In his haze, Leon dimly heard voices calling to him...
"Young master... wake up..."
"Leon... hurry..."
In his dream, the images in Leon's mind chilled him to the bone. Blood... blood everywhere...
It was the figure of a young woman, lying in a pool of blood...
"Young master, wake up." Thea tugged at him as she spoke quietly, her voice taut.
Leon jolted awake, pale and drenched in cold sweat. He forced his eyes open and looked at Thea. "Wh-what is it?"
Thea was not looking at him. Her gaze was fixed past the stairs on the corner at the far end of the covered bridge, her right hand moving unobtrusively toward her waist.
Her long dagger was hidden there, a keepsake from her late husband.
Leon instantly picked up on something wrong:
Heavy breathing came from beyond the distant corner of the bridge.
Not one person. At least three.
Unfamiliar sources of light, suffused with deep crimson, scarlet, and pitch-black, with utter savagery and murderous intent.
"Run outside." Thea abruptly pulled Leon up and raced down the stairs with all her strength.
Dark figures immediately lunged along the bridge toward them.
They were three men wearing the leather armor of Casterly Rock guards, but their movements were clumsy, their bodies lacking any trained coordination.
Their leader was a brown-haired young man, his face flushed red, his eyes shining with a feverish, drunken light.
"Monster," he rasped, his voice distorted by nerves. "You make everyone stare at you, make her... make Lady Cer... sei..."
He said no more, merely drawing the sword at his waist. The other two held ropes and a sack.
Thea reacted with astonishing speed. She pulled Leon toward the gap by the railing behind her while holding her dagger out in front.
Silver light traced an arc through the dim bridge, stabbing precisely into the first attacker's arm joint.
The man screamed and slumped sideways against the wall.
But the second man had already circled around from the side, lunging straight for Leon.
Leon desperately tried to dodge, but the panic of facing his first assassination attempt robbed the muscles of his impaired body of their usual trained condition, slowing his response.
That large hand was about to seize his arm... when a force knocked him toward the railing.
It was Thea.
Leon struck the stone railing with a muffled grunt, his throat feeling blocked.
But his Eye of Insight was working frantically, analyzing every attacker's inner vulnerabilities, anything he could exploit.
By then, it was too late to retreat. The third man had already circled around.
The only opening was the narrow gap between Thea and the railing, leading toward the maester's tower...
"Bitch!" The attacker who had almost succeeded turned furiously toward Thea.
"You're not getting through!" Thea saw through his intention. Instead, she blocked the gap more completely with her body, thrusting her dagger at the lunging attacker.
The dagger slashed across his arm, drawing a spray of blood.
The attacker grunted, but his movements never paused. With a backhand swing, he slammed the short club in his hand into Thea's shoulder and neck.
Crack! The sound of breaking bone set teeth on edge.
"Ugh!" Thea groaned in agony and toppled sideways, yet before she fell, she somehow used the last of her strength to thrust the dagger sharply upward!
There was no technique to the thrust, but it carried the resolve of a beast protecting its young.
The dagger drove upward through a gap in the leather armor over the attacker's chest and abdomen, sinking to the hilt.
The attacker froze.
He lowered his head, staring incredulously at the dagger hilt buried in his body, then looked at the woman who shielded the child behind her with half her body.
Blood surged from his mouth. He toppled forward, landing heavily on Thea.
Just then, the feverish-eyed young man raised his longsword and thrust at Leon from the side.
Seeing that Leon was about to be stabbed, Thea desperately shoved the corpse off herself and turned to pull Leon away, exposing her entire side to the blade.
"No!!! Left! Dodge left!" Leon screamed.
Thea instinctively shifted left.
But it was still too late.
The shortsword pierced beneath her shoulder blade and passed through her chest.
Her whole body stiffened, her eyes widening in disbelief.
Time seemed to freeze.
Thea's lips moved without a sound, but Leon understood what they said:
Run.
Then, with the last of her strength, she thrust the dagger in her hand backward to the side.
The dagger passed beneath her armpit and stabbed precisely into the young man's abdomen.
He released the sword hilt and staggered backward, both hands pressed over his gushing wound, his face full of bewilderment and pain.
Thea dropped to her knees.
She turned to Leon, her eyes holding only a profound, almost pleading urgency.
"Run..."
The man with the wounded arm struggled to his feet. Seeing this, he steeled himself, turned, and reached for Leon.
Leon sprinted toward the maester's tower with every ounce of strength he had. The slippery stone steps nearly sent him falling several times, and his heart pounded in his chest as though it would burst.
The tower door was just ahead. He could already see light spilling through it and figures moving inside...
A large hand seized the back of his collar and lifted him clear off the ground.
Suffocation instantly gripped his throat.
The attacker was about to carry him away when the tower door burst open.
A short figure rushed out, carrying a heavy tome and seemingly about to leave.
Tyrion.
He had clearly been disturbed by the commotion outside and saw Leon dangling by his collar, struggling in midair.
Tyrion reacted with astonishing speed, immediately hurling the heavy Compendium of Mineral Vein Distribution in the Westerlands in his arms at the attacker's face with all his strength.
The book was heavy, its edges bound in copper.
It spun through the air and, with fortunate accuracy, slammed into the bridge of the attacker's nose.
Thud! A dull impact sounded, accompanied by the crack of breaking bone.
"Aah!!!" The attacker loosened his grip in pain. Leon fell to the ground, coughing violently.
Like an enraged little lion, Tyrion snatched up a long-handled copper rake by the door, used for clearing fallen leaves from the eaves. Gripping it in both hands, he charged forward screaming, jabbing its points wildly and frantically at the attacker.
"Get away! You piece of dog shit! Stay away from him!"
The sudden, frenzied attack, utterly without technique, left the attacker scrambling. He knocked the copper rake aside, but it cut another bloody gash across his face.
More importantly, footsteps and shouts from more people were already coming from inside the maester's tower, and an alarm bell rang out from the distant main keep.
The attacker knew he could not succeed.
He shot Tyrion a venomous glare, glanced at Leon, who had just climbed to his feet, then turned without hesitation and raced toward the other end of the bridge, vanishing into the shadows and the tangled gaps between buildings.
Tyrion stood gripping the copper rake, breathing hard. Only once the attacker had disappeared did he collapse onto his backside as though his bones had been pulled out, the rake clattering down beside him.
His face was deathly pale and his hands trembled, but his eyes remained fixed on Leon. "Are... are you all right?"
Leon shook his head and stumbled over to Thea.
Blood.
Too much blood.
Warm liquid soaked his fingers, cuffs, and the front of his clothes. "Thea..." Tears spilled unbidden from Leon's eyes.
The wound in Thea's chest was like a dreadful spring, each faint heartbeat carrying away more life.
Leon pressed both hands hard against the wound.
Suddenly, the world before his eyes changed.
Time seemed to stretch and slow. The trajectories of falling blood drops, the rate at which Thea's fading pupils dilated... everything broke down into the most basic data and flowed into his consciousness.
The Eye of Insight.
It roared with unprecedented intensity.
A new ability awakened-Analysis.
[The sword tip's exit wound is located 2 centimeters below the collarbone, causing a laceration approximately 1.5 centimeters long. The primary bleeding point is 1.2 centimeters deep to the left of the blade. Heart rate is 47 beats per minute and continuing to decline. Breathing is shallow and rapid. The left lung lobe is flooded with blood. Core temperature has fallen to 35.2 degrees. Pupillary light reflex is sluggish but still present... She will die of hemorrhagic shock within 8 minutes and 30 seconds.]
"Don't move her!"
Leon heard himself scream, his voice strange and shrill. "The sword is still in her! She'll die immediately if you pull it out!"
The arriving guards froze.
There was an unquestionable authority in this seven-year-old child's voice.
Maester Loomis rushed onto the bridge carrying his medical chest.
His face turned deathly pale at the sight, but he immediately knelt on Thea's other side, his fingers swiftly checking her carotid pulse and lifting her eyelids.
"A penetrating wound, right lung, massive blood loss..." Loomis's voice trembled. "We need to stop the bleeding immediately, but in this location..."
"A branch of the pulmonary artery is damaged," Leon said urgently, his eyes fixed on the wound as though he could see through flesh and skin...
Loomis stared at him in shock. "Young master, how did you..."
"Please trust me!" Leon raised his head, his pale violet eyes holding an almost feverish concentration. "But I don't know how to do it. I need you to perform it. I can tell you every step."
Time was passing.
Thea's lips began to turn white.
Loomis hesitated for only an instant. "Tell me what to do."
The next seven minutes became the strangest and most tense rescue of Maester Loomis's career.
Leon's voice was steady and precise, like an emotionless navigation device:
"Slowly rotate the hilt, fifteen degrees counterclockwise... stop. Inject Milk of the Poppy..."
"Spider-silk sutures. Spider silk is finer and causes less irritation..."
"Press your finger on the spot I marked. Yes, right there. You can feel the pulsatile bleeding weakening..."
"Start withdrawing it, one millimeter per second. Pack it at the same time with gauze coated in hemostatic moss powder..."
Loomis's hands trembled, but he still followed the instructions precisely. Yet he felt afraid.
Everything Leon said proved correct in the procedures that followed. It was as though he truly possessed eyes that could see through the human body.
What alarmed Loomis even more was that Leon kept providing real-time data on Thea's vital signs throughout:
"Heart rate down to forty-one. She needs a cardiac stimulant. Two drops of nightshade extract under the tongue..."
"Core temperature, 34.8 degrees. Prepare blankets and warm-water bags. Avoid overheating the chest and abdomen and causing bleeding..."
Once both wounds had been temporarily closed and the bleeding points ligated, Thea's vital signs stabilized for the moment. She was no longer on the brink of immediate death.
"The blood in her chest needs draining." Leon's voice began to weaken. Cold sweat covered his forehead, and blood flowed from his nose...
It dripped onto Thea's cold body, drop by drop. Stabbing pain in his eyes and dizziness in his head battered him relentlessly. This was the price of overusing the Eye of Insight.
"But we can't... move her again. Do it... right here."
Loomis looked at this child, his nose bleeding and his eyes bloodshot, yet still giving instructions. He nodded and took a leather tube from his medical chest.
As the blood drained from her chest, Thea's breathing finally eased somewhat.
"Now... she can be moved... carefully," Leon said. He rose unsteadily. "To the top floor of the maester's tower. Keep monitoring her... the next two days are critical. She might... develop a fever."
The guards fashioned a makeshift stretcher from a door panel and lifted Thea with utmost care.
Loomis was about to follow when Leon weakly caught the hem of his robe.
He looked down and saw Leon's upturned face, those pale violet, bloodshot eyes watching him with utter seriousness.
"Maester Loomis," Leon said very softly, but every word was clear. "What happened tonight... what I 'saw,' please keep it secret... from everyone, including my father."
Loomis swallowed. He understood the weight of this request.
"I swear upon my maester's chain," Loomis answered quietly. "Tonight, I saw only a brave child helping save his wet nurse. Everything else was a hallucination brought on by excessive fright."
Leon nodded and released his grip.
He seemed to grow several years younger in an instant. All his composure and authority vanished, leaving only an exhausted, terrified child covered in blood.
"Thank you," he said softly. "Thank you for saving her."
Loomis gently wiped the blood beneath Leon's nose with his sleeve. "Go and rest, young master. I will keep Mistress Thea alive."
Leon nodded and turned unsteadily.
Before leaving the bridge, he glanced at the pool of blood that had yet to dry, and at Thea's dagger lying in it.
She was still alive.
Merely alive...
That was enough.
Rain began to fall, striking his face and mingling with the still-wet bloodstains and blood from his nose.
A warm cloak smelling of sweat settled over his soaked shoulders.
Tyrion came to his side, his face still pale, though his hands had stopped trembling.
After a long silence, Tyrion finally spoke in an extremely low voice. "They were after you."
Leon nodded.
"I'll find out who it was," Tyrion said, his voice carrying a cold hardness Leon had never heard before. "My way."
Leon turned to look at him.
Tyrion's profile was taut in the rain, flames of anger burning in his mismatched eyes, along with a trace of lingering fear.
"You saved me," Leon said hoarsely.
"You're my brother," Tyrion answered, not looking at Leon, his eyes still fixed on the bloodstained ground. "Even though Father says we're 'cursed'... you're my blood. Mine."
He spoke that last word very softly, yet with great weight.
The rain fell harder and harder, washing the blood from the stone steps, but it could not wash away the rusty smell and the air of death.
Casterly Rock's response was swift and efficient.
Within a quarter of an hour of the incident, Lord Tywin had received a full report.
He inspected the scene himself and questioned Tyrion and Maester Loomis, his expression as cold and hard as Casterly Rock's granite.
Suspicion seemed to point toward Cersei. The motive was all too obvious, and rumors spread among the servants like wildfire.
But Tywin did not immediately draw a conclusion.
Five days later, under Loomis's tireless care, day and night, Thea's condition miraculously stabilized. She remained unconscious, but her life was no longer in danger.
That same day, Lord Tywin called a brief family meeting.
Nearly everyone was present:
Tywin, Kevan, Gerion, Cersei, Jaime, Leon, and Tyrion.
The only exceptions were Tygett, who would not return, and Anna, who was tending to her husband and children.
It was the first time the twins had been allowed to enter this room, which symbolized supreme authority.
Tywin stood at the window with his back to them, gazing out at the sea.
He turned, his gaze falling directly on Leon and Tyrion.
"Thea Marbrand is alive," Tywin said, his voice utterly level. "Maester Loomis says it is almost a miracle."
His gaze lingered on Leon. Then he did something none of them had expected.
He walked up to Leon and crouched down.
The towering Warden of the West, the Lord of Casterly Rock, crouched to meet the eyes of his seven-year-old dwarf son.
Those cold green eyes scrutinized Leon's pale violet eyes at close range.
The study was so quiet that the crackling of the firewood in the hearth could be heard.
Tywin studied Leon for about ten seconds, then slowly rose.
"Starting tomorrow," his voice echoed in the silence, "Leon and Tyrion will intensify their swordsmanship training and combat skills. Fengkai, all day."
Tyrion jerked his head up in disbelief.
"Double the guards. Change the routes daily." Tywin's gaze swept over Cersei, then returned to his two youngest sons as her face gradually paled.
"You... even if you are cursed Lannisters, shedding your blood within this castle comes at a price."
He paused, then said at last:
"And those who survive must learn how to make bloodshed worthwhile."
The meeting ended.
As everyone dispersed, their expressions varied, while Cersei all but rushed out.
Jaime cast a worried glance at his two younger brothers and followed her.
Kevan and Gerion left in silence.
Only Tywin remained in the study. He returned to the window and gazed out at the gloomy sea.
Behind him, a freshly written order lay open on the desk, its ink still wet:
Leon Lannister and Tyrion Lannister are permitted to undergo the family's systematic training, with resources allocated at the intermediate level.
Observation period: three months.
In the corner of the order was a line of tiny writing, a note that seemed to have been written unconsciously:
Those eyes... just how much have they seen?
Outside the window, a gap opened in the clouds. Sunlight pierced the sea like a sword, turning the waves to shattered gold.
And in the sickroom on the top floor of the maester's tower, Thea Marbrand's fingertips twitched faintly in the unnoticed silence.
As though, in her sleep, she had tightened her grip on an invisible sword hilt.