The wind on the plains blew across Arthur's face and hair, making him feel refreshed.
Arthur sat on his horse, quietly gazing at the stone fortress standing on the hill before him.
It wasn't large, but it greatly astonished Arthur; this knight's family castle was far sturdier and more impressive than his own Dreadfort.
Gray stone walls were covered in moss, and the outline of the small tower was exceptionally clear in the sunlight.
The castle's drawbridge slowly lowered, emitting a grating creak.
A dozen or so guard soldiers walked out with ingratiating smiles, dropping their weapons and raising their hands above their heads.
Behind them, two women were bound with ropes, which the soldiers held, pulling them out stumbling and staggering.
"Lord Arthur!" The leading soldier knelt on the ground, his voice trembling. "We surrender the castle! Please forgive our sins! These are the traitor's wife and daughter! We offer them to you!"
Arthur's gaze passed over the subservient soldiers and landed on the two women; he frowned slightly.
The older woman was in her thirties, while the girl beside her was just over ten years old.
Mother and daughter were roughly pulled by the soldiers' ropes, kneeling before Arthur's horse, completely forgetting that this was their former Lady.
"Lord… forgive us…" The woman sobbed incoherently, pleading, "We don't know anything… please forgive us… please…"
Arthur said nothing, merely watching them in silence, finding it a bit difficult to handle.
Bloodlines were the most stubborn thing in Westeros, harder than stone or iron, and more intricately intertwined than the roots of trees and wild grass.
He couldn't release them, at least not the girl. Once she bore a child, it would have a claim to this land. Although he wasn't worried or afraid, it could create hidden dangers, and Arthur hated hidden dangers.
Killing them was simple, but this was different from Deep Valley City. These two noblewomen were being offered as captives in broad daylight, which would spread and create a bad impression.
He didn't look at the weeping woman but instead spoke to the soldiers who had offered their lord's women in exchange for their lives:
"I forgive your sins. But your cowardice and betrayal, I do not accept."
"I will give you a sum of money as a reward! Get out of my territory! Never return!"
The soldiers acted as if they had received a great pardon, kowtowed a few times, and then scrambled away.
Before the empty drawbridge, only Arthur and the crying mother and daughter remained, along with the silent soldiers behind him.
"Raise your heads." Arthur's voice was calm.
The woman dared not, but the girl, as if her soul had been drawn out, slowly raised her head and looked at him with empty eyes.
"I will not kill you," Arthur said. "But the bloodline in the girl must end in this generation."
Arthur paused, as if announcing an unchangeable yet utterly cold verdict:
"You will enter the Silent Sisters, cut your hair, abandon your names, never speak again, and serve the Seven Gods for the rest of your lives, praying for the sins of your husband and father."
"You will no longer have a family, no longer have children, no longer have anything worldly. This is the mercy I grant you."
This meant completely severing their family's bloodline.
When the woman heard this, she first froze, then burst into wails even more despairing than before. For a noblewoman, this was more cruel than death.
Arthur no longer paid attention to their cries, turning instead to Hakon and instructing him:
"Send a few men to escort them to the nearest monastery, supervise them in taking their vows, and tell the monks this is my command."
"Yes, my Lord." Hakon bowed in acceptance, immediately called a few soldiers, and "respectfully" escorted the two noblewomen away.
After handling all this, Arthur stepped into the castle that now belonged to him.
The interior furnishings of the castle were far more luxurious than its impoverished exterior suggested.
The corridors were carpeted with rugs from Dorne, the walls hung with taxidermied game, and the air even retained a faint scent of Eastern spices.
It was hard to imagine what kind of life he had lived before. Was he really a noble?
Arthur made his way to the castle's treasury. When the heavy iron door was opened, even Arthur couldn't help but narrow his eyes.
A lock on an iron chest was pried open by Lucien, and golden dragons were piled into small mountains, glittering with enticing golden light under the torchlight.
On the shelves along the wall, various silver vessels and gleaming goblets were displayed.
"My Seven Gods…" Hakon stammered in awe, his eyes wide. "My Seven Gods…"
Arthur stepped forward and casually grabbed a handful of golden dragons; a cold sensation came from his palm.
He felt no joy, but rather a bit ridiculous.
Arthur cursed, "What a damn thing!"
"My Lord, what did you say?" Hakon hadn't heard clearly.
Arthur threw the golden dragons down, "I said Walker Terry is a complete idiot, what a damn thing!!!" The golden dragons fell back into the chest with a crisp clinking sound.
Arthur was once again shocked by the greed of the Westeros nobility.
He guarded such a large fortune, accumulated by his Terry Family for generations, yet he still heavily taxed his people, sending them to battle with pitchforks and scythes!
If he had only taken half of what was here, he could have equipped his people with chainmail and steel swords!
He didn't lose to him; he lost to his own greed and stupidity. He would rather let his wealth rot here than use it to strengthen his power and protect his land and life.
"Immediately inventory and register all the valuables, not a single cent can be wrong," Arthur ordered. "Also, summon all the village chiefs from the territory to the castle, now! Immediately!"
In the castle hall, a dozen or so ragged, terrified village chiefs looked at Arthur with fear.
This young man was not as merciful and easy to talk to as they had thought; he had just buried their former knight lord alive.
Arthur sat on the high oak chair at the head of the hall, looking down at them.
The sixteen-year-old, sitting so high above them, remained silent, yet he exerted immense pressure on them, causing them to gradually lower their heads and tremble.
"The traitor is dead, and this land has been reclaimed by its true master." Arthur's tone was calm as he leaned back in his chair. "How much tax did he collect from you in the past?"
An old man mustered his courage, raised his head, and replied, "Reporting, Lord Arthur, most of the harvest, plus various miscellaneous taxes… river tax… rain tax… every year… we had to give up some people…"
Arthur: "…" Arthur knew what 'giving up people' meant. What an idiot, how much money is enough? Even if he had distributed money before the war, there wouldn't have been people unwilling to fight for him.
Arthur paused, watching the old men's faces grow even more fearful.
"You have already been extorted taxes by the traitor."
"I once said I would go for myself, to get it back for you."
Arthur stood up and slowly paced before them. The old men bowed their heads deeply, not daring to look up.
Arthur helped up the old man who had hastily knelt when he approached. "Now, I fulfill my promise. In a moment, you will receive ninety percent of this year's taxes that you previously paid to the traitor."
"Lord Arthur?" The old men suddenly raised their heads, their faces filled with disbelief. "You… what did you say?"
"I said," Arthur spoke each word distinctly, "I, Arthur, once said that this year I would only ask for one-tenth of your taxes, and I will not break my word."
"Go tell everyone, I, Arthur, only ask for your loyalty and your labor for me, and I will ensure that you have food in your bowls and clothes to wear, and no one will starve to death again. I will not break my word."
'And next year, I will only ask for five-tenths of your taxes.'
The entire hall fell into a deathly silence, followed by a chorus of wails.
"Seven Gods!"
"Merciful Lord Arthur!"
"The Gods will bless you!"
They finally reacted, tears streaming down their faces in excitement, desperately praying for Arthur and praising him in the simplest language.
Arthur felt somewhat emotional. The Terry Family had spent generations establishing their prestige in this land, and he had uprooted it in just a few days.
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