Free-for-all!

Five minutes earlier.

Corleone leaned against a rough tree trunk, shadows swallowing most of his body.

The keen perception granted by [Insight lv1] allowed him to make out roughly everything happening nearby.

Seeing Vargo call Urswyck away, Corleone immediately sensed something as he leaned against the tree.

He never underestimated anyone. As Corleone himself had said, women and children could afford to be careless, but men could not. In this world where lives were worth less than weeds, a single careless moment could get you killed.

So every word and action, every move, required caution, caution, and still more caution.

He had thought Vargo would lose patience and immediately strike at the "traitor," but now it seemed the man was not quite that stupid.

After a moment's thought, he took a deep breath and stepped steadily out of the shadows.

Wait passively, leave my own fate...?

Only a fool would do that.

If there was no opportunity, then... I would create one myself!

Plan B-activate!

As Corleone walked, the farmer's timidity and shrinking manner had already vanished from his face, replaced by utter calm.

He walked straight up to the fat man, Zoro, who was gnawing on roast meat beside the fire, and held out his hand.

"Give me a roast leg of lamb."

His voice was quiet, but utterly matter-of-fact.

Zoro looked up, bewilderment crossing his greasy, fat face, as though he suspected he had misheard.

He recognized this farmer-physician who had survived through luck. The commander needed him to treat his wound, but that did not mean he could take liberties.

Seeing Corleone's serious face, he gave an openly contemptuous snort. "The lamb legs are for Commander Vargo, boy."

As he spoke, he casually picked up half a charred sheep's head with barely any meat on it from the nearby grill and tossed it at Corleone's feet.

"That's all there is. Take it and piss off."

Yet Corleone did not even glance at the half head. His gaze remained fixed on Zoro's face as he repeated, a little louder, "I... want... roast leg of lamb!"

His provocative tone immediately drew the attention of several nearby Brave Companions. They stopped talking and looked over with interest.

A lowly farmer actually dared to provoke Zoro?

What madness had come over him?

Sure enough, Corleone's hard-line attitude instantly enraged Zoro. He sprang to his feet, his right hand going to his sword hilt.

"Are you fucking asking to die?"

"I'll say it one last time. There's only the sheep's head! Keep running your mouth, and I'll chop you up and roast you to go with my drink!"

Spittle nearly sprayed Corleone's face, yet to everyone's surprise, the farmer did not retreat. Instead, he stood his ground and shot back, "I'm eating a leg of lamb today!"

"Fuck!"

Thoroughly enraged, Zoro was about to teach this ungrateful bastard a lesson.

But a faster shadow darted out from behind and to the side!

Thud!

A leather-booted foot slammed into Corleone's waist, sending him crashing into the mud.

It was Yego!

"I've put up with you long enough, you quack!"

The burly Dothraki warrior stood between Corleone and Zoro, his face filled with fury as he cursed:

"You never treated Commander Vargo's wound properly! Now it's infected and he's running a fever, all because of you, you damned quack!"

"And now you want to steal the commander's lamb?"

"I'll kill you!"

Before everyone's eyes, Yego drew the fine steel longsword Vargo had given him and made to bring it down.

The sudden turn of events left even Zoro stunned for a moment.

Wait, I'm the one he provoked. Why are you getting so worked up?

It's Qiuya's wedding...

"Don't be rash, Yego!"

Though Zoro was displeased too, he still retained some reason. Seeing that Yego really meant to strike, he instinctively stepped forward and reached out to stop him.

"The commander still needs this boy to treat..."

His words cut off abruptly.

The longsword that had seemed to be descending toward Corleone suddenly changed direction midway, plunging straight into Zoro's unguarded throat!

"Ugh..."

Zoro's eyes went round, filled with utter bewilderment.

He wanted to say something, but no sound came from his throat. He could only stare at Yego in disbelief, completely unable to understand why that sword had struck him.

Yego's face was expressionless. He twisted his wrist and wrenched the sword free.

Warm blood spurted from Zoro's throat, and his corpse collapsed limply.

It all happened too quickly for anyone to react.

The singing, laughter, and clinking of cups all vanished.

Everyone stared dumbfounded at the sight. Why had Yego, the commander's most trusted bodyguard, suddenly killed Zoro, the commander's confidant?

Then, in that deathly silence, Yego raised his dripping sword and, with every ounce of strength he possessed, let out the roar destined to set the entire night ablaze: "Long live... the Brave Companions!!!"

The cry echoed through the woods like a spark falling into gunpowder.

Rorge and Fang were the first to react, wild delight instantly bursting across their faces.

It worked!

Seven above, even the strongest of them, Yego, had fucking switched sides! The deputy commander really was a fucking genius!

We had the advantage!

On the other side, however, Timon, Pagg, Tuo Ge Qiao Si, and the other Brave Companions veterans Vargo had secretly notified were utterly confused.

The slogan was right, but why had Yego killed one of their own?

Had the plan changed, or...?

But there was no time to think it through. The instant Yego's shout ended, Rorge, Fang, and the others had already drawn their weapons under Yego's lead and slashed at them!

Their instinct to survive made them hastily draw their swords and fight back.

Clang!

The clash of metal tore apart the peace the Brave Companions had maintained on the surface.

The members of the Brave Companions who had remained neutral and knew nothing of what was happening were now completely bewildered.

A fight had broken out!

Why?

Though they had no idea what had happened...

Yego had shouted, "Long live the Brave Companions!"

And he was the commander's most trusted bodyguard. If he had drawn his sword, that surely meant Timon, Pagg, and their lot had betrayed them!

"Follow Yego!"

"Kill the traitors!"

More men shouted and joined the fighting.

The melee spread like a plague in an instant. Amid the chaos, blind obedience became the norm.

They could not even tell who the "traitors" were. Acting only on instinct, they followed their strongest warrior, swinging their weapons at anyone nearby who looked suspicious-or had merely moved a moment too slowly.

The camp became a battlefield, the wails, furious roars, and clashing blades weaving together into a symphony of death.

Firelight danced across twisted, frenzied faces as warm blood splattered everywhere.

Meanwhile, beneath the oak tree far from the fire.

When the words "Long live the Brave Companions" reached them, Vargo Hoat and Urswyck jolted almost simultaneously.

The false smiles they had just barely managed to muster instantly dissolved, replaced by the fury of betrayal.

"You damned bastard..."

Vargo's face turned livid. He instinctively reached for the sword at his waist, but weakness slowed him a fraction.

"You son of a bitch!"

Urswyck, who had remained vigilant throughout, reacted faster. The moment he heard the slogan, he decided Vargo had been deceiving him and meant to strike first.

Roaring, he tightened the hand that had rested on his sword hilt all along, drawing the blade and thrusting straight at Vargo's heart!

But Vargo was indeed a warrior capable of subduing even the Dothraki. He reacted swiftly, throwing himself backward and narrowly avoiding the killing blow.

Though somewhat ungainly, the move left the sword tip cutting only through the leather armor over his chest.

"Traitor!" Vargo roared, finally drawing his own sword. It was a heavy broadsword, inferior to the one he had given Yego, but better suited to chopping blows.

The two began a desperate fight to the death in the darkness-shrouded clearing.

Blades flashed and figures crossed, every collision driven by all their strength. Vargo still had his strength and experience, but the high fever had drained his stamina, leaving his movements sluggish and unsteady.

He panted heavily, every breath pulling at his lungs with needle-sharp pain. Sweat streamed down his forehead, blurring his vision, and the broadsword in his hand seemed to weigh a thousand tons.

Urswyck, meanwhile, was as slippery as an eel. He never met him head-on, instead exploiting his familiarity with Vargo's swordplay to dodge and circle, wearing down what little energy his opponent had left.

"Is that all you've got, Vargo Hoat?"

A bloody cut had appeared on Urswyck's face, but his eyes grew ever more excited. "Where's all that swagger of yours, 'Earl of Harrenhal'? Show me!"

As he spoke, he seized the instant Vargo's strength faltered after a slash, ducked, and lunged forward, slamming his shoulder into the other man's chest.

"Ugh!"

Vargo grunted. His already unsteady footing gave way, and he staggered backward and fell. Unable to hold on to his broadsword, he sent it flying into the mud several paces away.

Urswyck immediately pounced in excitement, only for Vargo to use the momentum of his fall to kick him squarely in the wrist, sending his longsword flying as well.

Seizing the chance, Vargo rolled violently and pinned Urswyck beneath him instead. He clamped both hands around Urswyck's throat, lowered his head, opened his mouth to reveal yellow-black teeth, and bit savagely into Urswyck's face!

"Aah!!!"

Urswyck screamed shrilly as a chunk of flesh was torn clean off.

The agony unleashed his savagery. Crooking his fingers, he gouged viciously at the festering, pus-filled wound around Vargo's ear!

Squelch...

Stinking pus, blood, and rotten flesh were scooped out. Vargo let out a howl even more terrible than Urswyck's, his entire body convulsing from pain that struck straight into his nerves.

On the muddy ground, the two highest-ranking men of the once-arrogant Brave Companions now fought like beasts competing for mating rights, struggling for the right to survive in the most primitive, ugliest way.

Swordsmanship, honor, and dignity all vanished in that moment, leaving only naked instinct.

Meanwhile, the instigator of it all had already climbed unnoticed into a crooked tree. Quietly admiring the chaos below, he smiled in satisfaction.

"Heh... picking apples for over a decade finally came in handy."