Looking at him, it seemed he had completely cast off his past decadence, returning to the unrestrained eldest son of House Lannister.
Corleone couldn't help but smile and shake his head, teasing in a slightly mocking tone, "You look refreshed, Lannister."
"What, did Roose Bolton arrange a full-service treatment for you yesterday, letting you regain your vigor?"
"I know there are several famous brothels in Harrenhal. I've been there before; their skills are quite good."
This wasn't bragging. His predecessor had indeed lived frugally to save money and visited Harrenhal twice for consumption.
Although it was only the lowest level...
You know how men are. Save where you should, spend where you must. Even if you don't eat or drink, money must be spent where it counts.
After working hard for half a year, someone just opened and closed their legs and earned the money away. Where could you find reason in that?
"No, no, no, dear Vito."
Jaime shook his head repeatedly, his face brimming with a happy smile akin to a child's prank.
His emerald eyes turned to Brienne, who was feeling uncomfortable all over due to her attire. He winked mischievously, then deliberately raised his voice to ensure everyone on the training ground could hear clearly: "My experience was far more wonderful than those boring services!"
"Yesterday, I had the honor of experiencing an unforgettable mandarin duck bath with a noble lady!"
"That feeling, tsk tsk~~~ simply indescribably wonderful, enough to wash away all the exhausted bad luck from this journey!"
Hearing this, Corleone cast his gaze at Brienne, suddenly recalling that there seemed to be such a scene in the original plot.
But it definitely wasn't as sleazy as Jaime made it sound.
This guy Jaime was mostly just teasing this dull, serious Tarth woman for fun.
Sure enough, as soon as these words came out, Brienne's face flushed bright red instantly.
"Shut your foul mouth, Jaime!"
She flew into a rage out of humiliation, clenching her fist and taking a step forward, looking as if she were about to drag Jaime off his horse.
However, what was surprising was that from the beginning until now, Brienne hadn't called Jaime "Kingslayer" once.
Only Iggo beside them narrowed his eyes, his large hand unconsciously tightening around the sword hilt at his waist, his gaze scanning back and forth over Jaime's punchable handsome face.
He seemed to be pondering whether he should follow Dothraki tradition and challenge this golden-haired bastard to a duel to the death to decide the ownership of the big woman.
But after weighing it for a moment, he slowly released the hilt and shook his head.
Defeating a cripple couldn't demonstrate a Dothraki warrior's bravery, nor would it make that tall, strong, bear-like woman fancy him.
On horseback, Jaime watched Brienne's flustered appearance and laughed even more proudly, as if he had won a battle, continuing his unscrupulous teasing.
Corleone also couldn't help laughing, interjecting a sarcastic remark or two at the right time. For a moment, the atmosphere on the training ground appeared unusually relaxed and harmonious, as if the bloody calculations and decadence of recent days were briefly dispelled.
However, this rare harmonious atmosphere was soon broken by a burst of noise and vicious cursing.
"Damn bastard! Gutter rat! I finally caught you, you dog!"
"Drag him to the stables for me!"
"I'm going to cut off his restless junk today, throw it into the trough, and make him watch the warhorses chew it up and swallow it!"
This roar full of hostility instantly attracted everyone's attention.
Looking over, they saw Roose Bolton's captain of the guard, "Steelshanks" Walton, leading several fierce-looking soldiers, roughly dragging a person across the training ground.
The person seemed to be dragged on the ground, struggling and twisting desperately, emitting indistinct whimpers from his throat, but his hands and feet were tied securely with rough ropes, making escape impossible.
Corleone frowned, instinctively wanting to look away.
In times of war, especially in territories occupied by House Bolton, bullying and bloody lynchings happened every day. It was too normal.
He didn't want to meddle, especially at this sensitive moment when they were about to leave.
But just as Corleone was about to turn and leave, [Insight Lv1] keenly captured some features of the person being dragged.
"Rorge!"
He couldn't help but exclaim softly.
"Rorge?"
Hearing this, Jaime and the others, who originally hadn't planned to meddle either, looked again.
Sure enough, that stocky figure and the faint black hair all over—who else could it be but Rorge?
"That surviving Brave Companions member?"
Jaime leaned down from his horse and whispered in Corleone's ear, "Didn't you settle him in a room? How did he get caught by Roose Bolton's men?"
"Who knows?"
Corleone shrugged, his face also carrying a trace of gloom as he responded in a low voice, "This is their territory. Maybe they've even counted the hairs in your underwear."
"Oh, by the way, do you wear underwear?"
"Does any serious person wear underwear? It chafes!" Jaime scoffed and teased first, then continued to press, "That's your spoil of war. What do you say, want to grab him back?"
Corleone's brow furrowed tightly, weighing options rapidly in his mind.
Rorge was indeed useful to him, but clashing head-on with Roose Bolton's men at this juncture of leaving was simply too risky.
He thought for about two or three seconds, ultimately leaning towards caution. Slowly shaking his head, his tone carried a trace of unwillingness:
"Forget it, Jaime. We're leaving soon, let's not create complications... Holy shit!!!"
"I get it!"
Before Corleone could finish his dissuasion, he heard Jaime shout loudly with sudden realization.
Giving Corleone absolutely no chance to explain, a "leave it to me" smile appeared on his face, and his legs clamped hard on the horse's belly!
"Hah!"
The warhorse let out a loud neigh, hooves trampling the soft soil of the training ground, splashing a string of mud spots, galloping towards Walton and his men!
"What the fuck!!!"
Watching Jaime's figure disappear in a cloud of dust, Corleone couldn't help but curse.
What madness has possessed this guy again?
He didn't understand anything at all! What does "I get it" mean?!
"Damn it... Quick! Go!"
But since things had come to this, Jaime had already charged up to force a fight. Could he stand by and sell out his teammate?
Corleone made a prompt decision, growled low, disregarded everything else, and strode to chase after him.
Although Brienne and Iggo were equally confused, seeing Corleone and Jaime both taking action, they didn't hesitate at all and immediately followed close behind.
Brienne, wearing the lady's dress, was actually faster than the two men. She even had the presence of mind to grab a pitchfork from beside the stables as she ran.
Truly a tough woman!
Corleone, seeing her stride flying, couldn't help but praise inwardly and quickened his pace.
Clop-clop... clop-clop...
Rapid hoofbeats approached from afar.
Walton, who was directing his men to drag Rorge like a dead dog, occasionally kicking the man's waist and abdomen viciously, heard the strange noise behind him and turned his head impatiently at first.
But this one glance instantly made his scalp tingle.
A tall horse with glossy fur, as if appearing out of thin air, had already charged to within three meters of him!
On horseback, the golden-haired Kingslayer wore a heart-palpitating crazy smile, controlling the reins with one hand, charging straight at him!
Isn't that my fucking horse!
This thought flashed and vanished. The shadow of death instantly squeezed all distracting thoughts out of his mind.
Despite being battle-hardened, facing a warhorse speeding towards him, Walton's legs instinctively went soft at this moment.
No joke, he could even smell the beastly scent mixed with leather and sweat!
"By the gods!"
Walton screamed, falling back onto his butt in a wretched state.
"Whoa~~~~~"
At this critical moment, Jaime on horseback let out a long whistle and jerked the reins back hard with his left hand!
The charging steed immediately neighed, its front hooves rearing high, pawing violently in the air a few times.
The hooves slammed heavily onto the ground less than half a meter in front of Walton. The splashed mud even hit his pale face, basically equivalent to a facial shot.
The horseshoes flashed with a cold, hard luster in the sunlight. At the closest point, they were probably less than a foot from the top of Walton's head!
He looked up with lingering fear, only to see Jaime sitting steadily on the horse, looking down at him from above, his face full of playful smiles.
Raising an eyebrow, the blond, blue-eyed Lannister leaned his elbow on the horse's neck, tilting his body slightly, and teased in that characteristic magnetic voice: "Yo!"
"Did I scare you, dear lady?"