The tightrope

Crow's Eye's words were like a boulder hurled into stagnant water, sending ripples of fear through the crowd.

An uproar rose, then died into utter silence moments later. Every gaze fixed on Aegon.

Those gazes had changed. Gratitude had turned to resentment, reliance to alienation.

Having achieved his aim, Crow's Eye's mouth curved into a sickly smile. He turned and slowly extended his arm, bringing the dagger forward as though to leave a mark on Aegon's face.

"Ha... What will our little Dragonlord choose?"

The dagger crept closer.

Veins bulged on Aegon's sword hand as he weighed whether to strike suddenly, drawing his blade and cutting down the one-eyed bastard before Crow's Eye could react.

"Bullshit!"

Just then, Henry, who had stayed behind Aegon all along, suddenly stepped forward and raised his hammer, putting himself between them.

His voice trembled a little, but he still moved firmly in front of Aegon.

"Heh...!"

Crow's Eye's sneer had barely escaped his throat-

"Lord Greyjoy."

In a flash, Aegon stepped forward, interrupting him before he could act. He reached out and pressed down on Henry's raised arm with steady force.

Every drop of blood in his body screamed for defiance, only to be ruthlessly suppressed by cold reason.

Stay alive. Keep going. The system's check-in location lay deep within this place. As long as he reached it, there was still a chance to turn everything around.

A fight to the death here would serve no purpose.

He refused to believe that the reward for a check-in quest this difficult, one that had plagued him for so long, would prove utterly useless.

"Henry, lower your hammer." His voice was cold as iron. Then he stepped forward and met Crow's Eye's gaze. "I'm hard to kill. Whatever horrors lurk here won't take my life."

"Yours, though... that's another matter."

He hauled Henry back behind him. He could not let this honest, simplehearted fat man-the only one brave enough to step forward-throw his life away here.

There was not a trace of anger on Aegon's face. Instead, he looked almost cruelly calm, his violet eyes locked on Crow's Eye's murky lone eye without yielding an inch.

The atmosphere turned ice-cold.

Euron Greyjoy narrowed his lone eye, murderous intent spilling from him.

Just as Crow's Eye was about to act, Aegon suddenly spoke, changing tack.

His voice was quiet, yet carried the composure of someone who saw through everything.

His gaze swept over the Ironborn behind Crow's Eye, then passed over Corlyon and his guards nearby before returning to Crow's Eye's face.

"Lord Greyjoy, surely you didn't spend all that money and time just to watch us die fighting the 'monsters' at the entrance."

"Whatever you're looking for should be deep in these ruins. If no one clears the way for you, would you really be satisfied?"

"A fight here would only waste your assets."

"How about this-my people and I will clear the way for you." He cast a meaningful glance at the mercenaries behind him before continuing.

"We have to go inside either way, so why make your elite men face the first wave of danger? If we die in there, you'll have gotten your use out of us. If we find a path... won't that save you trouble?"

"If you're determined to leave us no way out right now... trust me, we dying men can still spatter you with blood before we go. Then you'll be stuck with a band of wounded men in this hellhole, and things will be even harder for you."

Euron Greyjoy stared fixedly at Aegon. His blue-stained lips twisted, finally releasing a low, cloying chuckle.

He appreciated cunning with an edge to it.

"A silver-haired boy with a brain. Interesting."

"You know the name Greyjoy? Seems I've found a fellow countryman in this hellhole!"

"Silver hair isn't common in Westeros. Let me guess. Velaryon? Or Targ... aryen!"

Crow's Eye deliberately drew out the name in his cloying voice, then changed the subject.

"But it hardly matters. I've fucked more than a few silver-haired whores. We're under the 'great' House Baratheon now. They even drove my dear brother off his throne a few years ago."

"Since you want to clear the way for me, take your flock and get a taste of the traps on my behalf."

"But remember, boy."

"If you try anything, I'll pull out the fat man's guts and wind them around your neck, loop by loop, until you stop breathing."

Crow's Eye stepped forward until his face nearly touched Aegon's, his voice lowered and filled with malicious delight.

Aegon did not retreat an inch. They stared into each other's eyes, each reflected in the other's pupil.

"Don't worry. I still intend to take them..." He looked back over the mercenaries, then swept his gaze across the Ironborn behind Crow's Eye. "...and pick the fastest ship to sail home."

With that, Aegon turned without hesitation, giving Crow's Eye no chance to speak again.

He faced the mercenaries who had just scattered and were still shaken.

He did not roar. Instead, he spoke in a voice that rang especially clear in the deathly silence, allowing no argument.

"You all heard him? Lord Greyjoy has given us a chance to live-by walking at the front."

"If you want to live, grip your weapons and follow me."

"If you fall behind, or anyone tries to stir up another escape..."

Aegon's gaze deliberately swept over Crow's Eye and his eager Ironborn. His meaning was plain.

"The monsters here won't have to do a thing. The Ironborn of the Iron Islands will help us 'save on rations.'"

With that, Aegon took the lead, lifting a torch from a nearby rack.

His sword slid free with a metallic ring.

Sword in one hand and torch in the other, he walked straight toward the pitch-black fissure, where a rank wind blew.

It was as though he were willingly approaching the gaping maw of a demon from the abyss.

At the sight, Henry gritted his teeth, hoisted his great hammer onto his shoulder, and hurried after him.

The cook-mercenary Aegon had seen at the shallows camp was among the few who had stayed beside him when Crow's Eye made his move. He was one of those Aegon had saved during the earlier attacks and had remained close to him over the following days.

Seeing Aegon head toward the fissure alone, with the fat man following close behind, the cook hesitated for a moment, then stamped his foot, snatched up a torch, and followed.

Once one went, others followed. As several men moved after him, some of the mercenaries remembered what Aegon had done for them, then glanced at the Ironborn closing in behind them.

They gritted their teeth. If death awaited them either way, they might as well take their chances with the silver-haired boy who had saved them. More and more began walking after Aegon.

Some mercenaries still hesitated, remaining rooted to the spot.

Seeing this, Crow's Eye curled his mouth in contempt and waved a hand. The Ironborn drew their blades and advanced.

Terrified, the remaining mercenaries no longer dared linger and hurried to catch up with the others.

At the head of the group, Aegon had already entered the dark passage within the fissure. Everything around him was pitch-black, with only a few yards visible in the torchlight.

His silver hair stood out in the dimness, and a bead of sweat at his temple glittered in the firelight.

Sweat made his grip on the sword hilt slippery, but he still held it tight.

Only Aegon knew how dangerous that exchange had been. It had been like walking a tightrope miles above the ground, a negotiation on a blade's edge. One wrong word, one false step, and he would have been doomed beyond salvation.

He listened as more and more footsteps gathered behind him, the clustered torches bathing the black fissure in fiery red.

Only then did he realize that the back of his clothes was soaked with cold sweat.

Aegon did not look back. His tightly pressed lips quietly curved into a faint smile.

His gamble... had paid off!