"What if he doesn't follow?" asked the green-armored knight, somewhat confused.
"You can't hide what's in a man's eyes," Jon replied. "Rodrik needs my blood to wash away his shame. For his honor, he will definitely pursue me. If he were the kind of man who could let his honor be tarnished, he would have agreed when I first offered him double the price to kill Pycelle."
A man of honor can be deceived. Just as Pycelle had been certain of Rodrik's loyalty, now Jon was equally certain of Rodrik's pursuit.
"By the way, I've not asked your name all this time. What are you called?" Jon suddenly realized.
"Me?" The knight seemed startled for a moment, then laughed. "Old Dog."
"I apologize—I meant no offense," Jon said quickly. "I wanted to create an impression for those mercenaries. No matter their station, giving them the notion they might be elevated to nobility paved the way for inciting rebellion against their captain."
"My name is Bronn, and his is Gregor," Bronn introduced himself. Then he suddenly raised his head, his gaze sharpening. "They're truly coming. Protect yourself. If anything goes wrong, flee. With your horse's speed, they can't catch you."
Hearing this, Jon looked westward and saw four riders appearing in the distance. The leader wore plate and chain armor—clearly Ser Rodrik himself—while the other three wore only ordinary leather armor and carried various weapons.
"You bastard! Oathbreaker! Murderer! You have no honor!" Though still fifty meters away, Jon could already hear Rodrik's furious roar.
Jon fixed his gaze and met eyes filled with hatred.
In that moment, Jon felt the murderous intent condense in the air like something tangible, which made his heart quail. His hand trembled slightly on the sword hilt.
Without another word, Rodrik lowered his spear and began to accelerate, charging toward Jon at the lead.
The smooth, wide Kingsroad was perfect for warhorses at full gallop. Soon, Rodrik's mount shifted from trotting to a thunderous charge.
As Rodrik began his sprint, the black-armored knight Gregor, who had not spoken a word, rode forward to meet him. After giving Jon a reassuring glance, Bronn also launched his charge.
In the blink of an eye, the two sides clashed.
Rodrik's spear aimed directly at Gregor's neck—the gap between helmet and breastplate. Gregor swerved sideways, thinking he could easily avoid the thrust.
But Rodrik's skill with the spear was masterful. He had anticipated Gregor's dodge, and despite the evasion, his spearpoint still struck Gregor's black plate armor, hitting the large left shoulder guard.
Fortunately for Gregor, Rodrik's weapon was not a proper jousting lance with a reinforced shaft, but an ordinary spear. Its fragile wooden shaft splintered under the force and angle of impact.
The powerful collision forced Gregor to grip his reins tightly as he steadied himself with help from the stirrups. This defensive movement cost him the chance to counterattack Rodrik, and he could only let their horses pass each other.
Rodrik was likewise shaken by the reaction force at impact. As his spear shaft broke, he immediately discarded the useless weapon and struggled to draw his sword while maintaining balance. But before he could, he faced Bronn who was following behind Gregor.
Seeing his new opponent charging without hesitation, Rodrik turned sharply to avoid a collision between their horses. During this abrupt maneuver, his mount lost balance and listed heavily to the left.
Bronn gently lifted his reins and easily sidestepped Rodrik's stumbling approach. He swung his sword sideways at the limit of his reach, slicing off half of Rodrik's left hand.
Rodrik completely lost control of his mount. His already unbalanced horse staggered forward several more steps before crashing to the ground, rider and all. In the impact, Rodrik's left leg snapped beneath the weight of his falling horse.
A strangled cry echoed across the Kingsroad.
After charging past several yards, Bronn reined in his horse, pulled the animal around, and charged at Rodrik again. Bronn lowered his longsword, leaning forward with his chest nearly touching his mount's neck, and rushed toward the fallen knight. As he passed, he drove his blade through Rodrik's throat while the man lay pinned on the ground.
The sword point pierced Rodrik's neck from the side, but Bronn's horse never slowed. The momentum carried Bronn's blade through, severing Rodrik's spine, tearing open half his throat, and nearly decapitating him.
After riding several more paces, Bronn didn't halt his horse but turned sharply again and headed toward Gregor.
At that moment, Gregor clearly needed his support.
Or perhaps not quite as urgently as he'd thought.
Bronn relaxed in his saddle and slowed his mount, unable to suppress a rueful smile behind his visor. During the time he'd spent dispatching Rodrik with his broken spear, Gregor had already killed two opponents—fighting three men alone.
Two corpses lay on the Kingsroad, one of them cleaved nearly in two.
The last of Rodrik's riders was terrified by Gregor's ferocity. With all his companions dead, he simply couldn't muster the courage to face the black iron tower of a knight.
Taking advantage of the distance between himself and Gregor, who was occupied with another man, the rider wheeled his horse and fled northward.
"Catch him!" Jon shouted, spurring his mount after the fleeing man.
He couldn't allow any survivors. Anyone who escaped today was a potential threat tomorrow.
Jon rode his white courser at full gallop. With the advantages of a fine mount and no armor to weigh him down, he quickly overtook both Bronn and Gregor, rapidly gaining on the escaping mercenary.
Jon gripped his unsheathed sword. It wasn't until the man was almost within striking distance that a sudden thought struck him.
How in seven hells am I supposed to defeat him?
He didn't have time for his usual careful calculations. His horse drew alongside the fleeing rider's mount in the next moment. Jon could only rely on the horseback combat experience from his mercenary knight training, swinging his sword purely on instinct.
The fleeing rider skillfully raised his arm, deflecting Jon's attack with his own blade. Jon felt the shock travel up his arm, nearly unseating him.
The mercenary, sensing his pursuer's inexperience, turned to strike at Jon with his sword. Jon blocked desperately, but the blow knocked the sword from his grip.
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