The Goldcloak lunged for his weapon, while the cowardly brute screamed like a girl and stumbled backwards, losing his balance and crashing to the floor.
"It's you!!" The knight shouted as his grip relaxed when he realised who was standing in the doorway. "You bastard! You scared me! What are you slamming the—"
"D-Dead! They are all dead!!" The scout bent over, gasping for breath, one hand clutching his side.
"Who's dead?" The fallen thug hurriedly stood up. "Where are the rest? Did the mission fail?"
"That Jon Snow, he killed them all. Everyone." The man shook his head with a numb expression. "The boy was a monster."
"What?! How is that possible?" The thug stared at him with disbelief in his eyes. "How could they die? I even sent two crossbows with you."
The scout opened his mouth, but nothing came out as he silently shook his head.
"Fucking useless! The lot of them." The Goldcloak kicked the wobbly chair. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted street rats like you—"
"Wait!" The thug turned towards the scout with wide eyes. "Why did you run here? Y-You weren't caught, were you?"
"No, I wasn't." The scout hastily shook his head, unable to meet his eyes.
"Don't lie!" The Goldcloak's eyes narrowed. "I can tell you're hiding something."
The scout turned pale, wanting to deny it, but then he noticed the threatening look in the man's eyes and swallowed. "T-The boy somehow knew that I was watching from the inn, and he noticed me before I managed to get away."
"What?!" The Goldcloak roared as his stomach dropped. "And you came straight here?!"
The scout flinched, giving him the answer.
"You absolute idiot!! What if they followed you?"
"Impossible!!" The scout vigorously shook his head. "The path I took was so convoluted and narrow that even locals wouldn't have managed to follow behind me. And besides, I-I waited for a while midway through to make sure no one was following me, so there's no chance they would come here. I guarantee it."
"Your guarantee means shit." The Goldcloak's teeth ground together, but he knew shouting anymore was useless, so he dragged in a slow breath and forced himself to think.
'We definitely can't stay here.'
The man knew that even if the chance of his involvement in this being discovered was low, one should never underestimate the power of money.
And if there was one thing that bastard had in abundance, it was gold.
If a large enough bounty was placed on their heads, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that the whole city would come out with their forks to help search for them.
And considering that this fool had run all the way here, showing his face to who knows how many people, it shouldn't take them many days before someone connected the dots and led them straight here, and from there it wouldn't be too hard to find a witness who had seen a goldcloak in the area.
When that happens, even his backers wouldn't be able to save him...
After all, the bastard's brother was the heir to the North, and it was also a well-known fact that their father was a close friend of the king.
'No.'
The Goldcloak's fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. 'I would definitely be silenced.'
He knew what kind of men his masters were.
They would abandon him at the first opportunity. Going to them for protection would be suicide.
His eyes moved toward the two idiots.
His thumb rubbed slowly against the sword's hilt.
'Should I just deal with them?'
"We should leave the city and lay low for a while." The brute's voice interrupted his thoughts.
The scout nodded quickly.
"I have a cousin who runs an inn in Crownlands. We can stay there until the Tourney is over and they all leave."
He glanced nervously toward the Goldcloak.
"We just need to leave the city before night falls."
After the mistakes he'd made, he wanted to be at least a little helpful, so they wouldn't abandon him.
'Perhaps they are still useful.'
"I'll take care of that." The Goldcloak finally nodded. "I have a few acquaintances at the Mud Gate, so it shouldn't be a problem to leave the city." his eyes shifted towards the woman. "Let's just take care of her and go. We can't waste any more time here."
He drew his sword as he stepped towards her.
"W-Wait! Wait! Don't do that!"
The ugly brute jumped in front of the woman.
"What are you doing?"
The Goldcloak frowned.
"She's already seen our faces. We can't leave her alive."
"I know, it's just..."
The brute glanced toward the woman.
His tongue flicked nervously across his lips.
"A waste to kill her just like that, don't you think?"
"Are you serious?"
The Goldcloak stared at him.
"You're still thinking about that when our lives are on the line?" Unable to believe how pent up these street rats were.
"I..."
"He is not wrong, m'lord," the scout gulped as he too stared at the woman. "After all, we'll be on the road for quite some time, and there are no brothels where we are going."
"Yes, yes."
The other thug nodded eagerly.
"So who knows how long it'll be before we get to experience the taste of a woman? Especially a pretty noblewoman like her."
"And it will only take us a few minutes, m'lord, and we can just deal with her after. There is no chance for anyone to come after us so soon."
"And you yourself said that she's worth at least a hundred dragons." The brute grinned. "Even you wouldn't have tasted someone like her before, right?"
One after another, the two men piled on the arguments.
The Goldcloak wanted to resist, but the last sentence stuck home.
They were right. He had never in his life spent more than a few stags in a brothel.
A woman like this...
A young married noblewoman.
His fingers loosened around his sword.
And in the end, he couldn't suppress the animal inside him.
"Fine. I guess we can spare a few minutes..." The Goldcloak murmured as he sheathed his sword and turned towards the crying woman. "Sorry, my lady. But in fact, this is a kinder fate than the one you would have had if I'd sold you to Lord Baelish, as I intended." He smiled as he reached for his belt.
"Mrm! Mmh!"
The woman screamed behind her gag.
She backed into the wall, shaking her head desperately, but found no mercy in the eyes of the three animals; if anything, her struggle only seemed to excite them.
Finally, she understood—No one was coming.
Clenching her teeth, she drew herself back as far as the ropes allowed and slammed her head against the wall.
Pain exploded through her skull, but the slam gave her merely dizziness, and not death as she had been hoping.
A hand caught her before she could try again.
"Oh, no, no, you can't do that, my lady."
The Goldcloak smiled gently as his fingers twisted through her hair.
He yanked her away from the wall and threw her onto the floor between them. "Just entertain us for an hour or so, and then we'll gladly grant you your wish and send you on your way—"
"Ah!" The Goldcloak suddenly screamed in agony and fell to his knees as a dark shape came out of nowhere and scratched at his face. "My eyes!!"
"My lord?" The two thugs rushed towards him. "What happened?"
"That crow scratched me." The Goldcloak tore his hands off to reveal three ugly claw marks across his face, barely missing his eyes.
"Where did that—"
The crow swooped back as he ducked just in time.
"Shoo!! Get lost."
The two street rats waved frantically, trying to scare it away, but the bird was too persistent and kept darting away from their grasp.
"Grab her." The Goldcloak roared in anger while crouching on the floor and covering his head with his arms.
"Get that broom!"
"Yes!"
The scout sprinted toward the corner and returned with the long, dusty broom and began swinging it through the air, left and right, but somehow always seemed to miss by a wide margin.
"What are you doing? Smash it!"
"I am trying, but it just won't—"
"Give it to me."
The greasy-haired brute snatched the broom from his hands, and then, instead of flailing aimlessly, he planted his feet and waited.
And then, at the perfect moment, he slammed it into the bird.
Thwack!!
"Ha! I got it!"
"Perfect."
"Bring her to me." The Goldcloak lowered his arms.
The brute picked up the dazed crow and handed her over.
The Goldcloak held it tightly in his hands, looking at it as it squirmed weakly. "How do you like this, you bastard?" he whispered with a maniac grin as he slowly and brutally tightened his grip.
Chi! Chi! Ch—
It squeaked and squeaked, but eventually her chest gave way, and her fragile chest bones snapped.
Her body went limp; her beady little eyes remained open in despair.
"The crow must have gone insane for some reason, m'lord."
"Che! Whatever!" The Goldcloak tossed the crow aside.
He brushed off his hands and stood up, his eyes returning to the woman. "Now, where were we—"
Screech!
All three men froze.
Their heads snapped toward the door.
"It's locked."
A muffled voice came from outside.
The door rattled violently in its frame, sending dust drifting from the ceiling.
"Of course it is."
Another voice answered impatiently.
"Move away!"
The thug jumped up. "We need to—"
SLAM!
The door was ripped off its hinges as dust billowed into the warehouse, and sunlight poured through the opening.
And standing there amidst the swirling dust was the last person these men wanted to see.
"Made it in time."
Jon lowered his leg.
"Lena!"
Marynd screamed at the sight of his wife bleeding from her head, lying on the ground like a discarded sack, with an ugly brute and a Goldcloak standing over her with their belts half open.
"YOU—"
Marynd's eyes turned red as he drew his sword and charged like an enraged bull.
"Die!!"
The Goldcloak scrambled for his discarded sword, while the greasy-haired brute, seeing the worsening situation, lunged for the woman, knowing that she was his only chance to survive.
"Oh, no, you don't." Jon's right hand rose.
He aimed for just a heartbeat before he flicked his wrist.
Puchi!
"Ugh!" The greasy-haired brute staggered just inches away from the woman.
His hand flew to the knife buried in the back of his neck.
"Ah!"
His knees buckled as he collapsed, with a groan of despair.
'I knew that this skill would be useful.'
Jon couldn't help the small smile that touched his lips.
Having seen what the likes of Bronn and Daario had achieved with nothing more than a simple knife in his previous life, Jon had, of course, practised the skill whenever he found the time.
But his use of the bow was just so overpowered that he had never felt the need to bring out his knife ever before, but today... he had finally seen the fruits of all those long hours of practice.
"Arr!!"
The knight swung his mighty long sword at the Goldcloak, who barely managed to bring his own blade up in time to defend.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Marynd gave him no time to breathe.
Every strike came harder than the last as he poured all his rage and frustration into his swings.
"Wait! I am working for—"
With a mighty roar, Marynd slammed the sword out of the Goldcloak's hand, sending him flying to the ground. "Ah."
The Goldcloak fell and scrambled backwards in despair as the knight raised his sword, and slashed down.
"NO!"
At the last moment, the unlikeliest of people came to Goldcloak's rescue and deflected the sword from its path.
The guard stared upward in a daze. Jon stood between him and death.
"Why?" Marynd panted heavily, a confused expression on his face.
"I need him alive for a while to answer some questions of mine."
Jon lowered his sword.
The scout who had tried to run was already breathing his last, his throat cut open. This man was the only living witness who could lead them to the true hand behind everything.
Jon jerked his head toward the other side of the room.
"I think your wife needs you more at the moment." He sheathed his sword.
Marynd's jaw clenched as he glared at the guard for a few moments before he nodded and turned around.
"Lena!" He rushed to free his wife from her bindings.
Jon took a deep breath and turned around, his heavy eyes going not towards the fallen goldcloak but the dead crow who had been thrown aside as if it were trash.
It had been a simple trade between them—follow the men for a while, and he would give her some treats. The crow followed through with her side of the bargain flawlessly.
But at their last moment of contact, when Jon had noticed the woman in distress, about to be assaulted, he had instinctively given an order.
Distract the bastards until he arrived.
He had expected her to make some noise. Maybe pick at their hair.
And then fly away the moment they threatened her.
But it seems she had taken his request to heart.
She had guarded the woman with her life. 'I let you down, my friend. I am sorry.'
Jon's finger curled into a fist as he finally turned to the Goldcloak.
The man was looking around with shifty eyes when he caught Jon's stare and flinched.
"Y-You can't kill me. I belong to the City Watch. I-I work for the King; he won't let you—"
"You know, in all my years, I've never much cared for torture."
Jon's whispered as he slowly stepped forward. "I've always considered it a crude and unnecessary way of extracting information."
His smile faded.
"But…" He paused, letting the silence stretch between them. "I think I'm going to enjoy torturing the answers out of you."
///