Figures moved in the distance, immediately alerting everyone in the camp.
Brienne and Iggo pressed their hands on their sword hilts and stepped forward. Seeing Corleone walking in front, they were delighted at first, but then seeing several Northern soldiers following behind him, their expressions turned gloomy again.
Looking back and giving a signal, Jaime immediately understood and pulled up his cloak hood, covering that overly conspicuous golden hair, hiding his entire person in the shadows.
"Where is the medicine? Doctor!"
Ragg took the lead, impatiently urging before even arriving: "Where is the medicine you mentioned? Find it quickly!"
His tone was full of impatience, his eyes sweeping over the people in the camp with a trace of arrogance.
This arrogant attitude made the straightforward Brienne very unhappy, and she immediately pressed her sword hilt and took a step forward.
However, just as she was about to scold him, Corleone rushed over.
"Patience, Captain Ragg!"
He deliberately cut in front of Ragg, still wearing that harmless smile on his face, his gaze sweeping quickly over his companions in the camp, then making a very obscure gesture in front of his chest.
Everyone's eyes lit up. Corleone turned around and spoke again: "Preparing that potion takes time. A slight difference in dosage makes a world of difference in effect."
"If we fail to make the Hound talk and kill him instead, we won't get a single copper of that forty thousand Gold Dragons."
"I won't joke with my own business."
As he spoke, he walked slowly towards the chaotic-looking packs in the corner.
Hearing this, Ragg clicked his tongue in annoyance.
But thinking of the forty thousand Gold Dragons, he immediately suppressed his anger.
His reaction couldn't escape Corleone's eyes. The corners of his mouth rose slightly, pointing to the empty seats by the bonfire, saying casually: "The sun has set, the wind is cold at night. Sit by the fire first."
"I guarantee it will be quick."
Iggo also grinned, revealing an honest smile: "Yes, sit! Warm!"
Saying this, he actively moved his body to make way, and even the usually impulsive Brienne moved aside.
Under the seemingly enthusiastic invitation of several people, Ragg glanced at his companions behind him.
Although they were all Northerners, since there was a fire for warmth, who would choose to freeze outside the camp?
Moreover, he didn't take Brienne and the others seriously at all.
A sick ghost, a woman, a savage who couldn't even speak clearly, and one who looked like a mute.
No matter how you looked at it, they didn't seem like a combination that could pose a threat to his side.
"Go!"
Waving to his men, Ragg took the lead and sat by the fire.
But even so, their formation was still very particular, back to back, faintly forming a mutual defense angle.
Corleone rummaged intently in his pack, taking out some jars and bottles, deliberately making some clinking sounds, appearing very busy.
Ragg and the others looked around vigilantly, not talking much.
A small pot was set up on the fire, the meat soup boiling inside bubbling with a mouth-watering aroma. Walton used a small knife to pick out the meat and divide it into several portions.
Everyone picked it up and started enjoying it, not minding the heat. Even Jaime not far away got a small piece. Only Ragg and his men could only watch eagerly, swallowing their saliva.
"Here, have some."
At this time, Walton seemed to see his embarrassment, picking up a piece of meat with his dagger and handing it to Ragg.
So this guy isn't mute...
Ragg thought to himself, looking at the fragrant meat and swallowing again.
But he still raised his hand to refuse: "No need, we brought dry rations!"
As soon as these words came out, a soldier beside him who had just reached out had to retract his hand hurriedly.
Inside the camp, five Northern soldiers gnawed on dry rations, staring straight at Walton and the others who were feasting, almost grinding their teeth to pieces.
Only when Walton drank the last mouthful of meat soup with gulp~ gulp~ sounds did they breathe a sigh of relief.
Just as their attention was all on the meat soup, Corleone, with his back to them, quietly slid a sharp scalpel into his sleeve, clasping it in his palm.
"Captain Ragg."
He pretended to be busy, making conversation without turning his head: "Heard you are all from Karhold, right? Is it exceptionally cold there?"
"Nonsense!"
Ragg angrily bit off a mouthful of dry, hard bread and snorted impatiently: "Is there any place in the North that isn't cold?"
"For you soft Southerners, I guarantee your balls would freeze off as soon as you reached Karhold!"
Hearing this, Corleone smiled: "From a medical perspective, the freezing point of the human body is the same. That means if that temperature can freeze off my balls, it should be able to freeze off everyone's."
"Can that be the same?"
Although he couldn't understand the professional terms Corleone was using, Ragg instinctively refuted:
"We Northerners drink strong liquor that can ignite blood. Even standing naked in the cold wind for a day and night is fine. Not comparable to you Southern soft eggs!"
As his voice fell, Walton not far away almost scoffed aloud.
"Is that so?" Corleone didn't refute again, pretending to walk towards Ragg unintentionally or intentionally: "The North is a good place, just too cold. I've always wanted to see the spectacular Wall!"
Sighing with emotion, he had walked to Ragg's side in a few steps and sat down next to him very naturally: "Oh, right!"
"I see your swordsmanship is very good, Brother Ragg. Lords everywhere need talents like you now!"
"When you get the Gold Dragons, how about coming with us to Duskendale? Earl Rykker there has a very good relationship with Ser Finn. If you go there with money and swear allegiance to him, with your skills, maybe Earl Rykker will be happy and directly grant you a viscount title!"
"Build a castle then, marry a wife, have a few kids. Isn't that much better than staying in the chilly North?"
Hearing this, the hand Ragg used to hold the dry ration couldn't help shaking!
Viscount title!
Castle!
This extremely tempting picture moved his heart immensely.
However, Ragg still retained a shred of reason, pretending to decline: "No, no... I have already sworn allegiance to House Karstark!"
"Earl Rickard treated me very well. A Northerner's honor doesn't allow me to do such a thing..."
Squelch!
But before he could finish his sentence, a sharp dagger accurately stabbed fiercely into the fatal triangle below his ear!
"Urgh!!!"
Ragg's eyes bulged instantly. Blood spurted along the blood groove of the dagger, dyeing Corleone's cuff red.
At the same moment!
The four people in the camp acted almost simultaneously, each taking out one Northern soldier!
No shouting, no fierce clashing of metal. Like a play rehearsed countless times, several dull thuds of bodies hitting the ground sounded.
Ragg, still retaining a trace of consciousness, realized then that at some unknown point, the opponents had quietly approached his men!
But it was too late for regret.
In his dying moments, his eyes subconsciously turned to Corleone beside him, who was just calling him brother a moment ago.
He vaguely heard only a voice.
"Deep breath. Dizziness is normal."