Deathblow (Part 1)

"Mercenaries," Harui suddenly shouted, "your captain refused to kill the bastard before you for the sake of his honor, because he dared not offend House Lannister. He wants to restore his family, reclaim his grandfather's castle, and live in Westeros."

Knowing he could not prove Ian was a fraud, Harui simply admitted that he was a Lannister bastard.

"But you don't have to care. I'm offering eighty Gold Dragons for his head. Take this money, and you can fly far away, leave behind this life of licking blood from the blade's edge, and live richly in Essos." Harui held his money pouch high. This time, he was going all in.

In an instant, the mercenaries who had quieted down because of Ser Kymell's order began to stir again.

Eighty Gold Dragons was a fortune these mercenaries had never seen in their lives. Faced with such temptation, what did a captain's honor matter? What did House Lannister's threats matter? They could all go to the White Walkers!

"He's fish on the chopping block now. Stop looking at your companions and get moving. The fewer people who act, the more money each of you gets." Harui egged them on again, then looked smugly at Ian. But Ian's expression made Harui freeze.

Because Ian was smiling too.

Harui turned around in surprise and found Kammel glaring at him furiously. Only then did Harui realize that he had crossed the line by bypassing Kammel and bargaining directly with his mercenaries.

But so what? Given Kammel's obsession with honor, could he really kill his own employer?

"You'll still protect me, right? You swore an oath to me." Harui smiled fearlessly, a trace of madness on his face. "You won't become an oathbreaker, will you?"

Kammel turned his face away. He did not answer, but he silently acknowledged Harui's words.

"Hahahaha!" Having received an answer he found satisfactory, Harui laughed even louder and looked at Ian again.

You. You. You bastard! You're still smiling! What gives you the right?

What right did you have to smile? What right did you have to wear that mocking expression? You were richer than him, but what use was that?

He could use money to incite these mercenaries to kill Ian because they could kill him. But Ian could not make them kill him, Harui. Forget double the price—even if Ian offered ten or a hundred times more, what then? With Kammel and his personal guards protecting him, those mercenaries he had stirred up had no ability to hurt him at all!

Killing him was never even an option for them!

He was already invincible! And Ian had already been checkmated. The outcome was decided!

"Protect me until my attendants arrive later, and I'll pay you the same reward he offered." Ian spoke lightly to the mercenaries around him, then looked at Harui with a teasing smile.

Harui's smile froze on his face. It took him about half a minute to understand what Ian meant, and then he suddenly felt that his loss was not undeserved.

Because if it had been him, he absolutely could not have come up with such a perfect response.

The fake bastard's move contained at least two shrewd points. First, he only wanted to save his own life; he had not tried to turn these mercenaries against Kammel and make them kill Harui.

If the fake bastard had asked the mercenaries to kill Harui, then, intimidated by Kammel's strength and long-standing prestige, they might not have dared accept even if he offered ten times the price.

Unfortunately, the fake bastard had retreated in order to advance. By directly giving up on killing Harui, he avoided a direct conflict with Harui's greatest support—Ser Kymell. Kammel had already intended to let that man go. As long as he did not make things difficult for Harui, Kammel certainly would not make things difficult for him.

The fake bastard's second shrewd point was that he clearly wanted to save his life by paying a "ransom," yet he did not directly offer money in exchange for his life. Instead, he framed it as paying "compensation" to the mercenaries "protecting" him.

From "ransom" to "compensation," a tiny change in wording completely altered the nature of the matter.

If he had offered ransom in exchange for his life after being threatened by the mercenaries, then their relationship would have been hostile. Even after taking the money, the mercenaries would still have needed to fear retaliation from House Lannister.

But by paying that ransom in the form of "compensation," he defined his relationship with the mercenaries as one of "hired cooperation," which was equivalent to giving up any reason for revenge.

In this era, where everything depended on "claims" and having "just cause," this act by the "noble" fake bastard was no different from giving the mercenaries a reassurance.

"It is an honor to serve you." Sure enough, one mercenary who had originally intended to attack Ian began bowing and swearing fealty.

"My sword is yours." The mercenaries surrounding Ian switched sides one after another. Even quite a few mercenaries who had hesitated and not joined the encirclement of Ian ran over to swear themselves to him.

To the mercenaries, this was a choice that required no thought. Taking Ian's money both followed Captain Kammel's earlier decision to "let Ian go" and spared them from fleeing their homeland in fear of House Lannister's retaliation. They did not even need to do anything. It was practically free money.

Taking Harui's money, meanwhile, meant risking retaliation from House Lannister. The difference was obvious.

Thus, before long, only five personal guards remained at Kammel's side, while everyone else gathered around Ian.

"The situation has reversed." Ian snapped his fingers and looked at Harui with a smile.

"I thought that move was a deathblow, but can this really be called a reversal?" Harui had already admitted defeat in his heart, but he still tried to save some face. "For me, the worst outcome is only a draw, isn't it?"

Ian did not answer. He merely looked at Harui quietly.

"What? Do you still want to kill me?" Harui was immediately enraged by Ian's obvious contempt. He turned to glance at Kammel beside him.

"Ser Ian, you swore an oath." Kammel could not understand the conversation between his employer and the Lannister bastard, but he still spoke up to remind Ian.

"Yes, I swore an oath, upon the honor of House Lannister." Ian nodded, his cold gaze turning toward the end of the dirt road that led from Salt Well to the town.

The setting sun filtered through the treetops, scattering patches of fragmented light and shadow across the ground. Two knights riding side by side appeared in everyone's sight, both clad in full plate armor—one pale green, the other pure black.

The knight in pale green plate wore a closed helm with its visor flipped up over his head, exposing a rough, bearded face. Combined with his burly build, he looked especially imposing. He rode a tall warhorse draped in a red caparison and carried a thick iron-rimmed round shield on his back.

The other knight was even more powerfully built than the one in pale green plate. He stood over seven feet tall, with a five-and-a-half-foot two-handed greatsword strapped to his back. He wore no helmet, and long light-brown hair fell loose behind him. His gaze was sharp, and for a man of his size, his features could even be called exceptionally handsome.

"My attendants are here." Ian smiled at the mercenaries around him, and they all followed his gaze toward the end of the road.

No one noticed Ian slowly clench his fist, his fingers curling into his palm as even his breathing gradually quickened.

"Attendants?" Hearing Ian's words, Adam, the old mercenary who had been posing as a foreman, stared at the two fully armored knights approaching them in shock. "Seven Hells! Your attendants all wear full plate armor?"

He had heard that a single set of that stuff cost at least ten Gold Dragons.

"Can't be helped. I'm a bastard. If I'm not generous to the people under me, why would anyone be willing to follow me?" Ian quickly regained his composure and shook his head with a deliberately bitter expression. "After all, I'm so poor that all I have left is money."

"Money is good."

"What did you say?"

"N-Nothing." The old mercenary hurriedly shook his head.

Soon, as the two knights drew closer, the Mercenary Company went on alert.

They had all assumed that the attendants Ian mentioned would be two ordinary half-grown boys, so the sudden appearance of these heavily armored knights put immense pressure on them.

"Relax. I told you, they're my attendants. They brought everyone's wages." As Ian spoke loudly, he looked at Adam, the old mercenary.

"Put your weapons down!" the old mercenary hurriedly told the people around him. "Ser Ian is our employer. What are you all acting like this for?"

Clearly, Adam held considerable prestige among this group of turncoat mercenaries. At his words, although they remained wary, the mercenaries at least put away their weapons.

Seeing this, Ian nodded to the old mercenary, then raised one hand above his head in a stopping gesture. He shouted at the knights five meters away, "Stop right there."

Just as expected, the two knights stopped where they were.

"Hey, what's-your-name, Old Dog—throw eighty Gold Dragons over here. Remember, throw them." Ian gave the order. He knew the two knights carried more than eighty Gold Dragons on them.

The two knights looked at each other for a full seven seconds before finally deciding which one was Old Dog. Then "Old Dog," clad in pale green plate, untied a pouch hanging by his leg and began counting out Gold Dragons.

"That sir—" The old mercenary had meant to say "ser," because the knight counting coins looked far too imposing, but he quickly stopped himself and changed his wording. "That attendant is called... Old Dog?"

"He's a cook's son, lowborn. He's been with me since before my father brought me back to the castle. It's his childhood name," Ian explained. "He's a bit stupid, but loyal. Once I reclaim my name, I'll find a chance to knight him."

"Knight... a cook's son?" The old mercenary could scarcely believe his ears.

"Loyal service deserves generous rewards. That is my principle. Besides, bastards never look down on others because of their birth, because from the very beginning, we were never nobler than anyone else." Ian gave a self-mocking smile.

"It really is his good fortune to meet a lord like you."

"Haha, for now it's only an idea. My father may need another half year or more to recover and marry my mother. Only after that can I become a true Lannister." Ian waved his hand.

Then Ian turned to the Green Armored Knight, who had finished counting the coins, and nodded, signaling for him to throw them over.

The Green Armored Knight grabbed the coins and needed three throws to toss them all over. The Gold Dragons scattered across the ground immediately sparked a frantic scramble among the mercenaries.

"Lannister has paid his debt in full. Farewell, gentlemen." Taking the opportunity, Ian mounted his horse and rode toward the two knights.

Halfway there, Ian looked back at Harui once. That single glance made Harui feel as if he had fallen into an ice cellar.

Harui did not know why, but he felt a wave of foreboding rise in his heart.

"Captain Kammel, I'm leaving. Take me away now! Now!" Harui said in a panic.

"Don't worry. Ser Ian swore an oath, he—"

"He's not a Lannister at all!" Harui roared.

"Here you go again." Kammel was somewhat helpless. He did not understand why his employer remained so obsessed with this question.

"Anyway, I'm leaving right now." Harui gave up trying to explain further and clumsily climbed onto an old horse. Because he was unskilled at riding, he clung tightly to the horse's neck with both hands and urged again, "Go! Hurry up and go!"

Seeing this, Kammel stopped insisting and instead gave the order for the personal guards beside him to depart.

But to his surprise, not one of his trusted men moved. They all stood where they were, staring blankly toward the direction of the setting sun.

Suspicion rising in his heart, Kammel followed the mercenaries' gazes and saw that Ian, now beside the two knights, was holding a gold bar high over his head. The ruddy gold gleamed brilliantly beneath the dying light of the sunset, giving off a fairy-tale halo that was almost intoxicating.