..."Let him in, Lancel."
Watching the young girl's departing figure thoughtfully, Arthas revealed a playful smile. Clearly, he had developed a slight interest in this Rose of Highgarden.
"If I could convert her into a Banshee..."
He shook his head, suppressing that rather impolite thought.
Firstly, he couldn't achieve it with his current immature magic power. Secondly, she had no grudge against him. Arthas, living a second life, was not so insane as to arbitrarily strip a Little girl's soul for no reason.
However... Davon slowly entered the room under Lancel's lead. His steps were somewhat faltering, and his lips were still bloodless; clearly, the injuries he sustained during the day had caused too much blood loss.
"Lord Arthas!"
Walking before Arthas, he knelt on one knee. This once indomitable and proud lion finally lowered his head before the lion king.
"Are your wounds better?"
Arthas did not stand up. He sat boldly in his chair, readily accepting Davon's submission.
He knew that submission under the complete suppression of force was generally not subject to betrayal.
"The Maester has treated me, my Lord."
Completely conquered by Arthas's strength and charisma, Davon kept his head low, displaying an extremely respectful attitude.
"Master Willen said your swordsmanship is simply peak. Under such harsh conditions, you didn't even injure a single organ or bone!"
"I just lost a lot of blood. I'll be fully recovered after a few days of rest."
Saying this, Davon looked up at him with eyes full of intense fervor and worship.
Arthas was all too familiar with this look. When he first took up frostmourne and easily annihilated the undead ants of the Scourge, the look his soldiers gave him was exactly the same as Davon's now.
It was the worship and longing for the strong!
"Lancel, step out for a moment. I have important matters to discuss with Davon."
Seeing Davon's gaze, Arthas knew half of his plan was already successful. For secrecy, he first dismissed Lancel, that big-mouthed fellow.
Though he didn't know Arthas's intentions, Lancel was now completely obedient to him after seeing him easily defeat ten knights unharmed in the arena.
Without a single question, he obediently walked out of the room, thoughtfully closing the door behind him and standing guard outside like a sentry.
" Of that ."
Once Lancel was gone, Arthas slowly stood up and looked down at the kneeling Davon, asking somewhat casually:
"What are your thoughts on my strength?"
"Very strong!"
Davon placed a hand on his chest, touching the wound that still throbbed with pain. His mind was filled with that Invincible figure on horseback from earlier that day.
"Lord Arthas, you are the most valiant warrior I have ever seen!"
"With just a longsword, you defeated ten elite Lannister knights in a charge while remaining completely unscathed."
"Such a feat... to call it 'divine' would not be an exaggeration!"
"Hahaha~"
Hearing Davon's fervent reply, Arthas's hearty laughter echoed in the room.
After a long while, he paced to a corner, picked up frostmourne with one hand, and walked to Davon, resting the sharp blade lightly on his shoulder.
"Then, do you desire to become as powerful as I am?"
"Truly?"
Davon looked up in shock. Seeing Arthas's solemn expression that didn't seem like a joke, a look of uncertainty and surprise flashed in his eyes as he hurriedly followed up:
"Can I really become as powerful as you?"
"Of course, that ."
Facing his doubt, Arthas answered as if it were a matter of course:
"As long as you wish it, I can grant you infinite power!"
"Then, Lord Arthas."
With the chance to grow stronger right before him, Davon's gaze became even more fervent. He looked at the sword on his shoulder that had easily defeated ten of them; an eerie, ghostly blue light seemed to flash across the blade.
"What is the price?"
"Your Soul!"
Arthas looked with satisfaction at the brave knight before him who hungered for power. His performance in the arena had earned the lich king's recognition.
This quota, earned through many years of accumulated magic power, was originally intended for Barristan, that aging tiger. But Davon's appearance had caused him to change his plans.
To Arthas, an incredibly loyal Lannister knight was harder to come by than even an exceptionally skilled Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
"Soul?"
Hearing this uncommon term, Davon's eyes were filled with confusion.
But he did not remain silent for long. Instead, he impatiently began to pledge his loyalty to Arthas:
"Lord Arthas."
"I, Davon Lannister, have long intended to swear fealty to you. Whether it be my body or my Soul, they are at your disposal at any time..."
"You haven't understood my meaning, Davon."
Before he could finish, he was crudely interrupted by Arthas.
Withdrawing frostmourne from Davon's shoulder, he held it upright before him, obscuring his handsome face.
"What I require is not your fealty."
Davon stared blankly at frostmourne in Arthas's hand, surprised to find that a brilliant, ghostly blue light had actually appeared on the wide blade!
"When I say Soul, I mean it in the literal sense—offer your Soul to me!"
As soon as the words fell, an endless chill swept toward Davon.
Unlike the coldness carrying killing intent in the arena, this chill was pure, icy cold without any Impurities!
The glowing blue frostmourne was slowly lowered, and Arthas's obscured face was gradually revealed.
In Davon's shocked eyes, the golden hair behind the blade, which had been as warm as sunlight, had at some point turned almost entirely pure white.
Even his burning golden eyes, like his hair, were now stained with an endless snowy white, with a faint blue light—the same as on frostmourne—flashing within them!
"Ar... Arthas!"
This eerie scene instantly filled Davon's heart with endless terror, a fear even more deep-seated than the dread of facing death in the arena!
Seeing Davon's trembling body, a flash of disappointment crossed Arthas's eyes. He set frostmourne down and lightly patted Davon's shoulder, his softened tone making him seem like that sunny and gentle youth once again.
"You may go."
With a soft sigh, Arthas turned around and issued the order for him to leave, feeling somewhat disappointed.
It seemed the power of the lich king was still too terrifying... except for that fanatical fellow Pyke.
"No!"
A firm refusal rang out from behind. Arthas, who had expected the other to leave quietly, turned back in surprise, only to see Davon's burning gaze.
He clenched his right fist and pressed it tightly against his chest, feeling the powerful beat of his heart.
"Lord Arthas, I am willing to offer my Soul to you!"
Davon, who had believed in The Seven since childhood, had finally witnessed a god-like power today. How could he possibly miss this chance to personally serve a deity!
"Though I do not know where you come from, from this day forward, you are my only True God!"
"As long as I can become stronger, I will not hesitate even if I must offer my soul!"
These heartfelt words did not move Arthas. He simply continued walking forward and slowly sat back down in his chair.
Just as Davon's heart filled with disappointment, thinking the other was going to give up on him and preparing to stand up and leave, a sharp sound of breaking air reached him.
When he regained his senses, he saw the entirely ghostly blue frostmourne had been plunged upright into the floor in front of him.
"Grasp it."
The lich king's voice came, devoid of any emotion. Having received the command, Davon hurriedly grasped the hilt of frostmourne with one hand as if it were a priceless treasure.
"Boom!"
The same pure chill from before instantly filled his entire body. A surge of intense pain followed, causing even the strong-willed Davon to close his eyes and cry out in agony.
After an unknown amount of time, the icy chill vanished, replaced by a powerful suction, as if something very important in his body was being drawn into the blade.
It was his Soul!
After a long while, Davon slowly opened his eyes to see that frostmourne had returned to Arthas's hand at some point.
The ghostly blue light on it flickered constantly, as if it were very satisfied with Davon's Soul.
"The pact is sealed..."
"Rise, Death Knight!"
As Arthas spoke those words, Davon's body unconsciously obeyed his command and stood up from the floor.
"This is the result of offering your Soul to me."
Seeing Davon's confused expression, Arthas explained to him:
"As long as it is an order from me, you will never be able to disobey!"
Only then did he realize what he had lost, but Davon did not regret it. He appreciatively admired his now-powerful physical body, feeling the infinite strength within him, and knelt once more before the lich king.
"Noble Lord Arthas."
"Your guidance is the direction in which I shall advance!"
...Standing guard at the door, Lancel listened to the commotion inside with trepidation, the worry in his eyes impossible to hide.
Though he knew Arthas likely wouldn't do anything to Davon, every time he faced Arthas, he felt a sense of heart-palpitating dread—a fear from the depths of his Soul.
Suddenly, the door opened, and a tall figure walked out.
"Davon, how are you..."
He wanted to step forward and ask, but upon seeing Davon's head of white hair, Lancel choked back the words he was about to say, his eyes filled with nothing but shock.
"I am very well, Lancel."
"I have never felt this good."
Davon grinned as he turned to look at Lancel. His eyes were still brown, but his face, which had been pale from blood loss, now appeared even more deathly white.
For some reason, looking into Davon's eyes, Lancel suddenly felt an impulse to immediately kneel before him.
It was the primal instinct that humans experience when facing a being of a higher Rank than themselves.
"Hey, Davon, where are you going!"
Seeing the other's steps were heavy and powerful, not at all like the weakness when he had entered, Lancel felt relieved, but he didn't have the courage to ask about his hair.
He simply shouted toward the receding back.
Without turning his head, Davon's crisp footsteps echoed in the silent corridor like the tapping of death, seemingly draining the vitality around him with every step.
The fragile land of Westeros had finally welcomed its first Death Knight.
Just as Davon's figure was about to disappear around the corner, a faint whisper sounded in Lancel's ear:
"The North."
"Beyond The Wall!"
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