Davos brought only two attendants.
Three men. Three horses.
From a distance, they looked like three tiny black dots moving steadily toward Robert's camp.
Davos did not fear death.
In fact, a part of him almost wished Robert would kill him.
He had fathered seven sons.
His eldest, Dale, and his second, Allard, had both married relatives of Audro, the former Prince of Pentos.
Marcus and Mathos had already married and started families of their own.
Both now held the rank of viscount.
His fifth and sixth sons were already betrothed and studying at the Royal Military Academy. At this moment, they were probably stationed somewhere along Gohor's walls.
Most likely upon Balerion's Wall.
In time, earning the title of baron would be well within their reach.
Davos had often thought that if his own father could see how the family had prospered under his care...
The old man might climb out of the sea itself just to celebrate.
In another life, the king he had served, Stannis, had wandered from one desperate refuge to another, almost like an exile.
Serving such a lonely and embattled lord, Davos had always found himself pleading humbly for allies, speaking as though he were forever beneath those he addressed.
But now...
His king was Viserys.
Davos glanced at the pair of leather gloves covering his hands.
They had been a gift from Viserys ten years ago.
Ever since, he had cared for them with meticulous attention. He wore them only during important ceremonies and solemn occasions.
Like today.
Even in the sweltering summer heat, when most men wished they could strip to the waist, Davos still wore the gloves with pride.
Should I provoke Robert...
Would it be better if he killed me?
Once he realized how valuable his death inside Robert's camp could become, the thought refused to leave him.
Then he shook his head.
His Grace still needs me. There was still too much work ahead for Viserys.
Too many problems yet to solve.
Davos abandoned the idea.
Without realizing it, he had already reached the outskirts of Robert's encampment.
Though only three riders approached, they quickly attracted attention.
Raising his voice, Davos called out:
"I am Davos Seaworth, envoy of House Targaryen! I request an audience with your king!"
Moments later, a young knight with brown-gold hair rode out to meet him.
"I am Loras Tyrell, squire to Lord Renly Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End."
"So?"
"Has Viserys sent you here to beg for surrender?"
Davos knew nothing of the bond between Loras and Renly, a relationship that reached far beyond simple loyalty or friendship.
Loras's attitude convinced him that House Tyrell had fully committed itself to the Iron Throne.
Or rather...
To R'hllor.
Without the Lord of Light's intervention, at least half of Westeros would have rallied beneath Viserys's banners.
I cannot die.
I still have to see His Grace reclaim the Iron Throne.
Once again reminded that Viserys still had a long road ahead, Davos resolved to preserve his life.
A living servant could still be useful.
Besides, this Loras was clearly nothing more than an eager young man sent out to provoke him.
Davos was an lord now.
There was no need to argue with an inexperienced youth.
"His Grace King Viserys sent me to meet King Robert."
"I bear a proposal that must be delivered."
"Hmph."
Loras snorted.
Seeing that Davos remained as steady as an old hound, completely unmoved by the taunt, he lost interest.
"Follow me."
Turning his horse, Loras led the way, with Davos and his two attendants following close behind.
The moment they entered Robert's camp, Davos felt countless eyes fixed upon him from every direction.
The weight of those silent stares pressed heavily upon his shoulders.
"Straighten your backs."
He spoke quietly to the men beside him.
The three riders lifted their heads proudly and continued forward.
Rather than taking them directly to Robert, Loras first chose to show off the coalition's newest weapons.
"This is the shield wagon."
"Let's see whether your famous longbowmen remain so effective once they face these."
Davos studied the enormous mobile shields, each one resembling a city gate laid upon wheels.
He showed no surprise.
Viserys had already warned them that the coalition would employ shield wagons against their archers.
The Targaryen army had prepared large numbers of fire-oil bombs.
They had also deployed their highly mobile dragon cavalry.
Once the longbowmen's ranged attacks were combined with cavalry mobility...
Whether these shield wagons would actually prove effective remained to be seen.
"And this..."
Loras continued.
"...is the Dragon Scorpion."
It was built specifically to kill your dragons. Though it works perfectly well against men and horses too."
He turned toward one of the soldiers.
"Fire one."
The crew had already prepared the weapon. The soldier yanked the firing lever.
With an explosive crack, the spear-like bolt shot through the air.
The distant wooden target shattered into splinters.
Davos narrowed his eyes.
There was no question.
This weapon posed a serious threat.
Still, he also recognized its greatest weakness... Its rate of fire was painfully slow.
Their longbowmen could loose ten volleys before one of these machines managed a second shot.
Behind him, however, both of his attendants couldn't suppress sharp breaths of astonishment.
That reaction made Davos realize something.
His family still lacked the foundation possessed by the great ancient houses.
Generations of experience could not be built overnight.
Seeing that his prized weapons had failed to intimidate Davos, Loras seemed somewhat disappointed.
Even so, while the machines themselves had failed to impress the Targaryen envoy...
The sheer scale of the camp certainly had.
They had entered nearly half an hour ago. Yet they still had not reached its center.
After winding through countless rows of tents, they finally arrived before an enormous pavilion.
It had been provided by the Sea Lord's Palace.
Rather than a single tent, it consisted of several vast pavilions connected together.
At first glance, it rivaled the halls of many castles.
Drawing upon years of experience, Davos judged that the fabric possessed some resistance to fire.
Whether it could withstand dragonflame or wildfire...
That remained another matter.
Once the guards announced their arrival, Davos and his companions were escorted inside.
The shield wagons had not unsettled him.
Neither had the Dragon Scorpions.
But the moment he entered the command pavilion... His heartbeat quickened.
The tent itself might not equal a true castle.
The people gathered within, however, were among the most powerful men in the world.
Walking across the crimson carpet, Davos approached the center of the chamber.
Then he spotted a familiar face.
Stannis.
Years ago, during the siege of Storm's End, had Davos not secretly smuggled food into the castle...
The Tyrell army would have taken it.
The loyalist forces would have united.
Robert would never have seized the Iron Throne.
Then Robert, seated at the head of the chamber, finally spoke.
"You traitor."
"Instead of waiting quietly for your head to be cut off... What are you doing in my camp?"
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