Arthur left the royal armory of the Red Keep a richer man and rode out with a satisfied smile.
"Find something good?" Ser Lucas Dayne asked.
"Oh yes." Arthur drew the dragonbone-hilted Valyrian steel dagger and let the morning light play along its rippling edge.
Ser Lucas's eyes widened. "Valyrian steel?"
Arthur nodded. "Not a greatsword, but still rare enough."
The dagger was plain—no gold inlay, no jeweled pommel, no silver wire. It had never been carried by any king and had simply gathered dust in a forgotten corner.
There were likely only two such daggers in the royal collection. The second was the one Littlefinger would later lose to Robert in a wager—the very blade Joffrey would steal and send after Bran.
"Luck really is on your side," Wylis said.
It wasn't luck. It was Arthur's own sharp eye and the Greenhand's heightened senses.
With one Valyrian steel piece already secured, the longswords would not stay out of reach for long.
If he refused to pay gold for them, he would simply take them on the battlefield in two years' time.
"Let's go. First we find proper lodgings, then we visit a forge," Arthur said.
House Whent kept no manse in King's Landing—only rented warehouses and trading posts.
Arthur led his party to a high-end inn near the Steel Gate called the Steel Inn. It offered a quiet courtyard, good stables, and discreet service—the perfect place for a wealthy young lord who did not wish to stay inside the Red Keep.
The next morning, after dawn.
Arthur first crossed blades with his companions in the courtyard.
Swordplay was, at its heart, the art of endless repetition.
But Arthur always pushed for something new.
"Careful!" He spun into a vicious overhead cut, fast, heavy, and laced with sudden changes of angle.
His blade crashed against both opponents like a breaking wave and drove them back.
Wylis and Lucas clearly could not keep up.
Arthur truly needed to expand his retinue. He required hardened veterans who could push him to the limit.
After training, the group enjoyed a proper King's Landing breakfast.
"A hearty meal, then we head to Steel Street!"
The inn served blackberry-and-nut honey cakes, salted ham, fried smelt, breadcrumbed sea-star meat, hot lemon water, and fresh milk.
Arthur left a few men to watch the courtyard and sent word to Flea Bottom that a wealthy young lord was hiring hedge knights.
Such arrangements were routine for a high-class inn.
The Steel Inn was close enough to Flea Bottom that the moment the message went out, the hungry swords would swarm like sharks smelling blood.
"Thank you for your help," Arthur told the innkeeper.
"You are too kind, young master Arthur!" The man practically bowed. He had no intention of letting such a rich client slip away.
If Arthur wished, the innkeeper would gladly arrange the most expensive girls from Chataya's on Silk Street—the finest brothel in King's Landing, tucked behind Rhaenys's Hill.
Robert himself was known to visit.
Arthur took only Ser Lucas Dayne, Lucas Roote, and Wylis Wode to Steel Street. They traveled light—no wagons or pack mules.
The best smiths were already in Harrenhal. He had come to the capital for the very highest quality.
They rode up the winding path of Visenya's Hill, passing forges where apprentices hammered away, freeriders haggling over armor, and gray-haired peddlers selling rusted blades from rickety carts.
"What a lively place," Ser Lucas remarked.
The sheer bustle of King's Landing was something a man from sparsely populated Dorne could scarcely imagine.
Higher and higher they climbed. The buildings grew grander.
Big fish ate little fish. The most expensive forges sat at the very top.
Tobho Mott's workshop was a massive timber-and-plaster house that overlooked the narrow lane below. Its great double doors were made of ebony and weirwood, carved with an elaborate hunting scene.
Two stone knights stood guard at the entrance, clad in fanciful red steel plate shaped like griffins and unicorns.
"Those doors are quite something," Arthur noted.
The House of Black and White used a similar black-and-white motif.
Weirwood and ebony—two of the rarest woods in the world.
This Tobho clearly carried more than a few mysteries. A man from the city of the Black Goat was bound to know something of sorcery.
Arthur left the horses with the stable hands and strode inside.
The sharp-eyed serving girl at the door instantly recognized the nine black bats on the yellow cloak.
Tobho Mott was the richest armorer in King's Landing. Even his greeters were pretty girls, like hostesses in a high-end brokerage.
"Quickly, pour wine for Young Master Arthur Whent and his companions!" the lavish Tobho Mott told the girl.
Tobho wore a black velvet doublet with silver-thread hammers embroidered on the sleeves.
Around his neck hung a heavy silver chain with a sapphire the size of a pigeon's egg.
Everything about the man screamed wealth.
"Champion of the Dragonstone Squire's Tourney, future legend of the Seven Kingdoms, and the most handsome young lord in the realm—Young Master Arthur Whent graces my humble forge. What an honor!" Tobho exclaimed.
"You flatter me," Arthur laughed. "I didn't realize the news had spread so fast."
Tobho shook his head. "King's Landing has no secrets, young master. Dragonstone was full of knights, servants, and gold cloaks. They all drink and chase women. Word travels."
"If you need new armor for the tourney circuit, you've come to the right place."
"I've heard your prices are steep," Arthur said, looking the armorer over.
"Young master, I admit my work is expensive," Tobho replied, filling two silver goblets with wine.
"But I guarantee you will not find better craftsmanship anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms. Feel free to visit every forge in the city and compare. Any village smith can hammer out a basic suit. I create works of art."
Arthur studied Tobho. This was true craftsman pride. A master of this caliber never lacked customers.
Expensive things had only one flaw: they were expensive.
In the original timeline, Loras Tyrell's famous armor and Renly's golden antler helm had both been made here.
"I'm afraid this is our first meeting," Arthur said. "So let's start small."
He unrolled a sketch.
The drawing showed a helmet shaped like a bat with spread wings, a full black bat emblem rising from the crest.
"No problem at all," Tobho promised, slapping his chest. "I specialize in this style. House Whent's sigil is the bat—perfect for a great knight."
Winged helms were famous. The most renowned was the Dragonknight's own helm with its three-headed dragon.
"It has the look of a Dark Knight," Arthur said.
He then placed the Valyrian steel dagger on the table. "Add a bat motif to the hilt as well."
A dagger could be replaced. The steel gauntlets, however, would remain his secret weapon.