Brin looked at Arthur, directly into Arthur's eyes, which reflected the flickering firelight.
His voice was very hoarse, yet exceptionally clear, overriding the crackle of the firewood, as he asked his question:
"Lord Arthur."
"You don't even know who my enemies are."
"You also don't know how powerful they are, so why did you agree to help me get revenge?"
"What if, after you find out who they are, you don't want to help me?"
This was a question from his heart; he was truly puzzled why Arthur would promise to avenge a commoner against nobles, without even asking who they were.
All of this felt too unreal; what exactly did he possess that made Arthur willing to do this?
There was no displeasure on Arthur's face; instead, a subtle, enigmatic smile appeared. His voice was calm and candid:
"Brin."
"Do you think you're the only one with a great vendetta by my side?"
"One more of you is not too many, one less of you is not too few."
"Many grudges do not weigh one down."
Arthur's mind flashed with the image of the mature woman in the Lions Den. That woman and the Lannister Family had a vendetta of clan extermination.
Although the mature woman still hadn't told him who she was, he had already guessed it with high certainty.
Brin froze. He looked at Arthur, and although he didn't understand the meaning of Arthur's words, he knew that Arthur had chosen to shoulder his blood debt as well.
He tried to discern something in Arthur's eyes, but saw only frankness.
His last doubts, like thin ice on a winter river, quietly shattered with Arthur's calm words.
Truly a special person, Brin couldn't think of any other words to describe this rising Black Lion.
Brin lowered his head deeply, lost in thought, and the scene fell silent.
Arthur waved his hand at a guard.
The guard immediately stepped forward, reverently presenting the first Lion Sword from the Lions Den to Arthur with both hands.
He once again offered the sword with one hand.
Brin looked up, his face filled with shock and emotion, and this time he no longer hesitated.
He extended his blacksmith's hands, calloused and scarred, and solemnly took the magnificent Lion Sword from Arthur's hand.
The coldness and weight of the hilt traveled from his palm all the way to his heart.
"Blacksmith" Brin, the avenger from the Brightmoon Mountains, truly pledged his loyalty to Arthur at this moment.
He half-bowed his tall body, a gesture that, without words, surpassed any oath.
Arthur leaned close to him, firmly helped him up, and, surveying the gathered crowd, loudly gave orders, breaking the solemnity of the moment:
"Bring out all the captured ale! Put all the meat on the bonfires!"
His voice carried an irresistible boldness and joy:
"We are about to descend the mountain! Tonight! For our renewed victory! And for our newly joined brothers! Let's celebrate together!"
Cheers erupted like a tide. The release and healing from war were nothing but slaughter, good wine, good food, and sex.
The soldiers lit bonfires, rolled barrels of ale beside them, and roughly knocked out the bungs. The rich aroma of the wine instantly overpowered the lingering smell of blood on them.
Large cuts of various meats were placed over the fires, the fat dripping and sizzling, filling the air with their scent.
Arthur's soldiers, a dozen bandits who had intended to surrender but were prevented, along with their families, Hake and his brothers, Brin and his brothers, all sat around the bonfires.
The two factions, which had been at daggers drawn earlier, now, under the influence of alcohol and food, saw their boundaries blur.
An old woman with white hair clutched her bandit son's hand, tears in her eyes.
"May the Seven Gods bless you, you finally survived."
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