"Wrist!"
"I said, keep your wrist steady!"
Seemingly to mask her embarrassment, Brienne completely ignored Corleone's teasing. She strode forward and, without further ado, snatched the longsword from his hands.
Although the lady's gown tightly wrapping her sturdy body looked utterly ridiculous, the moment the sword was in her hand, Brienne's entire presence changed abruptly.
Under their gazes, her center of gravity sank steadily. Her waist and hips rotated slightly, driving her shoulder and arm to swing out.
"Watch closely!" she shouted low. Her movements weren't fancy but filled with the beauty of pure power.
The sword in her hand seemed to come alive. Every swing was accompanied by the sound of cutting air—hack, slash, stab, deflect—precise and fluid!
The blade swept across the wooden stake, leaving marks incomparable to Corleone's earlier ones. The exertion of force was unified, as if strength flowed from the earth through her body, finally pouring into the blade without any loss.
Compared to her flowing demonstration, someone's earlier clumsy chopping instantly appeared laughable, like a child playing with a stick.
Being outshone by a woman didn't make Corleone feel embarrassed.
After all, he knew very well that this woman was no ordinary character. In a sense, Brienne's swordsmanship had almost reached the pinnacle for a woman.
Apart from that small group of elite knights immersed in this path for years, probably few men were her match.
Corleone stood aside, holding his breath and concentrating on observation.
The senses brought by [Insight Lv1] allowed him to keenly capture the fundamental difference between Brienne and himself.
Simply put, it was the degree of core engagement and that sense of fluidity throughout.
About a few minutes later, a set of concise yet highly practical basic moves was demonstrated.
Brienne's breathing wasn't even slightly disordered. She tossed the blade back to Corleone casually, her movements very natural.
"Dothraki are accustomed to using curved swords, specializing in slashing and skirmishing on horseback."
She turned to Iggo, who had been watching silently, and explained calmly, "Swords, especially this kind of knightly longsword, require more rigorous footwork and force exertion techniques."
"I am not questioning your teaching, but for someone new to swordsmanship, if the basic way of exerting force is wrong and becomes a habit, correcting it in the future will be more difficult than learning from scratch."
"If he wants to become a true knight, he will face armored enemies in the future, not unarmed farmers or beasts."
Iggo's dark face showed some displeasure at her intervention, but it gradually dissipated under this reasonable explanation.
He crossed his arms and grunted, tacitly accepting it.
In the Dothraki Sea, they were invincible on horseback with curved swords. However, having lived in Westeros for over a decade, Iggo naturally knew how disadvantageous curved swords were against iron armor.
Taking the sword, Corleone ignored the interaction between the two and didn't immediately start practicing.
He stood still with his eyes closed, carefully recalling every detail of Brienne's demonstration just now. Only after a long time did he open his eyes.
Gripping the blade tightly with both hands, he swung out again, deliberately imitating that feeling.
At first, his movements were still stiff, the transmission of power obscure and clumsy. But after a few attempts, Corleone clearly felt the rotation of his waist beginning to drive his arms. The swinging blade seemed to carry a bit more weight and ferocity, no longer as flimsy and weak as before.
Brienne didn't interrupt, just watching him practice repeatedly in silence. Her blue eyes occasionally revealed a hint of appreciation.
For a farmer, Corleone's talent in swordsmanship was indeed not bad.
Although not comparable to her former self, compared to some mediocre people, he could be considered gifted.
Of course, with her talent, few men were her match.
After all, at the age of sixteen, Brienne had personally defeated Ser Humphrey Wagstaff and broke three of his ribs.
It was just that Corleone started contacting longswords too late. It would be hard to achieve great success in this life, but with diligent practice, perhaps he could become a qualified knight in the future.
She evaluated him like this in her heart, but suddenly keenly sensed that the Dothraki beside her was casting a gaze at her that seemed somewhat different from before.
Brienne followed the feeling and looked over, only to see a certain fire burning in the other's eyes?
Is he crazy?
This naked, fiery gaze made her feel slightly uncomfortable. She hesitated to speak but ultimately focused her attention on Corleone's movements and didn't flare up.
"Hoo—Hah—"
The sun gradually rose higher. Only when the morning fog was dispersed by sunlight did Corleone finally stop.
Going all out in the first training session, once he relaxed, he felt his arms were sore and heavy as lead, extremely difficult to even lift.
With a clang, the sword dropped from his hand to the ground. Corleone immediately sat down on his butt, disregarding his image.
Only then did he realize that sweat had long soaked through his leather armor and undershirt.
He gasped for air, his chest heaving violently.
After a good while, he looked up and gave Brienne a tired but sincere smile: "Thank you, Lady Brienne."
"Your guidance was very... crucial."
Brienne stood there, her tall figure casting a long shadow in the morning light.
She quietly watched Corleone. His wretched appearance and clear eyes made the lines on the face of this Tarth woman, who was accustomed to seriousness, seem to soften slightly.
She shook her head, her voice low and solemn: "This is nothing remarkable, Lord... Corleone."
"You could get such guidance from any person trained as a knight."
"I thought you wouldn't last long, but your perseverance is admirable. Keep training, and one day, I believe you will achieve great things."
"Hahaha!!!"
Hearing Brienne's praise seemed to put Corleone in a great mood, even alleviating much of his fatigue.
He raised an eyebrow at Iggo: "Did you hear that, Blood of my blood? I have a bright future on the path of swordsmanship."
Hearing this, Iggo shrugged, noncommittal.
In this relaxed atmosphere, Brienne smiled knowingly at first, but her expression suddenly became serious again.
A complex emotion flashed in her blue eyes, as if weighing her words. After pondering for a moment, she straightened her back firmly and said solemnly, "I apologize, Lord Corleone."
"I... misjudged you earlier."
She said this somewhat difficultly, but with utmost clarity: "Ser Jaime told me that to make Roose Bolton agree to release me, you paid a huge price, even giving up the gold, title, and fief he promised you."
Saying this, the tall woman took a step forward and, with a solemn sense of ritual, bowed deeply to Corleone sitting on the ground.
"You are a man of noble character. Please accept my apology for my previous misunderstanding and offense."
This scene appeared somewhat strange.
A burly woman in an ill-fitting long dress bowing to apologize to a thin man sitting on the ground covered in sweat.
Watching her solemn manner, Corleone didn't decline. Instead, he grinned, revealing a bright smile.
He didn't accept immediately, nor did he show hypocritical humility. Instead, maintaining his sitting posture, he looked up at her, his voice peaceful yet powerful: "Call me Vito, Vito Corleone."
"Never say sorry, Brienne. Because compared to apologies, which are remedies after the fact, I prefer to consider everything carefully beforehand."
These profound words made Brienne tremble all over.
She looked up at the frail man in front of her. For the first time, she felt that admirable wisdom always seemed hidden in those clear eyes.
"What's past is past. Never look back."
Corleone adjusted his sitting posture so his tired self didn't look so sloppy.
"And don't dwell on your mistakes. We came as four, and naturally, we leave as four."
"I said it, Brienne. Corleone never abandons a friend."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over Brienne and then Iggo beside her, his tone becoming deep and meaningful: "I always spare no effort to help my friends. Similarly, when I and my future family need help, I also hope my friends can spare no effort to lend me a hand."
"Someday, although perhaps that day will never come."
Saying this, Corleone extended his right hand, slightly cracked from holding the sword for a long time, toward Brienne, his eyes bright and frank.
Brienne looked at his extended hand and was stunned for a moment.
She remembered her earlier declaration to Jaime of "not friends," and her groundless accusations against Corleone in the reception room. A trace of guilt swept through her heart again.
But at this moment, there was no calculation in Corleone's smile, no arrogance of expecting repayment for kindness, just complete openness.
This made Brienne feel even more that she had truly measured the heart of a gentleman with the petty mind of a villain.
She hesitated no more. Extending a hand far broader than Corleone's, she firmly gripped his wrist. With a slight pull, she hauled the exhausted Corleone up from the ground.
"I owe you a debt, Lord Corleone."
She said softly, "In the name of a warrior."
---
Neigh~~~~
Just as Corleone was preparing to rest for a while and return to his room for a hot bath, hurried hoofbeats approached.
Several people turned to look, only to see a refreshed Jaime sitting on horseback, holding the reins with his left hand.
Where was the earlier decadent look? His stubble was shaved clean, and his long golden hair fell on his shoulders, making him look dashing and heroic. Except for his right hand still wrapped in gauze, resembling a certain blue fat robotic cat, he perfectly fit the image of the perfect knight in bards' tales.
"Yo-ho~~ Ladies!"
Looking at Corleone and Brienne who had shaken hands and made peace, Jaime whistled, raised an eyebrow, and teased, "I must say, your taste in clothing is truly disappointing!"
"Pack your bags quickly, time to hit the road!"
"When we get to King's Landing, I'll have the Red Keep's court tailors make you some new sets!"