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CaveLeather
Night fell, carrying a biting frost.
At the gates of Castle Cerwyn.
A group of Cerwyn soldiers marched two Bolton knights forward.
"Scum! Castle Cerwyn doesn't welcome you!"
A soldier untied the leather cords binding the Bolton knights and kicked them hard in the back.
The two disheveled knights fell face-first into the mud.
Thud!
Their bruised and haggard faces looked even more wretched.
Mud splattered into their eyes, blurring their vision.
"Damn it!"
The two Bolton knights cursed inwardly:
"Just you wait. When Lord Roose flattens this place, all you bastards who tortured and humiliated us...
"We will flay you alive and hang your skins from the walls!"
Cold malice and poison surged in their chests.
They were knights of House Bolton, men of the Flayed Man. When had they ever suffered such humiliation?
On Northern soil, who didn't fear them?
Gritting their teeth, they pushed themselves up.
The frost wind grew fiercer, whipping tiny ice pellets against their faces, stinging like needles.
Supporting each other, the two Bolton knights gritted their teeth and stumbled onto their horses.
Before long, their figures shrank into two black dots in the night and frost mist.
In a secluded spot outside Castle Cerwyn.
"Let's go, buddy. Time to kill some people."
Seeing the two Bolton knights had put some distance between themselves and the castle, Don Quixote tightened his grip on the reins.
Then he leisurely rode after them.
The North was relatively peaceful for now; the conflict between House Bolton and House Stark had settled down years ago.
Don Quixote guessed that the Earl of Cerwyn wouldn't actively provoke a conflict.
Most likely, he would teach the two Bolton knights a lesson and then release them.
Don Quixote was not satisfied with that outcome.
Years ago, he had secretly decided that if he ever had the chance, he would completely eradicate House Bolton.
Not even sparing a single dog!
He had never forgotten the blood debt of this life!
---
The two Bolton knights weren't moving fast; they had likely been exhausted by the Cerwyn soldiers' torture.
Occasional muttered curses drifted back, quickly scattered by the wind.
"This spot is about right. Good for dumping bodies."
Don Quixote looked at the tributary of the White Knife not far away, composed himself, and instantly accelerated.
Before long, Don Quixote rode up alongside the two Bolton knights and smiled faintly:
"Are you thinking about how you're going to flay me?
"What a pity. You won't get the chance. I truly feel sorry for you!"
Before he finished speaking, the longsword in Don Quixote's hand was already unsheathed.
A cold glint flashed in the night.
Schluk!
The cold blade pierced the throat of one Bolton knight.
Blood sprayed out, splattering onto the frozen mud.
The knight didn't even scream. He fell stiffly from his horse, twitched twice, and ceased to breathe.
The other Bolton knight was scared out of his wits. His face instantly turned as pale as paper. He tried to turn his horse to flee, screaming:
"House Bolton won't let you get away with this?!"
"Hehe, what a coincidence. I won't let House Bolton get away with it either!"
Don Quixote gave him no chance to escape. His horse surged forward.
His right hand swept the longsword horizontally, the blade slicing across the knight's neck.
Another line of blood bloomed. The knight's body stiffened for a moment, then crashed heavily to the ground, his eyes filled with fear and unwillingness.
Whinny—!
The two Bolton knights' horses neighed high in terror.
Don Quixote slapped the horses with the flat of his sword to drive them off, then dismounted.
Don Quixote gently smoothed the mane of his stocky garron:
"Wait for me, buddy."
Then, he dragged the two bodies, along with their mail, and threw them into the tributary of the White Knife a few meters away.
---
Windsor's Lodge.
Private bathhouse.
In the misty steam.
"Ah~"
Adele let out a low cry.
After tossing about for another half hour.
"Adele, let's bathe together."
Don Quixote picked up the girl beside him and walked into the hot water pool.
"Yes, My Lord~" the girl said obediently.
Don Quixote stroked her while thinking quietly:
"As my constitution strengthens step by step, the Blood Apples have almost no effect anymore.
"The improvement from the Knight's Basic Breathing Technique has also drastically slowed down.
"Sigh. After enjoying instant gratification, this slow grind is torture.
"I still need to find new employment quests to get powerful special rewards or more money!
"I wonder if that idea of mine will work? I need to find the right time to try it."
Three months later.
[Name: Don Quixote]
[Identity: Knight]
[Spirit: 1.98]
[Vitality: 2.13]
Don Quixote was sitting at a table, staring blankly into space.
As his Vitality broke through 2, the Blood Apples completely lost their effect.
For him, the magical fruit that could directly strengthen the human body was now just a special fruit with a very long shelf life.
Oh, and it was pretty good for filling the stomach.
Similarly, training the Knight's Basic Breathing Technique now required long periods of grinding to see even a sliver of effect.
Just then, Elise, who hadn't been to the Iron Axe Tavern for a few days, suddenly arrived.
She approached Don Quixote, her eyes red:
"Knight Don Quixote, my mother... she passed away!"
"How could it be so sudden..."
Don Quixote snapped back to reality, his face turning grave:
"Miss Elise, my condolences!"
One day later.
The funeral ended.
Elise stared ahead sorrowfully.
"Miss Elise, you should rest for a few days," Don Quixote said gently.
"I'm watching the Iron Axe Tavern; nothing will happen."
"I'll only be sadder at home."
Elise drank as she spoke:
"Knight Don Quixote, what exactly is death?"
"I don't know."
Don Quixote thought for a moment and shook his head:
"But I heard a wise man say something about it elsewhere.
"Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence.
"To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace."
"That was beautifully said, Ser Knight," a gentle voice suddenly came from nearby. Soon, a lady approached the two.
"Whose wise words are those?"
"Really?" Elise murmured to herself.
"Is death really that beautiful? Will Mother be lonely?"
Don Quixote turned his head in confusion, looking at the lady dressed in Northern noble attire approaching.
Her face was plain, her figure full but not bloated.
There was a healthy flush on her cheeks, and her hair was tied back with a leather cord.
Her eyes were as bright as water.
The lady looked down at Elise and said gently:
"Elise, the Old Gods will guide Lady Wylla's spirit to the heart tree! The Old Gods will protect her!"
Elise seemed to just notice the lady's presence. She looked up and greeted her despondently:
"Sister Jonelle, you're back."
"Yes, just rushed back from Winterfell," Jonelle sighed.
"I heard about your mother. Ser Colin said you were here, so I wanted to come see you."
...Jonelle? Jonelle Cerwyn?
The thought flashed through Don Quixote's mind.
Jonelle and Elise had a very good relationship, and they whispered to each other for a long time.
Of course, most of the time it was Jonelle offering gentle comfort.
Unknowingly, Elise fell asleep on the table.
Jonelle took off her thick grey wool cloak and covered Elise with it.
Only then did she look up at Don Quixote and whisper:
"I am Jonelle Cerwyn."
Don Quixote also introduced himself in a whisper:
"Hello, Lady Jonelle. I am Don Quixote."
"I heard Elise mention you before." Jonelle nodded and smiled.
"By the way, you haven't answered my question yet, Don Quixote."
"Oh, right," Don Quixote smiled.
"He is Wilde. He lives in a place very far from the North."
...