The public fighting ground near the Gods' Gate had beco the liveliest place in the entire Shoe-maker's Square area.
The rough stone ground was kicked up into clouds of dust by countless feet. The surroundings were packed with curious commoners, eager rcenaries, and vendors who had rushed over after hearing the news.
More than a dozen drunkards and rcenaries who had followed from the tavern waved their weapons, red-faced and shouting, demanding to fight Bronn imdiately, as if the one hundred gold dragons were already in their pockets.
Bronn, however, stood with his arms crossed, leaning casually against a hitching post. The familiar mocking smile hung on his lips as he shook his head.
"Gentlen, gentlen," he raised his voice over the noise, "too many of you want to fight . I don't have the energy or interest to play a wheel fight one by one. How about this…"
He pointed to the center of the fighting area. "You fight each other first. Decide who among you is the strongest, then co fight . Only the one who beats everyone else qualifies to take the one hundred gold dragons and that sweet job."
His words stunned the shouting n. They looked at each other.
Alcohol and greed had clouded most minds. Surprisingly, no one imdiately realized this was Bronn's clever way of avoiding exhaustion. Instead, they thought the proposal was "fair"!
After all, no one wanted others to steal their prize.
"Fine! Let's do it!"
"I'll go first! Who's next?"
"You think I'm scared?!"
The chaotic brawl began.
More than a dozen n, fighting for the "right" to face Bronn, paired off or simply descended into a free-for-all in the dust.
The sounds of clashing blades, roars, screams, and the cheers and jeers of spectators blended into one.
The fighting levels varied wildly.
So fought fiercely with ruthless techniques, while others were comically clumsy and quickly beaten down.
So drew blood, clutched their wounds, and cursed as they withdrew, but fortunately no one died.
The scene was chaotic and brutal, full of the most primitive violent beauty.
Luke stood on the outskirts of the crowd, calmly observing.
This was his first ti watching real combat in this world up close. It was completely different from the choreographed fight scenes in the TV show.
The fighting here was more direct, more dangerous, and without any aesthetic beauty — only the struggle for survival and profit.
A chill ran through his heart, deepening his understanding of how dangerous this world truly was.
Bronn watched like an old wolf observing prey. Leaning against the post, his sharp eyes scanned every fighter, evaluating their strength, habits, and weaknesses. He occasionally bantered with people who ca over to ask for information.
About half an hour later, the free-for-all finally produced a winner.
A tall, burly rcenary wielding a heavy battle axe had taken down three opponents in a row. Although he was also injured, his ferocious aura intimidated the rest, and no one dared challenge him for now.
Panting heavily, with bloodshot eyes, he glared at Bronn, pointed his axe at the ground, and let out a provocative growl.
Seeing the timing was right, Bronn rolled his neck and wrists, drew his practical, well-maintained wide-bladed longsword, and walked lightly into the center of the arena.
"Big guy, you've got strength," Bronn licked his lips. "Pity that fighting isn't just about strength."
The real duel began.
Unlike the previous chaotic brawl, Bronn's swordplay was simple, efficient, and full of deception.
He didn't clash head-on with the giant axe. Instead, using superior footwork and agile reactions, he constantly circled, probed, and lured his opponent into exposing weaknesses.
His attacks were cunning, often launched when the opponent's old force was exhausted and new force had yet to rise. Every strike had a clear purpose:
To weaken the opponent's mobility.
The big man roared continuously, swinging his battle axe with terrifying force, but kept missing. Because of overexertion and blood loss from his wounds, his stamina dropped rapidly.
Bronn moved like a slippery eel and a patient hyena waiting for its prey to tire.
Luke watched in fascination.
This was no longer a TV performance. It was real combat teetering on the edge of life and death.
Every dodge, feint, precise thrust, or parry from Bronn was filled with pragmatic wisdom and instincts honed from years of living with a blade at his throat.
After more than thirty exchanges, Bronn seized a stumble, cleverly flicked his sword, sent the battle axe flying, and instantly pressed the tip of his blade against the man's throat.
"You lost," Bronn said calmly, even a little lazily.
The big man's face turned ashen. Panting, he unwillingly lowered his head.
The crowd erupted in massive cheers and whistles, mixed with plenty of cursing from those who had lost bets.
Bronn sheathed his sword, turned toward Luke, lifted his chin slightly, and showed the pride of a victor along with a trace of hidden expectation.
"My lord, it seems I—"
Before he could finish, a hoarse voice rang out from the other side of the crowd: "Wait! I'm not convinced! This guy won dirty, just by dodging!"
"Yeah! Fight fair and square if you dare!"
"We just got here and haven't fought yet!"
Several burly, well-equipped rcenaries who had clearly heard the news and rushed over pushed their way in, eyes fierce.
Bronn's expression darkened.
He liked gold, but he also valued his life.
The physical toll of continuous fighting was real. If a few more tough opponents ca, the outco would be uncertain.
He looked at Luke, his eyes carrying a question and a faint tension.
Would this paying noble change his mind under pressure?
Luke t Bronn's gaze, then glanced at the new challengers and quickly weighed his options.
He needed a capable guard captain who could hold the field. Bronn had already proven his worth.
But authority needed to be fully established.
He stepped forward. His voice rang clearly across the entire area: "Bronn has already proven he is the strongest I found in 'Shoemaker's Dad' tavern. However, since new warriors question the result…"
He paused, eyes on Bronn. "Bronn, if you can win three more fights, no matter who the opponents are! Not only will I acknowledge you as the undisputed strongest here, the prize money will be doubled. Two hundred gold dragons."
Bronn's pupils contracted slightly.
Two hundred gold dragons!
That was enough for him to live lavishly in King's Landing for a long ti — visiting brothels and eating at and drinking every day.
Fatigue and risk were instantly washed away by the huge reward.
His wolf-like eyes lit up again. He licked his dry lips.
"My lord, do you an what you say?"
"One word is enough."
"Good!"
Bronn let out a low growl, raised his longsword again, and faced the eager new challengers.
"Who's first? Hurry up, I'm in a rush to get my money and drink!"
In the following three fights, Bronn showed what "clean and efficient" truly ant.
Perhaps motivated by the doubled prize, or unwilling to lose face in front of his new employer, he abandoned so of his hit-and-run style. His attacks beca more aggressive, fast, accurate, and ruthless. He fully exploited his opponents' underestimation or impatience.
On average, in less than ten exchanges each, all three challengers were defeated — two disard, one wounded in the shoulder and rendered unable to fight.
When the last challenger staggered back clutching his wound, the entire fighting ground fell silent for a mont, then erupted in even louder cheers.
Bronn leaned on his sword, breathing slightly hard. Sweat dripped down his ssy stubble, but his back remained straight and his eyes sharp.
Luke walked into the arena. Under countless envious, jealous, and awed gazes, he took out two heavy coin pouches from his chest and tossed them directly to Bronn.
Bronn caught them clumsily. The weight made his heart pound.
"My na is Luke… Luke Jacknien!"
Luke's voice was steady, carrying unquestionable authority.
"Bronn, from this mont on, you are hired. Personal bodyguard."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the rcenaries who hadn't left yet and were staring eagerly. He raised his voice:
"In these two pouches are two hundred and fifty gold dragons total. Two hundred are your prize money. The other fifty…"
He looked at Bronn. "I want you to handle two things for before sunset."
Bronn clutched the pouches tightly, looking at Luke with vigilance and excitent. "Please command , my lord."
"First, use these fifty gold dragons as starting capital to recruit ten decently skilled rcenaries who are relatively… well, at least 'reliable' in your eyes. I want to form a security team responsible for my safety here and other matters. Their monthly salary will be tentatively set at fifteen gold dragons each. Food and lodging fully covered, of course."
Fifteen gold dragons per month!
The watching rcenaries' eyes nearly popped out. This pay far exceeded the normal market rate!
Many imdiately beca restless and wanted to recomnd themselves.
Bronn's heart also shook. This was significant power and responsibility, as well as a considerable expense.
This Lord Luke was frighteningly generous.
"Second, also before sunset, use your connections in King's Landing to find a property."
"It needs to be large enough, clean enough, and in a relatively safe area. I want to buy it. Price… anything under one thousand gold dragons is acceptable."
Buy a house?
A budget of one thousand gold dragons?
Bronn was shocked once again by Luke's wealth.
This lord didn't seem like soone staying in King's Landing temporarily. He looked like he planned to put down roots and build his own force.
"As long as the money is there, anything can be discussed, Lord Luke." Bronn grinned, showing teeth stained yellow by tobacco.
"As for character… well, you know, a rcenary's 'character' is usually directly proportional to the number of gold dragons."
Luke nodded, seemingly unsurprised by the answer.
He leaned forward slightly, staring straight into Bronn's shrewd, cunning, survival-wise black eyes. His voice was low, yet carried a strange penetrating power and seriousness:
"Listen, Bronn. I have plenty of gold dragons."
He paused, then spoke clearly, word by word:
"If in the future, soone approaches you and offers money to buy my life… no matter how much they offer, I am willing to pay you twice that amount to buy my own life. Rember that?"
Bronn's smile froze instantly.
His pupils contracted. He stared fixedly at Luke, trying to determine whether these words were a test, a warning, or a genuine transaction.
Twice the price to buy his own life?
This blunt, money-based way of asuring loyalty and betrayal was crude, yet shockingly effective.
A few seconds later, Bronn slowly nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. That familiar roguish yet sharp smile returned.
"My lord, those words of yours… are truly morable."
He weighed the heavy pouch in his hand, the pleasant clink of tal sounding. "I'm starting to wonder if you're not a Jacknien, but a Lannister. I hear people from that family also like to use gold dragons… to buy everything?"
"What family is Jacknien?"
Luke smiled noncommittally without answering. He simply patted Bronn on the shoulder. "Go handle the tasks. I want good news before sunset."
He turned and walked away calmly from the dusty fighting ground under countless complicated gazes.
Bronn stood in place, watching Luke's retreating figure, then looked down at the two pouches of gold that could change many people's fates. His eyes flickered.
This Lord Luke was mysterious, wealthy, shockingly generous, and… seed to understand the rules of survival in this world very well.
Bronn spat out a bloody glob of saliva and carefully tucked the pouches into the innermost part of his clothes.
His face regained that usual wolfish, shrewd smile as he walked toward the rcenaries who were still lingering and staring at him eagerly.
"Did you all hear that? Fifteen gold dragons a month, with food and lodging included! Anyone who thinks they've got so skill, co sign up! I'll screen you personally! I want ten n before sunset!"
The noise rose again, but this ti the center of attention had beco the newly appointed "Security Captain" Bronn, and the unfathomable employer standing behind him — Luke.
User Comments
0 comments from readers