Sir Guy frowned as the mercenaries suddenly appeared, but he had to take them seriously. These damnable mercenaries would decide whether those people lived or died.
He calculated the possibility of reneging on the deal and killing them afterward, then shouted, "I am Sir Guy! Help me kill these people! I'll give you twenty Silver Stags!"
In his heart, he sneered, 'Once this is over, none of you will live. You want money from me? You're looking for death. Are twenty Silver Stags that easy to get? It's enough for these mercenaries, who live on the edge of life and death, to enjoy life for several months.'
Everyone's eyes were fixed on the man.
Barna's mind raced. He couldn't make an offer on behalf of Sir Arthur. He still had some money Sir Arthur had given him, which was for purchasing supplies.
But that was definitely not enough, and it was impossible to compete with a knight in bidding. An idea sparked in his mind.
He took a deep breath, gathered all the courage he had, stepped forward, and shouted, "I don't know how much my master will give you! Because I can't make that decision for him!"
His voice trembled slightly from nervousness, but his eyes were exceptionally bright.
"But I guarantee with my life! If you help me, he will give you much more compensation than you can imagine! I believe in my master!"
The man was intrigued by this strange promise. He whistled, and the smile on his face grew wider: "Your master?"
"This is much more interesting than Silver Stags. Tell me, who is your generous master?"
Barna remembered Arthur's instruction not to easily reveal his identity outside. He gritted his teeth and shook his head:
"I can't say, but I promise, for our lives, he is definitely more generous than anyone you can imagine."
The man's smile gradually faded. 'He truly is a merchant, knowing how to attract attention, and I hate merchants the most,' he thought. His eyes became a little impatient: "Friend, my patience is limited."
"Without a name, your guarantee is worthless."
"It seems I can only choose the Sir's tangible twenty Silver Stags."
He seemed to have made up his mind, his hand slowly gripping the hilt of his sword, and his brothers around him also lowered the swords they had been carrying.
Sir Guy showed a triumphant smile, and Barna's heart sank to the bottom.
Just then, an old veteran next to Barna, who was tightly clutching his sword, suddenly widened his eyes. This veteran was one of the old soldiers Arthur had mobilized from his territory and assigned to Barna. He stared intently at the man's face, as if remembering something.
He used all his strength to roar, "Bronn! You scoundrel who takes money and doesn't do the job! Have you forgotten who it was outside Deep Valley City who threw a bag of gold dragons at you without even blinking?!"
The man, who had just been swinging his sword and stepping forward, suddenly stiffened, his body rigid, the expression on his face instantly frozen.
Bronn's gaze was like two knives, fixed on the old veteran. The old veteran met his gaze and nodded heavily. The air in the scene seemed to solidify.
"Damn it! Why are you nodding?!" Bronn cursed under his breath. He fell silent. 'I've run this far, how can I still run into you all?'
Immediately, the image of that damnable young man, that former young employer with deep eyes who acted completely unpredictably, as if everything was under his control, flashed in his mind.
He remembered the young man's unfathomable gaze, as if everything was under his control, he remembered his boldness in throwing out gold dragons without hesitation, and his threat to him, and even more, he remembered the fact that he had taken the money but failed to fulfill his promise.
A few seconds later, he bared his teeth, revealing a mocking smile. This time, the smile no longer held its previous cynicism, but rather a hint of resigned self-mockery. It seemed the merchant was right; there should be no more generous employer in this world than his master.
He slowly turned around, facing Sir Guy, who was dumbfounded and didn't know what was happening.
"Sir," Bronn's voice sounded a little helpless, "It seems your offer..."
...is a bit low."
"There's no helping it. He was right; there's no more generous employer in this world than his master."
"What do you mean?" Sir Guy hadn't reacted yet.
"What I mean is..." Bronn's words were cut short as his body moved.
He bent his waist slightly, raised an elbow, and with his left hand, flung a short blade from his pocket. A white flash streaked through the air, across the crowd, and past the already wary Sir Guy's eyes. It was too fast. Sir Guy roared, leaning back, the blade tip tearing the skin of his left cheek, splattering blood, and he tumbled off his horse.
"What a pity!" Bronn sighed softly as he charged straight at Sir Guy. His steps were so agile, and his mercenary brothers also charged forward with him.
A soldier tried to block him with a longsword. Bronn didn't even use his sword to parry. He simply dodged to the side, and in the instant they passed each other,
he swung his longsword with a backhand, the sharp blade slicing across the soldier's lower abdomen and then out from his side.
The soldier let out a tragic scream, clutching his belly, which was instantly stained red with blood and exposed his intestines, and collapsed softly.
"Kill!!!" The situation on the scene suddenly changed. The four old veterans had already reacted, exchanged angry shouts, and rushed forward to fight together. They had experienced countless battles and knew that life and death were only a moment away.
Only the belated Barna and a dozen villagers acting as helpers were left in confusion.
"Follow me, brothers!" Barna reacted, gritted his teeth, and charged forward. The dozen villagers acting as helpers only then drew their swords; before this, their swords hadn't even been drawn. They followed and charged forward.
Sir Guy swung his personal sword, constantly fending off Bronn's attacks. This mercenary's swordsmanship was too good. He could only shout, putting on a brave front: "I am a knight! I am Sir Guy! How dare you kill me!"
"Save it, Sir," Bronn's voice was as relaxed as if he were chatting in a tavern. "I've killed more knights than you've been with women. Even before you, an important noble from the Westerlands was someone I accidentally killed."
Before his words finished, Bronn executed a quick slide with his feet, dodging a powerful downward slash from Sir Guy.
But he didn't retreat; instead, he pressed forward, bringing the blade of his sword down hard on Sir Guy's sword-wielding wrist.
"No!!!" Sir Guy, fearing his hand would be severed, let his personal sword fly out of his grasp. His corpulent body instantly lost all courage.
He turned to run, but Bronn's movements were much faster than his. Bronn didn't stab him from behind; instead, he ended the fight in a more humiliating way.
He kicked Sir Guy in the back of his knee, and the fat knight shrieked, falling to his knees with a thud, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Immediately after, Bronn flipped his blade, striking Sir Guy hard on the back of his head with a dull thud.
Sir Guy collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
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