Chapter 19: Humble Pawn
"I really don't know why you're so furious. Just because you couldn't kill your enemy yourself? You want to kill me? You even resort to mad ravings to slander me?" Seeing that the situation had turned around, Ian pressed the issue. "I'm sorry, I didn't know the hatred between you ran so deep. What did that man do? Sleep with your wife?"
In an instant, the laughter around them intensified.
"Thirty," Harry held up three fingers. He couldn't explain to the sellswords, so he simply spoke to them in a language they understood best. "Kill him, and I'll give you thirty gold dragons."
The sellswords' laughter stopped abruptly. Ian felt only burning gazes cast upon him, and the air was thick with greed.
"Oh? Really? Are you trying to compete with a Lannister in wealth?" Ian sneered, then looked at the sellsword captain, Ser Camel. "Kill him. Whatever he offers, I'll double it."
"You can't afford—" Harry said mid-sentence, then suddenly remembered that the other party had already claimed the First Blood reward. He clenched his fist and swallowed his words.
"Of course I can afford it," Ian replied with a smile. He was about to claim the reward immediately through the system and take the money from his backpack, but then a sense of caution struck him.
These sellswords are all Harry's men. What if they're tempted by the gold and decide to rob and kill me?
"I don't have the coin with me right now," Ian said with a dismissive look. "But my squire will bring it over shortly. A Lannister always pays his debts. For a thousand years, we have never defaulted."
No one doubted Ian's words. Whether it was his status as a Lannister bastard or his lavish attire, Ian's claim carried weight.
"Annie, I don't have time to access the system right now. Can you claim the prize for me?" Ian hurriedly asked.
"Yes. The gold dragon rewards have been distributed. Due to insufficient player storage space, some of the gold dragons will be carried and delivered to you by the reward NPC."
One liter of gold weighs approximately 82 pounds, while 3,000 gold dragons weigh approximately 100 pounds. Furthermore, the size of the gold coins and bars will take up considerable space, so a single storage backpack simply can't hold that many gold dragons.
But... why does this suddenly feel like I'm waiting for a delivery? Ian muttered to himself, but he knew now wasn't the time for jokes.
"When will the reward NPC arrive?"
"You have three options for your chosen NPC this time: [Warrior's Son], [Raven's Teeth Guard], and [Elite Sworn Sword]. Once you select, they will arrive from the nearest spawn point, three miles away."
Hearing these three choices, Ian was stunned, as the first two orders had long since vanished into history.
The Warrior's Sons were the name of an armed order of the Faith of the Seven, disbanded during the reign of Jaehaerys I, the Old King, the fourth Targaryen monarch.
Also known as the Swords or the Knights of the Star, the Warrior's Sons were all anointed knights who renounced their titles, castles, and lands. Their duty was to protect septs and safely escort the faithful from bandits and heretics. Their role was similar to that of a Paladin without holy magic—undoubtedly a top-tier military unit.
But Ian rejected this option without hesitation, as the Warrior's Sons had extremely distinctive gear.
They wore rainbow cloaks emblazoned with the sigil of a "crystal sword of seven colors shining on a black field," silver-plated armor, and crystal star pommels. They were quite distinctive. If two Warrior's Sons arrived, no one would believe they were Lannister squires.
(Note: For readers who have only watched the TV series, a special note: the "Warrior's Sons" depicted in the show are actually more similar to the "Poor Fellows," another armed order of the Faith at the time. As the name suggests, the Poor Fellows need no further explanation.)
The second choice, the Raven's Teeth, were the personal elite troops of Brynden "Bloodraven" Rivers, the renowned bastard son of Aegon IV, the eleventh Targaryen King. (This legendary figure served as Hand to two kings, later became Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and eventually became the Three-Eyed Raven. He still lives today, but I won't elaborate here.)
They wielded weirwood bows. Their most famous achievement was at the Battle of the Redgrass Field, during the suppression of the First Blackfyre Rebellion, where they killed the rebel King Daemon Blackfyre and his twin sons from 300 yards away. They were undoubtedly top-tier ranged units.
However, Ian also didn't choose them because they lacked horses and couldn't reach his location quickly enough.
After selecting the most inconspicuous, yet statistically excellent, Elite Sworn Sword, Ian looked up at Ser Camel, seeking his response.
To Ian's surprise, after a long hesitation, Ser Camel rejected him: "Turn my cloak in battle? Draw my sword against my employer? What do you take me for?"
"I thought you were a sellsword! What else should I think? I offered you gold and you won't even take it? Is it too little?" Ian was bewildered.
Across from Ian, Harry breathed a sigh of relief, secretly glad he'd made the right choice.
Ser Camel's sellsword company had long been the most reputable in the vicinity of Lord Harroway's Town. It was for this reason that Harry immediately hired them, offering a fee of twelve gold dragons—many times the normal rate—to snatch them from another party.
Rumor had it that Ser Camel was the eldest grandson of an earl, but his family was forced to sell their lands due to bankruptcy when he was still a child, and even his title was lost.
He earned his knighthood through valor during King Robert's campaign to suppress Balon Greyjoy's rebellion.
Determined to restore his family, Ser Camel has always valued honor above all else, and this sense of honor was what Harry relied on most at this moment.
Granted, Harry couldn't compete financially with a Lannister bastard who'd just claimed the First Blood reward, but he was Camel's employer, and Camel had been a sellsword for over twenty years, untainted by any oath-breaking scandal.
"You're rejecting my offer?" Ian confirmed. "If you think it's too little, I can actually offer three times as much, or any price you find satisfactory."
"Note: any price, as long as you name it," Ian added, confident he could satisfy the man's demands. After all, Jaime Lannister was only worth 1,000 gold dragons, and for a bastard like himself, 200 would be the most anyone would ask.
All the loyalty and honor in the world comes down to not offering enough.
"Forgive me, ser, but my honor forbids betraying my employer." Ser Camel seemed tempted, but his response left Ian cold.
Ian had only known Ned Stark as a truly honorable man, but he never imagined he'd encounter such an oddly "honorable" sellsword on his first day (even though this sellsword had been carefully vetted by another player).
If you value honor so much, why would you be a sellsword?
But then Ser Camel changed the subject, sending Ian's heart racing: "Similarly, my honor forbids me from committing the dishonorable murder of a nobleman. Therefore, if you swear not to harm my employer, I will let you go."
Can you please stop giving me a heart attack? Ian pressed his chest, feeling his heart pounding like it would burst.
Before Ian could respond, Harry was already losing his composure. He retorted almost instinctively, "He's a damned nobleman? He's just a bastard!" Then, realizing the absurdity, he corrected himself, "Oh, he's not even a bastard, he's just a fraud!"
"Our agreement was to protect your life and help you ambush and kill your enemy. Now that your enemy is dead, we only need to ensure your safety." Ser Camel's refusal was as firm as his previous rejection of Ian.
This filled Ian with a sense of respect. Perhaps it was genuine respect, not mockery.
"I'm your employer. I order you to kill him!" Harry seethed. If he could see himself, he'd surely imagine King Joffrey shouting, "I am the King!"
However, Ian was unwilling to risk further complications. His obsession with killing Harry wasn't strong. After all, he had already secured the First Blood, and the reward for killing another early-game player wasn't worth the risk.
At this point, a peaceful departure seemed perfectly acceptable to Ian, so he swore without hesitation:
"I, Ian Hill, swear by the Seven, on the honor of my father and House Lannister, that I will never hold Mr. Harry, Ser Camel, and his sellswords responsible for what happened today, nor will I seek any revenge. Otherwise, may the gods' judgment fall upon House Lannister."
"The Lannisters have nothing to do with you!" Harry gritted his teeth.
"Thank you, ser, and may the Seven bless you." Ser Camel bowed slightly, then turned to Harry and grabbed him. "Come, Mr. Harry. Ser Ian has sworn not to hold you accountable for what happened today, so do not provoke him further."
He clearly interpreted the phrase 'The Lannisters have nothing to do with you' as an insult to Ian's bastard status.
"I—" Harry said, feeling deeply wronged, but he could only hold back his meaningless explanations, knowing that without proof, all words were empty.
He felt completely bewildered by his loss.
From the moment the impostor bastard appeared, he'd completely failed to make the connection between him and a player.
Harry couldn't fathom it. A knight riding a fine courser worth at least 20 gold dragons, clad in a brocade hunting coat, draped in a gold-threaded half-cape worth no less than 3 gold dragons, sporting a gilded belt, and bearing a Lannister castle-forged sword—was actually a player. And he was trying to trick and prey on a merchant with only 5 average stats. What the hell was going on?
Did he even unlock microtransactions? He should have just told me to buy the premium package!
That guy, disguised as a Lannister bastard, hadn't even dared to attack him directly.
Suddenly, a thought struck Harry, who had been dejected. Looking up at Ian, his eyes gleamed with malice. "Do you think today's encounter is going to be a draw?"
A draw? Ah, yes, yes, yes, if you say it's a draw, then it's a draw. I've already gotten what I needed. Thinking of this, Ian nodded in agreement: "Yes, it's a draw. If you want to claim victory, I have no objection."
"But I won't accept that," Harry said in a low, sinister voice. "I wonder if you've ever heard a saying?"
"What?"
"The one Littlefinger taught Sansa: In the game of thrones, even the humblest pieces have wills of their own, and sometimes they refuse the moves you've planned for them." Harry smiled a chilling smile.
Ian's pupils contracted immediately.
(End of Chapter)
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