-58- Hershel's trouble
A thick makeshift spear whizzed through the air, and Ser Phillip Rally dodged a wildling's thrust, swiftly slicing off the enemy's forearm in one fluid motion.
Ser Phillip's movements didn't stop as he kicked the enemy to the ground and mercilessly stabbed at the enemy's neck and chest three times in succession.
Swoosh! The sound of an arrow piercing through the air rang out.
Ser Phillip was about to react when he felt a sharp pain in his side.
A bone-tipped arrow from the wildling pierced his leather armor but was stopped by the chainmail underneath.
Ser Phillip cursed under his breath, grabbing the trembling feathered arrow shaft still stuck in his armor and yanking it out, tossing it to the ground.
"Assist Ser Phillip!"
"Archers, on to the slope to the west!"
"Return fire!"
Under the worried moonlight, the slaughter continued.
...
A burly mountain wildling chieftain stared at Ser Phillip with bloodshot eyes, gnashing his teeth as blood dribbled from his mouth, his eyeballs gradually reddening.
It used to be them raiding the wildling tribes.
Tonight marked the first time their sout team were ambushed by the wildling tribes, filling the usually composed Ser Phillip with an unfamiliar anger.
Ser Phillip gave the dead wildling chieftain lying on the ground a cold glance.
The wildling chieftain's guts spilled out, flesh and blood mingling.
The deeper into the valleys, the fiercer the tribes.
Ser Phillip's old colleague and friend, Ser Mayson Beck, had been tasked by Lord Gallen Crabb to oversee the construction of new farms in the old lands.
With the increasing demand for food resources, Ser Phillip had to expedite the conquest of the wildling tribes.
As their soldiers delved deeper, the resistance from the mountain wildlings grew stronger, and casualties gradually increased.
Each soldier of was carefully selected by Ser Phillip, almost all of them renowned local hunters.
He needed more chainmail and shields, and the usually bellicose Ser Phillip was starting to feel the weariness in his body in recent days.
Ser Phillip felt that his men needed to rest for a while.
Next time, they would bring real terror to their enemies.
...
At the camp, under the brilliant starlight of a summer night.
Jaime asked in response, "Using fear?"
Gallen shrugged. "The dragons of House Targaryen brought fear to the Seven Kingdoms, and House Targaryen held the Iron Throne. If the Mad King had dragons, King Robert could only cling to his invincible warhammer and cower by the Stormlands' shores."
Jaime had intended to smile, but his smile still seemed forced.
Gallen's brown eyes flickered, and he spoke up, seeing Jaime's discomfort. "Ser Jaime, I prefer to think from the perspective of putting myself in others' shoes. What I mean is, what would I do if I were in your position?
King's Landing was about to fall, and the Mad King intended to use wildfire to burn the entire city, demanding the head of my father.
I've thought about it many times, what I would do if I were in your shoes, what else I could do."
Jaime's body trembled slightly, his eyes shimmering with an unprecedented light.
Gallen sighed lightly, looking up at the night sky. "I've contemplated it repeatedly, and the conclusion is always similar, Ser Jaime."
Gallen leaned forward, his gaze shifting to Jaime, as he reached out and patted his arm. "Although you lost your honor, many people are alive because of you. Your choices aren't too bad, Ser Jaime. Keep an open heart and fear no criticism."
The quality in Jaime Lannister that Gallen admired the most was Jaime's reluctance to exploit others, a trait that was simple in theory but incredibly valuable in practice.
Jaime suddenly felt dazzled by Gallen's wisdom.
In that moment of reflection, after hearing Gallen's words, Jaime briefly felt that Tyrion's ideas might not be so bad.
A fleeting thought, gone in an instant.
No, absolutely not!
It was late at night, and Gallen was preparing to rest. He didn't care about Jaime's changing emotions; to him, this was merely a transaction.
...
Outside King's Landing, at the Crabb estate, the sky was clear blue.
Inside the estate, there were many grooms, carefully attending to the horses at the moment.
Rossell, the man who handles Jeffries's business, was now sitting with Surlana.
Surlana, dressed in a long skirt, had a short sword strapped to her waist, which caught Rossell's attention.
Rossell had mainly taken care of Jeffries in King's Landing before and had never been to the Crabb estate.
However, Rossell had heard a lot about the "fame" of the House Crabb Spearwives from Jeffries.
Without seeing it with one's own eyes, it's hard to imagine that scene.
Surlana took the initiative to dispel Rossell's doubts: "This sword? The merchants in King's Landing are quite cunning. Ever since I started carrying this, they've been much more honest."
Rossell smiled, "As long as the method works, Lady Surlana."
Surlana didn't intend to continue the topic and spoke up, "I thought I could relax for a while, but I didn't expect Lord Gallen to want you to head south."
Rossell nodded, "We'll be back soon."
"Then I'll wait for your return. I've already made it very clear to myself that I'm not suited for dealing with merchants."
...
Crackclaw Point, at Whispers, the sun hung high in the sky.
Although Hershel, the middle-aged and slightly overweight steward, had been busy all along, he seemed a bit fatter compared to before Gallen's departure.
After the recapture of the old lands, with mountain wildlings continuously joining the new-style farms managed by Ser Mayson Beck, the population there had been steadily increasing.
Although the troops led by the Ser Phillip and the Thorn Corps could continually plunder resources from the wildling tribes, the speed of plundering couldn't quite keep up with the speed of population growth now.
Hershel needed to procure a batch of grain in advance and prepare to support the old lands at any time.
The recently built Mermaid Harbor hadn't yet attracted the interest of major trading companies.
The traders coming to Mermaid Harbor were still small merchants, so larger-scale transactions still relied on the Vale merchants.
Lord Gallen had worked hard to acquire the gold dragons from King's Landing, only to find that he would likely have to bargain with those cunning Vale merchants!
Hershel felt a sharp pang of regret as he thought about the 1000 gold dragons he had just stashed away in the storehouse.
Several years ago, when Lady Lyna Crabb married into Gulltown, the Vale nobility had lifted the trade blockade on the their lands, but Vale merchants still set high prices for their goods.
Moreover, if their lands were to cease trading with Vale merchants for a period of time, Hershel began to feel sorry for the gold dragons in the storehouse again.
Hershel, as Gallen's trusted confidant, naturally understood that the old lands couldn't afford to slow down the pace of transforming wildlings into settled folk; this was about the future of the territory.
Hershel believed that as long as they could hold out for this period, everything would be fine. The wheat in the vast farmland would eventually grow out.