"Teach him? That's putting it too strongly," Arthur replied with a courteous smile. "Ser Lorent is already a knight, while I am still only a squire…"
Old Lord Jon Caswell clearly had his own little schemes in mind.
Lorent Caswell was already eighteen or nineteen—several years older than Arthur.
Even an ordinary master-at-arms would hesitate to take on a half-trained late starter like this.
The main issue was Lorent's scrawny build and poor physique.
At his age, the chance of genuine improvement was slim, and free-sparring was even less suitable.
"Lorent may be a knight, but I knighted him myself," old Lord Jon admitted with an embarrassed, bitter smile. "Truth be told, he barely dares set foot on a tourney field. That's exactly why I'm so worried."
A knight who refused to fight was nothing but a joke.
Compared to Arthur Whent, his son Lorent was downright pathetic.
At eighteen or nineteen, the newly knighted Lorent had been so terrified by a surprise attack that he couldn't even defend himself.
He had only been saved by the young Arthur—an utterly humiliating scene.
"I can't let him drift along like this," Lord Jon thought, steeling himself.
He felt his son needed real skill, not just the appearance of knighthood.
Besides, Lorent's temperament also needed tempering.
Knights were not hereditary nobles; the title was more like a combat certification. Even men of low birth could become knights.
Once knighted, they were addressed as "ser."
Some knights were truly formidable; many were simply frauds who had scraped by.
Lorent Caswell had progressed step by step from cupbearer to squire and finally to knight.
But his fighting ability… well, everyone knew what that meant.
"You needn't worry, Young Master Arthur. Lorent won't trouble you much. Just train him for a short period each year. Shape him into a real man. I'll even pay you a suitable number of gold dragons for your trouble," old Lord Jon said after careful consideration.
No matter how much he doted on his son, the boy still needed real combat training.
"I…" Ser Lorent opened his mouth but lacked the courage to refuse.
This was his father's command. This knightly training would be the real thing.
"There's really no other way," old Lord Jon thought practically.
Since he had already gifted big Rolly to Arthur as a favor, he might as well deepen the relationship further.
House Whent was wealthy, and Arthur was a rising star among young knights—definitely worth investing in.
House Caswell would love to curry favor with Highgarden, of course.
But they were too far from the center of power and lacked good opportunities.
"Then I won't stand on ceremony," Arthur said, looking at Lord Jon. "But I am still traveling south. When Lorent has free time, he can come receive training from me."
Arthur had been treated splendidly in Bitterbridge.
Moreover, Lord Jon had shown him considerable face in Rolly's matter.
So Arthur went along with the request.
"That would be excellent. With a genius like you and a master like Ser Lucas, I'm sure Lorent can learn something of true knighthood," old Lord Jon said, greatly pleased.
"I'll be troubling you, Young Master Arthur," Ser Lorent said with a forced smile, his face long.
It was rather comical and humiliating—like a university student still needing lessons from a middle-schooler.
But Ser Lorent had no face left to lose anyway.
And so the matter at Bitterbridge was settled.
It was an even exchange.
The blacksmith's son Rolly had joined Arthur's retinue.
In return, Arthur would occasionally train the extra Bitterbridge heir, Ser Lorent Caswell.
Buy one, get one free—not a bad deal at all.
"Young Master Arthur, Ser Lucas, I'll arrange one of our pleasure barges to take you to Highgarden. House Caswell's finest flower ship—I guarantee you'll be satisfied!" old Lord Jon promised, now in excellent spirits.
"Then I won't refuse," Arthur laughed.
A pleasure barge had just fallen into their laps—for free, no less.
All expenses covered by House Caswell.
Their schedule wasn't tight, and the route from Bitterbridge to Highgarden was perfect by water—straight down the Mander.
...
Bitterbridge docks.
Arthur's party bid farewell to Lord Jon and boarded House Caswell's flower ship, the Centaur.
This was no ordinary vessel offering paid companionship or laughing girls.
It was a larger, ornate longship decorated with fresh flowers, carved beams, and painted railings.
Musicians and singers were aboard, promising lively entertainment.
When it came to enjoying life, no one in the Seven Kingdoms rivaled the people of the Reach.
"The upper reaches of the Mander have enormous flow and a wide channel, but the current is slow, with many sandbars and shallows. Navigation is difficult and requires skilled pilots," the captain of the Caswell vessel explained.
Old Lord Jon had chosen carefully. This was one of House Caswell's personal flower ships.
The vessel was exquisite.
Its sail bore the centaur banner, now joined by the black bat of House Whent.
Even when Lord Jon traveled to Highgarden for audiences, he used this very ship.
"My thanks," Arthur said, very satisfied.
The upper Mander was muddy and winding, the water murky. From here to Bitterbridge and Highgarden, only shallow-draft vessels were suitable.
Only near Highgarden did the river calm and clear, becoming suitable for ocean-going ships.
"Cast off! Young Master Arthur!" the captain called enthusiastically. "You are the champion of the Dragonstone Squire's Tourney and a rising star of tomorrow—a true knight. Having you aboard is our honor."
The tale of the "Bat Knight" Arthur Whent had already spread across the Seven Kingdoms.
Add to that his display of knightly spirit during the Bitterbridge judgment—he truly embodied what a knight should be.
Even the proud Reach knights and smallfolk had to admit that, among the younger generation, Arthur Whent was an extraordinary prodigy.
With such a reputation, everyone looked upon the Dark Knight's company with extra respect.
The flower ship departed Bitterbridge, sailing south.
The musicians struck up their harps. The sounds of strings and lutes mingled with the gentle lap of waves.
The music was fresh and pleasant, mostly ballads of the Mirror Shield slaying dragons or Jonquil at Maidenpool.
"How delightful!"
Arthur rested his hands on the rail, a light breeze brushing his face as he gazed at the magnificent scenery on both banks.
The ship followed the river's flow, revealing vast fields, farms, and orchards stretching endlessly.
The land was flat and open as far as the eye could see.
The Reach lay at a lower latitude than the Riverlands. Though both were rich farmland, the crops differed somewhat.
Beside him, Rolly stared at the flowing water, finally understanding he was truly leaving home.
"This is the first time I've really left Bitterbridge. Once I leave, I'm no longer a man of Bitterbridge," he said quietly.
Rolly had shed the Caswell livery and now wore the yellow cloak of House Whent.
Ser Lucas looked at him. "Lad, if you want to become a knight, this is your first lesson. Leaving home is a lesson every man learns eventually. Don't worry about your father. Old Lord Jon is a clever man. For our sake, he'll treat your father well."
Rolly drew the longsword that had caused all the trouble and laid it at Arthur's feet.
"I am yours now, Young Master. I once swore to House Caswell, but Lord Jon has released me from that oath. I am your loyal guard—or whatever role you assign me. I will protect you, obey your commands, and in times of danger I will gladly give my life. By the Old Gods and the New, I so swear."
"And I swear that you will always have a place at my hearth, a seat at my table, meat and mead in your belly. I swear never to let your service bring you shame. By the Old Gods and the New, I so swear. Rise, Rolly," Arthur said solemnly, lifting the big man to his feet.
Leaving Bitterbridge, Arthur had gained both fame and fortune.
In fame, he was now known as a true knight—the Bat Knight who punished the wicked and protected the weak.
In fortune, he had forged ties with House Caswell and gained Rolly as a sworn retainer.
All in all, a very satisfying stop on the road south.