"And then? What happened after that?" Linde asked curiously, pressing for more details.
Joel thought for a moment and said, "I heard that after the war, he took the reward given by the family and retired from the guard."
"Retired?" Linde felt a bit baffled. It was like reading a book that had just reached a critical plot point, only for it to suddenly end with a single line saying The End.
"What use would it have been for him to stay even if he didn't retire?" Joel sighed softly, sounding regretful on Old Bane's behalf. "He was already quite old back then, and he'd suffered very serious injuries. Even if he recovered, he might not have been able to properly wield a spear or a longsword again. With the merits he earned, he should have been more than qualified to be knighted—but unfortunately, his background was too ordinary. Every path of advancement was blocked. Staying in the guard would have been pointless."
Linde frowned slightly and asked, "Can't commoners become nobles?"
"Of course they can," Joel shook his head. "But for a commoner to become a noble is a hundred times harder than for a noble's descendant to remain one. You need luck, strength, and the ability to maneuver and scheme. Old Bane probably fell into the category of having bad luck and not knowing how to play the game."
As Linde listened to Joel's words, two figures involuntarily surfaced in his mind. Both seemed to perfectly match the conditions Joel had described, and both had climbed to the very peak of power.
One was Janos Slynt. The butcher's son had risen through all kinds of means to become the Commander of the City Watch of King's Landing, and later was even named Lord of Harrenhal—practically an inspirational legend.
The other was the sellsword Bronn. In the series, he had relied on his relationship with Tyrion to climb step by step, eventually becoming Lord Paramount of the Reach and Duke of Highgarden—one of the ultimate winners, unquestionably favored by the god of luck.
Back when he was watching the show, Linde hadn't felt anything was particularly strange. But now that he had come to this world of ice and fire and gained an understanding of the power structure of Westeros, he felt that making Bronn the Lord Paramount of the Reach and Duke of Highgarden was utter nonsense.
Harrenhal was already completely ruined; even after being granted the title of Lord of Harrenhal, Janos Slynt had still not dared to take up residence there. As for the Reach, it was home to countless ancient noble houses and lords with deep lineages, strong armies, and powerful cavalry. How could they possibly allow a lowly sellsword to become the leader of the Reach?
Such an appointment—let alone being officially proclaimed—would likely cause an outright revolt in the Reach even if it were merely discussed, and could very well spark another war. So by any reasonable analysis, Bronn's appointment in the show could only have been written by someone completely out of their mind.
Still, setting aside the show's brain-dead plot decisions, Bronn remained an extremely inspiring example—one that Linde could study, imitate, and learn from.
While Linde was thinking about those two successful cases of commoners rising to nobility, Joel hadn't noticed that he had drifted off. Instead, Joel continued watching him and said, "Although Old Bane fell far short, he raised you quite well. I don't know about your luck yet, but in terms of strength and scheming, you're far better than him."
"Thank you for the praise," Linde said. He could sense that Joel had likely seen through his earlier plans, but Joel didn't seem to mind and showed no hostility toward him. So Linde didn't bother to hide anything and straightforwardly accepted Joel's assessment.
Seeing Linde admit it so frankly, Joel's eyes showed clear appreciation. Smiling, he said, "Bear Hunter, Dual-Blade Swordmaster—those two titles have already spread throughout the Red Lake region. The Ballad of the Bear Hunter has even been sung by bards all the way to Highgarden. I've heard that Lord Willas Tyrell once asked Lord Fottimo about you."
Linde asked, "Is it because of these rumors that you thought of recommending me to Lord Fottimo?"
Joel nodded, confirming Linde's guess, and added a reminder, "The premise is that you perform outstandingly well in this upcoming battle."
"Why are you helping me so much?" Linde asked, puzzled.
Joel was silent for a moment before replying in a somewhat lazy tone, "Because this place is too boring. From top to bottom, it's nothing but stagnant water. I want to add a bit of fun to it. I hope you won't disappoint me."
After saying that, he waved his hand at Linde, signaling that he could leave.
Linde turned and left the hall, heading toward the logistics unit stationed on one side of the castle.
On the way, Linde recalled Joel's words. From the few things Joel had said, he could tell that Joel also seemed dissatisfied with the current system of the Reach. The difference was that Joel had no intention of challenging the system himself—he wanted Linde to act as the pathfinder, the one to test the waters.
Whatever Joel's true motives were, at this stage he was still an ally to Linde. All Linde needed to do was to perfectly display his own strength.
Lost in thought, Linde arrived at the damaged corner tower near the castle where the logistics unit was housed. He found the leatherworker, took off the ill-fitting leather armor he was wearing, handed it over, and stated his requirements.
The leather armor he wore had belonged to Old Bane. Their physiques differed too much, making it extremely uncomfortable and hindering his movements. It needed to be altered—otherwise, it would seriously impede him in battle.
The leatherworker in the logistics unit might not be able to make leather armor from scratch, but modifying an existing set was no problem.
"Two silver stags," the leatherworker said bluntly after examining the armor and hearing Linde's request.
Linde frowned and asked, "Aren't repairs to weapons and equipment free for members of the unit?"
At that moment, a voice came from behind him. "Repairs are indeed free for people in the unit—but you aren't one of them."
Linde turned around and saw the speaker. It was the knight's squire who, two days earlier, had berated Linde in front of Old Bane's tavern, calling him lowly and unqualified to challenge Joel Fossflower.
Back then, he had been scolded by Joel with a single sentence. Linde could tell that the squire hadn't accepted it and would definitely look for trouble. Over the past two days, however, he had seemed perfectly normal, as if he had forgotten the incident. Now it was clear he had simply been waiting for an opportunity.
Facing the provocation, Linde showed no anger at all. He merely glanced at the man, then took out two silver stags and placed them on the leatherworker's table.
"Here are two silver stags," Linde said to the leatherworker. "I want my leather armor altered to my satisfaction by tonight. If you fail to meet my requirements, I won't just take back these two silver stags—I'll also cut off one of your hands as punishment."
The leatherworker was completely stunned. He hadn't expected that simply following the squire's instructions to make things difficult for Linde would end up dragging him into trouble and making him the target of Linde's displeasure.
He could tell that Linde wasn't making an empty threat. If he failed to complete the task, Linde really would cut off one of his hands. He also believed Linde had the ability to do it. Even though he didn't know Linde's exact status, the fact that Linde had been constantly by Joel's side these past few days was enough to show that he wasn't ordinary.
Thinking of this, the leatherworker looked at the knight's squire in panic, as if begging him for help.
The squire hadn't expected Linde to react this way either. He immediately stepped forward, blocking Linde, and shouted, "Damn it! What do you think you're doing? Are you trying to carry out private punishment within the army?"
However, Linde didn't spare him a single glance. His eyes remained fixed on the leatherworker as he said, "If I were you, I'd start altering the armor immediately. You don't have much time left. Or do you think he can solve your problem?" As he spoke, Linde pointed at the squire. "Sure, as long as he's here, I won't act. But can you guarantee he'll be here all the time? Won't he go back to rest at night? Will he guard your bedside while you sleep? The moment he leaves your side, I'll act immediately. So tell me—do you still think you're safe?"
Hearing this, the leatherworker was utterly terrified. He didn't dare look at the squire again. Grabbing Linde's leather armor, he immediately began modifying it according to Linde's requirements, taking several apprentices with him.
At that point, Linde turned to the knight's squire, whose face had turned red with rage, and said, "You shouldn't drag innocent people into this—especially when you can't even protect them. And what are you, a baby still drinking milk? Using such childish little tricks. Not only do they fail to disgust anyone, they just make you look stupid."
"Bastard!" The squire had never encountered someone like Linde before. For a moment, he was so furious that he didn't even know what to say.
"By the way, I still don't know your name," Linde suddenly said, as if remembering something. He looked at the squire, then quickly waved his hand. "Forget it. There's no need for me to know your name anyway. You're nothing to me."
After saying that, he walked toward the outside of the castle. He planned to take this time to familiarize himself with the surrounding terrain, to avoid any unexpected accidents in battle due to unfamiliar ground.
"Stop right there! I, Ael Morrison of Longship Town, challenge you to a duel!" Finally unable to contain his anger, the squire pulled off one of his gloves and threw it at Linde.
Linde didn't catch the glove. He let it hit his body and fall to the ground.
He stopped, turned around, looked at the glove on the ground, and then looked at Ael Morrison, who had issued the challenge.
Then, just as Ael Morrison was still waiting for Linde's response, Linde suddenly lunged forward. Before Ael Morrison could react at all, Linde's fist smashed straight into his jaw. A suffocating pain exploded from his chin, and he instantly lost consciousness, collapsing to the ground.
Everything happened far too suddenly. Not only did Linde's attack come out of nowhere, his movement speed was also astonishingly fast. The other squires and onlookers nearby only saw a blurry shadow flash past, and then Ael Morrison was already knocked out cold by a single punch.
Linde turned to the remaining squires and said in a low voice, "Carry this idiot back. Next time, I won't guarantee I'll only use my fists."
With that, he continued walking toward the outside of the castle.
"Wait—stop!" someone among the squires shouted loudly.
Linde stopped and turned to face them, placing his hand on the hilts of his twin swords. In a deep voice, he said, "What? Are you planning to throw gloves at me too?"
At that moment, none of the squires spoke—not even the one who had called out to him. In their eyes, Linde was no longer that lucky backwoods hunter. The instant his hand rested on his sword hilts, they all felt an invisible pressure. It was the same kind of pressure they had only ever felt from Joel Fossflower. Their bodies tensed instinctively, not daring to relax in the slightest.
Seeing that none of them responded, Linde no longer paid them any attention. He removed his hand from his sword hilts and continued walking toward the castle gate. This time, no one stopped him until he passed through the dilapidated gate and disappeared from sight.
Only then did the squires finally relax, all of them letting out long sighs of relief.
They exchanged bitter smiles with one another, then quickly ordered their men to carry their unconscious companion back to his room.
Although they repeatedly ordered that what had just happened must not be spread—especially not to Joel—they had no idea that even as they were carrying their companion away, the small conflict between them and Linde had already been reported to Joel in detail.
After hearing the report, Joel merely smiled and said nothing.
Although the memories left behind by his former self were not many, most of them were related to hunting. This allowed Linde—despite lacking such wilderness survival experience in his previous life—to quickly become familiar with moving through forests by relying on those memories. By sheer luck, he even discovered the smuggling route hidden in the mountains.
After understanding the terrain around the smuggling route and selecting several suitable ambush points, Linde headed back. Before nightfall, he returned to Firmhold.
However, Firmhold was clearly much livelier than when he had left at noon. At the foot of the hill where Firmhold stood, a temporary camp had appeared. By rough estimation, there were around six to seven hundred people in the camp, all equipped with fairly decent weapons. The spears all had iron spearheads, many men carried hand axes and short swords, and more than a dozen knights were patrolling back and forth within the camp.
In addition, a banner flew high above the temporary camp. Embroidered on it was the Weber family's distinctive sigil—a black spider on a dark background. Even in the dim forest, the spider pattern was strikingly clear, giving off an unsettling, spine-chilling feeling from afar.
It was obvious that Linde's earlier speculation in front of Joel had come true. The Weber family, guilty at heart, had wasted no time sending out as many men as they could to assist Joel in exterminating the bandits of Red Lake Forest—or rather, the remnants of House Dragon. Judging from their numbers and equipment, the Weber family clearly intended to wipe out the bandits completely, leaving no excuse for anyone—especially House Rowan—to cause them trouble.
(End of Chapter)