Don Quixote looked at the three people beside him, who were clearly stuffed, and immediately ordered:
"Wait half an hour to let your food digest, then go jog two laps. After that, adjust the intensity based on how you feel!"
"Yes, Lord Don Quixote!"
Cole and Alden hurriedly replied with respect.
Adele, having eaten her fill, had absolutely no desire to train right now and tried to act cute to get out of it:
"My Lord, I don't want to train right now~"
Don Quixote shook his head and ruthlessly refused:
"No!"
————
"Yes!"
At the edge of the Wolfswood, a burly, one-eyed man missing half his teeth replied with a vicious grin.
Towering, ancient pines intertwined like ghost claws, blocking out the sky's meager light, barely illuminating the slippery moss and dead branches covering the ground.
The raiders, on horseback, hid behind massive pine trees and boulders. They were wrapped in coarse, dark grey cloaks smeared with pine needles and mud, blending perfectly into the shadows of the Wolfswood.
Most of them were lean, wiry men. Their skin had taken on a sickly pale-green hue, pickled by the sea wind, and the backs of their hands were covered in calluses and knife scars.
The burly man, who sported a knife scar over his left eye, looked toward the Cerwyn Market, which was still bustling even at night. The greed in his heart grew stronger.
He looked around the group and repeated for the last time:
"Remember! Our targets are those Gold Dragons and Silver Stags! Those fine linens and spices shipped up from the South!
"As for killing! If it's convenient, then kill!
"But don't you bastards go blood-crazy on me! Especially you two, Matteo and Cillian—listen up!
"Our goal tonight is to loot their supplies, damn it! Killing is a job for those flayers.
"Do you hear me!"
"Yes, Lord Theodore!" only a sparse handful of raiders replied.
Theodore had repeated this speech far too many times, and most of the raiders were starting to lose patience.
Seeing this, Theodore sneered but didn't say anything more.
He was a distant relative of House Borrell of Sweetsister.
Sweetsister was the largest of the Three Sisters islands, ruled by House Borrell, who were sworn to House Sunderland.
"I just hope you make it back alive."
Theodore rested his palm on the narrow, curved iron blade at his waist, his eyes burning with desire as he stared at the trade market ahead.
This wasn't his first time raiding the North.
But it was his first time venturing this deep into it.
They weren't far from the lands of House Stark here.
One wrong move, and they could end up staying in the North forever.
"I really hope I get the chance to burn, kill, and pillage in those damn Stark lands one day!"
Theodore loved to fantasize whenever he got excited.
But that was all he dared to do—he didn't have the guts to actually try it.
The Three Sisters islands were located at the northern end of the Bite on the eastern coast of Westeros, sitting between White Harbor in the North and the Eyrie in the Vale.
The archipelago consisted of three main islands—Sweetsister, Longsister, and Littlesister—along with a few surrounding reefs.
They essentially acted as a maritime passage between the Vale and the North.
Because of this geographical advantage, the Eyrie's control over the Three Sisters had always been weak.
Even though, in name, the Three Sisters belonged to the Vale, and House Sunderland had sworn fealty to House Arryn.
But the inhabitants of the islands—the Sistermen!
They only looked out for themselves and had little love for either the Northmen or the Vale.
Especially considering what happened two thousand years ago: the event known to history as "The Rape of the Three Sisters."
That was when House Stark of the North invaded the islands.
The Sistermen had harbored a deep-seated grudge against the Northern Starks ever since!
However, the current Lord of the Eyrie, Jon Arryn, was not only the Warden of the East but also the Hand of the King!
And Jon Arryn's relationship with House Stark of the North was incredibly close.
House Sunderland and the other lords of the Three Sisters were forced to rein in their illegal, shady activities.
The only reason Theodore dared to venture this deep into the North now was because he had been secretly invited by House Bolton of the Dreadfort.
Two months ago.
House Bolton had set their sights on this temporary trade market outside Castle Cerwyn.
The reason they hadn't made a move yet wasn't a lack of preparation.
It was simply because House Bolton intended to completely crush House Cerwyn's idea of running a trade market.
The very day Earl Cerwyn officially announced the establishment of Cerwyn Market, these men had secretly set out.
And the reason they chose today to finally strike...
Was because several major Southern merchants had just arrived at Cerwyn Market.
The appearance of these fat sheep proved too much for the raiders, who had been lurking in the shadows for quite some time, to resist.
They were ready for a massive looting spree.
————
Suddenly, Theodore's pupils shrank slightly.
He noticed a wave of unusual commotion erupting on the other side of the market.
It sounded like the terrified, panicked screams of a crowd.
Theodore was very familiar with that kind of terrified noise.
Because he often caused scenes exactly like that. He thoroughly enjoyed watching those fat sheep run around in blind panic and utter despair!
A cruel smile twisted Theodore's lips, making the knife scar on his pale-green face look especially grotesque:
"Looks like the flayers have already made their move. We can't drag our feet!
"Remember! Once you've grabbed enough, get the hell out of there! Leave the rest to those crazy flayers!
"We're just taking advantage of the chaos to get some loot, not to risk our damn lives!
"There will be plenty of chances to kill these Northmen later!
"Anyone who falls behind is on their own!
"Kill!"
As the word left his lips, the shadows at the edge of the Wolfswood instantly sprang to life.
Dozens of dark figures moved in unison.
These raiders burst from behind the massive pines and boulders on horseback, like a shiver of sharks breaking the surface of the waves.
Hooves crushed the slippery moss and dead branches, rapidly tearing through the Wolfswood with a chaotic but urgent thundering sound.
Before long.
Theodore took the lead, reaching back to draw the narrow, curved iron blade from his waist.
The cold steel flashed in the meager light, slicing an arc through the air as he swiftly swung at a freelance knight patrolling nearby.
The freelance knight had already panicked at the sight of the horde of raiders behind Theodore.
Being of average skill and paralyzed by fear, he didn't even have a chance to defend himself before the blade opened his throat.
Blood sprayed across Theodore's pale-green cheek. He wiped it away carelessly, his vicious grin widening:
"Kill these Northern shits!"
Right after, Theodore rode his horse up to the fenced entrance of the market.
The raiders behind him followed close on his heels.
"Damn it! Damn it!"
At the market entrance, Liam had just been preparing to open the gate to let the terrified smallfolk behind him flee, only to discover dozens of raiders appearing on this side as well.
Liam stared blankly as Theodore and his men closed in on the market entrance, panic rising within him:
"We're completely screwed!"
He turned back and said in despair:
"I'll fight with everything I have to buy you a little time. When I do, run for your lives."
Having said that, Liam took a few deep breaths, looked at the two freelance knights and one Cerwyn soldier beside him, and said coldly:
"We can't let animals like these run wild in Cerwyn lands!
"Don't worry, the Earl has always valued this place. Reinforcements will be here soon!"
With that, Liam drew his sword, the blade glinting coldly in the sparse light of the market's campfires.
The Cerwyn soldier next to him also readied his longsword.
The two freelance knights exchanged a glance, clearly seeing the terror etched on each other's faces.
...
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