Matthew's ears twitched, and he turned his head immediately.
Under the moonlight, a patch of grass rustled.
Raising his longsword, he walked slowly forward.
Reaching the swaying grass, Matthew carefully pushed aside the dense weeds with his sword.
On the other side lay three people, piled on top of each other.
The person on top raised a hand, weakly slapping the grass again and again, but each strike was slower than the last.
Seeing no weapons, Matthew hurried over and pulled them apart.
Three Night's Watchmen—one large and two small. Unfortunately, all were injured.
The worst off was the fat man who had been on top. He had six stab wounds, each one hitting a vital spot.
His breathing grew fainter by the second, his speech unintelligible, yet his hand still tried to reach upward.
It showed just how strong his will was.
What gave him such tenacious willpower?
Matthew was both admiring and curious.
He lowered his head, turning his ear toward him, and said loudly:
"The traitors have been driven off. You survived."
The fat man's eyelids fluttered slightly, and the corners of his mouth struggled to move.
Seeing the sliver of blue light in his eyes, Matthew leaned closer, thinking he had some last words to say.
But after uttering a single "Good," he breathed his last.
Watching the faint curve at the corner of the fat man's mouth, Matthew reached out and closed the eyes that wanted to open but couldn't.
"Sigh."
Sighing, he dragged the fat man to the clearing and laid him alongside the guards.
Then, Matthew walked directly from the clearing toward the Night's Watch campsite.
They needed a wagon now.
He hoped the Night's Watch prisoner wagon wasn't broken and the horses hadn't been scared off.
Clearing the way with his longsword, Matthew jogged over.
When he arrived, the large bonfire was still burning, though the flames were dying down.
By the firelight, he saw the horses tied to a wooden post.
Behind them, the prisoner wagon's cage was gone, effectively turning it into a flatbed cart.
Matthew smiled, walked over, and untied the ropes.
He reached out a hand to the lead horse, letting it sniff him.
Seeing the horse wasn't panicking, biting, or kicking, he felt relieved enough to lead it away.
Returning to the clearing, Dale and the other two had returned.
They sat around the campfire, surrounding Ser Davos, their usually proud heads hanging low.
The atmosphere between them was incredibly heavy.
The smell of roasting meat wafted from the fire; the guards' bodies were gone.
Little Fish stood behind them, looking across the way. Seeing Matthew return, he shouted happily:
"Brother, you're back!"
Dale looked up instantly, but seeing Matthew returning with a wagon, he lowered his head again.
Ser Harwin, however, patted his butt, stood up, pointed at the fire, and laughed:
"Kid, you really did something big."
Matthew's lips curled slightly, and he nodded. It was enough that they knew what he did; there was no need to brag.
He continued pulling the cart to the side.
Reaching the pile of weapons and goods, he started loading them onto the cart.
Incidentally, he found a suitable scabbard for his sword.
Seeing Matthew act so casually, Harwin glanced at Dale, his face showing more dissatisfaction. He said deliberately:
"But pulling a wagon back... where are you planning to go? The mission is botched. Can you give me a ride when you leave?"
He felt that if not for Dale being useless and greedy, neither Imry nor Davos would have fallen.
Dale immediately glared at Ser Harwin.
He wouldn't allow anyone to say the mission failed, not even in thought.
His father was a knight personally anointed by the Duke. This would be a lifelong shame for him and a disgrace to his family.
But Ser Harwin paid Dale no mind, couldn't be bothered to look at him, and walked toward Matthew.
Furious, Dale scrambled up and blocked Ser Harwin's path.
"I will not allow you to abandon the mission."
"You damn fool. Ser Davos is injured, Ser Imry is dead. There are only a few of us left. What can we do?"
Ser Harwin's face dropped. He shoved Dale aside hard and cursed:
"Trying to rescue him now is suicide. House Florent won't let Morty or me off the hook. Do you understand? You damn idiot."
Matthew's ears twitched. It seemed Dale had a big mouth.
Dale hadn't expected his father to be injured, nor that these people would dare treat him like this.
Supporting himself with one hand, kneeling on the ground, regret mixed with anger surged up inside him like a lit powder keg ready to explode.
Young men care about face more than anyone.
"Calm down, everyone. If we keep arguing, we really will fall apart."
After Dale stood up, the other guard quickly held him back and advised:
"In my opinion, let's wait until Lord Davos wakes up."
Dale was still defiant.
But being held back, he couldn't move an inch.
Ser Harwin snorted coldly. Though reluctant, he said nothing more.
Matthew watched everything, silently leading the horse forward.
Only when he was close to Ser Harwin did he speak his first sentence.
"Everyone, listen to me first. The wounded take priority. We need to take Lord Davos to Sow's Horn, find a Maester, and treat his injuries."
Dale was naturally the first to agree.
But Harwin narrowed his eyes and questioned:
"In that case, we won't be able to hide the news of our failed mission."
Then he looked at the other guard and asked:
"Morty, what do you think?"
Matthew also looked over, wanting to see this guard's attitude.
Morty actually wanted to just leave.
But the Onion Knight was a good man. Having worked together for so long, Morty, coming from the bottom rung of society himself, genuinely admired him.
Looking at the injured Davos, then at the impulsive Dale, Morty sighed internally:
The Wolf King's son may not necessarily become a Wolf King.
After a long silence, he decided to offer help in their hour of need.
So, Morty exhaled, shrugged, and smiled:
"I think it doesn't matter. Harwin, the more you try to hide something, the less it stays hidden. If Lord Davos wakes up, maybe we still have hope."
Harwin curled his lip, but the cold light in his eyes faded.
Matthew nodded and immediately called to Dale:
"Let's get Lord Davos onto the cart."
Then, he released the reins and suggested to the others:
"There are three more horses over there. Let's bring them all. It'll be easier on the road."
Rubbing his hands, Morty stood up, eyes smiling into slits, and said:
"Oh, I'll go along then. Might as well bring them back in one trip to save trouble. Selling them at Sow's Horn should fetch a good price."
Ser Harwin nodded in agreement.
Matthew smiled and led them toward the camp across the way.
On the way, Ser Harwin hesitated but eventually moved closer to Matthew and whispered:
"Kid, when we get to Sow's Horn, want to come with me?"
Matthew glanced at him and shook his head.
"No. I still have a mission to complete."
Harwin glared at Matthew, his tone becoming urgent as he cursed:
"You really are stupid. Just you alone? Can you succeed?"
Matthew stopped, looked at him, and smiled:
"Isn't there you?"
Then, he called out to Morty walking ahead:
"Lord Morty, do you want to join me and continue the assassination mission?"
Harwin was furious.
But Morty turned around, stared at Matthew, and spread his hands:
"I don't care. As long as you have money, I can work with you."
Ser Harwin frowned instantly and asked:
"Morty, you aren't planning to stick with Lord Davos?"
Morty laughed, his armor clanking.
"No, Ser Harwin. Why do you think I'm stupider than you? I just don't want you guys fighting before we're safe."
"Trust me, that would definitely be the worst outcome."
Matthew hadn't expected to encounter such a talent. Raising an eyebrow slightly, he said immediately:
"That fool Imry's armor should sell for quite a bit, right? After we split that, I'll give you enough for the hiring fee."
Morty clapped his hands immediately and said without hesitation:
"Done."
With that, he turned and continued walking.
Harwin envied Morty, who never seemed confused about his future.
Watching his silhouette disappear into the darkness, Harwin withdrew his gaze and questioned Matthew:
"With one more unreliable hedge knight, you think you can kill Littlefinger?"
Matthew held a finger to his lips, shushing him, acting mysterious.
"That's a secret. But as long as you're willing to trust me, I won't let you down."
Winking at Harwin, he suddenly thumped his chest with a fist, his tone becoming heavy as he pressed:
"Ser Harwin, are you willing to trust me?"
Harwin was startled by the ambition practically bursting from Matthew's black eyes.
He knew Matthew was different—his senses were extraordinarily sharp, and he was clever and decisive.
Such a person could never be content with mediocrity.
He would either succeed in conquest or go mad in conspiracy.
Harwin felt panic and worry, like a hedgehog in the moonlight—eyes darting, hesitant and uneasy.
He didn't want to gamble, but he also wasn't resigned to becoming a stray dog.
Standing there for a while, Ser Harwin took a deep breath and probed:
"What exactly do you want to do?"