"Now, a Lannister who always pays his debts has a new offer," Ian shouted, raising a gold bar high above his head. "This is over two pounds of gold—worth at least 150 gold dragons! Whoever brings me Harui's head, it's theirs. And that man will become my new squire. Within three years, I'll see to it that he's knighted."
Harui's ominous feeling had come true.
Ian's words struck him like a hammer to the heart. He roared at Ian, "Bastard! You swore an oath!" Then, panicked, he turned to the loyal soldiers of Karmel around him.
Only now did he realize he had underestimated Ian's ambition.
He had thought Ian's previous actions—offering the mercenaries payment as "rewards"—were simply a calculated retreat to force a draw.
But Ian had done more than retreat. He had struck at their hearts.
At Karmel's men's loyalty.
Before Harui could react further, one of the mercenaries beside him yanked him off his horse. His bloated body slammed into the ground, and the moment he looked up, a flash of cold steel greeted him.
It was one of Karmel's own trusted men who had pulled him down. Without hesitation, he slit Harui's throat.
In his final moments, Harui felt a wave of bitter regret.
If only he'd listened to Karmel and accepted the peaceful compromise with the bastard... things might have ended peacefully.
Why had he felt the need to sow discord among the mercenaries? None of them had even thought of defying Karmel's orders.
He was the one who'd broken the window first—and that gave the bastard a chance to reduce his fortress to rubble.
The mercenary who killed Harui quickly backed away and shouted to Ian, "It was me, my lord! I killed him!"
"I said—bring me his head," Ian replied coldly.
At that moment, he heard the familiar ding from the auxiliary system in his mind, signaling the completion of the objective.
Mission accomplished. Time to disappear.
But first—he needed a little chaos.
The moment his words fell, the mercenaries descended into madness. They hacked down Harui's servants and surged toward his corpse, scrambling to claim the head.
Karmel stood in the midst of the fray, shouting in fury, trying to restore order. But it was useless.
Because Ian shouted once more:
"A Lannister always pays his debts!"
Then he hurled the gold bar into the mob. The moment it hit the ground, the crowd turned. Mercenaries abandoned Harui's body and dove for the gold instead.
The knight from House Lannister had paid his price. Who got the reward? That wasn't his concern.
And if that was the case... why shouldn't it be me?
As he watched the chaos unfold, Ian finally relaxed. He turned his horse around and gave the order to leave. "We're done here."
"That's it? We're just leaving?" the green-armored knight asked, surprised.
"What, is that a problem?"
"Look at this mess," the knight said, glancing at the corpses littering the field. "This is a massacre. The Tullys are bound to send an investigation team. I don't know your standing in House Lannister, but if it's not high, they won't go to war with the Riverlands over a bastard. You'll be a wanted man."
Ian froze.
Damn. Of all the things he'd calculated, he'd forgotten the law.
This was still a world roughly equivalent to medieval Europe. Murder wasn't just waved away. Westeros wasn't at war yet, and a slaughter like this—especially at a valuable salt mine—could easily attract the Duke's attention.
And everyone here had seen his face—the face of a "Lannister bastard."
Sure, he could ditch the identity, melt the lion head from his sword pommel, and in a world where bounty posters were hand-drawn, he'd basically vanish.
But he wasn't the only transmigrator here. There were nearly a hundred players scattered across the land.
How many ways could this slip-up come back to haunt him?
Ian took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and turned to his knight. "If we had to kill them all... what are the odds?"
He didn't want to gamble.
"Seventy percent," the knight said seriously. "If we joined the battle now, they'd realize what we're up to. They might stop fighting each other and turn on us. And this terrain—it's terrible for cavalry. If we dismount, we'll be swarmed. They're mostly in light armor, but there are a few skilled fighters among them."
He paused. "Of course, if you give the order, we'll make it happen."
"No." Ian shook his head firmly.
These two knights were his greatest assets right now. Unless absolutely necessary, he wouldn't risk them.
Seventy percent odds weren't good enough.
He turned his eyes back to the mercenaries.
At this point, Karmel had killed both the traitorous guard who murdered Harui and the instigator—an old mercenary named Adam. Now he stood in a tense standoff with the remaining mutineers, his loyalists behind him.
The mercenary who happened to catch the gold bar stood trembling between the two groups.
"Veteran captain, huh," Ian muttered, impressed. "Still managing to hold it together."
But jumping back in now... far too risky.
"Ser Karmel," Ian shouted loudly, "looks like you've still got a lot on your plate. I won't trouble you any further. Until we meet again!"
He smirked and locked eyes with Karmel, then spurred his horse and galloped away.
The two knights didn't quite understand Ian's plan, but they followed closely, soon galloping onto the Kingsroad.
After just two miles, Ian reined in his horse and turned back toward the salt mine.
The knights stopped beside him.
"I thought you were going to kill them all," the green knight said.
"I am," Ian replied. "But not by charging in like a brute."
"I just turned those mercenaries on Harui and ruined the reputation Karmel spent years building. I split his forces, shattered his command. Now he wants me dead more than anything in the world.
He won't let me escape.
And once he sees us flee, he'll chase us. But they've only got five horses. Harui's trade caravan horses are useless for pursuit. So they'll send no more than five men."
Ian's eyes narrowed.
"We take out Karmel first—then circle back to deal with the rest."