"Honestly… just one more step."
With a helpless sigh at his terrible luck, Aedric gave the dumbfounded gate guards a pleasant little smile — and then vanished. A flash of steel later, several heads went flying, and their bodies crumpled to the ground clutching at their slashed throats.
Sliding his sword back into its sheath, Aedric turned toward the still-stunned Lord Eddard Stark, who hadn't even managed to draw his own blade halfway.
"Please hurry, Lord Stark. We're already running late."
Eddard gaped for several seconds, still trying to process what had just happened. Eventually, he managed to close his mouth, gave Aedric a complicated look, and wisely decided not to say anything. He hurried after the young man through the now-open gate.
Sometimes, bad luck comes with a bit of good fortune. Just outside the gate stood several fine warhorses — clearly the mounts of Gold Cloaks. Without hesitation, the two men mounted and spurred the animals toward King's Landing's outer walls.
"Jon! The gates must already be sealed!" Eddard shouted, glancing over his shoulder as the sound of pursuit grew louder. "We'll never make it through — we need another way out!"
Aedric said nothing. He didn't even look back. He simply kept charging straight for the main gate, casually batting away incoming arrows with his sword as though swatting flies.
Seeing that his companion refused to listen, and with the enemy closing in fast, Lord Stark had no choice but to grit his teeth and follow.
After ten long minutes of pursuit, they finally reached the city's main gate — and indeed, it was exactly as Eddard feared. The massive doors were sealed tight, surrounded by rows of heavily armed guards.
"Eddard Stark, traitor to the crown! Dismount and surrender at once!"
The guards' shouts rang out — but Aedric ignored them completely.
When he was just a few meters away, he reached into his robes and pulled out a small cylindrical weapon. He flicked his wrist, and a moment later, a flurry of metal bolts screamed through the air.
It was the Zhuge Divine Crossbow — modeled after the Tang Sect's hidden weapons from the Douluo Continent world, recreated by the finest engineers of the Wudang and Ming Cult alliance. Sixteen bolts per volley, three volleys total. Within a hundred meters, it could pierce steel plate like paper.
Even Aedric wouldn't want to face such a formation head-on.
But the gate guards didn't stand a chance. In the blink of an eye, their neat ranks were torn apart, bodies collapsing one after another. The path ahead was clear.
Without missing a beat, Aedric hurled his sword forward. The blade struck deep into the city wall with a metallic thunk. He grabbed the still-bewildered Eddard Stark by the collar and launched himself upward.
Wudang's Ladder Cloud Steps — lightness skill of the highest order.
He vaulted upward, stepped once on the protruding sword for leverage, and soared over the fifteen-meter wall like a ghost. On the other side, the two men dropped out of sight, leaving behind a crowd of soldiers staring up with mouths hanging open.
During the fall, Aedric snatched Eddard's sword and drove it into the wall, slowing their descent with the friction of steel against stone. Within seconds, they landed safely at the base of the wall, both unharmed.
Looking up at the stunned faces peering down, Aedric gave them a universal one-finger salute — the international gesture of "farewell and screw you" — then hoisted Eddard onto his back and sprinted away with inhuman speed.
In a blur, the scenery around them melted into streaks of green and brown.
It took Lord Stark a full minute to realize what had just happened. Hanging on to Aedric's shoulders, the seasoned warrior felt his pride crumble. He wanted to say something — anything — but no words came out. The only thing left was a deep, choking mix of gratitude and humiliation.
Aedric ignored the middle-aged noble clinging to him like a sack of flour. Twenty minutes later, he reached the forest he'd mentioned earlier. After a moment of stillness — listening, sensing for danger — he set Eddard down and called out loudly:
"Arya! We're back!"
The moment Arya heard her brother's voice, she bolted upright. The guards tried to stop her, but she tore free and sprinted toward the sound.
When she burst through the trees and saw the two Gold Cloaks, her heart nearly stopped — until she recognized their faces.
"Father!" she cried, tears spilling over as she threw herself into Eddard's arms. "I thought I'd never see you again!"
Watching the emotional reunion, Aedric couldn't help but pout a little, muttering under his breath as he stripped off the stolen armor.
"Yeah, sure, just forget the guy who risked his neck to save you both…"
Then, glancing at the kneeling Stark retainers nearby, he barked:
"Enough tears. We're not safe yet. Mount up — we leave immediately."
But before they could move, Eddard suddenly stiffened.
"Where's Sansa? She isn't here?"
Still cradling Arya, he looked around in alarm.
"Sansa went into the palace early this morning," Aedric replied, frowning. "You didn't see her?"
"No! She wasn't there! Why would she go into the palace at dawn?"
Aedric froze. He rubbed his temples, fighting the urge to bury his face in his hands.
Good heavens… this man.
You're leading a coup, a life-or-death confrontation with the Queen's family — and you don't even know where your daughter is?
No wonder Littlefinger dared play both sides in front of him. This level of naïveté was practically a superpower.
At that thought, Aedric suddenly felt a wave of respect for the late Jon Arryn. To tolerate both Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon for years — that took the patience of a saint.
Aedric clenched his fists. It had taken him only a few minutes in Ned's company to feel the overwhelming urge to hit him.
A genius, he thought darkly. A true, once-in-a-generation idiot savant.
~~--------------------------
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