The wooden bridge crossing the Green Fork River was weathered and unmaintained, its surface pitted and eroded by time.
Olivier, with eighty-odd carts full of grain, finally saw the familiar Black Lion banner at the bridgehead. His taut nerves suddenly relaxed, and he nearly fell from his horse.
Covered in dust and looking haggard, he galloped to Arthur: "My Lord, we almost didn't make it back! We brought all the grain, but the Walping Family is right behind us!"
Arthur's gaze went past him, towards the dust rising behind him, his tone so calm it betrayed no emotion: "What happened? What do they mean?"
"Why are they pursuing you?"
Olivier gasped, quickly explaining: "My Lord, the gold dragons were delivered."
"But less than a day after we left their castle, a Knight came chasing after us with his men. He said nothing, only demanded we drop the grain on the spot, saying he wanted to cancel the deal!"
Rosso Brun snorted from beside him: "After getting the gold dragons, they want the grain back?"
"There's no such logic!"
Before he finished speaking, a troop appeared on the distant horizon. A green banner with a black toad fluttered in the wind, the emblem of the Walping Family.
Arthur looked up. By his estimation, the opposing force numbered over four hundred. Although most were poorly equipped farmers, the few Knights leading them were fully armored and looked menacing.
He reined in his horse, looked at Olivier, and ordered: "Olivier, you and your retinue, take the grain and immediately return to Cross Town. I'll handle things here."
Olivier cast a worried glance at the approaching troop, but seeing Arthur's slight nod, he could only grit his teeth and urge the carters to hurry across the bridge.
Arthur, with Rosso, Brin, and forty-seven riders, reined in their horses and lined up across the bridgehead. The cavalry formation was disciplined, quietly awaiting the enemy's arrival.
On the other end of the troop, Lukos. Walping reined in his horse, his brows tightly furrowed.
A Knight returned from scouting ahead and whispered in his ear: "My Lord, their banner is a small tower, and their armor bears the Black Lion emblem. It's Arthur's army. The owner of the caravan is likely him."
He then fell silent. This was a formidable character. He hesitated, then spoke: "Should we still pursue... My Lord..."
Lukos chewed on the name, Arthur, Black Lion, that rising young noble, known for his tough personality and cruel, bloody methods, defeating the wildlings and the House Ryger, and killing three men in a Trial by combat to reclaim his land. Whether to continue the pursuit, even he was momentarily unsure.
Another Knight also rode back, leaning in to say: "They only have fifty riders, and only one Knight has a unique emblem."
"We have six Knights and four hundred farmers. We outnumber them, My Lord."
Lukos looked at the small cavalry troop at the bridgehead. Their formation was neat, completely silent, each rider sitting upright on his horse, as if one with his warhorse. The sun shone on their black armor, reflecting a cold light.
Lukos's face twitched. They didn't look like easy targets. They looked like battle-hardened veterans who had fought bloody wars. Could their strength be judged by numbers?
But that batch of grain, which was so crucial to him, even to his future survival...
The thought of the news he had just received made Lukos's heart feel as if it were gripped by a cold hand.
He gritted his teeth: "Pursue!!!"
The two troops met in the middle of the narrow stone bridge, barely fifty meters apart.
Horses snorted restlessly, hooves clattered dully on the stone slabs, and the air seemed to solidify, leaving only the sound of the wind and the flowing river.
In Stark contrast to Arthur's quietly waiting troop, Lukos's troop was chaotic. The mobilized farmers even ran out of their disordered ranks, craning their necks, wanting to catch a glimpse of the recently famous Black Lion.
Lukos spurred his horse forward a few steps, attempting to assert dominance with his identity: "My Lord Arthur? Is this caravan yours?"
Arthur also rode forward, the two horses facing each other. He met Lukos's gaze calmly: "My Lord Lukos, what does the identity of the person behind this business and caravan have to do with anything?"
"Was the deal not concluded? Or did my men not pay?"
His voice was not loud, but it clearly reached everyone's ears.
"Money for goods, goods for money. Isn't that the most basic rule?"
Lukos was taken aback by his directness, his face darkening. To be so disrespectful, he was indeed arrogant and unruly.
He took a deep breath, adopting a seemingly concerned tone: "My Lord Arthur, do you not know?"
Lukos deliberately paused, observing Arthur's expression. Seeing his puzzled look, he found it somewhat strange; did this young man not pay attention to current events?
"Recently, an Ironborn army of two to three thousand men has been active in the Riverlands, moving by night and plundering along various rivers."
"They don't steal salt wives or thralls; they just kill everyone they see, not even sparing young children, and then burn everything. Their methods are extremely cruel."
"All the Lords in the Riverlands are hiding in their castles, not daring to attack, watching them kill and leave."
Arthur's heart sank. Ironborn, two to three thousand men? This news was like a boulder thrown into his heart, stirring up a thousand waves. He didn't remember this event.
He only remembered that after the Ironborn burned the Lannister fleet, they attacked Seaguard, then hit a wall. Immediately after, the royal fleet set sail, taking a long detour, and the The Reach, who were watching the show on the way, finally sent their fleet to join, defeating the Ironborn at sea.
But he had no recollection of the Ironborn burning and killing along the rivers in the Riverlands. Things were getting a little out of his control.
He also instantly understood Lukos's reason for backing out. He wanted the grain to defend his castle, which was consistent with the timid character of the Riverlands lords. The Mountain, with a small army, could burn and kill across the Riverlands, and no one dared to confront the enemy. They had to wait for Eddard Stark to send people from King's Landing to suppress them.
After understanding, Arthur's face showed no change.
He merely raised an eyebrow. "Then this grain cannot be given. Sweeping one's own doorstep is enough. But... what does the Ironborn matter have to do with our business?"
Lukos, seeing that he was unyielding, finally lost his patience, and his tone became threatening: "The Ironborn are attacking, and everyone in the Riverlands is in danger.
Grain is life!"
He thought for a moment, then brought up the Lord of Li River City, trying to use the Frey Family to intimidate the other party.
"Arthur! My wife is the daughter of My Lord Walder Frey!"
Arthur, however, smiled. "I'm someone who responds to kindness, not threats. If you had offered more gold dragons to buy back the grain, I might have talked to you."
His smile was faint, even cold: "My Lord, you mentioned three things."
"First, you want to tear up the contract."
"Second, the Ironborn have come."
"Third, your wife is a Frey."
He held up one finger.
"Let's discuss them one by one. The contract is concluded, the gold dragons have been paid, and the goods have been delivered. This business is settled. That is a fact."
He then held up a second finger.
"As for the Ironborn, since they have come, it is even more impossible for me to return this batch of grain to you."
Finally, his gaze became as sharp as a blade.
"As for who your wife is! Do you live by your woman?!"
Lukos's face flushed red. What did he mean, 'live by his woman'? This was an insult, a complete and utter insult to the family's dignity. The veins on his hand, gripping the sword hilt, bulged, and the Knights behind him also drew their swords, the atmosphere instantly becoming tense.
The riders behind Arthur, almost at the same time, simultaneously drew their longswords from their waists, reining in their restless warhorses. Their movements were precise, and the cold blades in the sunlight formed a dazzling glare.
Lukos looked at the forty-odd pairs of ready, emotionless eyes of his opponents. A chill ran up his spine. If they were to fight,
Even though his side had more men.
But in his judgment, facing these riders, his farmers would likely gain no advantage, and it might even be a one-sided slaughter.
He gritted his teeth, squeezing out a few words: "I can return the gold dragons to you!"
Arthur shook his head. "You threaten me, you try to use the Frey Family's influence, and now you draw your sword. I will not negotiate with you."
He spoke slowly, his tone brooking no argument: "The contract is concluded, the grain is mine."
"If you want gold dragons, we can discuss it next time I have goods."
"Now, you should take your farmers home, My Lord."
Lukos stared at him intently, his chest heaving violently. Finally, he suppressed his anger. Reason had overcome impulse. He knew that,
Today, here, he could not take back the grain.
Lukos angrily turned his horse around, leading his army of farmers back to the other end of the bridge.
He threw out one last threat: "Arthur!!"
"I will tell My Lord Walder Frey everything about this matter!!!"
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