Chapter 21: Final Strike (Part 2)
"Now then, the Lannisters—who always pay their debts—propose a new bargain," Ian announced loudly, holding a gold bar high. "I hold a bar weighing over two pounds, worth one hundred and fifty gold dragons. Whoever brings me Harry's head will claim it as his own. Furthermore, he will become my new squire, and I will see him knighted within three years."
Harry's ominous premonition came true.
Ian's words struck him like a warhammer to the chest. He roared at Ian, "Bastard! You broke your oath!" Then, panicking, he glanced at the few sworn men still at Camel's side.
Only then did he realize he had underestimated Ian's ambition. He had assumed Ian's payment to the sellswords was a retreat, a forced stalemate.
He hadn't anticipated that Ian, while simultaneously retreating and advancing, was also shattering the loyalty of Camel's own sworn swords.
Harry had barely finished speaking when a sellsword beside him yanked him from his horse. His portly frame slammed heavily into the dirt. He looked up and saw the cold gleam of steel.
The attacker was one of Camel's sworn men, who dragged Harry off his mount and opened his throat with a single stroke.
In his dying moments, Harry felt an indescribable sense of regret.
If he had accepted Camel's advice, both he and the bastard could have left peacefully.
Why had he been the first to sow discord among Camel's men? No one had even considered disobeying Camel's orders before that.
It was because he had shattered the window that the bastard had found the opportunity to bring down his entire fortress.
After successfully killing Harry, the sellsword quickly distanced himself from Camel and the others. As he retreated, he shouted to Ian, "It was me, my lord! I killed him!"
"I said bring me his head," Ian replied coldly. The moment Harry died, he heard a chime from the game system.
Having achieved his goal, he prepared to flee—but before doing so, he needed to create chaos. As soon as he finished speaking, all the sellswords sprang into action. They first hacked away at Harry's servants with their blades, then rushed toward the corpse, fighting over the head.
Camel, standing in the crowd, angrily tried to stop them, but his efforts were futile.
The next moment, Ian shouted, "A Lannister always pays his debts!" and hurled the gold bar into the midst of the crowd. As the bar crashed among them, most of the sellswords immediately abandoned their fight for Harry's head and scrambled for the gold instead.
Because the Lannister knight had already thrown the payment—he clearly didn't care who claimed it.
So why couldn't I be the one to take it?
Seeing all this unfold, Ian's tension finally eased. He wheeled his horse and ordered the knights around him to depart: "Let's ride."
"Just like that?" The green-armored knight sounded surprised.
"What? Is there a problem?"
"Look around you," the knight said, his gaze sweeping over the bodies strewn across the ground. "There's been a bloodbath here. The Tully investigation will arrive soon. I don't know what your standing is within House Lannister, but if it's not high, I doubt they'll antagonize the Riverlands over a bastard. You'll be wanted for this."
Ian was stunned. He had calculated everything—but he'd actually forgotten about the law. After all, this was a world resembling the Middle Ages, where killing seemed commonplace enough.
But Westeros wasn't yet consumed by war. Given the relative order of the Riverlands, the massacre at the salt pans might well draw the attention of House Tully. And so many people had seen his face as the "Lannister bastard."
True, he only needed to abandon the false identity of "Lannister bastard" and pry the lion's head pommel from his sword hilt. In an era where wanted men were identified solely by portraits and descriptions, it would be a fool's dream for any lawmen to apprehend him.
But the problem was he hadn't traveled to this world alone. There were nearly a hundred other players scattered across this land. How many potential problems could this exposed weakness create for him?
Ian steeled himself, took a deep breath, and asked the knight beside him, "If we kill everyone here, what are our odds?"
He didn't want to gamble on being found.
"Seventy percent. If we rejoin the fray now, they'll quickly see through our intentions and likely stop fighting among themselves to unite against us," the knight shook his head gravely. "Besides, the terrain here isn't suited for mounted combat. If we dismount, we'll be surrounded. Although most are lightly armored, there are too many of them, and some are skilled fighters."
The knight added, "Of course, with your command, we can attempt it."
"No," Ian shook his head. These two knights were his greatest assets right now, and he didn't want to risk them unless absolutely necessary.
What's the difference between seventy percent odds and throwing them away for nothing?
Ian then turned his gaze back to the sellswords nearby.
By then, Camel had already cut down the sworn man who had killed Harry, as well as the old sellsword Adam who had led the mutiny. He and his remaining guards now stood in a tense standoff with the rebellious sellswords.
The sellsword who had seized the gold bar stood trembling between the two groups.
"Still, he's a veteran captain with considerable reputation. He's managed to regain control," Ian observed, then shook his head. "It's too risky for us to wade back in now."
"Ser Camel, it seems you have much to attend to. I won't trouble you further. Until we meet again!" Ian called out deliberately, giving Camel a provocative look before spurring his horse into a gallop.
The two knights clearly didn't understand what Ian was planning, but they followed him nonetheless, soon reaching the Kingsroad.
After only two miles, Ian reined in his horse on the Kingsroad and turned his mount back toward the salt pans.
The two knights halted as well.
"I thought you intended to kill them all," the green-armored knight said immediately.
"Of course I will—but I won't do it recklessly," Ian shook his head and explained. "I just incited those sellswords to murder Harry, destroying the reputation Camel spent years building. I also provoked infighting among his men, nearly destroying his company and his hopes of reclaiming his grandfather's seat.
He's now desperate to flay me alive, and he won't let this go. When he sees us fleeing, he'll give chase soon enough. But we have only five horses, and the nags from Harry's caravan can't run worth a damn, so there'll be no more than five riders pursuing us.
We'll deal with Camel here first, then circle back to handle what's left of his company."
The green-armored knight was silent for a moment, then nodded slowly. "An ambush on the road. Smart."
"Exactly," Ian said, scanning the treeline along the Kingsroad. "We choose the ground, we choose the numbers. Five against three are odds I can live with."
"And if he doesn't pursue?" the black-armored giant asked, speaking for the first time. His voice was surprisingly soft for a man his size.
"Then he's smarter than I gave him credit for, and we'll need another plan," Ian admitted. "But I'm betting his pride won't let him swallow this insult. I publicly humiliated him, murdered his employer under his protection, and destroyed his men's loyalty. If he doesn't come after me now, he'll never restore his name."
Ian dismounted and began leading his horse into the trees beside the road. "Besides, even if he doesn't chase us, we've still escaped clean. But if he does..." Ian smiled grimly. "Then we solve all our problems at once. No witnesses, no investigation, no wanted posters."
The two knights exchanged glances, then followed Ian into the concealment of the forest.
"How long do we wait?" the green-armored knight asked.
"As long as it takes," Ian replied, though his eyes never left the road leading back to the salt pans. "Patience is a virtue, or so the septons say. Let's see if Ser Camel's rage is stronger than his sense."
(End of Chapter)
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