"Ah, my apologies."
Tobho Mott was a bit embarrassed, but as an older man with plenty of experience, he quickly apologized to Matthew.
"However, are you sure about this?"
Matthew nodded, confirming, "Just give it to the person when they come. Now, please take my measurements."
Tobho Mott knew he was just a weapon smith; there were some things he shouldn't probe too deeply into.
"Alright, coming right up."
He took the measuring tape from the serving girl and began measuring meticulously.
From the soles of his feet to the crown of his head, from left shoulder to right, and finally his chest and waist—every detail was measured and noted. The process took a full half-hour.
By the time it was over, Matthew felt like his legs didn't belong to him anymore.
While massaging his sore muscles, he glanced at Tobho Mott, who was reviewing the girl's notes. "How long until I get the armor?"
Tobho Mott gave Matthew a deep look, then returned his gaze to the notebook. "Soon. A month at the most."
Hearing this, Matthew looked at the weapons hanging on the other wall and asked, "Could you throw in a decent weapon for free?"
Tobho Mott immediately closed the notebook, looked at Matthew seriously, and replied, "No. But if you add another twenty Silver Stags, I can forge you a proper castle-forged steel longsword."
Seeing how serious Tobho Mott was, Matthew realized he wasn't going to get a freebie. He conceded, "Fine. Start making it. When the person comes to pick up the armor, they'll settle the remaining balance."
Tobho Mott didn't mind. He treated the ten Gold Dragons as a deposit, nodded slightly, and walked away with the notebook.
Once he reached the back room, he lifted his hand and looked at the yellowish dust stained on his fingers. He couldn't help but mutter, "His hair is dyed. I wonder if the real color is black?"
Meanwhile, Matthew didn't want to linger.
After finishing the tea the serving girl had brought earlier, he limped out the door and headed straight for the King's Gate.
The King's Gate was located in the southern corner of the city wall, guarded by an iron portcullis, heavy doors, and armed guards. There was a smaller side gate left open for travelers.
Matthew blended into the crowd. After a cursory inspection by the soldiers, he exited the King's Gate and walked toward the banks of the Blackwater Rush.
The Blackwater was deep and the current was swift.
But for Matthew, who had grown up beside it, this was nothing—even with his body aching all over.
Reaching the riverbank, he dove straight into the water, letting the yellowish current carry him downstream. All he had to do was stabilize his body and steer; the river would carry him to the docks effortlessly.
[Swimming Proficiency +1...]
A few minutes later, Matthew saw a dense cluster of ships bobbing on the water. Vessels of all sizes were packed together, jostling for space at the hundred-plus piers.
As he got closer, a group of children came into view.
Matthew kicked his legs, diving underwater like an otter, heading straight for where the kids were playing.
When he surfaced, he lifted a naked little boy high into the air.
Water splashed everywhere, sending ripples outward.
The boy yelped in fright at first, but realizing he was safe, he burst into loud laughter.
Seeing it was Matthew, the other children gathered around, shouting, "Me too! Me too! Play with me!"
Fishermen on the shore yelled at him, "You brat! Are you trying to scare people to death?"
Matthew ignored them. He set the child down and swam toward the shore, groaning, "Ouch, ouch, leg cramp."
The kids quickly lent a hand, pushing Matthew forward.
Once he reached the bank, the adults reached out to pull him up.
After a chaotic scramble, Matthew lay panting on the damp, warm riverbank, listening to the fishermen scold him.
It was a rare moment of warmth.
"Hahaha..."
As his mind relaxed, he suddenly burst out laughing.
The bystanders looked at him like he had water on the brain. They gathered their kids and walked away.
Once everyone had scattered, Matthew slicked back his long black hair and sat up.
Looking at his reflection in the water, the slightly dark face staring back had no freckles. It still had a bit of baby fat, but his features were strikingly handsome.
Matthew touched his face and looked around, ensuring no traces of his disguise remained.
Then, he checked the System panel.
The Charisma stat had indeed changed, jumping from 4 to 7.
Now, Matthew truly believed the data was real.
He nodded with satisfaction, stood up leisurely, and walked toward the Fishmarket.
The Fishmarket was to the right of the docks. The area was filled with simple shanties and tents, populated by fishermen and homeless out-of-towners.
They were as loud as cicadas.
But this was also the best place to hide.
Exhausted, Matthew walked inward until he reached a gentle slope near the city wall. There stood a large tent, bigger than the surrounding ones.
This was his home.
The oilcloth covering the tent was something he had traded boatload after boatload of fish for two years ago. It was already fading white.
Walking up to it, Matthew gently lifted the flap.
Just as he was about to duck inside, he saw an unwelcome guest.
"Matthew, where have you been?"
Wald opened his bright blue eyes and stared intensely at Matthew, interrogating him word by word.
Matthew's lips curled into a cold sneer. He replied dismissively, "Where else would I be? Catching fish to make money. Otherwise, I'd have starved to death long ago."
He hid his exhaustion again, bristling like a hedgehog.
Wald didn't buy it. He warned, "You'd better be careful. We're watching you. I hope you don't disappoint Lord Varys."
Matthew had his back turned, setting down his axe and wet clothes. His eyes, however, were terrifyingly cold—just like when he had killed those men in the alley.
"Wald, you aren't Lord Varys. You and I are just 'little birds.' I don't need you telling me what to do. Spit it out—what does the Master want?"
He carefully arranged his soaked clothes, asking the question to cover the sound of coins clinking together.
Wald was distracted, as expected. He said coldly, "Lord Varys wants to see you tonight."
"The old place?"
Matthew balled up his clothes, spun around, and sat down next to the wet bundle, pressing for confirmation.
Wald nodded. "The old place."
Matthew narrowed his eyes and smiled. "Fine. I got it. You can leave now."
Wald looked annoyed, but he couldn't force the issue. He couldn't beat Matthew, who was burly and a head taller than him.
As he passed Matthew, he huffed, bent his waist, and slithered out like a snake.
As soon as he was gone, Matthew immediately weighed down the tent flap with a stone.
Then, he sat on the stone, motionless, pressing his ear against the canvas to listen for movement outside.
Confirming no one was there, Matthew finally took the money out of his wet clothes.
He took a deep breath, grabbed a small trowel, and dragged himself over to his sleeping mat.
He pulled back the mat to reveal the damp earth beneath.
Relying on memory, he started digging decisively.
After a dozen scoops, a box wrapped in double layers of rotting cloth appeared.
Pulling the box out, Matthew opened the lid to reveal thousands of coins—Silver Moons, Silver Stags, Copper Stars, and pennies.
He added the three Gold Dragons and two Silver Stags he had placed on the mat into the box.
He had to admit, with the addition of the Gold Dragons, the hoard looked even better.
Reluctantly closing the lid, Matthew let out a long breath and smiled.
"Maybe this money is enough to buy me a good horse."
Imagining himself clad in armor, holding a longsword, riding a fine steed, and leaving King's Landing behind, he smiled even wider.
"Then, I'll be a hedge knight, too."