You owe me a favor

"She's mine, Doctor!"

Despite being so exhausted he could barely stand, the Hound forced himself to lift his heavy longsword and staggered forward a step, shielding Arya completely behind him.

He bluffed, raising the longsword in one hand, though its point kept trembling slightly as he aimed it straight at Corleone. With a fierce show masking his weakness, he roared, "Take another step, and I'll... slaughter you just like I killed that fellow!"

Watching the stubborn man, Corleone remained silent, making no move to mock his obvious weakness.

He approached a few more paces, only dismounting at his leisure once the distance between them had narrowed to the limit the Hound would tolerate.

Shing!

With a clear scrape of metal, Corleone drew his sword.

Oh, it had been Stow's before.

"No!"

Seeing Corleone advance with his blade and the Hound take an aggressive step forward in response, Arya screamed.

She lunged forward, clinging tightly to the Hound's armored boot as she shouted, "He's helping me! It was him!"

"He suggested I cause a disturbance and persuade Halsen to stand up to Stow!"

After the bloody lesson just now, she had finally learned to explain things clearly before a conflict escalated.

"What?"

A flicker of astonishment crossed the Hound's one eye. He instinctively glanced down at Arya, then jerked his head up to stare at Corleone.

He quickly went over the day's events in his mind and did indeed begin to see something in them.

Yet just as the Hound was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he noticed that Corleone was still advancing steadily without a word, his sword held level.

He was clearly neither particularly tall nor burly, but his bearing was immensely imposing.

"Stay back!"

Even with Arya's explanation, the threatening gesture still put the Hound on high alert, and he issued another sharp warning.

Fortunately, at that shout, Corleone finally stopped a few paces away from them.

The Hound panted, struggling to maintain his defiant stance. "I don't know why you want to help us, Doctor."

"But she's my prisoner now, and I'm taking her away. Now! Right now!"

Once he had made his position clear, Corleone finally spoke. "That was indeed my plan, but..."

"What do I get out of it, Ser Clegane?"

His voice was calm, as though he were discussing who owned a piece of merchandise.

At that, the Hound straightened his back. "What do you get?"

"You don't lose your life for nothing over this. Is that enough?"

"Oh?"

Faced with that threat, Corleone merely tilted his head, an expression appearing on his face as though he were genuinely considering it.

That expression made the Hound think he was afraid of him, and he turned to leave with Arya.

"Not enough."

"What?"

The Hound almost thought he had misheard. He turned back and stared wide-eyed at Corleone.

"I said..."

Corleone raised his eyes. Moonlight filtered through the leaves, making his eyes shine brightly.

For an instant, the Hound felt as though the man had seen through his flesh and blood, right through his outward pretense!

"The terms you offered aren't enough."

Ignoring whatever was going through the Hound's mind, Corleone continued, "I like nothing better than doing business."

"However, a deal has to be equal for both parties."

"Quite clearly," he said mildly, his gaze passing over the Hound's trembling sword point before moving up to his pale face.

"The terms you're offering aren't fair, ser."

As he spoke, he took another step forward.

That step made the Hound's heart sink completely.

He knew his bluff was about to be exposed.

Normally, he could have taken five men of Corleone's sort with one hand, but now that he had exhausted all his strength, the Hound had no confidence at all.

He had gone three whole days without food!

Gritting his teeth, the Hound made one last attempt to persuade him. "I don't have any Gold Dragons for you. Not a single coin!"

"That scoundrel Beric Dondarrion robbed me of all my money before those bastards ever caught me. They had no honor. They lost the trial by combat but still held on to most of my possessions, leaving me only my horse and armor."

"If not for that, I wouldn't have gone hungry for three whole days!"

The Hound explained angrily, instinctively assuming that Corleone was refusing to let him go because of those elusive forty thousand Gold Dragons.

Yet the man's answer took him completely by surprise.

"No, no, no..."

Corleone slowly shook his head. "Forty thousand Gold Dragons is certainly tempting, but I'm not after them."

"Dondarrion and his Brotherhood Without Banners are virtually unmatched in the Riverlands. I have no reason to snatch food from a tiger's jaws."

As he spoke, his gaze traveled over the Hound and Arya, and he grinned. "I want you... oh, no, both of you."

"To owe me a favor."

The demand was completely beyond the Hound's expectations, even leaving him somewhat bewildered.

Owe him a favor?

Was he fucking insane?

He had thought Corleone would make a more specific demand, such as asking for his armor or weapons, or even having him kill a particular person.

But "owe him a favor"?

What was that supposed to mean?

What sane person would make a demand like that at a moment of life and death?

Looking at Corleone's calm face, the Hound felt for the first time that this unfamiliar doctor was far stranger and more dangerous than he had imagined.

"...Fine!"

Though he could not understand it, the Hound had no desire to keep tangling with this strange fellow. He only wanted to get away as quickly as possible. "I owe you a favor. Both of us do. Can we leave now?"

With that, he pulled Arya up and turned to go.

"Wait..."

Sure enough, Corleone's voice sounded behind him again like a curse.

"What now!" The Hound had completely lost his patience and growled irritably.

This damned doctor was even more annoying than the Mountain!

But Corleone remained composed, stating with easy calm, "You weren't serious, ser. Your answer was far too casual, which means you haven't taken the weight of this favor to heart at all."

"You haven't even asked my name."

"Enough!"

The Hound was so irritated he could almost explode. He wanted only to get away from this madman. "I'll remember! I'll fucking remember!"

"No, you won't."

Corleone still shook his head, his gaze sharpening.

"People are always forgetful, especially about things they don't want to remember."

"I need you to remember this favor for the rest of your life, and when I need it, you must repay it, no matter what."

"So, to make a lasting impression..."

Before he had finished speaking, he strode forward and swung his longsword sharply out in front of him!

Clang!!!

The Hound instinctively blocked with all his strength, only to find nothing in front of him.

He turned his head in astonishment and saw that Corleone's blade had intercepted, precisely, a sword thrust silently out of the shadows beside him!

Corleone flexed his wrist and knocked the blade aside, then turned his head and grinned into the shadows, his tone carrying a hint of mockery. "You took your time."

"What, has 'Steelshanks' gone rusty?"

"...Captain Walton?"