Compared to the hatred in the eyes of the soldiers outside, the expressions of the nobles inside the pavilion were far more complicated.
The moment Davos entered Robert's camp, every detail about him had already reached this castle-like command tent.
What fascinated the assembled lords most was his life story.
A common smuggler had nearly changed the course of history.
When Stannis had knighted Davos and granted him lands years ago, most nobles had treated it as nothing more than an amusing curiosity.
But everything that had happened after Davos entered Viserys Targaryen's service had become the stuff of legend.
Had it not been for R'hllor's intervention, Viserys would likely have returned to Westeros by now.
And within half a year, he would probably have reclaimed the Iron Throne.
By then, House Seaworth's standing would have surpassed that of most of the great noble houses of Westeros.
The idea that a mere smuggler could rise above them left many of the proud Westerosi aristocrats deeply uneasy.
They especially despised Viserys's system of rewarding military merit with noble titles.
As a result, they looked at Davos with a mixture of curiosity, contempt, and, in some cases, reluctant admiration.
"I am Davos Seaworth, envoy of His Grace Viserys Targaryen the Third."
"I have come to convey my king's goodwill."
"Goodwill?" Robert snorted. "The greatest kindness he could show would be dying as soon as possible."
The very sight of a former smuggler standing before him irritated the king.
Davos ignored the insult.
Instead, he felt only disgust that a man like Robert now occupied the Iron Throne.
"His Grace King Viserys demands a trial by combat to judge Robert's usurpation."
Davos knew full well those words would offend Robert.
Even so, he refused to address him with the titles or courtesies due to a king.
"Davos!"
Stannis stepped forward.
"You are speaking to a king. Do not forget who dragged you out of Flea Bottom."
"I have not forgotten," Davos answered without yielding.
"But neither should you forget who brought you onions and salt fish and kept you alive."
There was no backing down.
One debt might outweigh another.
To Davos, Stannis would always stand behind Viserys.
He flexed the fingers inside his old leather gloves, silently assuring himself that the debt had long since been repaid.
The Davos of years past would have remembered Stannis's kindness for the rest of his life.
After all, in the Seven Kingdoms, there was virtually no path for a commoner to rise into the nobility.
But there was an old saying.
Nothing invites comparison like success.
Viserys had proven far more generous than Stannis.
More importantly, Davos had started from an even lower position under Viserys.
He had been nothing but a prisoner of war.
Instead of being sent to hard labor, he had been rewarded again and again with trust, responsibility, and generous honors.
And Viserys could never understand the logic of cutting off the fingers of the man who had saved your life.
To him, Stannis was not the making of a true king.
At best...
He was an emotionless machine that enforced the law.
"The insolent cur!"
"Cut off his head!"
"Throw it at Viserys's feet!"
"Hang him!"
The surrounding nobles shouted one after another, as though Davos had murdered their fathers.
"Enough."
Eddard stepped forward to quiet the uproar.
"Ser Davos."
"Tell us. What message has your king sent you to deliver?"
Davos had been about to announce Viserys's challenge for a trial by combat.
Then his eyes wandered around the pavilion.
Everywhere he looked, he saw the symbol of the Flaming Heart.
The emblem of R'hllor.
A trial by combat belonged to the traditions of the Faith of the Seven.
Viserys had repeatedly declared that, once he reclaimed the throne, he would abolish the nobility's right to demand trial by combat.
In his eyes, it was nothing less than a mockery of justice.
"I'm no longer certain whether you still possess the authority to grant such a trial. Because His Grace Viserys demands trial by combat."
Everyone present understood the mockery. Davos was openly accusing them of abandoning their own gods.
Yet none of them could offer a convincing reply.
Their great-grandfathers...
Their grandfathers...
Their fathers...
Their friends...
All had been raised within the Faith of the Seven.
To cast it aside overnight left even these lords uncertain how to defend themselves.
"A trial by combat?"
Brynden Tully, representing House Tully in Robert's campaign, spoke up. "And who exactly will fight? The flames themselves?"
It was a pointed jab at House Targaryen.
A reminder that they were hardly known for respecting tradition either.
Davos understood perfectly.
He simply ignored it.
"His Grace King Viserys will fight personally."
He looked directly at Brynden before turning his gaze toward Robert.
"Under the judgment of the Seven."
Had two kings ever settled their claims by single combat?
The nobles and maesters alike searched desperately through the pages of history in their minds.
Many turned toward Robert with barely concealed anticipation. They wanted to know his answer.
Robert remained silent.
As long as he said nothing, no one else dared speak.
At last, a young voice shattered the silence.
"King Robert would hardly object to killing another Targaryen."
Everyone turned.
It was Renly.
In Renly's eyes, his elder brother was invincible.
The Battle of the Bells? What battle? He had never heard of it.
Yet Robert still kept silent.
Many of his closest advisers hoped he would refuse the challenge.
According to their intelligence, Viserys possessed Valyrian steel armor and a Valyrian steel sword.
Rumor also claimed he practiced sorcery.
To them, victory was already certain.
Viserys had issued this challenge only because desperation had driven him to gamble everything.
If Robert died...
Who could possibly unite the Five Great Houses?
House Tully lacked sufficient prestige.
The Westerlands lay too far away.
Jon Arryn was old.
And Eddard Stark... Many were still unsure whether he could truly hold the alliance together.
Davos cared little for their concerns. He looked at Robert with unmistakable provocation.
Robert stared back.
After a long silence, he finally spoke. "Cut off this smuggler's arm."
Then he glanced toward Stannis.
"See that? When dealing with criminals, you cut off the whole arm."
"Not just the fingers."
Davos's expression changed instantly.
Lose an arm?
That would cripple him for life.
If that was his fate... He would rather die here.
As soldiers seized his shoulders and forced his arm forward, Davos roared at the top of his lungs.
"Robert! You usurper!
Listen well!
A man does not become a king simply by wearing a crown and sitting upon a throne!
He becomes a king only after fulfilling a king's duty!
And you!
For the sake of a crown that was never yours and a throne that never belonged to you...
You have brought a hundred thousand soldiers across the Narrow Sea!
How much wealth have you stolen from your own people? How many sons and husbands have you taken from their families?
Robert! Wait and see!
The flames of the dragon are coming!"
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