Feeling dizzy is normal

The movement of figures in the distance immediately put everyone in the camp on alert.

Brienne and Yego stepped forward, hands on their sword hilts. At first, they were delighted to see Corleone in the lead, but their faces darkened when they noticed several Soldiers of the North following him.

A meaningful glance back was all Jaime needed. He immediately pulled up his cloak's hood, hiding his conspicuous blond hair, and withdrew into the shadows.

"Where's the medicine, Doctor?"

Rhaegel rode ahead of the others, impatiently urging him on before he even arrived. "Where's that medicine you mentioned? Go find it!"

His tone was full of impatience, and his eyes swept over everyone in camp with a trace of arrogance.

His overbearing attitude grated on the blunt-tempered Brienne. She immediately stepped forward, hand on her sword hilt.

But just as she was about to snap at him, Corleone rode up.

"Have a little patience, Captain Rhaegel!"

He deliberately moved ahead of Rhaegel, that same harmless smile still on his face. His gaze swept quickly over his companions in camp, then he made a discreet gesture in front of his chest.

Their eyes lit up. Corleone turned back and spoke again. "That potion takes a little time to prepare. Even a slight difference in dosage makes a world of difference to its effects."

"If we kill the Hound instead of making him talk, we won't see a single coin of those forty thousand Gold Dragons."

"I wouldn't gamble with my own business."

As he spoke, he ambled toward the seemingly disorganized baggage in the corner.

At this, Rhaegel clicked his tongue in irritation.

But the thought of forty thousand Gold Dragons made him immediately rein in his temper.

His reaction did not escape Corleone's eyes. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly as he pointed to an empty spot beside the campfire and said casually, "The sun's already down, and the wind gets chilly at night. Sit by the fire for a while."

"I promise I won't take long."

Yego also broke into a guileless grin. "Yes, sit! Warm!"

As he spoke, he obligingly shifted aside to clear a path. Even the usually impulsive Brienne stepped out of the way.

Faced with their seemingly warm invitation, Rhaegel glanced at his companions behind him.

They were all Northmen, but with a fire to warm themselves by, who would choose to freeze outside the camp?

Besides, he did not think anything of Brienne and the others.

A sickly man, a woman, a barbarian who could barely speak properly, and another who seemed to be mute.

However he looked at them, they hardly seemed like a group that could pose a threat to his own.

"Come on!"

Waving to his men, Rhaegel took the lead and sat down beside the fire.

Even so, their formation was carefully arranged. Sitting back-to-back, they formed angles that allowed them to defend one another.

Corleone rummaged intently through his baggage, taking out assorted bottles and jars and deliberately making them clink together, looking very busy.

Rhaegel and his men watched their surroundings warily, saying little.

A small pot hung over the fire, its meat broth bubbling and giving off an enticing aroma. Walton picked out the meat with a small knife and divided it into portions.

Everyone picked theirs up and began eating, not minding the heat. Even Jaime, a short distance away, received a small piece. Only Rhaegel and his men could do nothing but watch longingly and swallow.

"Here, have some."

Just then, seemingly noticing his discomfort, Walton speared a piece of meat with his dagger and offered it to Rhaegel.

So this fellow wasn't mute after all...

The thought crossed Rhaegel's mind as he looked at the fragrant meat and swallowed again.

Still, he raised a hand to refuse. "No need. We brought our own rations!"

At his words, a soldier beside him who had just reached out hastily withdrew his hand.

In the camp, the five Soldiers of the North gnawed on their rations, staring fixedly at Walton and the others as they feasted, almost grinding their teeth to pieces.

Only when Walton gulped down the very last of the broth did they breathe a sigh of relief.

While their attention was entirely on the broth, Corleone, his back to them, quietly slipped a sharp scalpel into his sleeve and held it in his palm.

"Captain Rhaegel."

Pretending to be busy, he made idle conversation without looking back. "I hear you're all from Karhold, right? Is it especially cold there?"

"What do you think?"

Rhaegel angrily bit off a mouthful of dry, hard bread and snorted impatiently. "Where in the North isn't it cold?"

"You soft Southrons-I guarantee you'd freeze your balls off in Karhold!"

Corleone smiled at that. "Medically speaking, the freezing point of the human body is the same for everyone. In other words, if that temperature could freeze my balls off, it should be able to freeze anyone's off."

"How is that the same?"

Though he did not understand Corleone's technical terms, Rhaegel instinctively argued back:

"We Northmen drink liquor strong enough to set our blood on fire! We could stand naked in the freezing wind all day and night without a problem. You southern weaklings can't compare!"

At those words, Walton nearly snorted with laughter nearby.

"Is that so?" Corleone did not argue further, walking toward Rhaegel as though casually. "The North is a fine place, just too cold. I've always wanted to see the magnificent Wall!"

With that sigh, he had already reached Rhaegel's side in a few steps and sat down beside him quite naturally. "Oh, right!"

"You seem very skilled with a sword, my friend Rhaegel. Lords everywhere need talented men like you these days!"

"Once we get the Gold Dragons, why not come to Duskendale with us? Earl Lych there is very close to Ser Finn. Bring your money and swear allegiance to him. With your abilities, Earl Lych might be so pleased that he makes you a viscount on the spot!"

"Then you could build a castle, marry a wife, and have a few children. Wouldn't that be much better than staying in the freezing North?"

At those words, even Rhaegel's hand holding his rations gave an involuntary tremble!

A viscount's title!

A castle!

The enticing picture stirred him immensely.

Still, Rhaegel retained a shred of reason and made a show of declining. "No, no... I've already sworn allegiance to House Karstark!"

"Earl Rickard treats me well. A Northman's honor wouldn't permit me to do such a thing..."

Squelch!

But before he could finish, a sharp dagger suddenly plunged straight into the deadly triangle beneath the base of his ear!

"Urgh!!!"

Rhaegel's eyes bulged instantly. Blood spurted along the dagger's fuller, staining Corleone's cuff red.

At that same moment!

The four others in camp struck almost simultaneously, each killing one of the remaining Soldiers of the North!

There were no cries, no fierce clash of steel. Like a play rehearsed countless times, all that sounded was a series of dull thuds as bodies hit the ground.

Still clinging to a thread of consciousness, Rhaegel only then realized that, at some point, the others had already quietly moved close to his men!

But it was too late for regret.

As he lay dying, his eyes instinctively turned toward Corleone beside him, who had been calling him a friend just moments earlier.

Through the haze, he heard only a voice.

"Take a deep breath. Feeling dizzy is normal."