Hearing so many demands, and looking at the rubies scattered casually across the table like mere stones, Tobho Mott began to feel the pressure.
Kal's extravagant and grand manner was enough to make even this seasoned blacksmith instinctively shrink his neck.
"Then, Lord Kal, what kind of weapon would you like?"
For some reason Tobho could not quite straighten his back, and his expression grew even more deferential.
"I want two weapons—a long-handled warhammer and a greatsword. The two-handed greatsword must be longer and larger than House Stark's Ice."
After chopping off Gregor Clegane's head, using that door-sized weapon to hack through men had indeed been exhilarating—each swing took down several, and after a few blows no one dared come near.
Kal felt he should have one as well.
Tobho Mott hurriedly noted down Kal's requests in his mind, then asked again, "Would you also like a shield, or a spear?"
"No shield. As for a spear?" Kal was reminded and thought he should indeed prepare one of those.
Right now, he was just like in his past life when buying a Rolls-Royce—he cared nothing for the cost, only that the configuration was maxed out, completely loaded.
Everything that can be fitted, should be fitted. Even if it costs two hundred thousand just to draw a single line, it doesn't matter.
Never mind whether I'll actually use it or not—either way, I just want to have it.
"I want a couched lance, all metal, no wood. Don't worry about whether I can lift it."
"Oh, right—my warhorse outside should also have barding forged in the same style as my armor. Have someone measure it later for a custom set."
Hearing this, not only Tobho Mott, but even the group that had followed Kal were all looking at him with disbelief.
Barding was fine—that was standard equipment. For a knight, it was normal to have a set for each of his three or more warhorses.
But an all-metal lance—wasn't that purely unnecessary?
And leaving aside how much all of this would cost, Kal himself was the Master of Coin—so affording it was hardly a problem.
What they were doubting now was whether Lord Kal actually knew that once all these things were made, apart from looking impressive, they would have practically no other use.
"Are you sure that after you actually make all these things, Fawkes will even be able to carry you while you're wearing them?"
At first, Tyrion Lannister hadn't taken it seriously, but as Kal El grew more and more excited—and more and more outrageous—he couldn't help but interject.
"I already think it's hard enough for him just to carry you as it is. Unless you have some dragon I don't know about, I don't see how any of this will be practical."
But Tyrion's words only made it worse—Kal couldn't help turning his head toward him, giving him a look that seemed to say, "You already know?"
"How did you kn— Ahem, anyway, it's just for display. Purely for display. Didn't Tobho Mott just say his work is art?"
Kal reacted quickly, hastily waving his hand to cover up his near slip.
Hearing that, Tyrion felt he could barely accept it.
Indeed, quite a few nobles liked to collect such things—paintings, antiques, and other kinds of art.
And as for weapons and armor, those were even more common.
But thinking of that, Tyrion turned his head to look at Kal El's towering frame—over six feet, nearly seven—and truly found it hard to imagine that, if Kal ever wore that entire set, he'd even be able to move.
By then, never mind riding a horse—just standing on the ground, he would already be invincible under heaven.
Arrows and such threats wouldn't even need to be considered; the outer layer of heavy plate armor alone would be impenetrable.
And most importantly, full plate armor was not only powerful but, in fact, also had no real problem with flexibility.
In theory, as long as one's strength was great enough, one could even dance while wearing it.
And when wearing plate armor, one did not wear only the plates.
Because accompanying the plate armor were actually two additional layers of soft armor.
This set of equipment, besides the heavy plate armor Kal wanted as the outermost layer, also included a layer of chainmail in the middle and padded armor on the inside.
So, if Kal truly made such equipment according to the specifications he had just described, Tyrion could not imagine what besides a dragon could possibly carry him.
Thus, to Kal's insistence, Tyrion could only helplessly raise a thumb.
"You're rich—you're the lord!"
"If you really manage to wear that thing and compete in the tournament, I'll personally pay an artist to paint you a life-sized oil portrait three times over. I recall there's space enough to hang it in the great hall of Casterly Rock."
But Kal had no intention of minding Tyrion's mockery.
Can't wear it?
What kind of joke was that?
All these years leveling up in the game world, he had become nothing but raw stats upon stats.
And as for Fawkes not being able to carry him?
Sorry—but if you lack strength, just take a potion.
And who said he didn't have a dragon? Hadn't anyone seen that massive dragon still incubating in his game world?
The egg in its belly was his seed!
"Well then, Lord Kal, what does your house sigil look like?"
Seeing that the young Lord, now carried away by his spending spree, was about to place an order, Tobho Mott couldn't possibly allow some random interloper to cut in.
Watching Tyrion trying to talk the Lord out of it with his sensible reasoning, Tobho hurriedly squeezed himself between the two and quickly steered the conversation back to the private commission at hand.
Kal didn't mind Tobho's intrusion; rather, it was the question itself that he found hard to describe for a moment. Then, with a wave of his hand, he said, "Bring me a sheet of paper—I'll draw it for you."
Tobho hastily signaled a maid to fetch the materials, afraid the deal he had in hand might slip away.
For Tobho Mott's forge, such items were readily available, and they were promptly delivered.
Kal took them and lowered his head, sketching on the paper.
Out of curiosity, Tyrion, Samwell, and the others also gathered around to watch Kal's movements.
Originally, Tobho Mott thought Kal would draw some crude and rough design, but unexpectedly, this man—whom he had always taken for a mud-footed sellsword—actually showed a bit of skill.
However, the onlookers were all completely puzzled by what Kal was drawing on the paper.
"What is this?"
Looking at the crooked, twisting shapes on the sheet, Tyrion really couldn't tell what it was supposed to be.
Pointing at the design, he asked, "That looks like a gemstone? And this—this is a river?"
"Yes, that's right. That's a gemstone, and that winding line is a river."
Kal replied calmly with a faint smile.
"Why would you use that for House El's sigil? Does it mean something?"
Tyrion tilted his head, unable to figure it out, and could only continue asking.
Hearing that question, Kal was momentarily taken aback.
He then lowered his head and glanced at what he had drawn—the emblem from the film Man of Steel.
After scratching his head, he made up a reason on the spot.
"After I was born, King Robert rose in rebellion against the Targaryen family's tyranny. It was at the Trident that he shattered the red gemstone on Rhaegar Targaryen's chest, winning the war and taking the Iron Throne."
"And now, I too have gradually risen in the Riverlands, then established my own merits in King's Landing before reaching where I am today."
"From Twins on the Green Fork, to the Red Fork of the Riverlands, and finally to the Blackwater Rush of King's Landing."
"I feel that all my successes seem to be connected to rivers, so I chose it as the sigil of House El."
Originally, Kal had spent the previous night planning to design his family's sigil as a golden crown of antlers, with a golden sword pointing downward at its center, but in the end, he still chose this Superman-like emblem.
Although that design he had conceived overnight was also quite handsome—and fit well with his lineage and the story of his rise—that golden crown was, no matter how he looked at it, still a bit too ostentatious.
At the very least, there would be those who would use it against him.
There was no need for that.
And now that the atmosphere had already built up to this point, Kal thought for a moment, then simply decided to change both his sigil and his own name to that of the original Superman symbol.
After all, not only did it look good, but most importantly, it conveyed a faint sense of safety and reassurance.
What was more, above all, it gave off—no matter how one looked at it—a subtle impression of invincibility, of a god among men.
Thinking of this, and looking at the emblem again, Kal became ever more satisfied; the corners of his lips curled upward and could no longer be suppressed.
Kal thought that if things continued smoothly without incident, perhaps, in this world, he might indeed come to be known by the title of a god among men.
That sounded far better than "Kingslayer" or "Conqueror."
And now, compared with the real Superman, aside from being unable to fly or emit heat vision from his eyes, he seemed to have little difference.
After all, he could use magic, couldn't he?
And when he found a way, perhaps he could hatch a dragon egg once the tides of magic in this world surged again.
Or perhaps, when the mother dragon in the game world gave birth, he could find a way to bring one of her offspring into this world as well.
If that were possible, then by that time, Kal would truly be invincible.
Because if he could bring that mother dragon out of the game world, it would mean he could also bring out other creatures.
After all, in the game world there were elves, witches, demons, priests, giants, vampires, trolls, succubi—even spider spirits existed there.
If all those magical beings could come to this world, never mind fighting White Walkers—Kal would even dare to roll up his sleeves and take a swing at the God of Cold or the Red God.
If it weren't for the fact that he had already tried before and found that he couldn't bring these beings into this world—that they seemed only able to live within the game world following their own inherent logic—Kal would have brought them out long ago.
In truth, the main reason was that Kal's entering and leaving the game world was essentially like logging into a game.
Every time he entered, he had to choose something like a save file—a specific point in time.
Thus, whenever Kal left the game world, time within it would actually pause.
And as for the items he was able to bring out, they were all transferred using the inventory built into his character panel.
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