In life, eight or nine out of ten things rarely go as planned.
Gregor understood this all too well.
The first thing he tried to do after being transmigrated into this world as an ordinary university student was simple: save a commoner girl from his own territory and, while at it, extort a bit of money under a justifiable pretense to build a foundation for himself.
But in a night raid, he accidentally scared a noble youth, Alva Serrett, to death.
Such is the bitterness of life.
What's done is done. If he didn't want to pay with his own life, the only option was to crush any resistance head-on.
Fortunately, this world respects one other principle: power.
Back on Earth, in Huaguo, people also lived by this truth: might makes right, truth exists within the range of artillery.
Gregor's greatsword was resting on Ado Serrett's neck, not because he needed to, but to make a point. If he truly wanted Ado dead, he could have crushed the man like Sun Ce, the Little Conqueror from Romance of the Three Kingdoms, strangling him with a single arm.
He could've grabbed Ado by the legs and torn him in two like a rag doll.
But people respond better to visible threats, like a sword at the throat.
None of the guards behind him, nor the five Serrett brothers in front, dared to make a move.
Though Gregor had just recently quit his addiction and was still recovering his strength, it would've been easy for him to slaughter the lot of them, one strike per brother was all it would take.
"Don't move. Save Alva first." Ado croaked, voice rasping.
That's what a big brother should sound like.
Gregor gave a slight nod. Raff tossed Alva to the grassy roadside off the Gold Road. The body tumbled a few times and lay still, looking exactly like a corpse, because it was one.
"Alva's yours. We're leaving." Gregor said.
His group wasn't exactly elite: a veteran cavalryman; a badly injured little girl; Polliver, wounded in the back and right hand, now forced to fight left-handed; Gregor himself, just one day into recovery; and Maester Harry, who could barely hold a sword.
The guards surrounding Alva gave way.
Maester Harry, Raff, and the rest turned their horses and withdrew swiftly, bringing their new hostage, Ado Serrett, with them.
Gregor remained in the rear, blocking pursuit with his massive warhorse and greatsword.
He looked like a giant on a pony, his feet nearly touching the ground.
Next to him lay the lifeless Alva in the grass.
No one dared approach the body.
Only after Gregor's group disappeared around the bend did he finally turn away, snorting in contempt, and ride off.
The moment they were out of sight, Alva's guards and brothers rushed forward, dismounted, and the second brother cradled the body. "Seventh Brother!"
Alva's eyes were wide open, pupils dilated.
"Call the maester!" he barked. He glanced down the Gold Road, where Gregor had vanished into the forest bend.
The third brother leapt onto his horse and raced toward the castle. "Maester! Maester Miller!"
Ser Allen Serrett knelt by the body, checking breath and pulse. His voice cracked: "My lord, Alva is dead."
He trembled. As Alva's personal guard and distant cousin, Allen had sworn to protect him. His failure cut deep.
Shing!
A dagger slashed through the ropes binding Alva's limbs. His arms and legs fell limp, lifeless.
"Alva…" the sixth brother choked up. "I swear I'll avenge you."
He mounted his horse and raised his axe, but was instantly restrained by the others. The fourth brother blocked his path.
"You're no match for Gregor."
"Move if you're afraid to die!"
"What's the point of dying for nothing? Alva's already dead. We need the maester to confirm the cause and demand justice. Gregor must pay."
"He's not far. We can still catch him!" the sixth brother roared.
"Even if we kill him, how many of us will die? Maybe all of us. Don't forget, Ado is still his hostage." the fourth said calmly.
"No strength, no courage, how will we ever kill Gregor?"
"Gregor is Tywin Lannister's enforcer. We go to Casterly Rock. Let Lord Tywin decide."
"Tywin will always protect his mad dog." the sixth brother sneered. "I'll wager he'll lock Gregor up for a few days, force an apology, and call it done."
"Yes, Tywin will protect him, but we must accept that. Gregor is a brute and a villain. We won't beat him with force. We need strategy." said the fourth brother, slowly.
"I'll kill him." Allen Serrett said firmly. "I was Alva's guard. I failed him. I will take Gregor down and avenge my lord."
"How?" the fourth brother asked.
"A thousand gold dragons. One fine cask of wine. I'll poison it. Drink with him. He won't suspect a thing."
"…That's a good plan." the fourth said.
"You'll die too!" shouted the sixth.
"My lord, Gregor must die, and someone must pay the price. He is Tywin's war hound. If he dies without someone taking the blame, Tywin will unleash terrible vengeance. But I am just a distant cousin. My branch of the Serretts doesn't even live in Silverhill. It will be easy to separate my act from the family."
"I swore in the Sept of the Seven, when I became captain of Alva's guards, that I'd give my life for him if necessary. If I die with Gregor, it will be my own vengeance, my oath fulfilled. It has nothing to do with the Serretts of Silverhill. But if any of you do it, Tywin will hold the entire family responsible. And we don't have the strength to stand against him. Mishandling this could bring disaster."
When Tywin was eighteen, he rose to power by wiping out two of the most powerful noble houses in the Westerlands. Their lands, rich with gold, now lie in ruins, overgrown and uninhabited, by Tywin's decree. The famed song The Rains of Castamere tells of his ruthless campaign.
Tywin rules the Westerlands with an iron grip. No one dares challenge him.
"Very well. That's the plan." the fourth brother said. "Allen, after you're gone, I'll ask Ado to take in your son as his squire. When the boy turns sixteen, House Serrett will knight him. Your parents, I'll care for them. And if you don't want your wife to remarry, no one will dare propose to her."
"Thank you, my lord." Allen said solemnly.
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