Standing beside the Blue Knight, Gendry felt the oppressive presence even more clearly. Their heights were nearly the same, but the Blue Knight looked broader and heavier than he did. That might be acceptable for a man, but for a girl it was truly formidable.
"My lord, what is this?" the Blue Knight asked quietly.
Soldiers with white cloth strips tied to their uniforms approached to examine her wounds. They worked with practiced efficiency. Some of them were old, some far too young. They didn't resemble the usual murderous soldiers at all. Instead, they were more like gentle old Maesters.
"Medics. A specialized unit within the legion," Gendry explained.
To be honest, these medics did not necessarily possess deep medical knowledge. But having them enforce high-temperature sterilization and strict hygiene throughout the camp helped prevent blood plagues and greatly improved the soldiers' chances of survival.
"Prepare a private room for my guest."
"Yes, my lord," the medics replied.
"My sincere thanks. Thank you for your courtesy."
The Blue Knight spoke with simple sincerity, offering Gendry her heartfelt thanks before the medics escorted her away to a separate place to treat her injuries.
"Brienne of Tarth."
Gendry had already guessed the Blue Knight's identity. The heir to Tarth, the only daughter of the Evenstar, and a knight who shocked the world with her existence.
Gendry valued talent. With Brienne's noble character, he could safely arrange for her to protect Daenerys.
But that would not be easy right now. Brienne would naturally worry about her aging father on Tarth. She would not pledge herself so easily. That matter would have to wait.
Fortunately, more than one guest had arrived today.
Brienne did not want Gendry or anyone else to see her full face. It was not only because she knew it was improper to cross the Narrow Sea just to join the spectacle. More importantly, beneath her visor she truly was ugly.
Her eyes might be the only beautiful thing about her.
So Brienne allowed Gendry to see only those eyes. Large and blue, innocent and straightforward, shining with confidence in battle.
Gendry watched as the Blue Knight, Brienne, was helped away. Throughout it all, she never removed her visor.
Then another round of applause erupted around him.
Everyone had watched the entire fight clearly. That powerful Blue Knight had been a terrifying opponent, yet before the Lord Governor the gap between them had been enormous.
Gendry was confident he could recruit second sons, landless nobles, bastards, and farmers. But if he wanted to attract the true heirs of powerful noble houses, he might need to present himself a little better.
Gendry stepped onto the high platform.
Daenerys was already waiting for him, her eyes full of anticipation.
The Unsullied guards and the high officials of the Twin Cities bowed as he approached. Gendry returned their greetings one by one before walking to the central seat.
He looked radiant, as though he had been born to stand above others.
Gendry still wore his black scale armor. He had not put on a mask, but his short hair was bound by a steel circlet. The ring was black, set with red gemstones. Daenerys had come up with it herself, modeled after the crown of Aegon the Conqueror.
"This game is too dangerous," Daenerys said.
"The games on the battlefield will be even more dangerous. But we're already part of it, Dany. I am your shield, and your sword."
Gendry rubbed her hair lightly.
A proud smile spread across Daenerys's face.
"You are my knight. I will pray for your victories, always."
"I will win."
"Oh, right. Our guest has been waiting for you for quite a while," Daenerys reminded him.
Gendry had already noticed the guest standing on the platform.
The leader of the Windblown. The fugitive prince of Pentos.
"Lord Governor, Princess, it is an honor to meet you."
The Tattered Prince bowed to them, looking extremely refined.
He spoke softly, his eyes heavy with sadness. Deep bags hung beneath them. His hair and armor were silver gray, while his cloak was stitched together from patches of cloth in many different colors.
The Tattered Prince quietly studied Gendry's gait, breathing, and posture, and could not help feeling startled.
After such a fierce clash just moments ago, the young man showed no sign of injury. He still looked completely at ease, as though the battle had barely taxed him. The strength of this rising figure was truly difficult to fathom.
A bulky and powerful opponent like the Blue Knight would be a nightmare on the battlefield. Yet against this young man, that storm of attacks had clearly been overwhelmed.
"Prince, when you stand before the two, you ought to kneel," Ser Jorah said sharply, his eyes fixed on the Tattered Prince.
"My apologies," the Tattered Prince replied firmly. "From the day I fled Pentos, I learned one thing. A sellsword is not a servant. I cannot kneel."
"That's enough, Jorah. Why make things difficult for an old man?" Gendry said, signaling for Ser Jorah not to pursue it further.
"You are most welcome here, Prince," Gendry added with a smile.
The princes of Pentos were weaker with every passing year. They were nothing like the powerful ruling princes of Dorne. In truth, Pentos was now controlled by Magisters like Illyrio.
"I once meant to present you with a gift, though it may have rotted away by now."
"You mean Bloodbeard's head. For that, I must thank you, my lord." The Tattered Prince responded politely. There had long been deep hatred between the Windblown Company and the Company of the Cat.
"But my friend, you've come rather late," Gendry said. "Bloodbeard has been dead for quite some time. Why only now do you come to see me?"
"Forgive my delay. I had other duties in Volantis at the time," the Tattered Prince said apologetically.
"No matter. The fact that you came to see me is enough. I still consider you an honored guest," Gendry said sincerely.
Aside from the Golden Company, the Company of the Cat and the Brave Companions had already been crushed by him. The Second Sons and the Long Lances had joined his side. Among the remaining mercenary groups with any real strength, only the Windblown Company was left.
"I wish to discuss a certain business with you," the Tattered Prince said quietly.
"Go on."
"Many years ago, certain people wronged me. I was forced to flee my home, and I have never returned. I would like to go back once, and take revenge on those who drove me away."
"What you're asking for is expensive, Prince. Can a small Windblown Company really afford it?" Gendry asked.
He understood exactly what the Tattered Prince was referring to.
According to the traditions of Pentos, when times were bad the Prince of Pentos would be executed to appease the anger of the gods. In 262 AC, the previous Prince of Pentos had just been beheaded by the Magisters. At that time, the twenty three year old Tattered Prince had been elected by the Magisters to become the new Prince of Pentos.
But he did not dare accept their invitation. Instead, he fled to the Disputed Lands and never returned to his homeland again.
The Tattered Prince's expression grew a little awkward. Two thousand men truly meant little in front of the newly risen Breaker.
Still, he trusted in his own eloquence.
"Prince, my two thousand men may be a small number before you. But they are well trained soldiers, not fools or green boys. Besides, in Pentos, even though I have been gone for many years, I still have some old connections that can be used," the Tattered Prince said thoughtfully.
"You want it, don't you? Pentos," Gendry asked.
"Yes." The Tattered Prince nodded.
"That will be very difficult," Gendry replied.
The difficulty was not only the Magisters themselves. There were also the powers behind Pentos. If he marched into Pentos, it would mean offending Braavos, and it would also anger the horselords who came to Pentos every year to beg for gifts.
"We can discuss that later," Gendry said. "But at your age, Prince, do you still wish to return to Pentos?"
"That is my home. If possible, I would like to die of old age on the shores of Pentos."
"As for power, you may keep it. I only hope to gain a little redemption by taking revenge on those who harmed me in the past," the Tattered Prince added. "I know history has already made you into a great man. As for me, I am old and weary. I am not suited to be a king."
The Tattered Prince painted a very grand picture.
Gendry, however, was not particularly interested.