Bronn (2)

Bronn took a large bite of his steak and washed it down with a swig of strong spirits.

Leaning against a large tree, he savored this long-lost comfort of food and warmth.

His eyes kept drifting toward this strange army from the Riverlands.

In the camp, fires blazed and smoke curled into the air.

Soldiers took turns heading into the small town to enjoy special services.

He hoped that come tomorrow morning, those women would still be alive.

Strange, truly very strange.

This Riverlands army was not well-equipped.

They numbered only about two hundred men.

Yet, each one exuded a bizarre aura of slaughter.

There was a scent of blood about them.

They were neither the household guards of a noble nor the conscripted levies of a commoner.

They lacked the arrogance of household guards, and they lacked the confusion, clumsiness, and fear of common levies.

This time, it really wasn't his doing.

With the experience he had gained wandering Westeros for so many years.

He had seen all sorts of people across Westeros.

From Dorne to The North.

This group truly resembled bandits more.

Or mercenaries.

But every single one of them was incredibly wealthy!

And they actually paid for the things they bought!

Bronn's cheek twitched.

He was usually the one to initiate, but this time he had truly been on the receiving end!

Those six soldiers, the moment they saw him.

No shouting, no warnings.

Without a word, they drew their swords and charged.

Intent on hacking him down.

And they had practically fought over who would get to kill him!

As if they were starving wolves fighting over food.

Yes, he knew what that feeling was now!

A wolf pack!

No, he had to get away as soon as possible!

This group did not look like good people at all!

"What are you looking at!" A coarse, nasal voice interrupted his observations!

Bronn looked up to see the very messenger rider he had beaten until his nose bled.

The man had clearly washed his face, but the bruises and swelling remained shocking, his eyes full of rage.

He was surrounded by five other equally furious soldiers, all of whom Bronn had injured.

Bronn curled his lip, chewing the meat in his mouth.

"Looking at you lot," he replied indistinctly.

The rider's face flushed red, and just as he was about to step forward, he was held back by a wounded soldier beside him.

The wounded soldier pointed toward a certain spot.

It was Lushen, who was walking toward them.

The rider glared at Bronn with resentment before leaving with the other wounded soldiers.

"Master Suleiman wants to see you." Lushen did not say much, merely watching Bronn with a vigilant gaze.

Bronn stood up and cracked his neck: "Lead the way!"

Suleiman watched the man standing before him with great interest.

A lean build, black hair, black eyes, and messy stubble.

The animal skins he had been wearing were gone.

He was now dressed in simple black commoner's clothing.

One would never guess that he was a top-tier swordsman of Westeros.

If not for the fact that Suleiman happened to know the famous name of Bronn.

A celebrity of this Westeros world.

And his bizarre, utterly ridiculous ending in the television series.

"The lord wants to see me?" Bronn felt his skin crawl under the man's gaze.

He kept feeling as if this young man knew him.

As if he had seen right through him to the very bottom.

"Aren't you supposed to be breaking out of Valleydeep Town to find reinforcements?"

"I am!" Suleiman leaned back in his chair, smiling as he looked at Bronn.

A mercenary like Bronn, who prioritized pragmatism above all else.

How could he possibly risk his life to find reinforcements for a castle that could fall at any moment?

He would only ever look for a way to survive.

Suleiman suspected it wasn't as he claimed at all.

He had simply run away from Valleydeep Town.

"You are Suleiman, the Lord of Foulkeep?" Bronn was somewhat alarmed, though he did not let it show on his face.

How unlucky; could there be anything more unfortunate than this!

He gave a dry cough, attempting to mask that momentary awkwardness.

"Valleydeep Town is in imminent danger, and Lord Grover is running out of food!"

He paused, observing Suleiman's expression, but saw only a calm void.

"Lord Grover is furious with you, believing that you... you refused to help!"

Grover Valleydeep was the noble lord of Valleydeep Town.

Many minor nobles in the world of Westeros without deep heritage liked to use their fiefdom as their family name.

Yet, Suleiman's expression remained unchanged.

He stood up, and the surrounding guards drew their longswords.

At the same time, he tilted his head to signal Lushen and Roslyn.

The two, who were already standing behind Bronn, immediately pressed Bronn down onto his knees!

Bronn was terrified: "What are you doing! Lord Suleiman!"

His brain raced, calculating how many men he could take down.

But he didn't believe he could take on ten men, let alone the two hundred or so outside, so he prepared not to resist.

Moreover, he had no idea what he had done.

Could it be that this young noble felt offended in his authority because he had knocked down his six soldiers?

Suleiman prepared to bluff him.

He picked up a piece of parchment, though from Bronn's angle, it was impossible to tell if there was any writing on it.

At the same time, he slammed a dinner knife deep into the table.

"This is the letter for help given to me by Lord Grover Valleydeep!" Suleiman said expressionlessly. "And the letter also demands that I capture a mercenary who took his pay and fled!"

"Lord Suleiman, what... what do you mean?" Bronn's complexion shifted several times, and in the end, like a deflated ball, he spoke in a dry voice.

At this time, Bronn was only twenty years old and lacked the cunning and maturity he would possess in the future.

"So! You admit that you fled from Valleydeep Town?" Suleiman remained expressionless.

Lushen drew the short dagger from his waist and held it horizontally against Bronn's neck.

The blade was so close to his throat that Bronn had to struggle to control the movement of his Adam's apple.

He knew all his disguises had been torn away, leaving him naked and exposed under Suleiman's gaze.

He felt more and more that this young noble knew him, having seen right through him from the very beginning.

Before him, it felt as if he had been stripped of his clothes and was standing there completely bare.

"No! My lord! You are truly mistaken! I really did come to seek reinforcements!"

"Since Valleydeep Town is in such peril, and you, my lord, are unwilling to save them... then... could you let this humble one leave and return to deliver the news?"

Bronn clung to a final shred of hope, speaking in a hoarse voice.

Suleiman looked at Lushen.

Lushen understood instantly, pressing the short blade closer to Bronn's neck until blood began to seep out.

"Wait! Wait! My lord!"

"I admit it! I admit it! I did indeed flee from Valleydeep Town!"

"That damn broken city! It won't hold out much longer!"

"I have no intention of dying in there!"

Suleiman snapped his fingers, and Lushen pulled the blade away.

Bronn's kneeling body hunched over violently, his hands pressed against the ground as he gasped for air!

He was grateful his throat hadn't been slit!

"My lord! I truly did escape from the city!"

"That city cannot hold out much longer!"

"The soldiers are exhausted! Food is scarce!"

"Lord Lofor is indeed extremely furious with you."

Bronn's face turned deathly pale; he could no longer afford any pretense.

"My lord! Aside from the fact that I came out to seek reinforcements, there is not a single word of falsehood!"

Suleiman waved his hand.

The guards on both sides sheathed their swords.

"Very good!"

Bronn saw the young noble named Suleiman break into a smile.