-66- The shadow under the stairs

Mordin, who broke through the door, didn't pause but charged straight in.

...

The bandit group, being suddenly ambushed, suffered heavy losses, with over half of them losing their lives before they could even react.

The remaining bandits had just retreated into this stone house.

As they closed the door, intending to temporarily escape danger and discuss their next steps, the sudden commotion caused by Mordin startled the bandits.

Is he even human?

The nearest bandit hesitated for a moment and was promptly smashed in the head by Mordin.

The bandit leader shouted, "Stand and fight!!!"

One bandit gritted his teeth, braced himself, gripped his sword tightly, and lunged at Mordin.

Beneath the helmet's visor, Mordin's face couldn't be seen, but there was a hint of disdain in his expression.

With a swift step forward, Mordin's large shield came crashing down, smashing the bandit and his sword flat in one blow, exuding a primal sense of power throughout the entire process.

In the confined space of the house, Mordin used his physical advantage to swiftly deal with the approaching bandits.

At this moment, Gallen's men also poured into the house and joined the fight.

As Anguy entered the house, he locked onto the bandit leader who was loudly commanding from the back.

A smirk played on Anguy's lips as he drew an arrow from his quiver.

Just as Anguy was about to raise his bow, Mordin's blood-stained warhammer spun through the air and landed with a thud on the bandit leader's face, the sound of bones shattering echoing out.

...

Anguy shifted his target and swiftly shot an arrow, felling another bandit.

After shooting the arrow, Anguy looked at Mordin and said wryly, "Not bad!"

Due to his helmet, Anguy couldn't see Mordin's expression, but from the slight movement of his jowls, he could tell Mordin was joyfully smiling.

The battle was nearing its end.

Anguy, breaking his usual calm demeanor, quickly nocked another arrow and shot it.

A soldier wielding an axe was about to claim the head of the last bandit when he heard the sound of the arrow whistling through the air.

With a thud, the bandit fell to the ground, clutching the arrow in his neck, blood streaming from his mouth.

The soldier grunted and turned to gaze at Anguy, his eyes gleaming with dissatisfaction.

"I'll buy you a drink." Anguy quickly made a drinking motion, and the soldier nodded slightly, diverting his gaze.

Mordin reached up to remove his helmet, saying in his simple way, "Anguy, don't forget about my roasted meat."

Anguy didn't want to deal with the cunning fat man at the moment and remained silent.

The soldier with the axe, a sturdy figure, approached, his voice rough, "Mordin, next time you break down a door, bring me along."

Mordin looked up and nodded with his characteristic simplicity.

...

Over two days of fighting, Gallen's men had wiped out four bandit groups.

It was a good harvest, and Gallen would have been secretly delighted for half a day.

He was still happy, but after spending so much time with the wealthy and powerful Lannisters, this level of success no longer brought him the same joy as before.

Gallen's appetite was also continually growing.

After a day of rest, Gallen and his men, each with a fine horse, set out again on the Rose Road, proudly waving their family banner as they headed south.

...

...

The Red Keep, Tower of the Hand.

Jon Arryn, lying back in his sickbed, was about to speak when he felt a tickle in his throat, which erupted into a fit of coughing.

After a while, he hoarsely said, "Petyr, I... I'm afraid I'll need to lie here a little longer this time."

Petyr reassured him, "My Lord, you'll be better soon. You must trust Maester Pycelle."

Jon Arryn murmured, "Yes, Pycelle's medical skills are indeed impressive."

After a moment of silence, Jon Arryn asked again, "And Stannis?"

Petyr's expression turned somewhat helpless, "Lord Stannis left King's Landing with his men after bidding you farewell. I believe he is currently..."

Petyr shrugged and continued, "He should be aboard a ship returning to Dragonstone."

Lord Arryn sighed weakly, "That stubborn stag."

Petyr tried to comfort him once more, "Everyone knows Lord Stannis's temperament. You shouldn't take his words to heart. You have your difficulties, and others, not being the Hand of the King, may not understand you or even misunderstand you. It's normal."

Petyr was adept at observing details. Although Maester Pycelle appeared normal, the slight change on his face didn't escape Petyr's notice.

Truly underestimated the lethality of Stannis. Jon Arryn's health prognosis doesn't look good this time.

Petyr's comfort at this moment was definitely sincere. Jon Arryn couldn't afford to die yet; it didn't align with Petyr's interests.

...

Petyr's voice was very gentle, "I think you're used to it by now."

Petyr's words seemed to improve Lord Arryn's complexion somewhat. "Petyr, starting tomorrow, come to the Tower of the Hand."

Petyr curved his lips into a smile and bowed respectfully to Lord Arryn, saying, "My Lord, it's my honor to serve you."

"Go rest."

Lord Arryn weakly raised his hand and waved, then closed his eyes wearily.

...

Meanwhile, as Petyr left Jon Arryn's chambers and descended the stairs, the surroundings were silent and deserted, with dim lights.

A pale and chubby hand suddenly appeared, grabbing Petyr's arm.

Petyr's gray-green eyes trembled slightly, but he instantly recognized the owner of the hand.

Following the force of the pull, Petyr moved closer and naturally placed his hands on the waist of the shadowy figure, speaking in a hoarse voice, "My Lysa."

The shadowy figure was Lady Lysa Tully.

Lady Lysa hailed from House Tully of Riverrun and was the wife of Jon Arryn, the Lord of the Eyrie and the Hand of the King.

Although Lady Lysa also lowered her voice, she couldn't conceal the joy in her tone, "You always think of me first, my Petyr!"

Adapting to the darkness, Petyr's vision gradually cleared.

Lady Lysa had a pair of blue eyes typical of House Tully.

Lady Lysa had a mane of fluffy auburn hair. After giving birth to Lord Arryn's only son, Robert Arryn, her body had started to plump up.

At 31 years old, Lady Lysa's body was bloated and relaxed, and although she applied makeup to her cheeks, she looked ten years older than her actual age.

At this moment, Petyr's eyes were only on Lady Lysa in front of him, as if he were gazing at the most cherished treasure of his life.

Lysa loved the charming look in Petyr's eyes, and every time was not enough for her; she was instantly intoxicated.

Lost in the love, Lady Lysa had completely forgotten where they were. Her chubby white hand slipped into Petyr's robes.

Petyr lowered his gray-green eyes, his lips curving with affection, and glanced at Lady Lysa's diminutive figure.

Although Petyr suppressed his voice, it was full of love, "Lysa, we mustn't make too much noise."