar armor, Anguy would be free to choose later.
"Your skill is indeed good, but there is also room for improvement, if you are willing to follow this Old Man," the Arrow Maker interjected.
"Who are you?" Anguy was a little moved, then looked at the decaying Old Man.
"The past is not worth mentioning, but in the past, I had a nickname called the Arrow Maker," the Arrow Maker said his name.
"The Arrow Maker, the greatest archer of all time?" Anguy rubbed his eyes. Many people thought the Arrow Maker had died in the dust of history, but he was still alive now.
Anguy glanced at Lord Gendry again. If that was the case, then he hadn't lost unfairly... At breakfast, Septa Mordane told Sansa that Lord Eddard had left the camp before dawn and that the King had gone to look for Lord Eddard, possibly to hunt outside, as wild buffalo were known to roam nearby.
The road to King's Landing gradually flattened, and Sansa began to like this tranquil feeling. It was warmer than Winterfell and livelier than the North. Mother would surely love this land and temperature the most, Sansa thought; The Three Rivers was where her Mother grew up.
Everything was wonderful, except for Arya and Jon. Whenever Sansa thought of the two of them, she felt uncomfortable.
Sansa preferred well-behaved girls like Princess Myrcella, but her own sister was indeed a wild Child.
Gods above, Arya had a knack for messing everything up. Sansa always wondered why she had a sister like Arya, like a wild Child.
Arya wore leather riding clothes and befriended a group of wild friends: Attendants, stable Boys, maids, the Old Man, and naked Children, as well as foul-mouthed, low-born Free Riders—all people of no status. Arya liked to be friends with anyone. And Mikke, the butcher's apprentice, was the worst of them, very wild.
As for Jon, he made Sansa even angrier. People whispered behind his back, discussing her father Eddard's honor and disloyalty. And Jon always had a gloomy face, as if others always owed him something. Sansa was angry that her father had brought Jon along; it made her feel humiliated. If Bran had come along, it would have been better; he wouldn't have made her lose face.
Sansa cherished her time with Joffrey the most. This was what her Mother had taught her: to learn to be a Lady and then marry an honorable Knight. In terms of status, Joffrey was indeed her Prince Charming.
Today was indeed a good day, because the Small Council had sent people to welcome the King and his party, including Lord Renly, Ser Barristan, and Ser Ilyn, who had no tongue.
Sansa's longing for King's Landing grew stronger and stronger, because the Lords from King's Landing usually appeared very noble.
Ser Barristan wore an intricately carved, enameled white scale plate armor, brilliant like a white land covered in fresh snow, with white silver threads and hooks gleaming in the sunlight. When he took off his helmet, his white hair was the same color as his armor. Despite this, he looked vigorous and strong, and his every movement was very elegant. A pure white cloak, symbolizing the Kingsguard, hung from his shoulders.
Lord Renly was about twenty years old, wearing deep green armor made of fine steel, as green as a dense forest. He was the most handsome man Sansa had ever seen, tall and robust, with shoulder-length black hair like obsidian that set off his cleanly shaven face. His blue eyes, full of smiles, perfectly complemented the color of his armor. He carried a stag's antlered helmet, with two magnificent antlers gleaming golden.
The third, Ser Ilyn, was somewhat terrifying. It was said that the Mad King had once pulled out this royal executioner's tongue. This man looked very frightening, which even made Sansa feel a bit awkward.
Sansa didn't understand what was happening, so she turned to her Prince for help: "Your Highness, what have I done wrong? Why won't he speak to me?"
"Our Ser Ilyn hasn't been much for talking these past sixteen years, has he?" Lord Renly explained with a mischievous smile.
Joffrey looked at his uncle with great disgust and took Sansa's delicate hand. "Aerys Targaryen had his tongue pulled out with hot pincers."
"Sansa, today I need to discuss matters of state with the Knights, and wait for the King and your father to return. I'm afraid your appointment with Myrcella will have to be postponed. Please apologize to your good friend on my behalf. Joffrey, perhaps you would be willing to accompany our distinguished guest today." The Queen said to Sansa.
"Mother, that would be my honor," Joffrey replied solemnly. Joffrey wore a beautiful blue woolen sweater and a black leather jacket, his golden hair like a crown under the bright sun. Joffrey took Sansa's hand and led her away from the wheelhouse. Sansa felt that this was her happiest moment.
Joffrey suggested that Sansa put down her Direwolf, and Joffrey also left his "dog" outside, his guard The Hound.
"My Lady, there's no need to be afraid. I'm almost an adult, and I'm not like your brother who only uses wooden swords. I have this." Seeing Sansa hesitate, Joffrey drew his sharp longsword. It was a cleverly miniaturized longsword, just right for a Boy. Made of fine steel, it glowed blue, double-edged, with a leather-wrapped hilt and a golden lion's head at the end. Sansa praised it repeatedly, and Joffrey was very pleased. "I call it Lion's Tooth."
So Joffrey and Sansa left the Direwolf and the guard behind, heading west along the north bank of the Trident River.
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