Knights of the Vale

"An sixteen-year-old war chief?" Timett Son of Timett's voice wavered. He couldn't believe his ears. "Three hundred kneeling dirt-grubbers."

"Yes! Yes!" another bound Flatlander cried. "He led those few hundred farmers!"

The flames grew higher, and the smell of roasting meat began to spread.

The Wildlings started swallowing hungrily.

They had left everything behind at the stone walls.

They had been hungry for a long time.

Timett Son of Timett's head buzzed, the sound roaring like a hammer blow.

He thought of their miserable flight over the past few days, and of the confusion and despair in his heart.

"Impossible! I don't believe it!" Timett Son of Timett roared through gritted teeth. "You're trying to deceive Timett Son of Timett!"

"We had more than five hundred of our people chase them!"

"And three hundred kneeling dirt-grubbers killed them all?!"

"I'll eat every last one of you!"

"We wouldn't dare lie, Timett Son of Timett!" the Flatlander at the head of the group wailed. "Everything we've told you is true! Send someone to see how many of them there are for yourself!"

Timett Son of Timett glared at him. "There are more than a hundred Flatlanders following us right now!"

"You filthy Wildling! You're a complete fool! A coward!" Another bound Flatlander had already given up hope. He roared, "What's the matter, you filthy Wildling?!"

"Send someone to check on the men tracking you! See how many of them there really are!"

"You and your people are a bunch of fools! Lord Suleiman drowned them all!"

"I curse you!"

"I curse you!"

"Timett Son of Timett!"

"One day!"

"You'll have to watch your people be swallowed by the flames!"

Timett Son of Timett glared at the Flatlander who had cursed him, and the Flatlander stared back at him furiously.

He hated being called a coward!

Timett Son of Timett had never been afraid!

Not now!

Not ever!

Deep in his heart, a voice told him it might be true.

Timett Son of Timett's expression shifted uncertainly.

Now he even hoped it was true!

He wanted to take a chance!

If these Vale Flatlanders weren't lying!

Then he might still have a chance!

"Put out the fire!" Timett Son of Timett pointed at the three Flatlanders, then at the one who had just cursed him. "Except his!"

The ropes were cut, and the three men dropped down, scrambling away from the flames.

The other man was left to scream in the fire!

But he no longer begged for mercy!

Timett Son of Timett suddenly waved his hand. "Go! Spread out and search! Find out for me!"

A group of Wildlings quickly vanished into the woods.

The wait grew unbearably long.

Timett Son of Timett felt as though his heart were about to leap out of his chest.

He hoped it was all true.

Then he might still have a chance to save everything!

Just then, the Wildling scouts came running back.

Their faces were full of disbelief. "Timett Son of Timett... They... They were telling the truth!"

"The Flatlanders tracking us... The tracks really... There are really only a little over twenty of them!"

Timett Son of Timett felt as though his head had exploded.

Rage, humiliation, resentment, regret—all kinds of emotions flooded his mind, nearly driving him out of his senses.

He had been tricked! Led around by a sixteen-year-old war chief and three hundred kneeling dirt-grubbers!

He had lost so many warriors and sacrificed so many of his people.

And now, he had fled like a madman just to escape a bluff!

"Ah—!" Timett Son of Timett let out a beastlike roar and suddenly drew the long sword at his waist.

He slashed viciously at the Flatlander screaming in the flames, granting him a quick death.

"Su—lei—man!" he snarled, each syllable filled with bitter hatred. "Su—lei—man!"

"I'll tear you limb from limb!"

"I'll cut off your head and mount it on the leg of my chair!"

"Please... Let... us... go, Timett Son of Timett!" The three Vale Flatlanders crawled over, shivering as they weakly pleaded with him. "We... have completed... our mission!"

"We still... have to go back... and report... to our lord!"

Timett Son of Timett turned to look at the three Flatlanders, their faces drained of color. His eyes were filled with savagery.

But in the end, he waved a hand. "Tell your lord the Burned Men need food to survive the winter!"

"Get out!"

Far from the Wildling host,

in a stretch of woods where they could still keep the Wildlings in sight,

Bronn leaned against a tree, idly flipping a dagger in his hand.

More than twenty of Lord Suleiman's soldiers sat scattered around him, their faces and bodies covered in bloody scratches from branches.

Their armor and clothes had been torn to shreds.

They were all watching Bronn, who looked relaxed and carefree.

Bronn had led them left and right through the rugged forest.

He had put them through the wringer.

Yet astonishingly, Bronn looked completely at ease.

His lean build and nimble steps made the forest seem like open ground.

He had even managed to keep pace with the Mountain Clans' Wildlings.

At times, he had deliberately overtaken them!

Then he would slow down and fall behind.

He had even moved about all around the Wildling force.

Just now, they had spotted four knights of the Vale in front of the Wildlings.

They had been about to warn them to steer clear of the Wildlings' path.

But Bronn had stopped them.

With a grim expression, he had ordered them to leave their positions.

Then the four knights of the Vale had been seized by the Wildlings!

Toman came over and asked in a low voice, "Lord Bronn, why didn't we warn the knights of the Vale?"

"And why did we deliberately leave tracks suggesting there were fewer of us?"

"Aren't we worried they'll realize how few we are?"

He was puzzled. Before this, Bronn had always had them leave tracks suggesting there were many of them.

But ever since Lord Bronn found out there were only a little over three hundred Wildlings,

he had told them not to bother disguising their small numbers so carefully.

Then the four knights of the Vale had been captured.

Bronn had told them to leave hurried tracks for only twenty men.

And after that, the Wildlings had split up to scout,

and discovered the truth about their numbers.

Bronn glanced at him, the corner of his mouth curling into a mocking smile. "Discover? I want them to discover us."

"Why?" Toman asked, perplexed. "And hasn't our mission already been completed?"

"Why aren't we going back?"

Bronn didn't explain. "Send two men back to Valleydeep Town as fast as they can! Tell Suleiman!"

"There are only a little over three hundred Wildlings!"

He figured Suleiman would probably make the same choice as Timett Son of Timett!

It gave him a certain impression.

Gamblers!

Only this group of Wildlings had no choice but to match the bet.

Otherwise, they would lose everything!

"The way the noble lords of Westeros trip each other up," Bronn said, pointing in one direction. "It's just like whores fighting over a customer."

"Stupid and ugly."

Toman looked where he pointed.

Three knights of the Vale rode their steeds away from the Wildlings at a gallop.

The soldiers looked toward Bronn.

They knew what this meant.

Bronn looked at them and gave the order.

"Follow me!"