Arthas glared at the three hounds on the Mountain's chest and interrupted his arrogant speech.
"A lord's duty is to protect, not exploit!"
"A lord who doesn't respect his own people has no reason to exist."
Neither in Lordaeron nor in Westeros had Arthas ever seen a lord exploit the common people as ruthlessly as the Mountain did.
To him, draining the pond to catch every last fish, an approach so plainly unsustainable, seemed entirely natural.
"Tyrion."
Without giving the Mountain a chance to argue, Arthas turned straight to the Imp beside him and asked loudly:
"Tell me, what are the words of House Lannister!"
Seeing his younger brother, who had been gentle since childhood, so furious, Tyrion immediately straightened his back and answered just as loudly:
"Hear Me Roar!"
The knights of House Lannister beside them seemed infected by Arthas's emotions as well. They raised their swords and shouted:
"Hear Me Roar!"
"Hear Me Roar!"
"Then, Ser Gregor Clegane."
Amid their cries, Arthas held Frostmourne level, its point aimed at the Mountain, who stood rooted in a daze. A piercing chill radiated from his body, and even his long golden hair seemed touched with frost:
"Are you ready to face the lion's roar!"
"Arthas!"
Amid the drawn swords and mounting tension, the Mountain slowly raised the greatsword before him and strode toward Arthas.
The Lannister knights Arthas had brought with him this time had all been trained by him personally. Calling them his personal guard would have been no exaggeration.
At the sight, the loyal knights raised their swords and rode in front of Arthas, afraid that the brainless brute would lash out in desperation.
"Let him through."
Arthas planted Frostmourne before him with both hands and gave the order in a calm, confident voice.
At his command, the knights immediately opened a path, though every eye remained fixed on the Mountain's every move.
It seemed that the moment he made any move against Arthas, they would swarm him and hack him to a pulp.
Ignoring their hostile stares completely, the Mountain silently carried his greatsword up to Arthas.
Just as the knights raised their swords, ready to strike him at any moment, he held the hilt in one hand and supported the blade with the other, then actually knelt on one knee before Arthas!
"Lord Arthas Lannister, son of Tywin Lannister."
The Mountain raised the greatsword above his head with both hands. Gazing resolutely at the boy who seemed to bear some resemblance to Tywin, he bowed his proud head.
"I, Gregor Clegane."
"Son of Owen Clegane." (The original never actually mentioned this fellow's father's name, so I could only make one up.)
"Ever since my house swore allegiance to House Lannister, we have served as its faithful hounds."
"All these years, I have loyally guarded Lord Tywin and House Lannister. Before we left, Lord Tywin gave me to you."
"Lord Arthas, though I don't know what I did wrong, if House Lannister says I was wrong, then I was wrong."
"I am willing to accept any punishment."
As he spoke, he lifted the greatsword in his hands and offered it to Arthas, awaiting his master's judgment.
Arthas reached out with his right hand and grasped the greatsword's hilt. Even with his strength, it took all his effort to lift it one-handed.
"Gregor Clegane, son of Owen Clegane."
Arthas placed his left hand on the hilt and raised the greatsword above his head, his voice firm and resonant:
"I, Arthas Lannister, son of Tywin Lannister."
"Sentence..."
The greatsword slowly descended. Just as everyone thought the Mountain was about to die there, Arthas merely tapped his head slowly with the flat of the blade.
"Sentence you to return all the grain to the people of your lands and exempt them from taxes for three years."
"???"
The Mountain, who had closed his eyes tightly to await death, abruptly raised his head and stared in surprise at Arthas's gentle face.
Then he felt strong hands grasp his arms and slowly help him up.
"Lord Arthas, I..."
"Say no more, Ser Clegane."
With clear eyes, Arthas looked calmly into the Mountain's gaze, his tone as unhurried as ever:
"As House Lannister's faithful hounds, the contributions you and House Clegane have made to House Lannister are plain for everyone in the Westerlands to see."
Then he reached out, placed his right hand on his shoulder, and commanded in an authoritative tone that brooked no argument:
"But as a lord, you are indeed unfit."
"As punishment, once we return from our business, Lord Tyrion will manage your lands for a time."
"When you have learned how to be a proper lord, I will return your lands to you."
Even the usually dim-witted Mountain knew he had escaped death this time. Looking at this gentle boy with such commanding charisma, he nodded firmly:
"I understand, Lord Arthas."
Then he took the greatsword Arthas handed him and mounted his horse again:
"I'll go arrest every last one of those bastards who dared cause trouble in the Westerlands, put them all in black, and send them north to guard the Wall!"
"I always thought you were like Jaime, a hidebound imitation of a Lannister."
Watching the Mountain recede into the distance, the Imp slowly approached Arthas and remarked thoughtfully:
"I never expected you to be the one most like Father."
"Me? Like Tywin? That old fox?"
Arthas disagreed with the Imp's assessment, even scoffing at it somewhat.
"Aren't you?"
The Imp answered as though it were obvious:
"With just a few words, you made a cruel, stubborn fellow like the Mountain acknowledge your position as first in line to inherit the Westerlands."
"Aside from our cunning old father, I really can't think of anyone else who could pull that off."
"Don't misunderstand. The way I do things has nothing to do with that old man."
"I've merely been through things that taught me that blindly charging ahead out of impulse and ignorance often turns good intentions into harm."
Arthas's eyes grew deep, his thoughts seeming to return to his days in Lordaeron, long, long ago.
He had indeed made many mistakes: young and impulsive, he had fallen under the Lich King's influence while trying to protect his homeland and its people...
He had turned against his mentor and his beloved over their differences, and, overwhelmed by a fierce desire for revenge, had taken up the cursed weapon-Frostmourne.
He reached out and touched the treasured sword before him as though caressing a lover. It had once granted him endless power and pushed him into the abyss, but now Frostmourne could no longer affect him in any way.
His sorrow seemed to infect even the air around him.
The Imp stared in surprise at his younger brother, who was only fourteen yet seemed weathered by life's hardships, his eyes revealing a weariness as though he had endured endless years.
He had never seen such a look, not even in the stooped, gray-haired old scholars of the Citadel.
"I really don't know how you can say something so wise at such a young age."
After his shock passed, the Imp laughed heartily, then rubbed his hands together and urged:
"Who cares? You'll certainly lead House Lannister one day, so I can't go wrong following you!"
"Let's hurry and get going. I've just acquired some lands!"
"Though I'll have to give them back later, I already can't wait to whip them into House Lannister's most prosperous domain."
"Father will certainly see me in a new light then."
At that thought, the Imp excitedly squeezed his horse's flanks, and it immediately galloped cheerfully forward.
"Tyrion, your hopes may come to nothing."
Gripping Frostmourne tightly, Arthas watched the jubilant Imp with some pity.
He knew full well that no matter what the Imp achieved, Tywin would only ever see him as a freak, a disgrace to House Lannister!
"Thank you so much, Lord Arthas!"
Pike bowed sincerely to Arthas, his excitement plain to see:
"With such a wise and caring heir as you, House Lannister will surely become the most powerful noble house in Westeros!"
"You're welcome, Pike."
Arthas waved a hand casually, then swung into the saddle:
"I merely fulfilled a lord's duty."
Then he sharply pulled the reins, making his steed rear high, and pointed the whip in his hand toward the rising sun:
"It's getting late. We should set off, knights of House Lannister!"
"For King's Landing!"
"Whoooo!"
The red-clad knights laughed as they galloped in the direction their master pointed, stirring clouds of dust along the broad road.
"Thank you, Lord Arthas..."
Dressed in ragged hempen clothes, Pike stood where he was, gazing at the golden-haired boy's receding figure and praying silently:
"You are a true knight."
"May the Seven bless your body."
"May the Old Gods protect your soul."
Before you continue