Say my name!

Only a few days had passed before chaos erupted once more in the woods of the Riverlands.

Battle cries, clashing steel, and screams came from every direction, throwing the camp into utter turmoil.

At the center of the chaos, the fight between Stow and Halsen was especially fierce.

Both were renowned fighters from Karhold, their sword strokes swift and vicious. A soldier who tried to approach was cut down in an instant, frightening the others out of coming any closer.

They fought as they moved, blinded by rage, and unwittingly left the main battlefield, battling their way into a clearing where the trees were relatively sparse.

"Stop!" Halsen parried a heavy downward slash and tried to explain:

"Listen to me!"

"Shut up!"

Stow refused to listen. Instead, his attacks grew fiercer, his longsword whistling through the air as he struck at Halsen's vital points again and again, cursing without pause. "You damned traitor! Why didn't I see you for what you were sooner?"

Seeing how unreasonable he was, Halsen grew angry too. He stopped holding back, and his attacks instantly became far faster!

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Several powerful, heavy blows in succession left Stow's arms numb and sent him stumbling backward.

Spotting an opening, Halsen suddenly lashed out with a side kick, slamming his foot into Stow's stomach!

"Argh!"

Stow cried out in pain and fell backward to the ground, his longsword flying from his hand as he stared at Halsen in disbelief.

Damn it, this fellow was actually this strong!

Just as he prepared to retrieve his sword and fight again, a cold sword point pressed against his throat.

His chest heaving, Stow glared furiously at Halsen. "Come on!"

"Kill me, you traitor!"

"I curse you! Your soul will never return to the North, never receive the protection of the Heart Tree! You'll wander forever in the cold wind!"

A flash of anger crossed Halsen's eyes at those words.

He stared hard at Stow for several seconds. Then, just as Stow closed his eyes and waited for death, his longsword plunged down.

But it merely grazed his cheek and sank deep into the dirt!

Stow opened his eyes in confusion.

Beneath the moonlight, Halsen's face was as resolute as stone.

"I'm not like you, Stow."

"My conscience has always been clear. There will always be a place for me beneath the Heart Tree."

With that, he spared the man on the ground no further glance, turned, and ran with long strides toward where Arya had been.

Only after panting for some time did Stow climb to his feet, uncertain and bewildered.

He touched the bloody cut the sword had left on his cheek, then glanced in the direction Halsen had disappeared, his gaze conflicted.

In the end, he spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, retrieved his sword, and turned to charge toward the fiercest battle cries.

Whatever happened, as captain, he had to stabilize the situation first.

Yet he had barely taken a step when he suddenly noticed a figure in a dark cloak blocking his path, strolling toward him at an unhurried pace.

As the figure walked, a longsword showed intermittently beneath the cloak.

"Fuck..."

Stow stopped and spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, mocking himself. "I should've known that damned doctor was no good."

Yet the cloaked figure remained silent and merely continued approaching slowly.

"Pretentious bastard!"

At that, Stow roared and charged, swinging his sword without hesitation!

Clink, clink, clink, clang!!!!

They clashed in an instant, their blades striking a rapid succession of sparks.

As they fought, Stow soon noticed something wrong.

His opponent wielded the sword left-handed, but the swordsmanship was awkward and terribly uncoordinated, and the blows were weak, as though he were fighting a woman.

Normally, Stow could have defeated an opponent of this caliber in two exchanges.

But he had just fought a bitter battle with Halsen and exhausted much of his strength. His arms were still sore and numb, leaving him evenly matched with this feeble opponent for the moment.

Even so, that swordsmanship was already enough to arouse Stow's suspicions.

"Who the hell are you?"

He leaped backward to put some distance between them, then shouted harshly, trying to buy time to recover a little strength.

Fortunately, the cloaked figure did not press the attack, instead obligingly standing still and slowly lifting his hood.

Stow's pupils contracted.

Cool moonlight spilled down, illuminating a dazzling head of golden hair.

Seeing Stow's expression instantly turn blank, Jaime curled his lips into a sneer. "Weren't you having such fun cursing me during the day?"

"What, you don't recognize me when I'm standing right in front of you?"

As he spoke, he raised his blade in his left hand and bellowed, "Say my name, bastard!"

At that shout, excitement suddenly filled Stow's eyes. His breathing grew heavier, and even his shoulders began to shake.

"Kingslayer... Hahaha, Kingslayer!"

"That's not my name, bastard!"

The insulting title instantly enraged Jaime.

His eyes blazing, he lunged forward with a furious roar, hacking wildly at Stow with his left-handed sword and bellowing the same words over and over like an incantation. "Say my name... Say my name!"

Yet his left hand was not his dominant hand, after all.

His reckless, ferocious assault left increasingly large openings. After one full-force clash, he actually lost his grip on the hilt, and his longsword flew from his hand, landing several paces away!

A warrior's instincts made Stow seize the opportunity immediately, driving a vicious headbutt straight into Jaime's face!

Thud!

With a dull impact, blood gushed from Jaime's nose, and he fell flat on his back.

Stow strode forward, laughing wildly as he shouted, "Your name?"

"Jaime Lannister! Jaime Lannister!"

"Remember, you'll die at the hands of Earl Rickard Karstark's personal guard... Harag Stow!"

"Die!!!"

The sword point plunged down!

But another blade moved even faster, piercing Stow precisely through the back and bursting out through his chest!

Shlk!

Stow froze mid-motion. He lowered his head in disbelief and opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

His body swayed, then pitched heavily forward, landing right beside Jaime. His eyes stared fixedly at him, as though unable to accept what had happened.

He had been so close to getting his revenge...

Still shaken, Jaime looked up and saw Corleone's harmless-looking face.

Clutching his freely bleeding nose, he struggled into a sitting position, looked at Stow's corpse beside him, then raised his head to look at Corleone.

Corleone ignored him. Instead, he first crouched and rummaged through Stow's belongings. His expression brightened as he pulled out the pouch containing a hundred Gold Dragons and tucked it inside his clothes.

"What are you staring at?"

Seeing Jaime's conflicted gaze, Corleone rolled his eyes and teased, "I know a Lannister always pays his debts, but this fellow still owed me money."

"I can't let you steal all the glory every time, can I?"

"And another thing."

As he spoke, he pointed at Stow's corpse, then at Jaime's sorry state. "Could you give me a signal before you throw your life away next time? If I hadn't gotten somewhat decent with a sword, we'd be hauling your corpse back to King's Landing."

"Ser Jaime Lannister!"