Let's rewind five minutes.
Corleone leaned against the rough trunk of the tree, shadows swallowing most of his body.
The keen perception granted by [Insight Lv1] allowed him to generally observe everything happening nearby.
Seeing Urswyck called away by Vargo, Corleone, leaning against the tree, immediately sensed something brewing.
He never underestimated anyone. As Corleone himself said, women and children could afford to be careless, but men could not. In this world where human life was cheap as grass, a moment of carelessness could cost one their life.
So every word, every deed, every action had to be careful, careful, and more careful.
He thought Vargo wouldn't be able to resist moving against the "traitor" immediately, but now it seemed the other party wasn't entirely stupid.
After thinking for a moment, he took a deep breath and walked steadily out of the shadows.
Passively wait for his fate?
Only fools did that.
Since there was no opportunity, then... actively create an opportunity!
Plan B—Initiate!
With each step, the timidity and cowering of a farmer faded from Corleone's face, replaced by utter calm.
He walked straight to the fat Zollo, who was gnawing on roast meat by the bonfire, and extended his hand.
"Give me a roast leg of lamb."
His voice wasn't loud, but it sounded perfectly justified.
Zollo looked up, astonishment flashing across his greasy, fat face, seemingly doubting if he had heard correctly.
He recognized this farmer doctor who survived on luck. The Commander needed him for treatment, but that didn't mean he could push his luck.
Seeing Corleone's serious face, he sneered with undisguised contempt. "The leg is for Commander Vargo, kid."
Saying this, he casually picked up half a charred sheep's head with little meat from the grill beside him and threw it at Corleone's feet.
"Only this. Take it and get lost."
However, Corleone didn't even look at the half sheep's head. His gaze locked onto Zollo's face, and he raised his voice slightly, repeating, "I... want... to eat roast leg of lamb!"
This provocative tone immediately attracted the attention of several Brave Companions nearby. They stopped their conversations and looked over with interest.
A lowly farmer dared to provoke Zollo?
Had he gone mad?
Sure enough, Corleone's tough attitude instantly enraged Zollo. He stood up abruptly, his right hand moving to his sword hilt.
"Are you fucking looking to die?"
"I'll say it one last time. Only the sheep's head! Another word, and I'll chop you up and roast you to go with my ale!"
Spittle almost sprayed onto Corleone's face. Yet, to everyone's surprise, this farmer didn't retreat. Instead, he met the other's toughness head-on. "I'm eating leg of lamb today!"
"Damn it!"
Zollo was thoroughly enraged and was about to teach this ungrateful guy a lesson.
However, a faster black shadow darted out from the side!
Thud!
A booted foot kicked Corleone in the waist, sending him crashing heavily into the mud.
It was Iggo!
"I've tolerated you for a long time, quack!"
The sturdy Dothraki warrior stood between Corleone and Zollo, his face filled with anger as he cursed:
"You didn't treat Commander Vargo's wound properly at all! He's infected and feverish now, all because of you, damn quack!"
"And now you want to steal the Commander's lamb leg?"
"I'll kill you!"
Under everyone's gaze, Iggo directly drew the fine steel longsword Vargo had gifted him and made a move to strike.
This sudden turn of events stunned even Zollo.
Wait, I'm the one being provoked here. Why are you reacting so intensely?
It's Qiu Ya getting married...
"Don't be rash, Iggo!"
Although Zollo was also displeased, he still retained some reason. Seeing Iggo really about to strike, he instinctively took a step forward, reaching out to stop him.
"The Commander's wound still needs this kid..."
His words came to an abrupt halt.
Because Iggo's longsword, seemingly chopping toward Corleone, suddenly changed direction mid-air and forcefully stabbed into Zollo's unguarded throat!
"Urgh..."
Zollo's eyes instantly widened, filled with utter bewilderment.
He wanted to say something, but his throat couldn't produce any sound. He just looked at Iggo in front of him in disbelief, completely unable to understand why this sword fell on him.
Iggo's face held no expression. With a twist of his wrist, he jerked the longsword out.
Warm blood sprayed from Zollo's throat, and then the body fell limply.
It happened too fast, so fast that no one could react.
Singing, laughter, clinking of cups—all vanished.
Everyone stared dumbfounded at this scene. Iggo, the Commander's most trusted guard, why did he suddenly kill the Commander's confidant, Zollo?
Yet in this deathly silence, Iggo raised the dripping longsword high and, with all his strength, let out the roar destined to detonate the entire night: "Long live... the Brave Companions!!!"
...
This shout echoed through the woods like a spark thrown into explosives.
Rorge and Biter reacted first, wild joy exploding on their faces.
Success!
By the Seven, even the strongest Iggo has been turned! The Deputy Commander is a fucking genius!
The advantage is mine!
On the other side, Timeon, Pyg, Togg Joth, and other veteran Brave Companions secretly notified by Vargo, were now in complete confusion.
The slogan was right, but why did Iggo kill one of their own?
Did the plan change, or...
However, there was no time for them to think carefully. The moment Iggo's shout fell, Rorge, Biter, and the others, led by Iggo, had already drawn their weapons and were slashing at them!
The instinct to survive forced them to draw swords hastily to fight back.
Clang!
The sound of clashing metal completely tore apart the peace the Brave Companions maintained on the surface.
Those originally neutral, clueless Brave Companion members were all bewildered now.
They're fighting!
Why?
Although they didn't know what exactly happened, but...
Iggo shouted "Long live the Brave Companions"!
And he was the Commander's most trusted guard. Since he drew his sword, it must mean that Timeon, Pyg, and that bunch were the traitors!
"Follow Iggo!"
"Kill the traitors!"
More people shouted and joined the fray.
The melee spread instantly like a plague. In the chaos, blind conformity became the mainstream.
They couldn't even distinguish who the "traitors" were. relying solely on instinct, following the steps of the strongest warrior, they slashed their weapons at anyone around them who looked suspicious or was simply a beat too slow.
The camp turned completely into a battlefield. People's wails, angry roars, and the clash of blades wove a symphony of death.
Firelight danced, illuminating twisted, crazy faces. Warm blood splattered everywhere.
And at this moment, under the oak tree far from the bonfire.
When the five words "Long live the Brave Companions" reached them, Vargo Hoat and Urswyck jolted almost simultaneously.
The hypocritical smiles barely plastered on their faces melted instantly like ice, replaced by the anger of betrayal.
"You damn bastard..."
Vargo's face turned livid. He instinctively reached for the sword at his waist, but his movements were a beat slow due to weakness.
"Son of a bitch!"
Urswyck, who had remained vigilant, reacted faster. The moment he heard the slogan, he had already decided Vargo was deceiving him and wanted to strike first.
Roaring, the hand resting on his sword hilt exerted force suddenly, the longsword unsheathed and thrusting straight for Vargo's heart!
But Vargo was worthy of being a warrior who could conquer Dothraki. His reaction was extremely fast. He quickly leaned back, barely dodging this fatal blow.
Although somewhat wretched, the sword tip only scratched the leather armor on his chest.
"Traitor!" Vargo hissed, finally drawing his own sword. It was a heavy broadsword, inferior to the one he gave Iggo, but better suited for hacking.
The two engaged in a desperate fight in this darkness-shrouded clearing.
Sword lights flashed, figures crossed. Every collision was with full force. Vargo's strength and experience remained, but the high fever drained his stamina, making his movements sluggish and unsteady.
He gasped for air, every breath stabbing his lungs like needles. Sweat mixed with grime flowed down his forehead, blurring his vision. The broadsword in his hand felt heavy as a thousand pounds.
Urswyck, however, was like a slippery eel. He never met force with force, only utilizing his familiarity with Vargo's sword style to constantly dodge and skirmish, draining the opponent's already meager energy.
"Is this all you've got, Vargo Hoat?"
Urswyck had a bloody cut on his face, but his eyes grew more excited. He mocked, "Where's the majesty of the 'Lord of Harrenhal'? Show me!"
Saying this, spotting the moment Vargo was spent after a hack, he suddenly ducked and charged forward, slamming his shoulder hard into the opponent's chest.
"Urgh!"
Vargo groaned. His already unsteady stance faltered immediately. staggering backward, he fell, unable to hold onto the broadsword, which flew from his hand and landed in the mud a few steps away.
Seeing this, Urswyck immediately pounced excitedly, but he didn't expect the opponent to kick out while falling, striking his wrist directly and sending his longsword flying as well.
Seizing this opportunity, Vargo rolled over violently, pinning Urswyck beneath him instead. Hands choking Urswyck's neck, he simultaneously lowered his head, opened his mouth to reveal yellow-black teeth, and bit viciously into Urswyck's face!
"Aagh!!!"
Urswyck let out a wretched scream as a chunk of flesh was torn off.
The intense pain triggered his ferocity. He curled his fingers and gouged viciously at the festering, oozing wound on Vargo's ear!
Squelch...
Foul pus and blood were dug out. Vargo let out a howl even more miserable than Urswyck's, his entire body convulsing from the pain that shot straight to his nerves.
On the muddy ground, the two highest-ranking men of the once-arrogant Brave Companions were now like beasts fighting for mating rights, using the most primitive, ugliest methods to fight for the right to survive.
Swordsmanship, honor, dignity—all vanished at this moment, leaving only naked instinct.
And at this moment, the instigator of all this had unknowingly climbed up a crooked-neck tree, quietly enjoying the chaotic scene below, smiling with satisfaction.
"Heh... Picking apples for over a decade finally came in handy."