The smile on the Black Lion's face froze.
Arthur's voice remained calm, yet it was like a stone thrown into a lake: "Why should I grant my land to people who have rendered me no service?"
The Black Lion opened his mouth, momentarily speechless. He hadn't expected Arthur to reject him with such a simple, almost crude, reason.
In his view, this should have been a win-win situation: Arthur would gain loyal and skilled Knights from the Vale, and those young men would gain the land and future they longed for. But Arthur's logic was completely beyond his comprehension.
After a long pause, the Black Lion finally shook his head: "Young man, you really don't know how to converse."
"Acting like this, you'll probably be ostracized by the nobles of Westeros until you have no place to stand."
Arthur shrugged, saying indifferently: "I only care about loyalty and ability. Oaths and lineage are of no use to me."
His gaze swept over the Knights behind him. He didn't think these battle-hardened commoner Knights, given the same equipment, would be any worse than the "long-blooded" second sons of nobles, especially Brin.
"Whoever bleeds for me is worthy of sharing the land."
The Black Lion let out a long sigh. He gazed at Arthur, his eyes complex: "You don't believe in oaths?"
Arthur did not answer directly.
He sat on his horse, turned his head, and looked at the Black Lion. The sunlight outlined his profile clearly: "Lord Black Lion, why was the Targaryen dynasty overthrown?"
The Black Lion's face instantly changed, as if he had been lashed hard.
He yanked hard on the reins, and his warhorse let out an uneasy whinny.
He pointed at Arthur, his fingers trembling, but in the end, he only managed to utter this one word.
"You!!"
The next moment, he fiercely squeezed his horse's flanks, spurred his horse forward, and galloped away, leaving Arthur and the rest of the party far behind.
The Black Lion Brynden rode alone ahead, separating from the group, while Arthur silently followed behind. Neither of them spoke again.
The group continued forward, and except for Brin occasionally reporting something, the atmosphere became heavy.
As they crossed a mountain ridge, faint cries of women and the rough shouts of men could be heard from a bend in the mountain road ahead.
The Black Lion immediately reined in his horse. His battle-hardened instincts instantly put him on alert.
He raised his hand, signaling Arthur's party to slow down and quietly approach.
Turning the corner, the sight before them made everyone stop.
A large group of ragged people were surrounded by a Knight on horseback and a dozen foot soldiers by the roadside.
The people were emaciated, their eyes filled with fear and despair, clearly refugees. Their bundles were scattered on the ground, and their pitifully few possessions were being roughly searched by the soldiers.
Thirteen people were hanging from a tree, a woman holding a child was weeping, and three more lay on the ground, blood everywhere, clearly long dead. A woman was crying loudly beside the corpses, and was immediately struck down by the Knight with his riding crop.
An old Monk in a worn brown Monk's robe, barefoot, stood between the Knight and the refugees.
Arthur recognized him, Meribald. Although he couldn't see his face, the barking dog beside him and the donkey were too obvious.
The old Monk's voice was hoarse and weary: "Knight."
"You swore an oath to the Seven to protect the innocent. Does not the Seven's mercy allow these poor people to live?"
The leading Knight's armor bore a white shield with a brown border and three spearheads in the center, the sigil of the Mull Family of the Vale.
He looked down at the old Monk with contempt, scolding angrily: "Barefoot Monk, get out! Don't meddle!"
"These people are runaway slaves trying to escape the territory! I am enforcing the laws of the kingdom!"
Just then, someone among the refugees saw Arthur's party, and saw Arthur's banner.
A dust-covered man suddenly burst forth with all his strength. He broke free from a soldier's grasp and scrambled towards Arthur's direction.
As he ran, he cried out heartbrokenly.
"It's Lord Arthur's army! Save us! Save us!"
His voice echoed through the valley, filled with desperate hope.
"We are the Legge Family's people! You gave us food! You escorted us out of the territory! You told us to go to our relatives!"
Seeing someone break away, the Mull Family Knight's eyes flashed with ruthlessness. Without hesitation, a squire handed him a short bow.
He drew the bowstring, aiming at the running back.
The arrow whistled through the air.
Piercing the chest.
The man's cries abruptly ceased, and he fell face down before Arthur's warhorse.
Blood quickly stained the dust beneath him.
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