Absolute Servitude

Suleiman stood in the clearing at the edge of the camp.

He looked toward the three people in the field along with his soldiers.

Bronn, Lushen, and Roslyn.

The two of them were very obedient to Master Suleiman.

Whenever they had free time, they would immediately ask Bronn to teach them swordsmanship.

Bronn had seemed somewhat reluctant at first.

But later, he discovered that this was a good way to vent the emotions in his heart.

He felt he was being manipulated! This made him furious!

And by a sixteen-year-old little noble, at that!

What he was doing with Lushen and Roslyn was less like instruction and more like a one-sided beating.

He swung a wooden sword casually, giving pointers to Lushen and Lausman with a nonchalant air.

His movements appeared lazy, yet they carried a sense of power.

Every swing, every parry, was precise and forceful.

By comparison, Lushen and Lausman appeared somewhat clumsy; their movements carried the brute force of a peasant at work, devoid of any technique.

It was as if they were swinging farm tools.

Suleiman felt that if he were to cross swords with Bronn, he could probably fight to a draw.

Perhaps he could give it a try later.

He had yet to cross blades with the top-tier combatants of Westeros.

"Not like that, you idiot!" Bronn finally lost his patience, slapping his wooden sword against Lushen's with a dull thud.

He stepped forward to correct Lushen's grip, his tone laced with undisguised mockery:

"That grip of yours! Are you trying to chop down a tree? A sword is for cutting people! Not for chopping wood!"

Lushen's face flushed red, but he still followed the instruction.

"And you! You moron!" Bronn turned to look at the other side, "What do you think a sword is? A hoe? Are you digging the dirt?!"

"Again!" Bronn let out a low shout and reset his stance.

He was very impatient, not knowing why he was teaching swordsmanship to two peasants.

These peasant guards had too poor a foundation; they had nothing but brute strength and their basic combat techniques were a complete mess.

His gaze drifted toward Suleiman, who was standing to the side.

But he had no choice; he couldn't fathom the depth of their master.

He paused, his tone softening slightly: "However, you two have made some progress. You aren't complete swine!"

"Remember, when you can't win, strike at the vitals."

"Eyes! Ears! Throat! Crotch! Be as ruthless and shameless as possible!"

"Remember! A fight is about staying alive! Not about some honor!"

Suleiman watched from the side, a hint of a smile flashing in his eyes.

These were all the hard-earned lessons of a mercenary.

Although Bronn's character was poor, he truly had real ability.

On the battlefield, only staying alive was the absolute truth.

What meaning was there in dying for honor?

Though his instruction was crude, it went straight to the point.

After only a moment of observation, Suleiman could see that Lushen and Lausman's stances had improved, even if they were still raw.

Bronn glanced at Suleiman, seemingly checking if the young noble was truly watching.

Upon confirming that Suleiman's gaze was indeed fixed on him, he knew he had to show some real skill.

He looked at Lushen and Lausman: "I will demonstrate it for you once. Pay attention to my footwork and my center of gravity!"

This time, Bronn's movements became coherent and fluid, like a wolf hunting its prey; every step and every turn carried a lethal rhythm.

He was no longer just venting his emotions; he was truly teaching.

Suleiman pinched the bridge of his nose.

This mercenary was indeed a man who knew how to read the room; he knew Suleiman was watching, and he knew Suleiman's intentions.

"Lushen, Lausman." Suleiman's voice rang out, interrupting their training. "Go and prepare, and gather everyone."

"The rest period is over!"

He then looked at Bronn with a half-smile, "Have you gone to offer your apologies to the soldiers you injured?"

Bronn's mouth twitched, but he replied, "Of course! Lord Suleiman! I have already been!"

"Very good!" Suleiman nodded, not pressing for details, and simply gestured for him to follow out of the tent.

Inside the command tent, Lushen and Roslyn had finished assembling the troops and arrived.

The four of them stood around a wooden table, upon which lay a map outlining the general terrain surrounding Valleydeep Town.

Suleiman moved his finger across the map, his voice calm, "Scouts report that the Wildlings have split their forces, roughly four to five hundred men."

"They are searching for tracks, looking for us."

The atmosphere inside the tent turned instantly solemn and oppressive.

The units they had been fighting until now were merely small bands of Wildlings.

Now, they were likely to face a force that outnumbered their own.

Bronn looked at the sudden tension in the tent and grinned, "This is a good thing; these idiots finally couldn't help themselves."

"Split-up Wildlings are always easier to deal with than those huddled together."

Suleiman nodded, acknowledging Bronn's remark.

Seeing the nod, Bronn paused and added, "However, four or five hundred is not a small number."

"While your men have the will to fight, they are likely no match for them in a head-on confrontation."

"I have no intention of fighting them head-on." A strange smile curled the corners of Suleiman's mouth. "What I want is to devour them with the smallest possible cost."

This was a critical battle; Suleiman could not afford to fail.

Seeing that expression on Suleiman's face again, Lushen and Roslyn felt goosebumps rise all over their bodies.

Roslyn spoke up hurriedly, "Lord Suleiman, we have done an excellent job of covering our tracks!"

"The Wildlings definitely won't be able to find us!"

Suleiman looked at Lushen and Roslyn with a smile, "No, from now on! I want you to leave tracks!"

"Why? Lord Suleiman?" Lushen and Roslyn were deeply shocked.

Bronn looked silently at the young noble, who was only sixteen years old.

He couldn't possibly be thinking of taking his three hundred men to face the Wildlings head-on.

He admitted that this unit had combat effectiveness.

But their equipment was far too poor.

Moreover, he did not believe for a second that this force had the capability to fight the Wildlings in a direct engagement.

Suleiman pointed to the route on the map and commanded Bronn, Lushen, and Roslyn:

"Bronn! I will give you a Wildling warhorse! I want you to lead five riders from my unit to leave tracks for the Wildlings!"

"Let them follow us! But you must maintain a distance of half a day's journey!"

"Do not get entangled by them, and certainly do not get cut off."

"You are the bait to lure them, and you are also our eyes and ears."

Suleiman's gaze locked onto Bronn's, carrying a hint of warning:

"Remember! While Wildlings may lose their reason when they fly into a rage, they are not stupid! If the tracks are too obvious, they will grow suspicious!"

He then looked at Roslyn:

"Your task is to coordinate with Bronn and leave signs of habitation along the way."

"Roslyn, you are to destroy every well and water source along the route."

Suleiman's tone grew heavy:

"Not just a simple blockage! You must make them undrinkable!"

"Throw in livestock, or anything that will rot quickly and emit a foul stench!"

"At the same time! Burn all the farmland!"

"Any stored food that the Wildlings might plunder must be burned!"

"Anything they might find to satisfy their hunger—burn what can be burned, destroy what can be destroyed!"

Suleiman drew the short dagger from his waist and slammed it into the map, "Villages with people! Abandoned villages! This town right here! Burn them all!"

The tent fell into silence.

"Tell them to go to Foulkeep! I will return their land and homes to them!" Suleiman said slowly, "For all the livestock you slaughter, you must leave them a voucher!"

"Tell them that Lord Suleiman of Foulkeep has purchased their livestock! I will pay them!" His voice dropped lower, "Tell them the Wildlings are coming; if they are unwilling to leave, do not force them."

Suleiman then pointed to the river valley on the map: "Lushen! Your task cannot fail! The timing must be perfect!"

"I need you to lead two hundred men over the next few days to build a dam!"

"The dam must not collapse early! Nor can it collapse late!"

Suleiman grabbed Lushen by the shoulders.

"This mission cannot fail! My life is in your hands!"

Lushen's eyes turned red, and he gritted his teeth: "Yes! Master Suleiman!"

Bronn stared at Suleiman, his face full of shock.

Damn it! Is he really only sixteen years old!