"It's the guy with the Crossbow."
Viserys hid inside the box, not daring to breathe, clutching the 'Big Toothpick' tightly in his hand.
His fingernails were white from gripping so hard. His heart was pounding in his chest. Peeking through a crack in the box, he continued to observe the man.
The room was pitch black, with only a little light filtering in from the hallway through the open doorway.
The man with the Crossbow hadn't yet discovered the inconspicuous, dilapidated wooden box in the corner of the storage room.
Clatter—
The man kicked at the debris on the ground, raising a small cloud of dust. He coughed a few times and cursed under his breath, then suddenly spoke in a slightly threatening tone.
"Hey, little thing, I know you're hiding here."
"You can hear me, and you're peeking at me, aren't you?"
The man held a Crossbow in his hands, waving it to disperse the dust that had settled. Then, he straightened up slightly, his gaze sweeping across the entire room, including the areas where the light couldn't reach.
He had plenty of experience dealing with children of this age.
Don't let their physical advantages fool you; they're good at hiding. But he only needed to scare them a little, and they'd give themselves away.
The man tried to force a grimace onto his face, and then continued to intimidate.
"Don't hide. I see you."
"Is that your clothes peeking out?"
However, despite the mercenary's threats, the storeroom remained silent. Only the mercenary's voice echoed, sounding like a self-absorbed fool.
"Damn it!"
The man holding the Crossbow rubbed his teeth, realizing the little thing might not be hiding in the room.
Still, he took a few more steps, refusing to give up. It was pitch black inside; Viserys could be hiding anywhere.
The mercenary walked deeper into the storeroom, his figure quickly swallowed by the darkness. The light from the door only reached as far as his back.
Boom—
He kicked over an empty wooden barrel in frustration, the lid falling to the ground. There was no one hiding inside.
"Looks like the little thing really isn't hiding here."
"You got lucky."
The man holding the Crossbow mumbled to himself, preparing to leave the room and continue searching the next one.
However, at that moment, his peripheral vision caught sight of an inconspicuous wooden box in the corner.
"Hmm?"
The wooden box didn't look very big; it would be a squeeze for a seven-year-old child to hide inside.
He didn't consider whether that bastard from House Targaryen might be hiding there. Instead, he thought about something else: whether the box contained the Targaryen family's 'treasure'.
Although House Targaryen had lost the Iron Throne, they had ruled Westeros for over two hundred years, amassing who knew how much wealth.
And Dragonstone was the Targaryen family's main base, so perhaps they had stored a large amount of their wealth within this castle.
The man holding the Crossbow was slightly tempted.
Then, with the mindset of just giving it a try, he figured these Targaryens were all going to die anyway. Might as well take what he could get; even a few Gold Dragons would be nice.
He made up his mind and walked towards the wooden box in the corner.
Unprepared, he never imagined a small box could hide a little boy. He bent down slightly, intending to lift the lid.
But then...
Bang!
The lid of the box was suddenly thrown open.
A boy with silver-gold hair was hiding inside. Clutching a short sword with all his might, he thrust it fiercely at the man's bent-down throat.
At the same time, Viserys kept repeating the instructor's words in his mind.
'Use the pointy end to thrust at the enemy.'
In fact, after more than half a year of practice, Viserys' swordsmanship might not be superb, but at least he was no longer unfamiliar with using a weapon.
The instructor's teaching to the boy was also mainly simple, just simple 'Thrust' and 'Slash', and then applying them flexibly.
The essence of swordsmanship was actually like this; simple techniques coupled with reasonable application could be invincible.
And this mercenary holding the Crossbow had experienced many battles after all. His reaction under the shock and stress was also very quick. He desperately dodged his vital parts.
His right hand holding the Crossbow also instinctively blocked in front of him, and then was pierced by the sword in Viserys' hand.
Puff—
The short sword directly pierced his wrist, the sharp tip of the sword penetrating through.
The man dodged the vital spot, but his wrist was pierced, and the Crossbow in his hand clattered to the ground.
He hadn't expected someone to be hiding in such a small box, nor had he expected to be ambushed and nearly killed by a child.
The mercenary clutched his injured wrist with one hand, his face a mixture of shock and fury as he turned to flee.
Then.
A scream erupted in the silent corridor.
A mercenary, tall as a mountain and carrying a battle axe, was searching another room.
He was also carelessly rummaging through chests and cabinets, showing no concern for a seven-year-old child who wasn't even as tall as he was.
"Poor little thing."
Landon's face twitched, looking a little fierce, and then he ripped a wooden door off its hinges.
At that moment.
A clear scream echoed from the corridor.
"Hmm?"
He recognized the voice of his companion, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly.
"He was injured by a child?"
"Hmph, what a waste."
Landon then flung away the wooden door, took the battle axe from his back, and strode out, intending to end Viserys's life.
And on the other side, the mercenary who had looked lecherous earlier emerged from the door even before the burly man. He had heard the screams of his companions and rushed out with his sword drawn.
He saw Viserys escaping from the storage room. The two were very close, as Viserys's hiding place was right next door.
The silver-haired boy who had escaped was covered in blood and dust, looking somewhat disheveled.
He held a short sword in one hand and, in the other, the Crossbow he had just taken from his enemy after killing him.
The bowstring was taut now, with a bolt already nocked.
Seeing a mercenary chasing him, the distance between them was less than two meters.
Viserys raised his hand without hesitation and fired the bolt from the Crossbow.
BOOM—
The crossbow string emitted a dull thrum.
The quarrel, locked and loaded, shot forth instantly, whistling through the air.
Plock—
The sharp quarrel effortlessly shattered the mercenary's hard forehead, burying itself deep within, brain matter and blood splattering outwards.
At such close range, the man didn't even have time to react.
This time, his death was quicker; he didn't utter a sound. The impact of the quarrel sent his body flying backwards, and he crashed down onto the ground, face up.
Happy 2021, friends.
.....
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