Gregor Clegane, Who "Loved His People Like His Own Children"

On the road from Casterly Rock to King's Landing.

A formation of more than twenty knights in red cloth armor traveled leisurely along the main road.

Arthas rode a tall horse at the head of the party, his long golden hair streaming in the gentle breeze.

Their party had brought no unnecessary belongings, traveling light.

After all, as fabulously wealthy Lannisters, they only needed to bring enough Gold Dragons.

With the Lannisters and Baratheons now joined by marriage, and the Seven Kingdoms enjoying a peace that had lasted many years without war, they traveled openly along the main road as though on a spring outing.

"The old lion is still the old lion."

The Imp rode beside Arthas on a noticeably smaller horse and sighed.

Although his congenital disability meant he could never become a sword-wielding warrior on horseback, the determination he had possessed since childhood had still allowed him to overcome his inability to ride.

Even if he had suffered greatly while practicing.

Seeing Arthas cast him a questioning look, the Imp smiled and explained quietly:

"I mean, even someone as stubborn as you obediently agreed to lead a party to King's Landing. Father's methods are frightening, aren't they?"

"Hah, that old bastard Tywin."

Arthas made no attempt to restrain himself as he loudly disparaged his father before everyone:

"He's less a lion than an old fox."

Still, recalling Tywin's uncharacteristic behavior the night before, Arthas felt some admiration alongside his disdain.

"The interests of House Lannister come before all else."

Tywin's tireless scheming over the decades perfectly embodied those words. For the sake of those interests, he could even bow his head to Arthas, his former "bastard."

If he honestly imagined himself in Tywin's position, Arthas knew he could never go that far.

He had to admit that, as the leader of a house, Tywin had truly become beyond reproach.

Under his leadership, House Lannister had continued to grow stronger over the years. It could be said that only a single opportunity stood between it and a complete transformation.

And that opportunity lay in King's Landing!

Arthas narrowed his eyes as he gazed east, his thoughts already drifting to the center of power in Westeros, a thousand miles away.

"Hoho!"

"Kill them! Kill them all and take all the food!"

A clamor of battle cries interrupted Arthas's thoughts. The fully armed Lannister knights heard the disturbance as well.

Well trained, they reached for their weapons in unison, casting eager looks at Arthas, their leader.

"Clegane!"

Arthas ignored the Lannister knights, who normally had far too little to do, and simply shouted. Behind him, the mountain-like Mountain slowly rode up beside him on an enormous horse no smaller than Arthas's mount.

Seemingly dealt a considerable blow yesterday, the largest man in the Westerlands had not spoken a single word throughout the journey, riding silently at the rear.

"If I remember correctly, these should be the Clegane lands."

Arthas raised his eyelids slightly and looked at the still-silent Mountain, displeasure in his voice:

"There's trouble on your own lands. As their lord, I believe you ought to deal with it yourself."

Although he was extremely reluctant to obey Arthas's orders, the other man was, after all, a member of House Lannister's main line, and these were indeed the Clegane lands.

However displeased the Mountain felt, he could not refuse. He nodded silently and squeezed his horse's flanks with his thick legs, sending the enormous animal bounding forward.

He was simply too huge. Even such a powerful horse looked like an immature pony beneath his massive body.

The knights remained where they were, watching the Mountain ride away as though enjoying a spectacle. None worried whether he would be in danger going alone.

After all, with the Mountain's strength, dealing with ordinary riffraff would take little effort, even without the full armor he had worn yesterday.

Sure enough, only a short while passed before the Mountain came back into view on his enormous horse.

He carried a thin man in one hand as though holding a chick, his body covered in blood.

Urging his enormous horse up to Arthas, the Mountain tossed the man down beneath his mount with a victor's expression. The killing just now had clearly improved his mood considerably.

"What is your name?"

Arthas ignored the Mountain, who resembled a child who had won a fight, and merely questioned the man on the ground with the smile characteristic of Westerosi nobles.

"Pike, my lord!"

The man hastily scrambled up onto his knees, his trembling lips twitching with fear:

"My name is Pike!"

"Don't be afraid, Pike. Tell me what happened up ahead."

Despite Arthas's sufficiently gentle manner, the man remained extremely tense.

With little schooling, he tried his best to polish his words, hoping only not to misspeak inadvertently and offend the noble lords before him.

"It was a band of robbers, my lord!"

"They stole our grain and defiled my wife, Jeyne."

As he spoke of what had happened to his wife, two streams of tears involuntarily spilled from the corners of Pike's eyes.

"Robbers?"

Arthas asked in some surprise:

"There are robbers in the Westerlands?"

His surprise was understandable. The Westerlands abounded in gold mines and were the wealthiest region in all of Westeros.

Although peasants at the very bottom like Pike had no access to the gold mines, thanks to the Westerlands' wealth, Tywin had always collected very little grain tax from his subjects-only fifty percent!

One should not think fifty percent was high. In Westeros, fifty percent was already the lowest tax rate among all the lords.

Even the North, ruled by Eddard Stark, who always prided himself on loving his people like his own children, had a tax rate of a full sixty percent.

Apart from the barren North, Westeros had not experienced winter for many years. As long as they worked hard enough, peasants could grow crops all year round.

Even with a fifty-percent tax, many farming households in the Westerlands still had so much grain piled up at home that they could never finish it.

Such conditions made it difficult for robbers to emerge in the Westerlands. After all, who would willingly live with their life on the line if they had enough to eat?

"Actually, they aren't really robbers. They're just..."

Pike wiped his tears. He had wanted to say more, but after glancing at the ferocious-looking Mountain, he swallowed the words already on his lips.

"It's all right. Just speak."

Arthas saw Pike's concerns at a glance and gently encouraged him to continue.

"With me here, Ser Clegane won't do anything to you."

"B-but..."

Pike seemed to have reservations and still hesitated, unwilling to speak.

"No buts, Pike."

At that moment, the Imp beside them rebuked him sternly:

"Don't hesitate. Tell us what we ask you to tell us."

"The man standing before you is Arthas Lannister, son of Tywin Lannister!"

Then, after a moment's hesitation, he continued loudly:

"First in line to inherit the Westerlands!"

"The land beneath your feet will someday belong to Lord Arthas here."

Though he was deeply reluctant to admit it, ever since Tywin had brought Arthas back, the Imp had known that the lordship of Casterly Rock was forever beyond his reach.

Pike rubbed his eyes. Only then did he clearly make out the gleaming lion badge on Arthas's chest and the red cloth armor worn by the surrounding knights.

Everyone knew that in the Westerlands, only Lannister knights could wear red armor.

After repeatedly confirming Arthas's identity, Pike immediately prostrated himself in excitement and began wailing:

"Lord Arthas!"

"Please show mercy, Lord Arthas! Save your people!"

Watching Pike weep bitterly, Arthas exchanged a puzzled glance with the Imp, then dismounted and helped him up.

Without the slightest distaste, Arthas reached out and warmly brushed the dust from the man's shoulders. His firm, strong voice sounded in Pike's ears:

"Pike, tell me whatever grievances you have. In the Westerlands, there is nothing the Lannisters cannot resolve."

Through tear-blurred eyes, Pike looked at the tall, handsome youth before him. In all his years as a peasant, he had never encountered such an approachable noble lord.

A sense of trust unlike anything he had ever felt welled up in his heart, and Pike immediately poured out the whole story.

It turned out that after inheriting his family's Clegane Keep more than ten years ago, the Mountain had privately raised the taxes on his lands, citing his enormous appetite.

When he first increased the taxes, everyone had actually been quite supportive.

Their lord was big enough and strong enough to make his subjects feel very safe. All it meant was a little more food.

But as time passed, the peasants discovered that their lord's appetite was growing ever larger.

Today he needed specially made armor. Raise the taxes!

Tomorrow he needed to buy enormous horses. Raise the taxes!

The enormous horses needed vast quantities of fodder. Raise the taxes!

Under the Mountain's frenzied exploitation, the tax rate had risen from its original fifty percent to a full ninety percent six months ago!

Those households that had previously had little grain to spare had been forced into banditry to survive. Those that still had reserves had nearly exhausted them over the past few months and would probably have no choice but to join the robbers if this dragged on.

Fortunately, there were plenty of Lannister knights, so they only dared rob people within the Clegane lands. Otherwise, robbers would probably have spread throughout the Westerlands long ago!

Mountain, you really leave people no way to survive!

Arthas sighed inwardly, his golden eyes turning toward the Mountain, whose expression remained unchanged, as though he did not consider any of this worth concern.

"Ser Clegane."

His indifferent tone betrayed none of Arthas's current feelings. He merely questioned the Mountain in the most ordinary voice:

"Is everything he said true?"

The Mountain gave Pike a contemptuous glance, inwardly despising Arthas for lowering himself to become so friendly with a commoner:

"Yes."

"As a lord, it's only right that I strengthen my forces. Only then can I better protect my lands."

The Mountain spat on the ground and glared viciously at Pike:

"I've given them the best protection, but these people have no gratitude. All they know is how to keep taking."

"Don't worry. I'll go and kill every last one of those robbers shortly. I guarantee they won't cause Lord Tywin any trouble!"

"You're the one who only knows how to take, Mad Dog!"