Swordsmanship

In the shadows, a grim face gradually emerged. It was Walton.

But now his eyes shifted slightly, fixing coldly on Corleone.

"How did you know I would come?"

His voice was low. As he watched Corleone standing with his sword in hand, Walton sensed no real threat from him.

On the training grounds at Harrenhal, Walton had personally watched him practice swordsmanship. Those awkward, clumsy movements had convinced him that Corleone was merely a beginner who had only just picked up a weapon.

As for the Hound...

The man certainly had a reputation, and had even won a tourney championship, but now he could barely stand.

Corleone moved his wrist slightly, his sword tip tracing a cold arc in the moonlight, and spoke in a teasing tone. "I've been thinking all along the way."

"What exactly was the 'payment' Roose Bolton sent you to King's Landing to collect? I considered countless possibilities, but none of them seemed right."

"Then yesterday, I happened to catch the way you looked at Lady Stark, and suddenly it all made sense."

Corleone smiled slightly as he spoke. "I hear that although Earl Roose Bolton's only legitimate son died, he still has a bastard. If he wants to control the North, nothing would be more convenient than marrying a daughter of House Stark, would it?"

"Unfortunately, he doesn't know that Arya Stark has already escaped King's Landing, only to happen to run into you."

Walton listened quietly, staring at Corleone with immense curiosity for a long while before sighing in deep admiration. "You really are clever, Lord Corleone."

"I've never met anyone cleverer than you. Sometimes I even think your wisdom surpasses Lord Bolton's."

"Unfortunately, clever men often don't live long. I have to take her away today..."

"Have you fucking... forgotten I'm still here!"

Just then, the Hound beside them roared without warning, raising his sword in both hands and slashing at Walton.

But just as Walton had judged, he could barely stand now, let alone cut anyone down.

An easy sidestep.

Thud!

A backhand punch struck the Hound in the face, sending him straight to the ground, right beside Arya. This time, he couldn't get up again.

"Move aside."

Walton remained utterly calm about defeating King's Landing's tourney champion, as though he had swatted a mosquito, and continued pointing his sword at Corleone.

"You're an interesting man. I don't want to kill you."

But Corleone showed no intention of moving aside. Instead, the corners of his mouth rose slightly. "Honestly, Walton."

"You're an interesting fellow too, but I really would like to try finding out what it feels like to kill you."

As he spoke, he stood with his sword ready, actually adopting a fighting stance.

"Hah!"

At that, Walton sneered. "Don't be naive. Your Dothraki guards and that big woman are still busy fighting those men from Karhold."

"You can't stop me. You don't have the ability."

"Nothing in this world is impossible," Corleone replied calmly.

Walton gave him a long look, seemingly considering something, but duty compelled him. In the end, he strode forward and delivered a clean, vicious diagonal slash straight at Corleone's right shoulder.

"Aaargh!!!"

The strike wasn't exceptionally fast, but it carried heavy force, its intent unmistakable.

As he saw it, with Corleone's poor swordsmanship, there was no way he could block this strike.

The beginning of the fight meant... its end.

But-

Clang!

A clear clash rang out.

Walton's eyes widened as he watched in disbelief, his blade once again easily parried by Corleone!

Once was a coincidence, but twice...

Frowning slightly, the experienced Walton immediately turned his wrist, withdrawing his blade while repeatedly thrusting at Corleone's chest and abdomen with tremendous speed.

This was his specialty. With his astonishing speed, almost no one at the Dreadfort was his match.

But Corleone's response surprised him again.

Although his footwork still looked somewhat disordered and clumsy, he wasn't falling behind. Even with his slightly inferior speed, he always managed to make room to dodge through broad, sweeping sword strokes.

There was no grace whatsoever to these movements, yet they reminded Walton of Brienne.

Yes, it looks like that woman really did teach him this swordsmanship. But why...

Walton was utterly shocked. He clearly remembered that on Harrenhal's training grounds, even Corleone's most basic stance had been crooked, and his sword swings had looked worse than chopping firewood!

How many days has it been?

Even if he practiced day and night without stopping, there was no way he could have honed his swordsmanship to this degree!

This kind of proficiency could only be nurtured through years of bloody fighting!

Had he been hiding his strength all along?

Or... was this boy truly a genius?

Clang! Clang! Clang!

As time passed, the clashes of their blades grew increasingly rapid.

Fine beads of sweat appeared on Walton's forehead. The longer he fought, the more alarmed he became, not because of the physical exertion, but because Corleone seemed to be adapting to his rhythm at a visibly noticeable pace!

His clumsy footwork gradually steadied, and his blade parried more and more frequently. He even began attempting simple counterattacks!

Although Walton neutralized each one, that timing and those angles of attack were nothing like a beginner's!

"That's impossible!!!"

Another powerful slash came down, but Corleone still held his sword horizontally before him with both hands and firmly blocked it.

Under Walton's shocked, furious gaze, Corleone panted heavily and actually grinned at him.

"It seems the word 'impossible' needs a new definition, Captain Walton."

He heaved upward, pushing Walton's blade away, and retreated several steps himself.

Corleone could feel that the webbing of his sword hand had already split, and his arm muscles ached terribly. The pain and exhaustion were incredibly real, yet they utterly intoxicated him.

What a rush!!!

No wonder Jaime and Brienne both liked to grab their swords and go at someone in the heat of the moment.

So this really was addictive!

Unfortunately...

Glancing at [Basic Swordsmanship lv2] on the system panel, Corleone shook his head.

He had awakened [Basic Swordsmanship lv1] back when he killed Rhaegel, then used the Gold Dragons he had taken back from Stow to raise it to lv2.

But clearly, that improvement wasn't enough to defeat Walton, one of the best fighters at the Dreadfort.

Although he hadn't lost the exchange just now, his strength and speed were far inferior to his opponent's. He had barely held on through the enhancement from [Insight lv1], combined with his own years of surgical experience.

Fortunately, Walton really was an excellent sparring partner. After that exchange, he could already incorporate some of his own understanding into the swordsmanship Brienne had taught him.

Damn it!

Seeing the excitement in Corleone's eyes, Walton couldn't help cursing inwardly.

He had no idea that Corleone was already at the end of his rope. He was merely astonished by the speed of his improvement.

If this went on, could he, Walton "Steelshanks," really lose to a beginner?

I can't keep getting bogged down fighting him!

Gritting his teeth, Walton roared, then unleashed all his strength. Gripping his sword tightly in both hands, he swept it toward Corleone's waist and abdomen with tremendous force.

This strike abandoned almost all defense, committing entirely to attack!

After all, his earlier contempt for his opponent's swordsmanship had led him into a mistake: he had relied purely on swordsmanship to duel Corleone, overlooking his advantage in equipment.

Walton was, after all, fighting an unarmored man while almost fully armored himself!

With this reckless approach, even if Corleone's blade struck his torso, the damage it could cause would be very limited.

And if he landed even one blow, the best outcome for Corleone would be immediately losing the ability to fight!

Walton intended to crush his opponent completely by trading wounds for wounds!

This strike... can't be avoided!

Yet just as Walton thought victory was assured this time.

He dimly caught sight of something.

Beneath the moonlight, a gold coin slowly rose into the air...

Ting~~~~