Chapter 232: Buying Armor

The next morning, the sky was as blue as a freshly washed canvas. The sun lazily watched over the bustling city below, while the warm sea breeze rippled across the emerald-green Mead River, sending gentle waves into Whispering Bay and onto Riverside Street.

The cobblestone streets were teeming with people, carts, and carriages. Dany and Whitebeard rode their horses, moving slowly with the crowd.

Dany's dyed-black hair was tied into a neat, high ponytail. She wore a fitted crimson leather armor, matching pants, and knee-high boots. Her limbs were long and slender, her posture upright and confident. A longsword hung from her waist, and a pure white cloak draped over her back, covering her horse's hindquarters.

Her once delicate willow-leaf eyebrows had been deliberately reshaped into sharp, bold sword-like brows. Combined with the confident and proud expression on her face, along with her slightly upturned lips, the last trace of her sixteen-year-old innocence had vanished. She now fully embodied the image of a gallant and charismatic swordswoman.

As she passed, mercenaries and knights frequently stole glances—some subtle, others outright bold. Some whistled and winked at her, making her quite the center of attention.

Barristan Selmy had also altered his appearance. His once shoulder-length white hair was completely shaved off, leaving him with a bald head. His mustache and beard were dyed a messy, dirty gold—far from the tidy, dark-haired look of his younger years. His previously slightly drooping brows now gave him a somewhat weary and rugged appearance.

In fact, his thick, unkempt stubble alone was enough to make him unrecognizable to most people. Back in Qarth, even Jorah Mormont hadn't recognized him—perhaps because the old knight used to keep his face immaculately clean-shaven, exuding the charm of a refined gentleman.

Though the transformation wasn't as drastic as the kind achieved by Jaqen H'ghar or the Faceless Men, it was at least as striking as the difference between Leonardo DiCaprio in The Wolf of Wall Street and The Revenant.

The old knight also kept his helmet on at all times. Even without lowering the visor, his face was difficult to discern.

They had been walking through the streets for a while. Barristan had passed at least twenty people he once knew, yet not a single one spared him a second glance.

At most, people gave him a brief, indifferent look—mostly because of the strikingly heroic female knight beside him.

"Was Oldtown always this crowded?" Dany asked.

The Mead River Tournament was still two days away, yet from Rose Avenue to every alley and square in Oldtown, knights and free riders filled the streets. Minstrels strummed harps and beat drums, while carts loaded with hops, hams, wheels of butter, and barrels of honey rolled past. Merchants, craftsmen, and prostitutes busily wove through the crowd.

Barristan explained, "This tournament isn't as grand as the one held years ago to celebrate Eddard Stark's appointment as Hand of the King, but the Ironborn have made themselves widely hated. Aside from the local Reach knights, many nobles from Dorne, the Stormlands, and even Lannisport have come."

"Look over there." The old knight raised his hand and pointed toward a group of riders on the opposite riverbank. About seventeen or eighteen knights were chatting and laughing on horseback, some laughing so hard they nearly fell forward.

Among them, three knights riding on the outer edge carried banners.

The flags bore different sigils: one displayed three golden wheat stalks, another two young stags, and the last a yellow haystack.

Fixing his gaze on a young man with black curls and a square face, Barristan's expression grew complicated. "House Caron of Nightsong, House Errol of Haystack Hall, and House Cafferen of Fawnton—all Stormland lords."

"They your relatives?" Dany asked.

Barristan had been born in Fawnton. He was once the heir to the title of Count and had even been engaged. Yet, in pursuit of the honor of becoming a Kingsguard, he had given it all up—including his fiancée.

A man so devoted he abandoned even the thought of marriage.

"The current Count of Fawnton, Arstan Selmy… is my grandnephew." Barristan's voice was so low that Dany barely caught the last part.

She suddenly recalled that back in Qarth, the old knight had used the alias "Arstan" to conceal his identity.

"Do you want to go see him?" she asked.

Misunderstanding her meaning, Barristan hesitated. "Fawnton may be the Stormlands' largest granary, but it lacks military strength. Besides, now is not the right time."

"Do I look like I'm short on soldiers?" Dany waved dismissively. "I just meant to say hello."

"No need. The boy is too honest—he wouldn't be able to keep a secret."

Within moments, the group across the river disappeared into the crowd. Dany and Barristan turned into an alleyway, made a few more turns under the old knight's lead, and finally arrived at the western edge of the city, on a street filled with riders and swordsmen.

"This is the blacksmiths' street. You can find armor of any kind here," Barristan said with a smile.

Along the way, Dany passed by seven or eight blacksmith shops. Shirtless smiths hammered away at forges, while free riders haggled loudly over armor prices.

A few elderly men with wrinkled faces were also driving carts down the street, hawking rusted swords and chipped blades piled haphazardly on their wagons.

Finally, Barristan led Dany to a large stone building at the end of the street. Its massive wooden doors were flanked by glass display cases, showcasing suits of armor in red, blue, and white enamel. Among them were helmets adorned with gryphons, unicorns, bulls, and even dragons.

As soon as they dismounted, a stable boy hurried over to take their horses. A round-faced maid then emerged from inside, gave a respectful bow, and asked, "What can I help you with? We have swords, shields, plate armor, chainmail, and leather armor—all available."

"I need a full suit of plate armor," Dany said.

"Would you like a custom order or something from our stock?"

"How long would a custom set take?" Dany asked.

"Depending on your specifications, at least half a month, but no more than two months."

"I need it immediately."

"We have an extensive inventory."

After the round-faced maid inquired about the price and received Dany's response, "The price doesn't matter, but the quality must be the best," she led them past a hall filled with various suits of iron armor. They then followed a cobblestone path through a courtyard cluttered with charcoal, iron ingots, and other materials before finally arriving at a row of low red-brick houses in the backyard.

The row of houses had no doors or walls facing the courtyard. Each room was completely open, resembling a warehouse, yet there were no piles of goods inside—only a series of forging chambers filled with rolling heat, swirling smoke, and the constant clanging of hammers.

From time to time, blacksmiths could be heard loudly reprimanding their apprentices or shouting orders. At that moment, two young men in sweat-soaked shirts covered in black soot hurriedly carried a basket of coke across the courtyard.

They had deliberately avoided the cobblestone path.

The old knight nodded and said, "Only a master blacksmith can provide truly fine goods. Penniless mercenaries are the ones who buy the decorative pieces displayed in the front hall."

The round-faced maid smiled approvingly at him and led them straight to the largest forging chamber on the left.

Outside each forge stood two rows of wooden racks, cluttered with breastplates, iron helmets, gorgets, and other armor components. Several customers were browsing through them under the guidance of apprentices.

"Would you like to select for yourself, or shall I find an apprentice to assist you?" the maid asked.

"I'll choose myself," the old knight replied, stepping forward and tapping on a silver-gray suit of plate armor.

The maid spoke briefly to a nearby apprentice, then turned to Dany and said, "Once you've chosen your armor, you can go directly to the master blacksmith to make payment."

Though the armor on the wooden racks appeared disorganized, each set was merely dismantled and displayed together. This allowed customers to thoroughly inspect the quality of the armor and make minor adjustments to specific components based on their needs.

As they browsed the armor, they overheard a conversation coming from within the forge.

A robust voice declared, "Garlan, you must help me! Too many people have been flooding into Oldtown lately. I wouldn't say the entire kingdom, but every knight in the Reach who could make the trip has come.

And for every knight that arrives, two hedge knights, three craftsmen, six foot soldiers, a dozen merchants, and two dozen whores follow. As for thieves? So many that I don't even dare to guess.

With so many people, things are getting messy. Just this morning, a drunkard drowned in the Honeywine River—we can't tell if it was an accident or murder. Last night, there was a brawl at a tavern near the northern gate, with some borderland knights fighting against Dornishmen.

Sigh, incidents like this are too numerous to count, and even cases of assault are happening frequently. You need to send some men to help me maintain order!"

A younger voice responded in confusion, "Is Oldtown really that short on manpower? I remember, Uncle, that you started training new recruits a month ago."

"Garlan Tyrell, Garth Hightower," the old knight glanced at them and murmured.

Dany also noticed them—two valiant knights clad in leather armor with swords at their waists. One was a middle-aged man in his early thirties, bearing the sigil of the white tower on his chest. The other was a young man of about twenty-three or twenty-four, with two large golden roses emblazoned on his breastplate.

Ah, Garth was once Jorah Mormont's former brother-in-law.

"Old Man of Oldtown" Leyton Hightower had many children—six daughters and four sons. Lynesse was his youngest daughter, and Humphrey, whom Rhys had met, was his youngest son.

This made it easy to understand how Jorah managed to marry such a "swan." With so many children in the family, finding a noble son-in-law who was both skilled in battle and politically powerful was already satisfying for Lord Leyton.

His second daughter had married the Duke of Highgarden, but that son-in-law had earned the dubious title of "the most incompetent general in the Game of Thrones," known in the world as the "Inflatable Fish." It was hardly something the old man could take pride in.

Garth sighed helplessly, "Did you not notice when you arrived? The wheat in the fields is ripe. The soldiers I recruited have had to put down their spears and pick up sickles to harvest the crops!"

"The ironborn are raiding the Reach, and you're sending your men home?" Garlan asked incredulously.

"Uh, didn't you receive the Maesters' raven?" Garth was momentarily stunned before explaining, "Half a month ago, the Citadel sent white ravens to all major noble houses, announcing the arrival of winter. This means that next year will officially mark the beginning of winter."

Garlan shook his head dismissively. "So what? The Reach isn't the North—we can still harvest two more rounds of wheat. If it snows next year, then maybe the fourth year will bring a 'false spring,' and we'll be planting and harvesting crops again.

For centuries, we Southerners have survived winters like this. There's no need to delay military campaigns just to stockpile food."

"Seven hells!" Dany exclaimed in frustration, stepping forward and shouting, "Are you saying that the Reach—the granary of the Seven Kingdoms—has no food reserves?"

Garlan Tyrell's eyes first flashed with a hint of admiration, but his brows quickly furrowed as he questioned, "Who are you, eavesdropping on our conversation?"

"You were speaking so loudly. Ask the others here," Dany pointed at a mail-clad swordsman inspecting armor nearby, "who hasn't heard your conversation?"

The swordsman waved his hands frantically and shouted, "Woman, don't slander me! I didn't hear a word of what Lord Garlan and Ser Garth were discussing!"

Dany's lips twitched. "I was standing right beside them, and their voices weren't even that low. Aren't you just covering your ears and pretending not to hear?"

(End of Chapter)

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