Catch That Dog!

At those words, Corleone's face darkened.

Just as he had thought, these people were unreasonable to the core, with no sense of reason whatsoever.

He clenched his fists, then took a pouch from inside his clothes. The unmistakable, pleasant clink of coins inside made several of the Soldiers of the North's eyes light up.

He tossed it to Stow, his tone carrying just the right hint of submission. "We're only poor souls hoping to reach Duskendale safely and escape the war, my lord."

"There are a hundred Gold Dragons in there. Consider it our toll."

As he spoke, Corleone gave a small, sincere smile.

Bribery was a key that opened every door in troubled times. For someone like him, who possessed a system, Gold Dragons were certainly precious, but if he lost his life, however many he had would only end up benefiting someone else.

Besides, as long as he stayed alive and reached King's Landing safely, the bathtub full of Gold Dragons Jaime had promised would still be waiting for him.

Across from him, Stow caught the pouch in one hand and hefted it.

He sneered and tucked it inside his clothes without even looking, yet showed no intention of leaving.

He raised his warhammer again, this time with a very clear target, pointing it straight at Jaime. "You've shown plenty of sincerity, but that's not what I bloody want!"

"That fellow hiding himself away-strip that covering off him! Now!"

At those words, Corleone immediately clenched his teeth.

Damned northerners. Not a shred of courtesy!

Those were all my Gold Dragons!

Forcing himself to stay calm as his mind raced, Corleone took a deep breath and activated [Dignity Level 2]. An impeccably professional look of gravity immediately settled over his face.

"No! My lord, absolutely not!"

He spoke urgently, his words reinforced by his aura. "He has a very serious disease. He has to stay tightly wrapped up, or it'll spread!"

"Bullshit!"

Despite the boost from Dignity, the distance between them was still considerable, and it barely affected Stow.

"I've fought my way from Karhold to the Riverlands, and I've never heard of a disease that needs someone wrapped up like that. Don't fucking try to fool me!"

"It's true!"

Seeing that he still did not believe him, Corleone's pupils contracted slightly. Then he firmly uttered a chilling name:

"It's Greyscale!"

"Greyscale?"

"What's that?"

At those words, the North Cavalry fell considerably quieter and began whispering among themselves. After all, the name alone sounded like nothing good.

Beside Stow, an older soldier suddenly spoke. "Captain... I... I think I heard my uncle, the sailor, talk about this disease!"

"He said he'd seen it in Essos. People who catch it get skin as hard as bark and stone. Even cutting off the infected parts doesn't help!"

As he spoke, he swallowed, obvious apprehension appearing on his face. "Let's just go. It's not worth catching something like that and having nothing to do but wait to die!"

"That's right."

Seeing that someone finally "knew his stuff," Corleone hurried to press his advantage. "This disease comes from beyond the Rhoyne. It's exceedingly strange."

"Once infected, your skin turns like gray stone and slowly loses all sensation. Eventually, it spreads over your entire body. There's no cure. The patient can only watch himself turn into a stone statue and slowly await death in agony!"

His gaze was dark, his tone deeply unsettling. "Anyone who comes close... could catch it. But he's Ser Finn's eldest son. We can't abandon him."

With his subordinate's confirmation and Corleone's embellishments, a trace of hesitation finally appeared on Stow's face.

His instincts told him there was very likely something wrong with the person beneath that cloak, but he dared not gamble. What if it really was that dreadful plague...

He stared fixedly at the motionless gray cloak, as though trying to see straight through it.

After a long standoff, he finally forced an exceedingly ugly smile and turned his horse.

"Hmph! Fucking rotten luck!"

He spat and began swearing foully. "Wasting so much of my bloody time on some plague-ridden wretch!"

"Come on, let's go find that fucking beast who mounted his own sister!"

"I hear the bastard sitting on the Iron Throne is the Kingslayer and that whore queen's bastard too! Hahahaha!"

"The Lion Family? More like the cursed family, if you ask me. They must have done so many rotten things that the gods punished them with a demon half a man's height!"

As Stow turned away, he began freely insulting House Lannister in viciously obscene terms, growing more enthusiastic with every word.

"I'll wager Tywin Lannister's wife was eaten alive by that demon, starting from down below!"

"Hahahaha!!!!"

The obscenities grew increasingly unbearable. As Corleone listened, alarm bells suddenly rang in his mind!

Damn it!!

He knew Jaime all too well, especially when it came to his beloved sister, his dead mother, and the younger brother with whom he had such a complicated relationship.

Those words were no different from repeatedly searing his soul and dignity with a red-hot branding iron!

Don't lose control...

Corleone repeated the words silently, his heart almost leaping into his throat.

Every muscle in his body tensed. He had even signaled Yego and Brienne with his eyes to be ready to respond the instant Jaime lashed out.

Yet, to Corleone's surprise, apart from a single tremor when his mother was insulted, there was no reaction beneath that gray cloak.

Harag Stow cursed until his mouth was dry, only to find that the other man remained completely unresponsive.

Finding it dull, he finally glared fiercely at the cloak and waved a hand in frustration. "Move!"

He led his men away, wheeling their horses around amid curses. They gradually receded along the Lakeside Road, finally disappearing around a bend in the woods.

Only after the dust raised by the cavalry had completely settled, leaving nothing by the lake but the wind and the gentle slap of waves against the shore, did the tense atmosphere gradually ease.

Under their gazes, a hand with clearly defined knuckles slowly lifted the gray hood.

Brilliant golden hair was exposed to the air once more, like sunlight piercing dark clouds.

Jaime turned to Corleone, whose brow was still slightly furrowed. There was none of the imagined fury on his face. Instead, he looked unusually calm.

"What?"

"Did you think I'd leap at them like a stray dog whose tail had been stepped on, then get us all killed along with that fool Rickard Karstark?"

Jaime chuckled and teased, "I'm Jaime Lannister. My life is worth far more than theirs."

At that, Corleone shook his head with a quiet laugh.

And who was it who dared charge a dragon all by himself with a lance?

Though that had yet to happen.

"Just watch, Vito."

Jaime paused, looking in the direction those men had gone. At last, a spark of certainty kindled in his eyes.

"Once we're back in King's Landing, I'll use my own methods to make that shit-spewing Harag Stow pay for every word he said today."

"Don't forget."

"A Lannister Always Pays His Debts!"

Hearing him say that, Corleone froze for a moment. Then a smile of genuine admiration appeared on his face.

He could clearly sense that the man before him had changed from the hotheaded, easily angered "Kingslayer" of his younger years.

The pain of losing his hand and the hardships along the way had been like a merciless carving knife, shaving away some of his sharp edges while leaving behind something more dangerous and resolute.

Corleone smiled in acknowledgment and said sincerely:

"You've matured, Jaime."

At that, Jaime raised an eyebrow, seemingly about to answer that appraisal with his customary mockery.

But before he could speak-

Rumble!

A sudden burst of hoofbeats, more chaotic and hurried than before, came once again from the direction in which the Karstark party had vanished, accompanied by furious, throat-rending shouts!

"Catch that damned dog!!"

"Get Arya Stark back!!!!"