The setting sun was like blood.
A battle had ended, and the air was filled with a nauseating odor. The smooth road was covered in blood and mud.
Rain and blood mixed together, sticking to the boots of the middle-aged instructor.
Splash!
He stumbled and stepped down, splashing water, leaving a small pit in place, which quickly filled with red rain.
Thud!
After staggering only a few steps, William Darry's knees gave way, and he fell to his knees in the mud.
He supported himself with one hand on the ground. Sweat continuously seeped from his forehead, and he opened his mouth, gasping for breath like a fish that had been thrown onto the shore.
Whoosh~
His other hand was tightly clutching his abdomen, and blood was still flowing continuously from between his fingers.
He was injured.
This was the most serious injury on his entire body, inflicted by a masked bandit's dying counterattack, a sword thrust into his ribs. There were many other injuries, large and small, so many that he couldn't even remember them all.
Not far away, the limping knight also struggled to draw his sword and cut down the last Red Keep guard who was trying to kill him, his longsword slamming down hard on the guard's neck.
"You..."
"Damn it."
Then, in the other person's numb eyes, he slashed downwards with force, and blood spurted out instantly.
Thud—
The corpse's knees buckled, and it collapsed into the mud, all strength gone.
The crippled knight had killed the soldier. His body wavered slightly, and he used his sword to steady himself.
His breastplate, dented by the javelin, rose and fell with his ragged breaths. Golden strands of hair clung to his face, matted with sweat.
The black cloth that had covered the crippled knight's face was long gone.
But he didn't care anymore.
Panicked shouts echoed nearby. Faint figures glanced back nervously, then disappeared into the woods, vanishing from sight.
It was a brutal battle. Both sides had deserters, those who couldn't handle the pressure. They had underestimated the morale and strength of the Red Keep's guard, and they had paid the price.
When the battle reached a stalemate, and it was clear the plan was failing, the crippled knight had also wanted to retreat.
However, his broken leg hindered his escape.
The deserters didn't take their obvious burden, the 'lord', and instead abandoned him, scattering in all directions.
Now, on the entire battlefield, besides a few of his severely wounded subordinates lying on the ground and unable to escape, only a few Red Keep guards remained, leaning against trees and wailing.
Then.
The Red Keep's instructor once again struggled to his feet, leaning on his sword.
Only he and the instructor were still standing on the battlefield.
The golden-haired, lame knight's eyes, sharp as a hawk's, were now weary. He knew that from the moment his subordinates abandoned him, his chances of survival were slim.
Unless he could use his last breath to kill everyone here, including Queen Rhaella, who was trembling inside the carriage.
And at this moment, the lame knight seemed to have thought of something, his eyes momentarily unfocused, and he rubbed his forehead.
He finally saw a boy with silver-gold hair standing beside William Darry. The boy was also covered in mud and blood, and he held a sword in his arms. It was this boy who had helped Sir William up.
"So there's another man here."
The crippled knight chuckled softly.
Not far away.
The middle-aged instructor's slightly curled hair was plastered to his face. He clutched his side, and his vision swam.
This was the prelude to excessive blood loss. However, he still recognized the mastermind of this attack; the black cloth covering the crippled knight's face was gone.
"Kevan Lannister!"
"It's you!"
The golden-haired, lame knight looked somewhat aged, though he was actually only in his early thirties. He had deep-set eyes, prominent nasolabial folds, and a short, trimmed golden beard, but he looked somewhat disheveled at the moment.
William's lips trembled slightly. Of course, he recognized the person before him.
He was the uncle of Jaime Lannister, the famous Kingsguard knight, and younger brother of Tywin, the Warden of the West.
"So the Lannisters have already betrayed the Iron Throne!"
Sir William's voice was filled with unconcealed shock.
If the Lannister family had decided to betray the Iron Throne, then King's Landing was likely in real danger.
Because before they had set out, the Westerlands army had already marched towards King's Landing under the banner of "supporting the king."
If King Aerys II ordered the gates of King's Landing opened to let the Westerlands army in, then this city, which had never been breached from the outside, would likely fall from within.
And, moreover, King Aerys II had Jaime Lannister by his side.
"Ser William."
"Why don't we both back down a step?"
Kevan Lannister didn't mind at all being recognized. His situation was dire; survival was all that mattered.
Kevan leaned on his sword with one hand and raised the other slightly, striving to make his words sound sincere.
There were few hotheads in the Lannister family. Perhaps there was a gene for adaptability in their bloodline, after all, everyone knew who the Lannisters' ancestors were.
Facing such a rigid situation, Kevan didn't give up hope of survival.
But he didn't attempt to persuade the instructor to surrender, because both sides knew it was impossible. The instructor could have surrendered long ago if he wanted to, rather than fighting to this point.
So, he wanted to find a compromise.
Don't look at the fact that the other side still had Queen Rhaella, several handmaidens, and a little boy.
Kevan had received rigorous training from a young age and was proficient in combat. A few women and a boy posed no threat to him. He could kill these women and children one by one, even with a lame leg.
The only one who could threaten him was the Red Keep instructor, who was severely injured and far weaker than himself.
Hearing what this lame knight, whom Sir William called Kevan Lannister, said.
Viserys felt a little nervous inside and raised his head to look at the man beside him.
"Impossible!"
However, William Darry clutched his side, his face pale, but he resolutely refused.
He couldn't let the other side go; otherwise, once Kevan Lannister gathered the deserters, he and the others would be the ones to die.
Then, his gaze turned to Viserys, who was standing beside him, and he spoke.
"Child, do you remember what I just taught you?"
Learn to use the pointy end to stab the enemy.
Viserys nodded heavily, clutching his sword.
"Follow me!"
The middle-aged instructor then supported himself with his sword in one hand, staggering step by step towards Kevan Lannister.
Kevan knew the other man was determined. With his injured leg, he couldn't outrun him. Making a decisive choice, Kevan drew his longsword and met the attack.
The two once-noble lords now resembled wounded, starving wolves, stumbling and fighting in the rain and blood.
....
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