Carrying his medical bag, Corleone walked toward the edge of the camp. Two Brave Companions guarding the perimeter immediately blocked him with vigilance.
"This is Commander Vargo's order."
Before they could question him, Corleone lifted his chin, adopting a haughty posture, bluffing with borrowed authority. "I am here to treat the Kingslayer's wounds. If he dies on the way to Harrenhal, don't expect to see a single Gold Dragon."
Hearing this, the two guards exchanged glances and reluctantly stepped aside, their eyes full of annoyance as they looked at Corleone.
Damn it, what's a farmer got to be arrogant about?
If not for Commander Vargo's order, I'd finish you right now!
Under their watch, Corleone swaggered up to Jaime, squatted down, and began to unwrap the bandages, attending to the bloody stump of his wrist.
"The treatment is working. At least the rot hasn't spread too much. But the necrotic tissue must be surgically removed as soon as possible; otherwise, I'm afraid you won't be able to keep this arm."
His voice was neither loud nor soft, just enough for the two guards to hear clearly. His tone was extremely professional, looking every bit like he was just doing his job.
Jaime lowered his head, his voice carrying a deliberate weariness. "So what if I keep it? Can it let me hold a sword again, swing it like before?"
Saying this, he raised his eyelids, a hint of inquiry flashing in his emerald eyes.
Corleone moved deftly, speaking with pointed meaning: "At least a clean wound won't give you a high fever at midnight, causing you to die a violent death before... dawn even breaks!"
Hearing this, Jaime's emerald pupils contracted slightly.
He vaguely guessed that this might be Corleone reminding him that the time to act was at night!
However, he didn't respond immediately. Instead, he sneered again, his tone carrying a hint of scrutiny and mockery as he spoke, "Even if you heal my wound, I won't be grateful to you, kid."
"Besides, maybe once my father pays the ransom, I'll immediately demand Roose Bolton chop off your head?"
"The gold of Casterly Rock might not be enough for me to avenge my severed hand, but it's enough to buy an insignificant... farmer-doctor like you, just to vent my anger."
"Let me guess, how many Gold Dragons would make the Lord of the Dreadfort agree? Five hundred? A thousand?"
Hearing Jaime's mockery, Corleone's hands didn't stop moving.
This guy was clearly warning him that cooperating with him might not end well.
However, Corleone knew Jaime's character all too well—perhaps even better than his father, Lord Tywin, did.
He raised his eyes, calmly meeting Jaime's probing and mocking gaze. His voice was soft but carried a strange certainty:
"A lion might be forced by circumstances to roll in the mud, dirtying its golden fur."
"It might have to kill an intruder to protect its den, or even shoulder a crime to prevent a more terrible disaster."
"But I have never heard of a proud lion actively betraying an oath it personally made. If such a day truly comes, it will never be out of the lion's own baseness and greed."
"It must be because... it faces a choice more noble, one that compels it to do so, something even more important than its own honor!"
As these words came out, Jaime was completely stunned.
Corleone's words were like a scalpel of unparalleled precision, cutting straight open his heaviest, most untouchable scar.
For years, the name "Kingslayer" had spread throughout Westeros. No one had ever interpreted his actions back then from such an angle—not even Eddard Stark, known for his "justice" and "honor"!
He understands me...
He really understands me!
An indescribable sourness and comfort instantly washed away the high wall built of anger, humiliation, and self-abandonment in Jaime's heart.
He stared blankly at this lowly farmer-doctor in front of him, opened his mouth, but couldn't say a single word.
Seeing Jaime stunned, Brienne beside him was utterly perplexed.
With her simple thought process, she only heard the two discussing strange topics about "wounds" and "lions," but couldn't connect them to any actual events.
Not just her, even the two guards nearby were confused, completely failing to understand any deeper meaning in their conversation.
Just then, Urswyck's roar came from not far away, interrupting the momentary silence.
"Hey, you two, Timeon, Pyg!"
"Are you fucking blind? Can't you see everyone is tired as if they've fucked an entire brothel? Get your asses over here and push the cart!"
The two guards were stunned by the shout and said with difficulty, "But... the Kingslayer and this woman..."
"I'll watch them for you!"
Urswyck, whose clothes didn't have a speck of mud, strode over cursing. "Damn it, a bunch of useless things. Without me, this Brave Companions would be finished sooner or later!"
Seeing his angry expression, the two dared not say more and ran hurriedly toward the wagon stuck in the mud.
Taking the guards' place, Urswyck crossed his arms, his gaze sweeping gloomily over Corleone and Jaime.
Suddenly, without warning, he raised his foot and kicked Corleone in the shoulder, sending him stumbling. "Dawdling around! Come here! I cut my hand pushing the cart just now. Take a good look at it!"
With that, he walked to a tree and sat down.
Deftly finishing Jaime's bandages, Corleone raised an eyebrow at him. Glancing meaningfully at Urswyck, he said in a deep voice, "Tonight, Ser Jaime."
"Remember to remind me to change your dressing."
...
Corleone picked up his medical bag and walked toward Urswyck sitting under the tree.
There was no anger on his face from being kicked. He walked calmly to the man, squatted down, opened the medical bag, and took out a clean cloth and a waterskin, as if really intending to treat a nonexistent wound.
"Your 'treatment' seems to be working a bit. That guy is swaying badly on his horse."
Urswyck scanned the surroundings vigilantly, keeping his voice extremely low, his lips barely moving.
"But this isn't enough. It's best if he meets the Stranger before dawn!"
He appeared very urgent.
Corleone moistened the cloth strip, wiping Urswyck's smooth and clean palm, and whispered, "He doesn't trust me anymore."
"Just now, he ordered that Dothraki to slit my throat. I can't get close to him again, let alone tamper with anything."
"Damn it!"
Urswyck cursed, frowning and ordering viciously, "Think of something!"
"Before dawn, find a chance to try one last time. Even if it's putting something in that guy's waterskin or food!"
"If it really doesn't work..."
A ruthless glint flashed in his eyes, and he finally gritted his teeth. "We'll strike early. Can't wait any longer!"
"We absolutely cannot let Vargo return to Harrenhal alive!"
Urswyck analyzed to himself. Seeing Corleone remain silent, he assumed the other party agreed with his proposal.
"You!"
He thought for a moment, glanced at Iggo guarding nearby Vargo, and the corner of his mouth hooked into a cruel angle. "Once the fight starts, you need to find a way to get close and take out that Dothraki savage!"
"He's Vargo's most loyal dog. He must be eliminated first!"
"Me?"
"Take him out?"
Hearing this, Corleone pointed at his own nose, looking incredulous.
What kind of fucking joke is this?
His arm is thicker than my thigh!
"What, unwilling?"
Seeing Corleone's strong reaction, Urswyck sneered, "Since you took my ten Gold Dragons, you have to show your worth. Otherwise... I'll kill you right now!"
Heh.
Seeing Urswyck's tough attitude, Corleone sneered inwardly.
This guy really knows how to calculate.
This is clearly sending me on an almost certain suicide mission. Regardless of success or failure, Urswyck can easily eliminate two potential obstacles—Iggo and myself.
However, Corleone kept a straight face, even frowning slightly to show just the right amount of reluctance, and whispered in agreement, "Since you've decided, my lord, I can try... but please give me a hand at the critical moment."
Corleone's obedience satisfied Urswyck greatly, squeezing a twisted smile onto his gloomy face.
He suddenly pulled back his hand and deliberately shouted, "Get lost! Clumsy fool, can't even handle a small scratch!"
Corleone silently packed up his things, stood up, and left.
However, the triumphantly grinning Urswyck failed to notice that not far away, his Commander was staring straight at him with an incredibly dangerous gaze.
Clearly, the "interaction" between the two just now had been fully observed by him.