Gendry stared at the open cell door, but his feet felt as if they were nailed to the spot.
He had never imagined that freedom would arrive in such a manner.
It came too suddenly, too violently, and with a heavy scent of blood; not far away, the soldier's corpse was still gurgling blood from its throat.
He was a blacksmith, accustomed to the rhythm of fire and the strike of a hammer—to creation, not destruction.
"Time waits for no one, bastard."
Corleone's voice pulled him back to reality; it was steady, completely out of place amidst the surrounding chaos.
Gendry looked up at the enigmatic man before him.
He claimed to be an envoy of the persons, offering gifts and plans to Stannis, yet in the blink of an eye, he had broken into the dungeon.
Now, he had killed the guard and opened the cell door, and there wasn't even a flicker of emotion in his eyes.
It seems I must get used to this bloody world quickly, Gendry thought, taking a deep breath as he stepped out of the cell.
"You're the one who led the enemy here!"
Suddenly, a roar erupted from the neighboring cell. Gendry turned to see Davos lunge toward the iron bars, pointing a finger accusingly at Corleone.
Firelight flickered across his face; his weather-beaten features were etched with wrinkles, now contorted in absolute fury.
"I knew it! You were never an envoy of the persons at all!"
"Sending you first to negotiate and lull us into a false sense of security while the fleet lands under the cover of night—it was all your conspiracy! You people have no concept of honor!"
This reasoning seemed sound; even Gendry instinctively took half a step back, looking at Corleone again with eyes full of suspicion.
Indeed, Corleone had only landed on Dragonstone during the day, and the night raid began that very evening. How could it be such a coincidence!
However, facing Davos's accusation, Corleone merely tilted his head slightly and rolled his eyes, appearing as if his patience for stupidity had run thin.
"Use that thing on your neck, Ser."
His voice carried a hint of impatience, as if such an obvious truth required no explanation: "If this were my design, do you think I would have come onto the island myself, risking the possibility of being executed by Stannis at any moment?"
"Even if there were dragons on this island, it wouldn't be worth such a risk, you fool!"
He cursed bluntly, then swept his gaze over Gendry: "Furthermore, if Stannis falls, what benefit is there for me?"
"What I want is a living King who owes me a favor and can do business with me at any time, not a pile of broken stones trampled by person soldiers!"
"If Tywin wins, the credit goes to his army and his commanders. At best, I'm just an anonymous messenger who was nearly killed by mistake. Isn't it obvious which side offers more profit?"
Hearing this, Gendry's expression began to soften, clearly somewhat convinced.
But Davos's face remained tense; he gripped the iron bars so hard his knuckles turned white.
"Then... what exactly is going on?"
His knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists, eyes locked onto Corleone. Beside him, Gendry was also watching expectantly, filled with a thirst for answers.
Seeing this, Corleone sighed softly, and Davos immediately felt a wave of disappointment wash over him, as if to say, 'How do you still not understand?'
"It's quite simple: the sky is blue, gold is yellow, and the human heart is black."
"And as for me, I've been sold out by that old man Tywin."
"He intentionally sent me to the island, using my head to lower Stannis's guard, making him believe King's Landing was still hesitating, testing the waters, and seeking a way out other than war."
"Then, while your attention was drawn by me—this shiny little chess piece—he dispatched the fleet to launch a total assault under the cover of night."
Corleone spoke with a tone that lacked even a hint of the anger one might expect from someone betrayed; it was as if he were discussing someone else's affairs.
He even added with a thoughtful note of admiration: "To be able to lower Stannis's guard and take the opportunity to eliminate me at the same time... it's truly goddamn... heartless."
The dungeon fell into a temporary silence, broken only by the sounds of slaughter drifting in from outside.
Davos lowered his head, accepting Corleone's explanation.
Gendry, meanwhile, looked at Corleone with curiosity, feeling his worldview undergo a violent shock.
He had once chosen to join the Brotherhood Without Banners, only to be handed over as a bargaining chip for gold. Later, that woman in red had seduced him and taken his virginity... ahem, but it was only to take his blood.
Every time, Gendry felt the fire of betrayal burning in his chest, making him want to scream, to smash something to pieces.
But the man before him, knowing he had been used as a discarded pawn and was trapped in a desperate situation, remained terrifyingly calm.
"You were betrayed."
Gendry couldn't help but ask in confusion: "Why don't you look angry at all?"
Upon hearing this, Corleone turned his gaze toward him as if he had heard a very foolish question, and then the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
"Anger?"
"Anger is an expensive emotion, boy. It burns up your reason, blinds your eyes, and leaves you chewing on the bitter fruit you've already swallowed when you should be thinking about how to survive."
He took a small step forward, the firelight illuminating his face more clearly. Though young, Corleone's face bore obvious traces of hardship, and his eyes were exceptionally clear.
"This world, especially this corner we are in, has always been a slaughterhouse where you sell me out and I sell you out."
"Loyalty has a price, oaths have flaws; the brothers fighting side-by-side yesterday might be the ones stabbing you in the back tomorrow."
"As for me and Tywin Lannister, our cooperation was never particularly stable to begin with. He used me to do things the persons couldn't personally get involved in, and I used his name and resources to achieve my goals."
"Mutual exploitation, each taking what they need. That's all it was."
Corleone spread his hands and gave a casual smile: "I just didn't expect him to strike so ruthlessly this time, leaving absolutely no room for maneuver."
"With Tywin's methods, once he moves, it's bound to be a total assault with a decisive battle mindset. If I'm not mistaken, the ones surrounding Dragonstone right now should be the Redwyne fleet. Stannis is likely beyond saving this time."
He spoke very casually, but the implications were heavy.
Stannis's failure meant the fall of Dragonstone, the possible annihilation of the last legitimate force of House Baratheon, and it also meant that everyone in this dungeon—including Gendry, the bastard with King Robert's blood—might not see tomorrow's sun.
As these words were spoken, Gendry looked at Corleone's calm and composed demeanor, and a sense of respect involuntarily grew in his heart.
He had thought himself tragic enough for having experienced betrayal and being sold out, but he hadn't expected that there were people in this world who could calculate and discuss even life and death so calmly.
Corleone's frankness made his own previous emotions feel far more ridiculous than any angry roar ever could.
"Are you coming or not?"
Seeing him dazing off at a time like this, Corleone urged him again, snapping Gendry out of his trance: "Time waits for no one, boy."
Gendry jerked awake and hurriedly took a step forward, his survival instinct overriding his chaotic thoughts.
But his gaze still involuntarily drifted toward The Onion Knight in the nearby cage.
Davos sat blankly on the ground, head lowered, his eyes fixed on the several severed finger joints scattered before him.
The firelight illuminated half of his face, which was currently devoid of any expression.
"Ser..." Gendry couldn't help but speak up.
Davos was one of the few people here who hadn't looked at him with prejudice, and he had once risked his life to help Gendry escape Dragonstone.
Hearing Gendry's call, Davos finally looked up.
He first looked at the boy with a complex gaze, then shifted his eyes to Corleone, lingering on that calm face for a moment as if making a final assessment.
The air in the dungeon seemed to freeze, with only the increasingly clear sounds of shouting and impacts outside reminding them of the passage of time.
"The east side of the dungeon," Davos suddenly spoke, his voice raspy but exceptionally clear. "Go inside, take the left at all three forks. The stone wall at the end looks like a dead end, but behind it is an abandoned drainage tunnel. It hasn't been used for many years; not many people know about it."
"The pipe leads outside to a rocky beach below the cliffs. At low tide, you can climb down the rocks. There's a small boat I usually keep prepared there; perhaps you can use it to leave this place."
Hearing this, Corleone raised an eyebrow, feeling somewhat surprised.
He had never expected any help from this loyal Onion Knight, nor had he intended to help him.
But Corleone still nodded quickly.
"Thank you."
"Take him with you. This boy doesn't belong here," Davos said in a low voice, then turned his head away and stopped looking at them, his back appearing hunched and lonely.
Corleone wasted no more time.
"Follow me closely," he instructed Gendry, then unhesitatingly pulled open the heavy dungeon door.
Shouts and footsteps echoed everywhere in the corridor.
Corleone stepped over the corpse of the dead soldier, but then crouched down, deftly unbuckling the longsword from the man's waist. He weighed it, then turned and thrust it into Gendry's hands.
The hilt was cold; Gendry gripped it, feeling it was exceptionally heavy.
"Do you know how to use it?" Corleone asked.
"No," Gendry shook his head honestly.
He had forged many blades for noble lords, but he had never fought anyone, nor had he ever studied swordsmanship.
"It's fine if you don't."
Corleone didn't blame him, but instead cautioned: "Hold it tight, stay behind me, and don't fall behind."
"If someone rushes at you trying to hurt you, don't think about techniques. Just use all the strength you have for swinging a sledgehammer and hack at them."
"Horizontal, vertical, whatever feels natural. Remember, if you hesitate for a second, you're the one who dies."
Gendry nodded vigorously, his hands tightly gripping the hilt; the cold metal seemed to inject a sliver of courage into him.
Corleone took one last look at the interior of the dungeon, his gaze lingering for a split second on Davos's turned back, and then decisively stepped out of the cell.
However, just as his left foot stepped over the threshold, he suddenly threw something back into the cell.
With a soft "clink," it landed right at Davos's feet.
The sound was very light. Davos looked down and saw an iron key lying quietly by his feet in the firelight.
Davos stared at the key for a long time without speaking. There was no expression on his face, but the rise and fall of his chest became slightly more pronounced.
After an unknown amount of time, he finally reached out and grabbed the key, stood up, walked to the cell door, inserted the key into the lock, and turned it.
*Click*
Davos pushed the door open and stepped out.
The scent of freedom was mixed with smoke and blood; it was not pleasant.
He glanced in the direction Corleone and Gendry had left, then as if remembering something, he turned back into the cell, knelt down, and carefully picked up the four severed finger joints one by one.
His movements were very gentle, as if they were some precious treasure.
Then, from the inner pocket of his old coat, he pulled out a relatively clean piece of linen, carefully wrapped the severed fingers, put them back into the pocket, and patted it gently.
Then, without looking back, he strode out of the prison.
The corridor outside the dungeon was in total chaos.
Shouts of battle surged from all directions. Gendry felt for the first time that he was truly close to a battlefield; the hair all over his body stood on end, and his hand holding the sword couldn't help but tremble.
Corleone's pace was very fast. Gendry followed stumbling behind, but as the two continued forward, he sensed something was wrong.
"Ser, are we... are we going the wrong way?"
"The path Ser Davos mentioned was over there..."
"I know what he said."
Corleone, in front, did not look back or slow down, explaining as he walked: "That path might be an option, but then what, boy?"
"Jump off a cliff at the destination and struggle in the freezing seawater?"
As he spoke, he sidestepped through an archway, cast a wary glance down a deserted side corridor, and continued: "Not to mention whether his precious boat is still waiting for us in the same spot."
"Even if it is, do you know how to sail?"
Seeing the undisguised 'use your brain' look in Corleone's eyes, Gendry opened his mouth, and finally shook his head honestly.
"Exactly."
AI Model: gemini-3.1-flash-lite
Corleone clapped his hands together and sighed, "I don't know how either."
"We might be able to get it to float, but there's no way we can make it sail the way we need it to."
"More importantly, we have no food, no fresh water, and no sea charts. Are we supposed to entrust our lives to a small wooden boat and the fickle sea, hoping the ocean breeze blows us to shore?"
He pushed open a slightly ajar door and gestured for Gendry to follow, "I never have, and I never will, entrust my life to luck."
"Luck is a whore. She might whisper sweet nothings to you today, only to send you to a watery grave tomorrow. The only thing you can rely on is this."
As he spoke, Corleone tapped his temple with his finger.
Hearing this, Gendry understood.
Corleone wanted to seize the initiative, rather than drift on the ocean relying on luck.
Although he felt this move was somewhat risky, Gendry obediently shut his mouth, stopped questioning, and simply gripped his sword tighter, struggling to keep up with Corleone's pace.
As a blacksmith... well, an ungraduated apprentice blacksmith.
Gendry was always used to following others' orders, and besides, ever since he met Corleone, he had always felt that the man before him was smarter than anyone he had ever met.
Following a smart man, you can't go wrong.
Sure enough, the subsequent journey made Gendry admire him even more.
Because Corleone seemed to have some sort of extraordinary intuition about the layout of this strange castle.
He could always make the right choice at intersections in advance, avoiding the main passages and the places where the shouting and fighting were most intense.
He would also suddenly stop before entering the next corridor, signaling Gendry to be silent. A few seconds later, sounds of chaotic footsteps and fighting would indeed come from ahead.
Several times, they almost ran head-on into searching soldiers, but it was always Corleone who detected them and avoided them at the critical moment!
It was amazing!
This was simply an ability like prescience!
Gendry had no way of knowing, and would never know, that there was something in this world called a "cheat."
With the blessing of [Insight Lv3], Corleone's senses were far sharper than ordinary people's; detecting danger in advance and avoiding it was just standard operation.
The overly smooth stealth gradually made Gendry's tense nerves relax, and he even began to develop a kind of blind trust.
Following Corleone, it seemed they could always turn danger into safety no matter what. Gradually, he even began to lose focus.
"Stay alert, Gendry!"
Just then, Corleone, who was walking in front, stopped without warning.
He didn't look back, but his serious voice made Gendry snap back to his senses, "The road ahead won't be as easy."
Hearing this, Gendry immediately copied Corleone, gripping his sword hilt and looking around.
Only then did he realize that he was standing in the middle of a relatively wide stone corridor, and there seemed to be nothing unusual.
But immediately after, dense footsteps suddenly came from both the front and back simultaneously. Before long, two groups of men appeared at both ends of the corridor!
Gendry's heart tightened. He looked up and saw about seven or eight soldiers in front, wearing chainmail and leather armor, with the stag crest of House Baratheon embroidered on their chests.
Obviously, they were Stannis's army.
These men looked like they had been through a bitter fight; their armor was stained with blood, and leading them was a middle-aged knight wearing a half-helm with a scarred cheek.
Turning his head to look, there were also about seven or eight people behind, but their equipment looked more refined and uniform. Their armor was overall deep purple, embroidered with a cluster of grapes!
"Sure enough, it's people from House Redwyne."
Corleone's whisper came to his ears, and Gendry finally understood that the other side was the famous Redwyne fleet from the Arbor!
It was said that their fleet was powerful enough to dominate a whole sea area, with over two hundred ships!
Both groups were obviously anxious to pass through this intersection, but they also discovered each other's existence at the same time. Longswords were drawn, crossbows were strung, and a standoff instantly formed.
A tense atmosphere filled the corridor, and Corleone and Gendry happened to be blocked in the middle by the two groups, unable to advance or retreat.
The situation was a bit awkward for a moment.
The lead knight on Stannis's side frowned and suddenly raised his voice, shouting, "You! Which side are you on?"
This question was obviously asking Corleone and the other.
Gendry swallowed, very nervous for a moment. He glanced at Corleone and immediately blurted out, "He is Lan..."
"We are Sir Davos's men, my lord!"
Fortunately, Corleone reacted faster than him, immediately using his body to block Gendry's flustered expression and answering loudly, "His Majesty Stannis had originally sent us to count the emergency grain shipment brought from Kings Landing, but the castle was suddenly ambushed by these bastards, and we lost contact with the main force!"
Hearing this, the suspicion on the lead knight's face clearly dissipated by more than half.
If they were men of that smuggler Davos, then the young sailor beside him, dressed in rags and looking terrified, made sense.
And although Davos was currently imprisoned, he and his fleet were crucial to the supply line for Dragonstone.
"So that's it."
The knight nodded, accepting the explanation, "Stand on our side, quickly, get away from those guys!"
With these words, Corleone immediately pulled the still-dazed Gendry and quickly walked into the middle of the Dragonstone soldiers. The other side was quite cooperative, opening a gap to let these two "non-combatants" walk to the back of the team.
Having finally squeezed into the crowd, Gendry felt a wave of lingering fear, and his eyes were full of admiration when he looked at Corleone.
This man's reaction was truly too fast; the lie was simply seamless!
But... but the enemy opposite were allies of the persons, yet they were standing on Stannis's side now?
Why?
But at this moment, no one paid attention to the doubts in his heart, because the two groups had already begun to gradually close in.
The battle... was imminent.
"Kill these rebels!"
Suddenly, the knight's roar exploded in the stone corridor.
Almost at the same time, the Redwyne officer opposite also loudly ordered, "Leave none alive, clear the passage!"
Without any nonsense, the two groups quickly collided. Swords slashed, blades entered flesh, and wails instantly filled the entire space.
Firelight danced wildly on the brandished weapons, casting twisted, fighting shadows onto the mottled stone walls.
Watching this scene, Gendry felt his blood surge, and sweat seeped from his palms gripping the sword.
A Dragonstone soldier was pierced in the abdomen by an opponent's spear, yet he still roared and used his sword to cut the spear shaft. A Redwyne soldier's sword was blocked by a shield, and he backhanded a dagger into his opponent's neck.
He instinctively raised his sword, his feet moving forward.
But just then, a hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder.
"What are you doing?"
Hearing this, he immediately turned back, and what came into view were Corleone's calm eyes.
"Helping!" Gendry pointed at the fighting ahead and answered matter-of-factly.
"Helping?" Corleone rolled his eyes at him with a look of looking at an idiot, "You really think you're one of Stannis's men?"
Hearing this, Gendry finally remembered that he was not a soldier, but a prisoner.
"Then... then we..."
"Watch."
Corleone released his hand, his body shielding Gendry, "This is their fight, not ours."
Hearing him say this, Gendry had no choice but to calm down and wait silently.
The knight was very brave. Fully armored, he skillfully swung his sword, killing two Redwyne soldiers.
But his soldiers were already exhausted, and their equipment was not as refined as the opponent's. Under the well-trained, coordinated attacks of the Redwyne soldiers, they fell one by one.
Finally, the last Dragonstone soldier was pierced by three spears simultaneously and collapsed to the ground.
Only the knight remained, back against the cold stone wall, covered in blood, his armor cracked in many places, his chest heaving violently.
In front of him, there were still four Redwyne soldiers, led by the cold-faced officer. Their eyes were red, and they were closing in step by step.
Facing the threat of death, the knight's sword was still held firmly, but Gendry could see his arm holding the sword trembling slightly, blood dripping down the blade.
Just then, Corleone, who had been watching the situation, suddenly stepped forward.
Catching sight of his movement, the knight's eyes first showed joy, but then he immediately shouted sternly, "Fool! Don't come over!"
"Go, go to the cellar under the Stonemason's Tower! Take Lady Shireen away!"
"Go! I'll hold them off!"
However, Corleone turned a deaf ear to his shouting, his footsteps not pausing in the slightest. His gaze didn't even look at the knight, but landed on the Redwyne officer.
A flash of doubt crossed the officer's eyes, and he raised his hand, signaling his men to pause their approach to the knight.
He sized up Corleone. This man who had just claimed to be under The Onion Knight seemed to be exuding some kind of quite dangerous aura at this moment.
Seeing this, the knight's eyes were wide with rage, and he immediately wanted to rush forward to fight the enemy to the death, but in the end, fighting four against one, he was powerless to resist.
Soon, several more sword wounds were added to his body.
The knight fell to his knees powerlessly, despair enveloping him. Three or four cold, gleaming blades thrust forward simultaneously; he seemed to have already heard the wind of death.
In that instant.
A figure cut into the fray with astonishing speed!
The vigilant officer immediately raised his sword to block. With a "clang," he only felt a force far exceeding his expectations coming from the sword, numbing his wrist and making his longsword nearly slip from his hand.
Seeing this, the other three soldiers immediately abandoned the knight and turned to besiege Corleone.
But the opponent seemed to have eyes in the back of his head. He dodged sideways, stepped, and the hilt of his sword slammed hard into a soldier's Adam's apple. He then spun around, the sword light tracing a semicircle.
Pfft!
In the blink of an eye, two were dead.
The officer and the only remaining soldier were shocked and angry, roaring as they both lunged forward.
Corleone, however, suddenly crouched and rushed forward. His longsword thrust from bottom to top, piercing the soldier's jaw, the tip emerging from the back of his head.
At this moment, the officer's sword was still in mid-air. Corleone calmly parried the sword, his blade following his body, tracing a sharp arc.
The officer hurriedly raised his sword to block, but the opponent's blade eerily bypassed his blocking path, the cold edge pressing against his neck, and with a gentle pull.
Slish!!!
Blood sprayed like a waterfall.
The officer clutched his neck, staring at Corleone in disbelief, slowly knelt down, and then collapsed to the ground.
From the moment Corleone attacked to solving the four Redwyne soldiers, it took no more than ten seconds!
The corridor suddenly fell silent. The knight, back against the wall, gasped violently, eyes widened, watching this scene, as if unable to understand what had just happened.
How had he never heard that "Davos's men" could have such terrifying skills?
Corleone merely shook the blood droplets off his sword and walked to the almost exhausted knight.
The knight looked at him, his eyes extremely complex, "You... why... are you so strong, why didn't you attack sooner."
Corleone didn't answer his question, but extended his hand, "Save your strength for asking why, knight."
"Stand up, if you still want to fulfill your duty and take Lady Shireen away."
Hearing this, the knight shuddered, the name Shireen seemingly giving him his final strength.
He glanced at the bodies of the Redwyne soldiers on the ground, then took a deep look at Corleone, seemingly thinking about something.
This man didn't look like he was from Dragonstone at all, but now, besides trusting him, there seemed to be no other way.
In the end, he used his sword to support his body and swayed to his feet, even though blood was still seeping from his thigh wound.
"...Follow me."
The knight dragged his injured leg and walked arduously toward the other end of the corridor.