Money is Power [ASOIAF SI, System]

[Dissimilate]

Thanks for the chapter!

 

[Slipstream02]

Very nice

 

[Fanfictionlord]

Watching him grow out of all his earlier gloom, once again turning into the cheerful Jaime Lannister, Ronin couldn't help but laugh.

He shook his head, teasing in a playful tone, "You certainly look refreshed, Ser Lannister."

"What happened? Did Roose Bolton arrange some kind of 'full service' last night to help you regain your vigor?"

"I know there are a few well-known brothels in Harrenhal. I've been there before, and I must say, their skills are quite good."

He wasn't boasting. His predecessor really had been frugal enough to save money to visit Harrenhal twice just for that—though it had been the lowest tier…

But that's how men are: save where you can, spend where you must.

Even if you starve, you must spend money where it counts.

"No, no, no, my dear Ronin."

Jaime shook his head repeatedly, but the radiant smile on his face told another story. Last night was indeed not half bad.

His emerald eyes drifted toward Brienne, who looked embarrassed in her clothes. He winked slyly, then deliberately raised his voice, ensuring everyone on the training ground could hear.

"My experience was far more wonderful than any of those ordinary services!"

"Yesterday, I had the pleasure of sharing a truly unforgettable 'mandarin duck bath' with a certain high-born lady!"

"The feeling...was too wonderful to describe. It washed away all my exhaustion and bad luck from the journey!"

Hearing this, Ronin glanced at Brienne and immediately remembered that this scene had also occurred in the original story. But it was definitely not as vulgar as Jaime made it sound.

He was most likely teasing the taciturn woman from Tarth. Sure enough, upon hearing his words, Brienne's face instantly flushed bright red.

"Shut your filthy mouth, Jaime!"

Furious and humiliated, she stepped forward and clenched her fists, ready to drag Jaime off his horse.

What was surprising, however, was that she didn't call him "Kingslayer".

Only Iggo, standing nearby, narrowed his eyes. His huge hand tightened around his sword hilt as he stared at Jaime's smug, punchable face.

He seemed to be considering whether he should follow Dothraki tradition and challenge the blond bastard to a duel to the death to claim the tall woman for himself.

But after weighing the choice for a moment, he slowly released the sword hilt and shook his head.

Defeating a cripple wouldn't demonstrate the valor of a Dothraki warrior. It might even make the the tall and strong, bear-like woman look unfavorably upon him.

On his horse, Jaime saw Brienne's fierce expression and laughed even more proudly, as if he had already won a battle. He continued his shameless teasing.

The atmosphere in the training ground suddenly became relaxed and harmonious, and all the recent bloodshed, scheming, and tension faded away for a moment.

But this rare moment of harmony was quickly broken by loud shouts and curses.

"You damned bastard! You sewer rat! I finally caught you!"

"Drag him to the stables!"

"I'm going to cut off his filthy little thing, toss it into the feeding trough, and make him watch the warhorses chew up and swallow it!"

Turning to look, they saw Roose Bolton's guard captain—Walton—leading a group of grim-looking soldiers, roughly dragging a person across the training ground.

The man struggled desperately, letting out muffled cries, but with his hands and feet tightly bound by ropes, escaping was impossible.

Ronin frowned, instinctively wanting to turn his head away. During wartime, especially in territory occupied by the Bolton family, these cruel and bloody displays could be seen every day; it was normal.

But just as he was about to turn away, he keenly caught the appearance of the man being dragged with his enhanced perception.

"Rorge!"

He blurted the name out.

"Rorge?"

Hearing this, Jaime and the other two, who had no intention of interfering either, looked more closely.

Sure enough, with his short, sturdy build and the faint black hair covering his body, who else could it be but Rorge?

"The survivor from the Brave Companions?"

Jaime leaned from his saddle and whispered into Ronin's ear, "Didn't you settle him in a room? How did Roose Bolton's men catch him?"

"Who knows?"

Ronin shrugged, a hint of gloom on his face, and responded quietly. "This is their territory. They probably even count every hair in your underpants."

"Oh, speaking of which, do you wear underpants?"

"No proper man wears underpants—they're too restrictive!" Jaime scoffed dismissively, then continued to ask, "That's your spoils of war. What do you say? Should we try getting him back?"

Ronin narrowed his eyes, falling into thought. Rorge was indeed quite useful to him, but openly confronting Roose Bolton's men head-on right before their departure was simply too risky.

He thought for about two or three seconds, ultimately deciding to concede.

Shaking his head, he spoke reluctantly. "Forget it, Jaime. We're leaving soon. It's best not to cause trouble…"

"Alright I get it!"

Jaime suddenly interjected, shouting excitedly. Not giving Ronin any chance to explain, he flashed a confident "leave it to me" smile and kicked his horse's flanks.

"Hah!"

The warhorse neighed loudly and charged across the training ground, its hooves kicking up mud as it raced toward Walton and his men!

Watching Jaime's disappearing figure, Ronin couldn't help but curse.

What did "I get it" even mean?!

But since Jaime had already charged ahead, could he really just stand by and abandon him?

Ronin made a quick decision, let out a frustrated sigh, and dashed after him.

Although Brienne and Iggo were equally confused, but seeing that both Ronin and Jaime had taken action, they quickly followed after them.

Brienne, dressed in a gown, ran faster than both of them, even having the presence of mind to grab a rake from beside the stables before she sprinted.

Clip-clop… clip-clop… The pounding of hooves grew louder.

Walton, who was busy shouting orders and kicking Rorge in the waist and stomach, heard the noise behind him and turned back impatiently.

Just one glance made his scalp tingle.

A massive horse, appearing almost out of nowhere, was charging rapidly at him, showing no signs of stopping!

On its back, the golden-haired Kingslayer wore a chilling, crazed grin, controlling the reins with one hand.

"Isn't that—my horse?!" The thought flashed by in his mind but vanished quickly as fear overwhelmed him.

Despite being a seasoned warrior, facing a warhorse galloping rapidly toward him, Walton's legs turned to jelly.

It was no joke; he could even smell the stench of animal sweat mixed with leather!

"Gods above!" Walton cried out in desperation and fell backward into the mud.

Just at that moment, Jaime on horseback let out a long whistle and sharply pulled back on the reins with his left hand! The charging horse reared up, its front hooves slashing the air a few times.

Then its hooves slammed into the ground half a meter from Walton's head, splattering mud all over his deathly pale face.

Walton stiffly lifted his head to see Jaime sitting proudly on the horse, looking down at him with a face full of playful mockery.

Raising an eyebrow, the golden-haired, green-eyed Lannister rested his elbow on the horse's neck, leaning slightly, and teased, "Yo!"

"Did I frighten you, my lady?"

Walton, still a bit fear stricken, stiffly gazed at the horse a few inches away from him and he could swear on every god in existence: this damned horse was his. He'd had it for over ten years!

"You thief—you stole my horse!" he pointed at Jaime and shouted angrily.

Jaime straightened his back and retorted, "Mind your words, Captain Walton. I am a Lannister—my piss is gold."

"As for this horse, Lord Bolton gave it to me." He said righteously, "If yours is gone, what does that have to do with me?"

His words made Walton even more furious. Wiping mud from his face, he was about to continue arguing when suddenly, a stream of hot liquid gushed out from between the horse's legs.

Fortunately, Walton reacted quickly and scrambled backward, narrowly avoiding being sprayed in the face.

The hot stream, carrying a strong, pungent odor, shot onto the muddy ground where he had just been sitting, almost grazing his nose.

Walton scrambled away, getting up awkwardly and looking utterly disheveled and furious.

"You—" Just as he was about to start cursing again, Ronin and the others arrived, forcing Walton to swallow his words.

Brienne and Iggo, both experienced warriors, instinctively formed a half-circle with Ronin without needing any instructions.

However, Walton's side outnumbered them slightly, and soon the two sides entered a tense standoff.

Ronin didn't speak right away. Instead, his gaze first fell upon Rorge, who was tied up like a wild boar.

It must be said that this one had decent physical fitness. He had been unconscious when they arrived at Harrenhal yesterday, but now he was already wriggling on the ground, even having the energy to glare at them

Although his wounds still oozed a little blood, he wasn't in any life-threatening danger. Seeing that, Ronin heaved a sigh of relief and then turned to Walton.

"Captain Walton." He spoke softly, letting the aura of Majesty Lv2 emanate unrestrained.

His voice made Walton, who was still in a fit of rage, freeze slightly, feeling a tremor in his heart.

As if compelled by an invisible force, he involuntarily shifted his attention from Jaime to Ronin.

The aura around him gave Walton the same uneasy feeling he had when facing Roose Bolton. He felt like something bad would happen if he crossed this man.

But as a guard captain of House Bolton, he also had his own pride and was unwilling to back down. In the end, he swallowed the bullet and spoke up. "Lord Bolton ordered all remnants of the Brave Companions to be executed!"

"This bastard was sneaking around the castle like a rat, and I caught him myself. I am only obeying the Lord's orders!"

He emphasized Lord Roose Bolton's order, trying to stand his ground by relying on his liege's name.

However, Ronin merely sneered. "Your logic is flawed, Captain. He is my captive, so he is naturally under my authority. Lord Bolton's order does not apply to him."

"Your captive?" Walton spat. "Don't give me that!"

"This bastard dared to fight me over Wells, the top prostitute at the 'Red Hole,' just half a month ago! Even if the Seven Gods were standing here today, I'd still kill him!"

"Take him!" he ordered, and the surrounding Northern soldiers prepared to rush forward.

"Stop!" Ronin snapped, his gaze icy cold. The pressure of Majesty Lv2 intensified, becoming almost palpable.

Brienne and Iggo also stepped forward immediately, their presence adding to the pressure, momentarily intimidating Walton and the soldiers.

Seeing them come to a halt, Ronin sighed with relief. Harrenhal was, after all, the garrison for the Bolton army. Making a commotion here could attract unwanted attention, making the situation difficult to manage later.

"Very well, Captain Walton. If you insist on taking him, then let us talk business."

While Walton was hesitating whether to take further action, Ronin's voice rang out, changing the subject.

Under the other party's somewhat astonished gaze, Ronin raised his index finger. "One thousand gold dragons."

"According to Westerosi custom, if you wish to ransom him, then pay one thousand gold dragons."

"After that, the man is yours, and whatever you do with him is none of my concern."

"H-how much???" Hearing the price quoted by Ronin, Walton's eyes widened in disbelief.

"This bastard is worth a thousand gold dragons? Are you kidding me? The Kingslayer's bounty is only a thousand!" he shouted, pointing at Jaime.

Ronin's expression remained unchanged. He merely tilted his head and explained patiently, "The accounts cannot be calculated that way."

"Ser Jaime's ransom is a one-time thing because he is a member of the Kingsguard and cannot marry or have children. But Rorge…"

Ronin nudged him lightly with his foot. "He is different."

"He will work for me and create value. Then he will marry and have children. His children will work for me, and their children will too… this cycle will never end."

"So, if you consider the lifetime value of him and all his descendants, isn't a thousand gold dragons fair? This is already a discounted price. I'm giving it to you only out of respect for Lord Bolton."

Ronin shrugged, wearing an expression that said, "You've gotten a huge bargain."

Walton was absolutely dumbfounded, his mouth agape, lost for words. The explanation Ronin gave... almost sounded logical. But it clearly treated him like a fool!

Walton's chest rose and fell violently, making his face flush crimson.

Wasn't this just bullying an honest man?!

jaime spoke up at the perfect moment from atop his horse. "I suggest you seriously consider Ser Ronin's proposal, Captain Walton. You have only two choices: either pay the ransom, or immediately release the man."

Saying this, he leaned slightly, a hint of malice flashing in his emerald eyes. "Otherwise, when I return to King's Landing, I might casually mention to my father…"

"That Vargo Hoat ordered my hand to be cut off—and the man who swung the blade… was you."

The moment those words were spoken, Walton felt a chill run up his spine.

"Slander!"

Walton stomped his feet in panic, pointing at Jaime in horror. "You're slandering me! A man as honorable as Lord Tywin Lannister would never believe empty words without any evidence!"

This accusation… it was too malicious! As expected from a man titled "Kingslayer." He was simply inhumane!

However, seeing his reaction, Jaime grew even more smug. Straightening proudly in the saddle, he looked down with a cold smile and said softly.

"Then Captain…"

"Whose words do you think my father will believe? Yours or mine?"

 

[Mystero]

This reads far too much like a translation of chinese fics. Young master? lol

 

[xscraid]

This reads far too much like a translation of chinese fics. Young master? lol

Click to shrink...

It is a Chinese fic.

 

[Fanfictionlord]

Jaime's threat was the final straw that completely broke Walton's resolve.

He couldn't be blamed. If he allowed the Kingslayer to run to his father and pin every disaster that had taken place in the Riverlands onto him, the consequences would be unimaginable.

He stared at Jaime and forced himself to retort stiffly, "Th-This… is Harrenhal. You are… challenging Lord Bolton's… authority!"

Although he tried to toughen his tone, the constant chattering of his teeth told another story.

The crack in his psychological defenses was immediately noticed by Ronin. He subtly patted Jaime's thigh, signaling him to stop pressing the matter.

The desired effect had largely been achieved. Pushing too hard now might be counterproductive and incite the man's desperate resistance.

Stepping forward, Ronin softened his tone, speaking as if genuinely trying to comfort him. "Captain Walton, I believe we are all honorable people here. There's no need to escalate this over some worthless fellow and a petty private grudge to the point of no return."

"Lord Bolton's authority is meant to eliminate threats and maintain order, not for you to settle private scores and fight over a prostitute."

"Wells is a male prostitute," Iggo suddenly interjected from the side.

Hearing that, Ronin looked at Walton in surprise. But seeing the man's expression remain completely unchanged, showing no signs of embarrassment or denial, he simply shrugged.

After all, such preferences were far from uncommon across Westeros. And, frankly, this world lacked the "toxic butts" of his previous life, which made the whole thing much safer… probably.

Deciding not to dwell on the matter, Ronin continued to coax the already wavering Walton.

"Think this through, Captain Walton."

He took another step forward, casually placing a hand on Walton's shoulder. "If this matter reaches Lord Bolton's ears, what do you think he'll do? Praise your judgment or scold you for embarrassing him in front of an honored guest like the heir of Casterly Rock?"

These words were like a sharp dagger, completely piercing through Walton's defenses.

Lowering his head, he fell silent for a moment. He glanced around at the men behind him and took a deep breath. "All I know is loyalty to Lord Bolton and serving him diligently. The rest… I haven't considered!"

—Hah.

Ronin was dumbfounded by this sudden declaration.

Seeing Walton straighten his back and adopt a righteous pose, Ronin was actually quite impressed by his presence of mind.

He understood that backing down too suddenly in front of his subordinates would lower his standing and embarrass him as a captain. So he decided to deliberately put on a show to save face.

But since all he needed was a way out, Ronin decided to pave the way for him with some money.

"As I said earlier, Captain Walton, we are all honorable people here." Ronin tightened his grip slightly, pulling Walton into a half-embrace, patting his shoulder. At the same time, he pushed his Majesty Lv2 aura to the limit.

His tone softened, but the pressure emanating from him only grew stronger. "How about this? I'll give you a solution worthy of your status."

Saying this, he pointed to Rorge lying on the ground. "This man, I must take him with me. But since he has offended you, I will make him pay a price far harsher than anything you can imagine. After today, he will look upon you with nothing but fear—never again daring to covet anyone or anything that belongs to you."

Ronin's voice was powerful and clear, and something about the way he spoke compelled people to believe everything he said.

Then, changing the subject, he gestured toward the horse beneath Jaime. "As for this horse, I believe it's simply a misunderstanding. Perhaps Lord Bolton didn't specify which mount he intended to gift, or perhaps the stable boys made an error. But regardless, continuing to argue over the ownership of a horse is far too undignified for men of our standing."

He deliberately emphasized the word "undignified," letting it settle itself in Walton's mind. Then, without giving him a moment to react, he reached into his robe and pulled out a pouch of coins.

He weighed it once; the crisp clinking of the gold dragons rang out clearly, drawing everyone's attention.

"Here are thirty gold dragons." Ronin decisively shoved the pouch into Walton's arms before continuing. "Consider this my personal compensation to you, as well as payment for the warhorse."

"Take it, lead your men to the best tavern in town and have a feast with the strongest wine you can find."

"And don't think it's too little."

Gulp!

As Ronin's voice faded, Walton stared at the heavy pouch in his hands and couldn't help but swallow hard.

Too little?

In the South, even during wartime when prices were soaring, a gold dragon held tremendous purchasing power.

It was even more so in the North, where resources were scarcer and most people lived on the brink of poverty. Thirty gold dragons nearly equaled an entire month's expenditure for the Dreadfort itself!

"Ser Ronin… You… I… I truly… I…"

Looking up at Ronin's sincere expression, Walton found himself stammering, completely overwhelmed.

Though his unit, under Roose Bolton's discreet orders, had plundered plenty of coins during their southern campaign, most of that wealth had gone straight into the lord's pockets.

Holding such a large sum personally was enough to make anyone tremble with excitement.

"Don't be sad, Captain Walton." Ronin patted him warmly on the back, stepped back, and chuckled as his gaze swept over the Northern soldiers around them. "I know you suffered a loss, but sometimes, ensuring both sides suffer a small loss often means… everyone wins."

"By handling it this way, with just a few minor compromises, we've resolved this conflict peacefully and honorably. Isn't that far wiser than letting things spiral into something unsightly?"

Walton swallowed again. "How can I accept this…? That horse only cost ten gold dragons when I bought it."

Even though he said this, his hands moved with lightning speed, stuffing the gold into his pocket as if afraid Ronin would suddenly change his mind.

Watching his contradictory actions, Ronin sneered inwardly, but on the outside, he remained perfectly composed, giving Walton a polite nod.

"As I told you, we are all honorable men."

"Yes! Yes, of course!!!"

Clutching the gold, all of Walton's previous anger vanished, and a bright, almost blinding smile appeared on his face.

He looked at Ronin with the devotion of a man seeing a savior, enthusiastically stepping forward to embrace him and patting his shoulder.

"We are indeed honorable men, Ser Ronin. From today on, you are the greatest friend of 'Steelshanks Walton! Forget a mere Rorge—even if you asked for my wife, I'd wash her clean and lay her in your bed!"

"That won't be necessary…" Ronin quickly declined.

"In any case, if you need anything at all, just tell me. Everyone in the Dreadfort knows that I never goes back on his words!"

"Let's go! We're drinking to our hearts' content today!" Jingling the gold pouch in his pocket, Walton waved magnanimously, ordering his soldiers to march off with him, having no intention of inviting Ronin and his group.

Watching them leave, Ronin turned to Iggo and instructed, "Gather everyone. We need to leave here quickly."

"Roose Bolton is not the kind of man who keeps his word. We must depart before he changes his mind."

Jaime nodded strongly in agreement. Then, glancing at Rorge, who was carried by Iggo, he leaned closer and teased in a low voice, "You made a loss on that deal, Ronin. That man isn't worth thirty gold dragons."

"Is that so?" Ronin's lips curved into a meaningful smile.

"Lannister aren't the only one who knows how to do business in westeros, Jaime."

"Just watch. Ronin Graves never makes a losing deal either."

---

The chamber in Harrenhal was filled with the stale scent of old parchment mixed with faint traces of herbs and dust.

Walton stood trembling before a dark red desk, his head bowed so low it was almost buried in the collar of his chainmail.

A mud-streaked coin pouch rested on the polished tabletop. Its opening hung slightly open, revealing the faint golden gleam of the dragons within.

Roose Bolton did not touch the pouch. He didn't even spare it a glance.

"You accepted Ronin Grave's gold, and yet you allowed the man I intended to kill to walk away."

His voice was calm—far too calm—but every word made Walton tremble, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.

While terrified, he frantically racked his brain, trying to figure out which son of a bitch under him had dared to betray him.

"Don't bother guessing, Walton."

Roose seemed to see right through him, his eyes appearing to know everything. "No one can hide anything from me in my territory—not in the Dreadfort, and not here."

Leaning back in his chair, he tapped the armrest lightly with his pale fingers.

Walton risked a sideways glance, his lips trembling as he tried to explain himself. "My Lord… I… I only—"

"Heh."

As soon as he spoke, Roose let out a soft chuckle, as if remembering something amusing. "Since you took their money and did their bidding, Walton… then you shall go and follow them."

"Ah?!"

Walton raised his head abruptly, his eyes filled with disbelief. He fell to his knees with a thud, his voice even taking on a sobbing tone.

"My Lord! Forgive me! I-I never meant to keep anything from you!"

"I have followed you faithfully for over ten years, and my father served House Bolton all his life—please, take that into account—!"

"I said…" Roose raised his voice slightly, cutting off Walton's desperate rambling. He spoke in a tone that didn't allow any room for refusal.

"You are to follow them."

---

"So… you're really coming with us?" Ronin, sitting on the back of a docile-looking horse, raised an eyebrow, saying in a teasing tone.

By the shores of the God's Eye, the autumn sunlight scattered across the lake's surface in glittering shards, reflecting Walton's contorted face, which looked as if he were suffering from constipation.

At Ronin's remark, his expression turned even uglier. He tightened his grip on the reins of his horse and replied curtly, "This is Lord Bolton's order. I am to escort you safely to King's Landing. And… collect the promised payment."

"Payment?"

Ronin tugged gently on the reins, slowing his horse. A flicker of confusion stirred in his eyes.

The agreement between him and Roose Bolton was mostly based on mutual understanding and potential future benefits. They had not agreed upon any specific "payment."

"What payment?" Ronin asked curiously, but Walton simply shook his head, his brows tightly furrowed.

"My Lord did not specify. He only instructed me to go straight to Lord Tywin once we reach King's Landing."

The vagueness of the answer made Ronin narrow his eyes. Knowing Walton's temperament, he doubted the man was lying. Which made the situation even more intriguing.

What was Roose Bolton planning? Sending a trusted retainer after them… was it for surveillance?

Or… was he using this opportunity to establish a more direct link to Tywin Lannister by personally escorting Jaime back?

There was too little information to figure anything out.

Walton, standing nearby, gritted his teeth and cursed under his breath, "Damn it, if I find out which bastard drank my wine, took my money, and still dared to stab me in the back, I swear I'll strip him naked and hang him on the walls of the Dreadfort when I come back, letting the crows peck out his eyes!"

At his righteous indignation, a meaningful curve played on Ronin's lips.

This kind of thing was actually easy to deduce: whoever gained the most benefit from this matter, or eliminated potential trouble, was most likely responsible.

But he had no intention of enlightening Walton. Let this muscle-headed Northerner figure it out slowly on his own. After all, he still had many unanswered questions himself.

"Keep an eye on him."

Shaking his head, he whispered to Iggo, who was riding beside him.

"And don't let that fellow die," he added, pointing at the unconscious Rorge, who was tied horizontally across Iggo's horse, bouncing like a sack of goods as the horse moved.

"My greatest business deal still needs him as a stepping stone!"

"Yes, my lord!" Iggo responded in a deep voice, reaching out to loosen Rorge's ropes a bit and give him some breathing space.

However, just at this moment—

Woooooooooooo—

A long, deep horn blast echoed from the tree-lined road to their left!

Immediately after came a dense thunder of hooves, rapidly approaching them.

Rumble—rumble—rumble—

Judging from the sound alone, it was a large group—large enough that even the ground beneath them seemed to tremble faintly.

Ronin's pupils tightened. Without a second thought, he shouted sternly, "Prepare for combat!"

Despite having lost his right hand, Jaime reacted the fastest. In one smooth motion, he drew his longsword.

Brienne spurred her horse and rode straight into position, interposing herself between Ronin and the incoming group. The ridiculous dress she was wearing earlier had long since been replaced by her armor.

Iggo followed right after her, drawing his longsword, and let out a low, animalistic growl from his throat.

Even Walton instinctively drew his weapon, looking nervously toward the source of the sound. With practiced efficiency, he maneuvered into position with Brienne and Iggo, forming a rough but effective triangular defense around Ronin.

Their quick response showed that although their unusual gathering was small, every single member was an elite.

Everyone looked out in vigilance, staring intently in the direction of the road.

Within a few breaths, a cavalry unit emerged from the depths of the forest. There were about twenty to thirty men, all on horseback. They weren't at a full charge, but their pace was by no means slow.

Hooves struck the ground in perfect rhythm, sending an almost palpable wave of pressure as they advanced straight toward Ronin and his group.

Ronin's hand reached into his chest, fingers closing over the travel permit with Roose Bolton's seal. He had no idea if this group was enemy or ally.

As the distance closed, his pupils suddenly contracted sharply!

At the very front of their formation, a tall banner fiercely tore at the air in the autumn wind, flapping loudly.

Against a pitch-black background, like the bottomless cold night, was embroidered an incredibly striking white sunburst, emitting a sharp brilliance!

 

[Fanfictionlord]

"A white sunburst…" Ronin muttered under his breath, his eyes instinctively narrowing at the emblem on the banner.

Fragments of knowledge about the great Houses of Westeros—collected since before his transmigration—rapidly flashed through his mind.

He was certain he had seen this aggressive-looking emblem somewhere, but he could not immediately recall where exactly. The sensation was like having a fishbone lodged in his throat, making him very uncomfortable.

But not everyone was as forgetful as him. Just as he was searching through his memory, Walton blurted out beside him, "Karstark!"

"It's the Karstark men! What in the world are those people doing here?!"

Karstark! The moment the surname was spoken, Ronin's heart skipped a beat. His expression tightened, and his gaze involuntarily drifted toward Jaime.

It couldn't be helped. Jaime Lannister and House Karstark had a deep blood feud!

'Dammit!' Ronin cursed inwardly.

A little farther south lay the territory of the Lannister army. There was no way this was a coincidence.

"They mean trouble..." He muttered softly, his voice barely audible even to himself, but the grave look on his face left Jaime and Brienne visibly surprised. After all, Ronin always seemed so composed. Even when facing Roose Bolton, it appeared he was in control of the situation the whole time.

"Everyone, follow my lead!"

Ronin paused for a moment, his stern gaze sweeping over his group, his voice firm. "Stay calm. Let's figure out their intentions first! Do not provoke them no matter the situation!"

The others nodded without hesitation. Among them stood the heir of Casterly Rock, the eldest daughter of the Lord of Tarth, and an exceptionally skilled Dothraki warrior, but not a single person objected to Ronin taking command, unanimously recognising him as the leader of the group.

After speaking, Ronin looked first at the approaching men, then at Jaime. Suddenly a spark of realization flashed across his mind, as if he had remembered something crucial.

He quickly spun around, yanked open a bulging saddlebag, pulled out a thick cloak, and tossed it to Jaime.

Jaime instinctively caught it, his face filled with confusion. "What!"

Ronin shot him a glare and warned sternly, "If you don't want to have your head chopped off like the Karstark, then put it on quickly!"

"Oh—and pull up the hood. Make sure that beautiful golden hair of yours stays hidden."

Rumble!

The rapid clatter of hooves came to an abrupt halt roughly twenty paces away from them.

As the dust slowly dissipated, the Northern cavalry came fully into view.

Around twenty horsemen stood silently, reins in hand. Their gear was vastly different from the polished splendor of Southron knights, showcasing the rugged fierceness typical of Northerners.

Most wore roughly forged black-iron half-helms and heavily worn chainmail, all covered with thick layers of animal hide.

Judging from the pelts, Ronin could make out wolf, bear, and even seal skins.

Their weapons were equally diverse: two-handed greatswords, brutal axes, spiked maces, and the wide-bladed spears favored in the North.

Their skin was coarse, and every face looked thoroughly weather-beaten.

Although their numbers were not excessive, the fierce aura of the Northerners, condensed together, was enough to strike fear into anyone's heart.

The leader was a sturdy-looking man riding an unusually tall Northern warhorse. His beard was thick and streaked with gray, and he wore a gray wolfskin cloak draped over his armor.

Instead of announcing himself or questioning them, he slowly urged his horse forward, studying Ronin's group like a predator sizing up its prey.

"Ser—"

Ronin stepped forward, intending to speak, but before he could even finish the first word, he was loudly cut off.

"That southern tin-can nonsense is worthless! Nothing but weaklings hiding behind steel—but even their fancy armor can't stop my hammer! It smashes right through!"

The man lifted a warhammer with an exaggerated posture and roared toward the sky, "Hogg! Since coming south, how many knights' heads have I smashed?!"

"Too many to count, Captain!"

"Hahahaha!!!"

At that, all the Northern soldiers behind him erupted into laughter.

They pounded their shields and saddles, brandished their weapons, whistled sharply, and let out loud war cries.

Seeing this, Ronin's frown deepened.

He wasn't afraid to deal with men like Roose Bolton or even Tywin Lannister. However twisted or cruel they were, they at least followed certain logic.

What gave him the biggest headache were these brutish lumpheads. They were the worst kind to deal with.

Reasoning meant nothing to them, and slaughter and hatred were the only things in their heads. If they disliked a word he said, they might swing their blades before he even finished speaking.

Even so, he suppressed the irritation in his heart and tried again, speaking with more caution: "My lord—"

"I am Harag Sharp! Captain of Lord Rickard Karstark's personal guard, his most trusted man during his lifetime!" Harag cut him off again with a thunderous voice.

But as he mentioned the dead lord, a hint of hatred flickered in his eyes. "We're looking for the Kingslayer, boy! You and your lot—have you seen that bastard who beds his own sister?!"

As soon as these words were spoken, Ronin could sense Jaime's body involuntarily trembling beneath the cloak.

Clearly, the insult had struck home.

"The Kingslayer? No, Captain Harag!" Ronin quickly stepped forward again, drawing all attention away from Jaime.

He shook his head, speaking with as much innocence as he could muster: "We are people of Ser Fenry Yordel. Our farm was destroyed by a group of men calling themselves the Brave Companions."

"To survive, we had no choice but to cross Gods Eye and seek refuge with relatives in Duskendale. You know, in these times, there is fighting everywhere; the Riverlands is in chaos—and we just want to find a place to settle down."

"Fortunately, Lord Bolton is a benevolent lord. To make up for his men's mistakes, he personally issued us a travel permit."

To bolster the lie, Ronin produced a parchment from his chest and carefully unrolled it, revealing House Bolton's emblem and wax seal.

"You may inspect it, Captain Harag." He offered it with both hands, fully composed and showing not a hint of fear.

This actually made Harag hesitate, not having expected these "refugees" to carry a document signed by Roose Bolton himself.

A trace of suspicion flashed in his gray eyes, and he signaled to a subordinate beside him to step forward and take the parchment.

The soldier rode forward, took it, and handed it to Harag.

Harag pretended to open the parchment, but his eyes did not examine its contents. Instead, he used the moment to covertly scrutinize Ronin's group again.

A woman more robust than most men.

A hulking brute who looked fiercer than any of his own soldiers.

A guard with a look of misfortune.

A bound, suspicious individual… and—

"Heh heh…"

His eyes landed on Jaime, wrapped tightly in the cloak, and suddenly a sly grin bloomed across his face.

He casually tossed the parchment aside, planted his hands on his hips, and declared proudly, "I can't read!"

"..."

Ronin was left speechless by his self-righteous words.

He felt a headache coming up. They truly were a bunch of unreasonable bastards, utterly devoid of any logic.

He clenched his fist before reaching into his chest and pulling out a small pouch. The pleasant clinking sound of coins inside made the eyes of the Northern soldiers light up.

He tossed it toward Harag and spoke pleadingly, "We are nothing but poor folks hoping only to reach Duskendale safely and escape war, my lord."

"There are a hundred gold dragons inside. Think of them as our toll." As he spoke, Ronin forced out a faint, sincere smile.

In times like these, bribery opened more doors than steel. To him, who possessed the System, gold dragons were precious, but if he lost his life, no amount of gold would matter; they would only enrich others.

Besides, as long as he stayed alive and made it to King's Landing, the bathtub filled with gold dragons Jaime had promised was still waiting for him.

Across from him, Harag caught the pouch, weighed it, sneered, and stuffed it into his chest pocket without even checking. But he showed no intention of leaving.

He raised the warhammer again, this time pointing straight at Jaime, and said, "You have some sincerity, boy, but that is not what I want. That sneaky fellow hiding under that cloak—tear that disgrace off him! Now!"

Ronin clenched his teeth at his words. Damn this bastard, he was too rude!

That was all of the gold dragons he had!

Forcing himself to remain calm, his brain working furiously, Ronin took a deep breath, fully activated Majesty Lv2, and shifted into a serious, resolute stance.

"Impossible! My lord, absolutely impossible! He is suffering from a severe illness. He must remain tightly wrapped, otherwise it will spread!"

"Bullshit!" Harag sneered, not believing him one bit.

Even with Majesty activated, the distance between them was too great, making it difficult to affect Harag.

"I've fought from Caho City all the way to the Riverlands, and I've never heard of an illness that makes you wrap someone up like that! Don't try to fool me!"

"It's true!"

Seeing Harag unmoved, Ronin's pupils contracted slightly, and then he uttered a chilling word. "It's Greyscale."

"Greyscale?"

"What in the seven hells is that?"

At the mention of the name, the Northern soldiers fell silent, whispering among themselves. There was no helping it. It sounded too ominous.

Next to Harag, a man with graying hair suddenly spoke up. "Captain... I... I think I've heard it from the mouth of my uncle. You know he's a sailor."

"He said he saw it in Essos. The skin of the ones afflicted with greyscale turns hard like bark and stone, and even cutting off the infected area doesn't help!"

He swallowed, clearly apprehensive. "Let's just leave, Captain. If we catch something like that, the only outcome will be… well, it's not worth it!"

"Exactly."

Seeing that someone recognised it, Ronin quickly pressed his advantage. "The disease comes from across the Rhoyne, and it is extremely strange. Once infected, the skin turns gray like stone, gradually losing all sensation. It spreads until the entire body becomes like stone. There is no cure. The one inflicted with it can only watch himself turn into a statue and slowly wait in agony for death."

He let his voice turn grave and cold: "Anyone who goes near him might be infected. But since he is Ser Finn's eldest son, we cannot abandon him."

With his trusted soldier's frightened words and Ronin's elaborate description, Harag began to hesitate.

His instincts told him that the cloaked figure was highly suspicious—but what if the disease was real? Harag dared not gamble!

He stared hard at the gray cloak, as if trying to peer through it. After a long, tense silence, he forced out an ugly smile and then turned his horse.

"Tch! Damned bad luck!" He spat on the ground and began to curse, "Wasting my time over some plague-ridden ghost!"

"Move! Let's go find that incestuous dog who mounts his own sister!"

"Word is that twat sitting on the Iron Throne is also the Kingslayer's and the whore-queen's bastard, hahahaha!"

"The lion family? They should call themselves the cursed family! Must've committed so many sins the gods punished them with birthing a freak no taller than a Half-man!"

As Harag rode away, he spewed increasingly vile insults about the Lannisters, growing more excited with each word.

"I bet Tywin Lannister's wife was eaten alive by that demon, starting from the bottom!"

"Hahahaha!!!!"

The vulgarity in his words became intolerable, and every alarm bell in Ronin's mind rang all at once.

Damn!!

He knew Jaime far too well—especially when insults targeted his beloved sister, his dead mother, and his brother.

These words were equivalent to repeatedly branding his soul and dignity with a red-hot iron rod!

"Don't do anything rash..." Ronin muttered inwardly, his heart pounding in his throat.

His muscles were tense, and he had already signaled Iggo and Brienne with his eyes to prepare for Jaime's inevitable outburst.

But to his shock, the cloak remained completely still, apart from a single tremor when his mother was insulted.

Harag cursed until his throat was dry, only to find the other party completely unresponsive.

Growing bored, he gave one final glare at the cloaked figure, then waved his arm dismissively. "Move!"

Leading his men, he cursed and turned his horse, riding away along the lakeside road, eventually disappearing around the corner of the woods.

It wasn't until the dust raised by the riders had completely settled, leaving only the sound of the wind and the soft lapping of water against the shore, that the suffocating tension finally eased.

Under everyone's watchful eyes, the gray hood was slowly lifted, golden hair spilling out, gleaming like sunlight breaking through dark clouds.

Jaime turned his head toward Ronin, who still wore a frown. There was no expected fury on his face. Instead, he seemed completely calm.

"What is it?"

"Did you expect me to leap out like a dog with its tail stepped on and drag all of you along with me?"

Jaime let our a sneer, continuing in a teasing tone, "I am Jaime Lannister. My life is worth far more than theirs."

Hearing this, Ronin was stunned for a second.

"Just watch, Ronin."

Jaime paused, his gaze fixed on the direction where those men had gone, and a flicker of resolution ignited in his eyes.

"When I return to King's Landing, I will use my own methods to ensure that foul-mouthed bastard pays dearly for every word he spoke today."

"Don't forget—"

"A Lannister always pays his debts."

Ronin blinked, then allowed a genuine smile to spread across his face.

He realized that the man before him was no longer the impulsive, hot-headed "Kingslayer" of his youth.

The loss of his hand and the hardships endured along the way had carved away his recklessness while sharpening something far more dangerous and resolute.

Ronin nodded, his voice earnest. "You have matured, Jaime."

Jaime raised an eyebrow, clearly ready to respond to his assessment with his usual sarcasm.

But just before he could speak—

Rumble!

A sudden burst of frantic, chaotic hoofbeats echoed from the direction the Karstark cavalry had just disappeared—accompanied by desperate, furious shouts.

"Thats Arya Stark!"

"Arya Stark is with The Hound! Catch her!"
...

Read Chapter 17 : Back to the Old Profession on my patreon for free.

 

[AAALLlIII333]

Well you may have stopped Jaime from doing something rash but you won't be stopping Brienne from trying to save her lady's daughter.

 

[TRm]

Definitely curious to see where this going

 

[Simplexity]

Hmm I don't see how meeting Arya Stark won't lead to Jaime getting knifed in his sleep.

Cuz you know he is the uncle (father) of the person who had her father killed and her sister abused.