"I really don't get why you're throwing a tantrum. Just because you didn't get to kill your enemy with your own hands? That's your reason for trying to kill me? And now you're spouting some delusional nonsense to slander me?" Ian pressed his advantage with a smirk. "Look, I'm sorry. I had no idea your grudge ran so deep. What did the guy do, sleep with your wife?"
The mercenaries around them burst into even louder laughter.
"Thirty," Harui raised three fingers, cutting through the jeers with cold resolve. He knew he couldn't explain everything to these mercenaries, so he decided to speak in the language they understood best. "Kill him, and I'll pay thirty gold dragons."
The laughter died in an instant. Ian felt all those greedy eyes turn to him, the air thick with a different kind of tension now—one laced with the scent of gold.
"Oh? Is that so?" Ian chuckled darkly. "You're trying to outbid a Lannister?" He turned to the captain of the mercenaries, Karmel. "Kill him. Whatever he's offering, I'll double it."
"You can't afford that," Harui scoffed, but the words caught in his throat. He suddenly remembered Ian had just completed a first-kill bounty. He clenched his fists and swallowed his protest.
"I can afford it," Ian said with a smug grin. He was about to redeem his reward through the system and withdraw the gold from his inventory, but a flicker of caution stopped him.
These guys work for Harui. What if I take the gold out, and they decide to kill me to keep it?
"I don't have it on me right now," Ian said with disdain. "But my squire will be along shortly with the funds. A Lannister always pays his debts. We've honored our word for a thousand years."
No one doubted Ian. Whether it was the story of his Lannister bastardy or his glittering attire, everything about him screamed credibility.
"Annie, I don't have time to log into the system right now. Can you redeem my reward for me?" Ian asked silently.
"Sure. The gold reward has been issued. Due to insufficient storage space in your inventory, part of the gold will be transported by a reward NPC directly to your location."
A single gold bar weighed about 37 pounds, and 3,000 gold dragons came out to nearly 45 pounds. Factoring in their size and shape, it was impossible to store them all in a single-slot backpack.
Why does this suddenly feel like I'm getting a delivery? Ian couldn't help but mutter internally, but now wasn't the time for jokes.
"When will the reward NPC arrive?"
"You have three options for the NPC escort: [Son of the Warrior], [Raventooth Guard], or [Elite Oathsworn Knight]. Once selected, they will depart from the nearest resource point—five kilometers from your location."
Ian blinked. The first two were long-forgotten historical factions.
The Son of the Warrior had been a militant order of the Faith of the Seven, disbanded during the reign of King Jaehaerys I. They were also known as the Holy Sword Order or the Star Knights, made up entirely of anointed knights who gave up their lands and titles to protect the faithful—basically paladins without the holy light. A top-tier unit, no doubt.
But Ian immediately rejected them. Why? Because of the flamboyant rainbow cloaks and star-shaped crystal sword pommels. If two of those guys showed up, no one would believe they were Lannister retainers.
(PSA for readers who've only watched the TV show: The "Sons of the Warrior" in the books are different from the raggedy zealots shown in the show. Those were the "Poor Fellows," another militant group—just as the name implies.)
The second option, the Raventooth Guard, were the elite troops of the legendary Brynden Rivers—aka "Bloodraven"—a highborn bastard who served as Hand of the King, then became Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and later the Three-Eyed Raven. They wielded magical weirwood bows and famously killed Daemon Blackfyre and his sons from over 300 yards during the Battle of the Redgrass Field. Another S-tier unit.
But Ian rejected them too—they had no horses and wouldn't arrive in time.
So he went with the least conspicuous, but statistically excellent, Elite Oathsworn Knight, then looked up at Captain Karmel for a response.
To his surprise, Karmel hesitated for a long time... then refused.
"Do you take me for some honorless sword-for-hire who turns on his client for coin?"
Well yes, you're literally a mercenary. Ian stared, baffled. You're turning down money? Is it not enough?
On the other side, Harui let out a deep sigh of relief. His gamble had paid off.
Karmel's company had always been known for its ironclad reputation around the town of Holloway. That was why Harui had poached them from another contract by offering twelve gold dragons—several times the normal rate.
Rumor had it that Karmel was once the grandson of a noble lord. His family went bankrupt and sold off their land when he was just a boy, and by his generation, they had lost even the title.
He earned his knighthood himself during King Robert's campaign against Balon Greyjoy's rebellion.
To revive his house, Karmel treated honor as more valuable than life itself. And right now, that was Harui's greatest asset.
Sure, Harui couldn't outspend a first-kill Lannister bastard. But he was still the client, and Karmel had never broken his word in over twenty years of mercenary work.
"So you're rejecting my offer?" Ian asked, just to confirm. "If it's about the money, I'm willing to triple his price—or name your own. Anything. Just name it."
"I said anything," Ian stressed. Even Jaime Lannister was worth only a thousand gold dragons. I'm just a bastard. If he asks for two hundred, that's generous.
All loyalty and honor in the world can be bought—you just haven't paid enough yet.
"Apologies, Ser. My honor does not permit me to betray my client," Karmel said. His tone wavered for a second, but the answer was firm.
Ian hadn't expected to meet a real-life Ned Stark wannabe on his first day. A mercenary who wouldn't take a bribe?
Karmel, buddy, if you care so much about honor, why are you even a mercenary?
But then Karmel continued, and Ian's heart skipped a beat.
"Likewise, my honor doesn't permit me to ambush a noble without just cause. If you swear, here and now, that you'll seek no further revenge against my client, I'll let you go."
Would it kill you to get to the point faster?! Ian pressed his hand over his chest—he could practically feel his heart trying to escape his ribcage.
Before Ian could answer, Harui exploded, "A noble? He's just a bastard! Hell, he's not even that—he's a fraud!"
"We agreed to protect your life and help eliminate your enemy. Your enemy is dead. Our only obligation now is your safety," Karmel replied calmly, just as firmly as he had to Ian.
That actually earned Ian's respect. Or something like it. At least it wasn't sarcasm.
"I am your employer! I order you to kill him!" Harui roared. He looked like a toddler shouting "I'm the king!"—a pathetic echo of King Joffrey.
Ian had no interest in escalating things further. He'd already earned the first-kill reward; killing Harui wasn't worth the risk now. Letting it go was a fair trade.
"I, Ian Casterhill, swear by my father and House Lannister's honor before the Seven that I will not seek vengeance against Harui or Ser Karmel and his men for today's events. If I break this oath, may the Father's judgment fall upon House Lannister."
"Lannister, my ass!" Harui growled.
"Thank you, Ser. May the Seven bless you," Karmel gave Ian a slight bow, then turned to Harui and grabbed him by the arm. "Come, Ser Harui. Ian has sworn not to pursue you. Don't provoke him further."
Clearly, Karmel had taken Harui's insult as a slight against Ian's illegitimacy. That wasn't helping.
"I—" Harui wanted to argue but swallowed it. Without evidence, anything he said was just noise.
He couldn't help but feel like he'd lost. Badly. And he didn't even understand how.
From the moment that fake bastard showed up, Harui had never once thought Ian might be a player too.
Who the hell rides a warhorse worth twenty gold dragons, wears brocade hunting garb, a gold-threaded cloak, a three-dragon gilded belt, and carries a Lannister sword... and turns out to be a player?!
What's next, he's got a top-up window? I would've recharged too if I knew!
That bastard had posed as a Lannister and scared Karmel into submission. Karmel...
Harui froze, then looked up, eyes glinting sharply.
"You think this is over? That today ends in a draw?"
"A draw?" Ian raised a brow, then shrugged. "Sure. A draw. Hell, if you want to call it your win, I don't mind."
"But I'm not satisfied," Harui's voice dropped, oozing venom. "You ever hear that line Littlefinger told Sansa?"
Ian's eyes narrowed. "What line?"
"In the game of thrones, even the humblest pawn has desires of their own—and sometimes, they refuse to move the way you want them to."
Ian's pupils shrank.