Bolin looked at Solomon, staring directly into Solomon's eyes, which reflected the dancing firelight.
His voice was very hoarse, but unusually clear, overpowering the crackling of firewood, as he still voiced his doubt:
"Lord Solomon."
"You don't even know who my enemy is."
"You also don't know how powerful they are. Why did you agree to help me take revenge?"
"What if, when you learn who the other party is, you don't want to help me?"
This was a heartfelt question. He was truly puzzled why Solomon was willing to promise a commoner to take revenge on a noble, without even asking who the other party was.
All this was too unreal. What exactly about himself was worth Solomon doing this?
There was not the slightest displeasure on Solomon's face; instead, an elusive, strange smile emerged. His voice was calm, carrying openness:
"Bolin."
"Do you think you are the only one around me with a great feud?"
"One more of you is not too many; one less of you is not too few."
"Too many debts don't weigh down the body."
The figure of that Royal Sister in the Lion's Den flashed through Solomon's mind. That woman still had a feud of genocide with House Lannister.
Although the Royal Sister hadn't told him who she was, he had already guessed pretty close.
Bolin was stunned. He looked at Solomon. Although he didn't quite understand the meaning of Solomon's words, he knew Solomon chose to shoulder his blood debt together.
He wanted to see something from Solomon's eyes, but saw only openness.
The last doubt, like thin ice on a winter river, quietly shattered in Solomon's calm words.
Truly a special person. Bolin couldn't think of any other evaluative words to describe this Black Lion whose fame was rising.
Bolin lowered his head deeply, unknown what he was thinking. The scene fell into silence.
Solomon waved his hand to a guard.
The guard immediately stepped forward, solemnly presenting the first Lion Sword of the Lion's Den to Solomon with both hands.
He once again handed out the sword with one hand.
Bolin looked up, face full of shock and emotion. This time he hesitated no more.
He extended those blacksmith's hands full of calluses and scars, solemnly taking that magnificent Lion Sword from Solomon's hand.
The coldness and heaviness of the hilt transmitted from his palm straight to his heart.
"Blacksmith" Bolin, this avenger of the Mountains of the Moon, at this moment, truly gave his heart to Solomon.
He bowed his tall body halfway down. This action had no words but surpassed any oath.
Solomon stepped close to him, heavily helping him up, looking around the gathered crowd, loudly ordering to break this moment of solemnity:
"Bring out all the captured ale! Put all the meat on the fire!"
His voice carried an irresistible boldness and happiness:
"We will go down the mountain soon! Tonight! For our victory again! Also for our newly joined brothers! Celebrate together!"
Cheers exploded like a tide. Venting and healing from war was nothing more than slaughter, fine wine, good food, and sex.
Soldiers lit bonfires one after another, rolling barrels of ale to the bonfires, roughly knocking open the wooden plugs. The mellow aroma of wine instantly overpowered the bloody smell permeating their bodies.
Large chunks of various meats were placed on the fire. Grease dripped, making sizzling sounds, aroma overflowing.
Solomon's soldiers, the dozen bandits who intended to surrender but were blocked and their families, Huck and his brothers, Bolin and his brothers, all sat around the bonfires.
The two camps that were daggers drawn just now, under the catalysis of alcohol and food, had their boundaries blurred.
A white-haired old woman held her bandit son's hand, eyes teary.
"The Seven bless you, you finally survived."
As she spoke, she stuffed a piece of browned roasted meat into her son's mouth.
"Be a good farmer in the future, farm well for Lord Solomon, understand? The Lord is a true noble, and merciful."
The bandit son lowered his head. At this moment, like a child, with meat in his mouth and tears flowing, he nodded incessantly.
He really thought he would be killed. The scene on Offshore Cliff was too terrifying. These soldiers had no mercy. If not for Bolin's protection, he would definitely have been tortured and killed by them.
The atmosphere became more heated under the irrigation of wine.
Lauchlan stood up. The wound on his left arm was tightly wrapped with cloth strips, with red bloodstains spreading on it. At this moment, however, he held a huge horn filled with ale in his right hand, the blowing hole plugged.
He walked through the noisy crowd, straight to Bolin.
Everyone's eyes curiously followed him. They knew Lauchlan's left arm was pierced by Bolin's arrow. At this moment, they all wanted to know what he was going to do.
Bolin looked up at this man whose arm he had pierced with an arrow, falling silent. He also didn't know what Lauchlan was going to do.
He could only look at the man in front of him, but saw no resentment on Lauchlan's face, only a sincere smile from the heart, carrying a bit of reckless admiration.
Lauchlan raised the horn cup. Wine shook due to his movement, spilling some. Finally, he spoke, his voice loud as a bell:
"Bolin!"
"You are really strong! I've never seen a man as strong as you! You shoot really accurately too!"
"You are stronger than us! You will be Lord Solomon's good helper!"
This was Lauchlan's inner thought. He had never seen someone so strong. He and Lushen were also very thin before.
After following Lord Solomon, they were required by Lord Solomon to eat three meals a day, and every meal had fatty meat.
Bolin looked at Lauchlan, then looked at the surrounding faces brimming with joy and drunkenness. He also raised his own wine cup, which was a rough clay bowl.
The horn and the clay cup, two peculiar vessels, clashed heavily, making a dull sound.
"Past matters." Lauchlan grinned. "Let them rot on Offshore Cliff!"
The two looked at each other, saying no more. They tilted their heads back simultaneously, drinking the wine in the cups in one gulp. Ale slid down their throats like a ball of fire.
"Ha!"
Lauchlan turned the empty horn cup upside down, indicating he had drunk it all.
"Hahaha!"
Bolin also put down the wine cup and laughed loudly. The laughter was vigorous, full of power.
This laugh seemed to laugh away the enmity and killing of that arrow into the night wind.
The surrounding soldiers and bandits, seeing Lauchlan and Lushen's open-mindedness and bravery, erupted in louder cheers. The atmosphere reached its peak at this moment.
After three rounds of wine, the noise remained, voices boiling over.
Solomon looked at everything in front of him, knowing there was nothing drinking couldn't solve. Although he didn't like drinking, wine could numb the bodies and minds of those ravaged by war, so he didn't stop everyone from drinking heartily.
Solomon held a wine cup, signaling Bolin to follow him.
He recruited Bolin not only because Bolin was a strong warrior but also because the other party had stayed in the Mountains of the Moon for many years and might know the terrain like the back of his hand.
The Riverlands were good everywhere, except being surrounded by enemies on all sides. The most crucial thing was his land. Whether the Reekfort or the New Land, they were in essential places. The Reekfort was located in the middle of the three rivers, and the New Land was on the main road of the Kingsroad. Both were routes armies must pass for mobilization.
Bolin understood, put down the roast meat in his hand, drank a toast from a Solomon soldier, and followed Solomon away from the noisy bonfires.
They walked to the edge of the camp, away from the crowd. Voices dissipated. Underfoot were soft soil and pine needles.
Night wind blew from the valley, carrying a trace of chill, making one's slightly drunk mind much clearer.
In the distance, the Mountains of the Moon in the night were like a crouching giant beast. The black tall silhouette and pervasive white mist were silent and majestic. Solomon turned to look at him, voice seeming very light in the wind: "Bolin."
"You stayed in these mountains for so many years. Do you know if there are any special places or peculiar products in these Mountains of the Moon?"
Bolin fell silent.
He looked at the familiar mountain range. Every gully and every forest in the mountains were carved into his brain.
He was a smart man; otherwise, he wouldn't have survived the nobles' pursuit and the high mountains full of wildlings. He immediately understood the deep meaning under Solomon's words.
Lord Solomon wanted to control this mountain range.
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