Walking out of Flea Bottom, Matthew wore his tattered robe inside out. There wasn't a trace of blood visible on him.
However, every step he took sent a wave of discomfort through his entire body.
"I really shouldn't have slacked off," Matthew muttered, regretting in his heart that he hadn't kept up with his training over the last month and a half.
Back in the dark alley, aiming for a quick kill, he had exerted himself too hard. Now that the adrenaline was fading, the backlash was hitting him all at once.
Thinking fast, Matthew decided to play the role of a drunkard to avoid scrutiny from the Gold Cloaks. He stumbled forward, one foot heavy, the other light, swaying as he hummed under his breath:
"Today is a good day..."
Street of the Sisters was long, cutting across Rhaenys's Hill and Visenya's Hill.
If you followed this road to the end and crossed Visenya's Hill, you'd reach the Street of Steel. That was where all the smithies, big and small, were located.
Although Matthew really wanted to buy a rune to test it out, he had his priorities straight.
If you get cut, you get hurt. If you get hurt, you die. That is an eternal truth.
Therefore, a good suit of armor and a weapon were far more critical than a single rune.
Before, he had to worry about money. Not anymore.
Two idiots had generously donated ten Gold Dragons to his cause. Added to what he earned from selling his gear and his savings at home, he had roughly thirteen Gold Dragons.
That was more money than a commoner in King's Landing would see in a lifetime. It was more than enough for a quality set of armor and weapons.
So, why not buy them?
Matthew swayed along the Street of the Sisters. The houses here were a world away from the hovels of Flea Bottom.
The stench was still there, but much fainter. The people coming and going looked cheerful and gentlemanly, as if they were having a wonderful day.
There were plenty of out-of-towners among them.
When Matthew felt too tired to walk, he would stop, lean against someone's wall, rest for a bit, and watch the foreigners wave their money around.
He hoped he could do the same soon.
But every time he leaned back, the throbbing pain in his legs reminded him of reality.
At those moments, he would pound his rock-hard calves with his fist. It hurt like hell, but it made standing up again a lot more bearable.
Stopping and starting, Matthew was like an exhausted fish struggling against the tide.
He didn't know how long he walked, but eventually, he squeezed out of the crowded street and into the district at the foot of Visenya's Hill.
Here, if you just looked up, you could see the pristine white Great Sept of Baelor.
Who knew how much manpower and resources it took to build that?
"It's beautiful," Matthew remarked, glancing at it before looking away and continuing his journey. Under his breath, he added, "I'd really love to live in there."
The last sentence was so quiet even he could barely hear it.
Naturally, the passersby couldn't hear it either. Seeing Matthew's odd behavior, they assumed he was just awestruck by the Great Sept.
As they passed him, many locals held their heads high, looking like proud geese.
Matthew wanted to laugh, but he held it in. The people of King's Landing were tough; if they pegged you for an outsider and saw you laughing at them, you'd get jumped.
"Lowlifes will always be lowlifes."
He couldn't stop mentally roasting them as he picked up his pace and entered the Street of Steel.
It was a U-shaped street, low on the ends and high in the middle.
Along the way, mediocre blacksmiths, hedge knights, and weapon merchants were shouting out their wares. The higher up the hill you went, the larger the buildings became, and the more luxurious the goods.
Matthew had scouted this place long ago.
He knew exactly which smithies were rip-offs, which ones had skilled craftsmen, and which offered the best value.
Walking from the bottom of the hill all the way to the top, he arrived at the most famous establishment—Tobho Mott's Smithy.
This shop had no flaws, other than being expensive.
But Matthew now had thirteen Gold Dragons, enough to commission a fine set of armor and weapons here.
Standing in front of the largest smithy on the Street of Steel, he felt a bit emotional.
Life's turning points came fast and hard.
Before noon, he was stressing about scraping together coins. Now, he could shop at the most luxurious smithy in the city. When luck hits, it hits like a freight train.
Putting on a smile, Matthew walked past the two red statues of a unicorn and a griffin and entered Tobho Mott's shop.
With every step he took inside, his joy faded rapidly, replaced by a deep, somber focus.
A serving girl saw a customer enter and immediately came forward to greet him.
However, after looking Matthew up and down, she couldn't hide her surprise. Why would a down-on-his-luck mercenary with a hard life come in here?
But before anyone could notice, she hid that emotion away. She didn't act rude because of Matthew's blackened face, dirty hair, and tattered robe. Instead, she smiled warmly and said:
"Guest, what can I help you with?"
Matthew glanced at the slight girl. His mood was good, so he asked directly, "I need good armor and a weapon. Do you have any recommendations?"
In that moment, he sounded like a noble knight.
The girl was professional. She smiled and replied, "Weapons are straightforward, but the best armor is armor that fits. That requires measurements."
Matthew looked at the various plate armor, scale armor, chainmail, and brigandine hanging on the walls. He nodded and asked, "How much for a suit of plate versus scale armor?"
The girl blinked twice, wondering if Matthew was teasing her.
These were expensive items; usually, only nobles could afford them.
Seeing her hesitate, Matthew turned his head and asked, "You don't know either?"
The girl snapped out of it. Realizing Matthew wasn't joking, she quickly nodded. "It depends on the specifics. I can't say for sure. Let me get the Master. He is the finest armorer and will give you the best advice."
With a bow, she hurried to the back of the shop.
Moments later, Tobho Mott walked out, leading the girl. Seeing Matthew, he spoke enthusiastically.
"Guest, I am Tobho Mott. I will be serving you."
He was a tall man—not overly massive, but burly and strong. A heavy-looking silver chain hung around his neck, drawing the eye.
Matthew smiled back and said in a low, gravelly voice, "I need a good set of armor, but I don't know the price difference between plate and scale. That determines if I can afford it."
Tobho Mott nodded slightly, keeping his warm smile. "Everything in my shop is top quality, which means it is also quite expensive. I trust you understand. If I were to make a recommendation, I would suggest scale armor."
"It doesn't offer quite the same protection as full plate, but it is lighter and better suited for fighting in varied terrain."
As a master armorer, he knew the pain points of mercenaries well.
Matthew wasn't fixated on full plate, so he immediately asked, "How much for a good set of scale armor?"
Tobho Mott looked Matthew up and down, then proceeded to squeeze his shoulders, arms, chest, waist, and thighs.
Matthew didn't know exactly what he was doing, but he didn't resist. Even when the man pressed on his sore spots, he endured it.
After finishing the examination, Tobho Mott clapped his hands, stood up, held up one finger, and smiled.
"For ten Gold Dragons, I can custom-make you the finest set of scale armor. I guarantee it will be a work of art."
Matthew shook his head and refused. "I don't need a flashy work of art. I just need a sturdy shield that will stop attacks."
Tobho Mott looked into Matthew's steady black eyes and suddenly felt a sense of déjà vu. His expression turned serious.
"Of course. Everything here is the best, and that includes the protection our armor offers."
Matthew didn't hesitate. Seeing no other customers in the shop, he pulled out ten Gold Dragons right then and there.
Tobho Mott's Smithy had the best reputation in King's Landing. Matthew knew Mott wasn't a man who broke his word or cheated people. That was enough.
Seeing him be so decisive, Tobho Mott reached out to take the money, looking at him with a puzzled expression.
"Have we met? Or do I know your father?"
"I doubt it. And I have no father."
Matthew smiled and replied, "My name is Matthew Waters. Please remember that name, Master Mott. Next time someone comes to pick up the armor and mentions that name, just give it to them."