The Mull Family knight galloped closer.
As he drew near, he recognized Brynden Tully, and the fierce expression on his face immediately transformed into one of respect.
He put away his bow, dismounted, and quickly walked a few steps towards the Black Lion, performing a standard knight's salute.
"Ser Brynden Tully! My respects to you!"
The Black Lion's face was grim. He glanced at the corpses on the ground, then looked at the knight: "What are you doing?"
The knight straightened up, his face still respectful, but with an added, self-evident ruthlessness.
He pointed his riding crop at the trembling refugees: "These people are the Mull Family's subjects. They tried to flee the territory without permission."
"According to the laws of the kingdom, a lord has the right to dispose of runaway serfs. They have already been sentenced to death, and the execution is underway!"
The words "death sentence" rang out like a funeral bell.
The refugees kneeling on the ground completely broke down. They disregarded the corpses on the ground and desperately prayed and kowtowed towards the knight, the Black Lion, and Arthur, their faces smeared with mud and tears, crying out hoarsely.
"Ser! Spare us! We just want to live!"
"We are the Legge Family's subjects; we just want to go to our relatives in the Vale!"
"We are not runaway serfs!"
"We will hand over all our possessions."
"Please, Ser, let us go."
Brother Meribald trembled with rage. His staff repeatedly struck the ground, and his dog, sensing its master's fury, barked incessantly.
He pointed his staff at the knight, his staff shaking, his voice trembling with anger: "How can you do this! Where is your knightly oath?!"
The Brother's questioning was loud and mournful.
"You swore before the Seven Gods to protect the weak and pity the helpless! Where is the mercy of the Seven Gods?!"
The knight captain looked at him expressionlessly, his gaze like one looking at a roadside stone.
He coldly replied: "Law is law, barefoot Brother."
"We are merely enforcing the law."
The Black Lion's face was taut. He glanced at Arthur, preparing to tell him to leave. What the knight said was true.
This was a rule that had persisted in Westeros for thousands of years: a lord possessed the power of life and death over his subjects, and outsiders had no right to interfere, nor could anyone else.
This was an internal affair of the Mull Family, protected by the kingdom's laws.
Brynden took a deep breath, preparing to end this pointless confrontation.
He turned to Arthur and began: "We should go, young man—"
Before he finished speaking, Arthur, who was beside him, moved. Without the slightest hesitation, Arthur dismounted.
The sound of his riding boots on the gravel road was crisp and abrupt.
He walked directly towards the kneeling refugees, leaving the Black Lion's urging to leave and the Mull Family knight's strange cold gaze behind him.
An alarm blared in the Black Lion's heart; a premonition of ill omen seized him.
Arthur ignored the soldiers, not even sparing them a glance. He walked to Brother Meribald and supported the old man, who was swaying with anger.
He looked at the knight who had followed him, his eyes as calm as deep water: "Ser, how can they be released?"
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