"Arya Stark!!!"
As the name rang out, everyone's heart skipped a beat without exception. Especially Brienne's!
Her tall body trembled violently. She didn't even have time to wonder why Lady Arya, who should be far away in King's Landing, would suddenly appear in the Riverlands, or why the Karstark men were pursuing her. All she knew was that she was in danger!
After swearing allegiance to Catelyn Tully, Brienne viewed rescuing the two Stark Ladies as her paramount honor and duty.
Without waiting for Ronin's command, she drove her heels into her horse's flanks. The large warhorse reared with a sharp neigh, then bolted down the hillside like an arrow loosed from a bow.
"Damn it! Follow her!"
Ronin had no time to scold Brienne for her impulsiveness and quickly spurred his mount to give chase. Jaime and Iggo also followed closely behind. Walton paused for a moment, a hint of hesitation flickering in her eyes, but then followed suit.
The group rode their horses, quickly rushing onto a sparsely wooded hill. As they looked down from above, the scene below came into full view.
The Karstark cavalry—about twenty Northern soldiers—had formed an encirclement, trapping a man riding a tall black warhorse in the center.
The man was exceptionally burly, wearing armor stained with dried mud and soot. He didn't seem too fond of helmets, openly revealing his signature heavily scarred, disfigured, and half-burned face. And in his arms he held a small, short-haired girl disguised as a boy, fiercely glaring at the Karstark riders encircling him.
Ronin, having read the original story, recognized them instantly. The hound and... Arya Stark!
But… according to the original storyline, the two of them should have been on their way to Riverrun or the Twins right now. How could they suddenly appear by the Gods Eye Lake?
Ronin frowned deeply. Had his appearance caused a butterfly effect, or was it something else?
He couldn't be sure.
"Lady Arya!" Just as Ronin was pondering, Brienne cried out again, panic edging her voice. She yanked on her reins, ready to charge downhill.
"Calm down! Brienne!" Fortunately, Ronin was quick this time, tightly grabbing her reins and sternly rebuking her, "Look down there! With just the few of us, charging down now won't save them. It will only get us killed along with them!"
"But thats Lady Arya!" Brienne shouted through gritted teeth, her blue eyes flickering with unwillingness. "I promised Lady Catelyn that I would bring her two daughters back safely..."
"I know." Ronin's tone softened, firm rather than harsh. "We're not abandoning her. But charging blindly isn't saving anyone. We need a plan. And don't forget, my hundred gold dragons are still in that bastard's hands."
Jaime, beside her, also advised, "He is right, Brienne. Although I don't know why Miss Arya is with the Hound, there are more than twenty Northern soldiers down there. We cannot win by force."
"Trust Ronin," Jaime added firmly. "He always finds a way."
The persuasion of the two men brought Brienne back to her senses. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she looked at the heavily surrounded Arya below, then at the sincere faces of Ronin and Jaime.
At last, she drew a deep breath and lowered the reins, forcibly suppressing the boiling protective instinct within her.
She chose to trust Ronin. Throughout their journey, the man's judgment had always proven correct. If anyone could save Arya in this situation, it was him. Moreover, even Jaime, always prideful and short-tempered, had endured Harag's intolerable insults without lashing out. She had no right to drag everyone to their deaths because of her own impulsiveness.
That was not the honor she upheld.
Seeing her calm down, Ronin temporarily breathed a sigh of relief. He turned his gaze back toward the battle below, his mind constantly racing.
Yes, battle.
He had to admit, the Hound's bravery was admirable. Despite being outnumbered, the man did not surrender.
Wielding his sword one-handed, he dashed back and forth within the encirclement. His movements were swift, and every swing of his sword was powerful.
In just a dozen seconds, three or four men had already fallen under his blade.
But two fists cannot defeat four hands, especially when he was holding a burden in his arms. And then it happened. As the Hound slashed down another man, a warhammer slammed into his back!
"Take my hammer, mad dog!"Harag Sharp's roar echoed as the Hound toppled from his saddle, tumbling to the ground along with Arya in his arms.
"Clegane!" Arya cried out in horror, struggling to crawl out of his embrace. She was unscathed, thanks to the Hound cushioning the impact for her with his body.
When she saw his ragged breathing and the blood streaming from his mouth and nose, her expression turned fierce. She drew Needle, bravely settling into the stance Syrio Forel had taught her.
But against more than twenty adult soldiers, her defiance meant nothing.
Sure enough, Harag rode up with lightning speed, and before she could even react, kicked her squarely in the chest, sending her frail body flying back.
"Hahaha!"
Harag threw his head back, laughing triumphantly. "Did you see that, Lord Rickard? I caught the little wolf cub of House Stark! To avenge you, I'll tie her up before King Robb and make him beg for forgiveness before all the Northern houses!"
"I'll have him kneel beneath the Karstark sunburst!"
But before his laughter could echo further, a soldier rushed to him in panic. "Captain! Bad news! Hogg—he took a blade to the thigh. The wound's too deep. The bleeding won't stop!"
"What?! Harag's grin vanished instantly.
Hogg was not like the other soldiers in his cavalry. He had been with Harag since childhood, and the bond between them far exceeded that of ordinary superior and subordinate. They were no less than brothers!
"Damn it! Find someone who can treat him!"
Harag shouted madly, "Maesters, priests, healers—I don't care who! Bring me anyone who can save him! Hogg cannot die! Absolutely not!"
On the hill not far away, Ronin heard this, and a sharp glint flashed in his eyes. A bold plan began to take shape in his mind.
"…Looks like I need to return to my old profession."
He turned his head, shot Jaime a grin, and gestured for him to pull his cloak up again.
He took a deep breath, then deliberately shouted in an anxious and irritated voice, "Don't move around so much, Young Lord Derick! Trust me! No one in the Riverlands can treat your illness except me!"
"Because I... am the best healer in all the Riverlands!" Ronin's voice, carried by the wind, clearly reached the battlefield below.
As expected, several Karstark soldiers turned their heads at the sound, then, as if reaching a consensus, galloped toward them.
Harag was the first to arrive. His sharp gray eyes fixed on Ronin.
"You," he spoke anxiously. "You said you're a healer?"
His eyes showed obvious suspicion and distrust in Ronin, but at the rate Hogg was losing blood, he wouldn't survive for long if his wound was left unattended. For his friend's survival, he had no choice but to desperately cling to the last straw of hope Ronin had thrown.
Ronin straightened his not-so-sturdy back. The aura of Majesty Lv2 emanated unrestrained.
"Didn't I mention it before?" He raised an eyebrow, fearlessly meeting Harag's gaze.
Harag frowned, but as his gaze drifted to Jaime, who was wearing a cloak and whom he had mentally labeled a "plague ghost," he remembered Ronin had indeed claimed to be a healer.
"Very well! Quickly! Come with me, healer!" He raised his warhammer and commanded in a voice that left no room for refusal: "My man is severely wounded and needs immediate treatment!"
Ronin instantly put on a troubled expression. He cast a hesitant look toward the hooded Jaime beside him and stammered, "But… Young Lord Derick's illness—I cannot leave him unattended. I must—"
"To hell with your plague ghost!" Seeing Ronin hesitate, Harag snapped, growing impatient. "Let him rot!"
"Or…"
He raised his warhammer and pointed it at Jaime, his voice thick with threat. "I'll send him to the Seven right now so you can focus all your attention on treating Hogg!"
"Your choice!"
As his words fell, several Northern soldiers immediately drew their swords in unison, the cold, flashing blades all pointing menacingly at Jaime.
Ronin froze for a moment, seemingly intimidated by the blatant threat. Then, deflating like a punctured ball, he said defeatedly, "…Very well. I'll go. Just... don't harm Lord Derick."
But when they began to move again, Harag once more shouted, "Stop!"
Everyone halted, watching Harag glare sharply at Brienne and the others.
"Only the healer," he said coldly. "Your companions stay exactly where they are."
"That is impossible!" Brienne snapped at his words. Her massive frame shifted directly in front of Ronin. "Ronin is our only healer. I will not allow him to walk into danger alone."
Her stern voice was filled with fierce protectiveness—for Ronin, as well as for Arya.
Following Brienne's outburst, Iggo and Walton also drew their weapons, initiating a standoff with Harag and his men.
However, instead of growing angrier, Harag grinned, showing a mouth full of yellowed teeth. "Good! A man must be worth his weight in gold if his friends cling to him so tightly."
He thought for a moment, then offered a middle ground. "You may follow, but stay half a league back and stand guard. When my man is healed, you'll get your precious healer back."
"Otherwise…"
He flexed his warhammer, letting the implied threat speak for him.
With the exchange reaching this point, Ronin naturally knew that pressing any harder would be counterproductive and might even provoke a more violent reaction from the other side.
"Alright," he said at last. "We'll do as Captain Harag says."
He took a deep breath, regaining his composure, and then turned to Brienne and the others. "Stay here and do not move. I'll return once his wounds are treated."
Then he paused and looked deliberately at the hooded Jaime, emphasizing his words, "Remember—give Young Lord Derick his medicine on time."
Beneath the cloak, Jaime's emerald eyes met his meaningful gaze, acknowledging the silent message passed between them.
With that, Ronin no longer hesitated. He mounted and spurred his horse forward, following the Karstark men.
They wasted no time. Because Hogg's condition was dire, the men rode fast; within ten breaths, they arrived at the location of the wounded man.
Hogg lay sprawled on the ground, his face pale as paper from blood loss. A soldier pressed desperately against the base of his thigh, but the blood was still constantly surging out between his fingers.
Ronin dismounted, dropped to one knee beside the man, and examined the wound. With the enhanced perception provided by Insight Lv1, he quickly made a diagnosis.
The wound was on the inner thigh. It wasn't very long, but deep. Rather than bleeding slowly, the blood was spurting out in rhythmic pulses with his heartbeat.
This was the typical sign of arterial bleeding!
The condition was critical. Very critical. If he didn't clamp it now, Hogg would bleed out to death in minutes.
Fortunately, the artery itself wasn't fully torn open. The bleeding rate was severe but still within salvageable limits.
Speaking of which, this man truly had terrible luck—sliced on the inner thigh of all places. However, he also had to be grateful for the injury, as it gave Ronin a chance to infiltrate their camp.
"How is he?"
Harag anxiously knelt beside him, his eyes fixed on Hogg's pale face and the relentlessly flowing blood. "Can he be saved?"
"It's tricky."
Ronin frowned deeply, his expression solemn, but his tone remained extremely calm and professional: "He cut a major artery in his thigh. The blood is flowing too fast."
Harag didn't understand terms like arteries and veins, but the simple phrase "The blood is flowing too fast" made him immediately grasp the situation.
The captain of the Karstark guards grabbed Ronin's shoulder, his voice laced with a hint of pleading: "Save him, healer!"
"You must save him. If you save Hogg, I will return all your gold dragons... No, I'll return twice the amount!"
Hearing this, Ronin raised his head, looked at Harag, and slowly curved his lips into a meaningful, confident smile.
He swiftly opened his portable medical kit, his eyes flickering briefly toward the Hound—bound, hands tied, and being hauled upright by a rope over a tree branch.
Averting his gaze, he retrieved a set of clamping tongs, a needle, and a length of suture thread.
"Don't worry, Captain Harag."
Ronin said, flashing a confident smile. "Without my permission, not even the Stranger can take his life."
"After all, I am the best healer in the entire Riverlands. Of all the patients I have treated, there has never been a single bad review!"