Seeing Lord Tyrion's expression change repeatedly, Duke Green revealed a smile: "Old soldier Lord Tyrion, do you need me to boost your morale as I did last time
Upon hearing this, Lord Tyrion stopped his chaotic thoughts and smiled slightly at Duke Green: "I trouble you."
Duke Green nodded slightly. This time, there were no inspiring words like before, only a direct reminder: "Do you think you have any other choice?"
Lord Tyrion trembled. Yes, he had no other choice. He had to seize this opportunity Duke Green was giving him.
Once he understood this, Lord Tyrion no longer feared the White Walkers.
He grinned: "Duke Green, this job is perfect for me. I was born to be the bane of dark forces."
In the darkness, Lord Tyrion climbed aboard the Night's Watch ship docked on the Blackwater River.
As soon as he stood on the deck, Lord Tyrion saw Elissa Thorne staring at him with a gloomy expression.
"Hey, Duke Green told me that Lord Tywin put the black on you, Elissa Thorne?"
Elissa Thorne said coldly, "Little man, I am the master-at-arms of the Night's Watch."
Lord Tyrion smiled: "That title really makes one feel close… Well, I want to tell you that although I bear the Lannister name, I am actually a Lannister killer, my Night's Watch… brother?"
"You haven't taken the Night's Watch oath yet." Elissa Thorne turned and left.
Compared to the master-at-arms, Elissa Thorne, Grenn, though fierce-looking, was much friendlier.
On the way to the cabin, Lord Tyrion, with his nimble tongue, subtly inquired about a lot of information regarding The Wall.
For instance, the Night's Watch numbered less than a thousand, with at most twenty literate individuals, and so on.
Later, Lord Tyrion began to suspect that Grenn was intentionally leaking this information to him. Was he worried… that this much-needed talent for the Night's Watch would run away halfway?
Arriving at his cabin, Lord Tyrion bid farewell to the incessantly talking Grenn and entered.
Then, he quickly heard a familiar, lewd voice.
"Lord Tyrion, Ser Bronn, the Blackwater Knight, is honored to serve you again."
Lord Tyrion: "…"
Looking at Bronn, who was bowing, his right hand habitually reached for his coin purse, but his left hand immediately stopped it.
He asked warily, "Have you betrayed again?"
Bronn looked up, eyeing Lord Tyrion's coin purse, and grinned: "I've always been your man, Lord Tyrion."
Lord Tyrion moved his coin purse back slightly: "Let me tell you, the person in front of you is a ruined noble. He has no money to hire you again."
Bronn straightened up and smiled: "Duke Green has already paid your compensation. My task is to protect your safety."
Lord Tyrion scrutinized the Sellsword and said, "It seems you are very satisfied. Can you tell me what it is?"
Bronn revealed a noble-like reserved smile: "When the mission is over, I will be an Earl of the Crownlands."
"Congratulations, future Earl." Lord Tyrion untied his coin purse from his waist and tossed it to Bronn.
Ser Bronn habitually weighed the coin purse in his hand, then tucked it into his embrace, and said with a grin, "Thank you for the Lord's generosity. In truth… my loyalty to you has never wavered."
Lord Tyrion shrugged and said perfunctorily, "I believe you, Sellsword."
Bronn stepped forward, revealing a fawning smile: "Lord Tyrion, before I left Stokeworth, I named my son, who will be born in a few months. He is called Tyrion, Tyrion Stokeworth."
"I am truly gratified."
Near Stone City, south of Seaguard, several hundred North Cavalry prepared to pursue a Riverlands Sellsword company that had once served Lannister.
Woo woo woo woo, the low, deep war horn sounded, and the direwolf banner fluttered in the wind.
The North Cavalry, led by Greatjon and Daisy Mormont, galloped forth, their thundering hooves like a dull, heart-pounding thunder. The ground trembled slightly under their charge.
Ahead, Daisy rode a strong warhorse, clad in black armor, her raven hair flying in the wind.
She wielded a morning star and shouted, "Winterfell!"
Not far away, Greatjon's tall, robust figure exuded a terrifying aura. His greatsword pointed forward, and his voice boomed like a bell: "Long live the King of the North!"
Facing the North Cavalry surging forward like a tide, the Sellswords were filled with terror and despair. Their hastily formed formation instantly disintegrated, and they frantically moved their legs, fleeing desperately, trying to escape this nightmarish scene.
As the distance grew shorter, Daisy shouted, "Kill!"
Her voice was clear and powerful, piercing through the entire battlefield. The speed of the wolves seemed to instantly quicken, rushing towards the desperately fleeing Sellswords like predators.
"Kill!"
Wherever Greatjon went, there was a bloody mess, and limbs flew under the sweep of his greatsword.
Many Sellswords mustered courage in despair; their final resistance, however, was quickly shattered by the North Cavalry's charge.
The land was stained red with blood, and the sounds of the battlefield gradually diminished, finally falling silent.
Upon returning after clearing the battlefield, King Robb's mail gauntlets and outer sleeves were covered in black blood. The large group of people following him were covered in dirt but laughed incessantly.
Inside the tent, Jeyne's mother, Lady Sybelle Spicer, was anxiously awaiting Robb Stark.
Seeing Robb, Lady Sybelle immediately stepped forward and asked with concern, "Your King, are you injured?"
"This is someone else's blood."
Robb raised his hand, spread his fingers, and continued, "Thank you for the intelligence you provided us, we have won, My Lady."
Lady Sybelle lightly dabbed the corner of her eye and whispered, "As long as I can avenge my daughter, I will do anything…"
Robb's gaze was deep. He paused and said, "I will avenge my queen, My Lady."
Loram Westerling (Jeyne's nine-year-old younger brother) stumbled into the tent, carrying a large bucket of water.
Lady Sybelle wanted to help, but Loram refused: "I can do it, Mother."
Robb gave his young squire a gentle smile and said, "Thank you for your trouble, Squire Loram."
Loram, having set down the bucket, heard the King's thanks. He scratched his head shyly and suddenly said, "I'll help you unarm, King Robb."
Although Loram was young, his movements were skilled. With his help, Robb quickly took off his cloak and chainmail.
Lady Sybelle had been standing there, hesitant to speak. After Robb sat down, he took the initiative to ask, "My Lady, do you have something to tell me?"
"A merchant friend of mine gave me something, and I don't know how to… handle it…"
"What is it? If I can help, please don't hesitate."
"It's about…"
As she spoke, Lady Sybelle glanced at her young son, who was busy beside the King, and said, "Loram, I need to speak with His King privately. Please leave for a moment."
Loram stopped what he was doing but didn't move his feet. He looked at King Robb.
Robb reached out and patted Loram's head, saying, "Go prepare some food for me."
The young squire then bowed and left.
Looking around the tent, Lady Sybelle took out a letter from her bosom and carefully handed it to King Robb.
"Your King, you cannot trust Lord Frey. They may have secretly allied with Lannister long ago."
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