The Mountain of Ice and Fire

"Raff, pour the wine. Maester Harry, step back." Gregor stared at Allen.

Maester Harry immediately retreated, and Sweetmouth Raff replaced him with a grin. Dunsen's hand gripped his sword hilt, and Notes circled behind Allen and the others. Polliver twitched his neck nervously, as if ants were crawling on it, and his left hand grasped the handle of his short knife.

The tacit understanding between them surprised Maester Harry.

Julie gripped the hilt of her short sword, and the old horse soldier Thomasman gripped his dagger.

The group surrounded Allen and his four guards at the core.

Raff pulled out the small cork and began to pour the wine again. However, before he could finish pouring five cups, blood started trickling from Allen's nose. The four guards also swayed slightly, some feeling a heat in their nostrils. They reached up and smeared it, finding blood.

The guards looked blankly at the blood on their hands.

The four guards were unaware of Captain Allen's poisoned wine plan.

"Drink!" Gregor said. "Keep drinking!"

"Good! We can't waste such good wine." Allen laughed, reaching out to pick up a glass, then another. Suddenly, he splashed the wine at Gregor. Even as the golden liquid was still in the air, Dunsen's sword was already out of its sheath. A flash of cold light, and blood splattered as Allen's arm fell to the ground.

Gregor was a large target, but nimble like a cat. With a slight exertion of his legs, he moved the stool aside, and the wine splashed on the ground.

Ah!

In the midst of the scream, Allen clutched his severed right arm with his left hand.

Beside Allen, the shocked four guards were as stiff as rocks. Then, all four realized that blood was gushing from their nostrils uncontrollably. In eerie unison, they all reached for their own necks, but found they lacked the strength. Red, web-like blood vessels appeared on their faces, and they gurgled in their throats, unable to utter a complete sentence.

"The Strangler!" Maester Harry exclaimed in shock. "Poison from Lys."

Thump!

Allen, whose face was also undergoing a terrifying transformation, collapsed, his eyes rapidly bloodshot, blood gushing from his nostrils and the corners of his mouth. His left hand reached towards his throat, fingers hooked and trembling, but an invisible force seemed to be pulling his left hand away, keeping it at a constant distance from his throat.

Thump, thump, thump!

The four guards of House Sharatt fell one by one, their faces covered with web-like red veins, their eyes turning red, and blood flowing from their facial features. Their hands were stiff like hooks, all making the motion of reaching for their own throats, but as if controlled by an invisible force, they could not reach their target.

"The Strangler is a poison researched by the wizards of Lys. It's invisible, odorless, and tasteless, and extremely expensive. Only royal nobles and wealthy individuals can afford it," Maester Harry said, his voice trembling.

"Is there no antidote for this poison?" Sweetmouth Raff asked, his expression a mix of surprise and uncertainty.

"No. But the wizards have their own secret methods of detoxification, dark magic," Maester Harry said, still shaken. He looked at Gregor, the brute who had saved everyone's life.

"Their wine, just because they can drink it without harm doesn't mean we can!" Gregor's words echoed in Maester Harry's ears.

These weren't words the Mountain would normally say; there was wisdom in them.

Maester Harry recalled another of Gregor's sayings: "Polliver, you dare to drink wine from an enemy?"

Gregor had never trusted Allen and House Sharatt from beginning to end. His perception of the situation was precise, clear, and unambiguous: House Sharatt was the enemy.

Harry's gaze towards Gregor changed.

Gregor didn't seem like the Mountain anymore!

Gregor stood up and said, "Polliver, put on Allen's clothes and wave from the rooftop. If I'm not mistaken, there should be cavalry ambushing in the woods, placed there by Allen."

Maester Harry said, "Impossible. If they poisoned you and achieved their goal, why would they still have cavalry ambushing? And if they failed to poison you, cavalry wouldn't be a match for you."

"The cavalry is waiting to come out and exterminate the clan after I'm poisoned. They'll kill everyone in Clegane's Keep, but they'll spare you and pay you handsomely to return to Lord Tywin and exonerate House Sharatt."

Maester Harry stammered, "Kill Lord Tywin's most valued general, and then kill all the officers under the general? Does House Sharatt want to be exterminated?" Maester Harry said.

"They won't be exterminated. Allen Sharatt's branch will be exterminated. Silverhall Sharatt will spend a large sum of money to give to Lord Tywin, and all the great nobles of the Westerlands will speak on behalf of House Sharatt."

Gregor's patience was surprisingly good, something Sweetmouth Raff also noticed. In the past, the Mountain would have been too impatient to explain these things; he would have found it painful to say even one extra word.

"Why? I can't understand!" Maester Harry couldn't comprehend it.

Gregor said in a deep voice, "Allen Sharatt delivered the poisoned wine, but he's not from the Silverhall Tygett Sharatt family. He's from a distant branch, avenging his master Alva in accordance with honor and law. If I'm not mistaken, the ambushing cavalry are all mine mercenaries; no one from House Sharatt will be among them."

Maester Harry gasped.

Regardless of the truth, Gregor's intelligence seemed far above his own.

This was impossible!

"If Allen succeeds and the cavalry destroys Clegane's Keep, how will House Sharatt explain it when Lord Tywin investigates?"

"After this cavalry destroys Clegane's Keep, they'll be killed by House Sharatt's cavalry, claiming it was to avenge me, and then their heads will be presented to Lord Tywin."

Maester Harry was speechless.

How could Gregor conceive of such a complex strategy? How could he understand it?

Polliver, who hadn't understood at all, had already put on Allen's clothes and armor and ran to the top of the keep, waving towards the nearby woods.

An unbelievable scene unfolded before Polliver's eyes: two teams of cavalry charged out from the left and right sides, seemingly intending to attack Clegane's Keep from both the front and rear.

The sound of hooves rapidly approached the stone keep.

Clang!

Gregor's greatsword was drawn: "Follow me, kill them all!"

Hah!

It was just the roar of a few people, but it roared out the momentum of thousands of troops.

Sheep following a lion will also turn into lions!

Clang, clang, clang!

Dunsen, Sweetmouth Raff, Notes, Julie, old horse soldier Thomasman, the cook, and the servants all drew their swords.

The air filled with the intent to battle, as if heating up.

"Take the shields, Thomasman, protect Julie."

"Yes, sir."

"Julie, stay behind me."

"Yes, sir."

Maester Harry's eyes widened, like bulging cow eyes: "Sir, Julie and I can stay in the basement."

"No, you stay here, Julie will go out with me to fight," Gregor said calmly.

Julie winked at the pale-faced Maester Harry, and a happy smile floated on the girl's face.

A chill crawled up Maester Harry's back.

The sound of hooves was urgent, attacking from the front and rear.

Polliver rushed down: "Sir, there are thirty riders, divided into two teams, using pincer tactics."

Perfect plan: thirty people against Clegane's Keep without the Mountain, with an absolute advantage in numbers.

"We'll go out the main gate and take out the fifteen in front first." Gregor put on his huge helmet, and strode out of the dining hall. As if in an instant, he was already in the courtyard, leaping onto his horse. Without him urging it, the well-trained warhorse understood its master's intentions and charged towards the gate.

Behind him, the little girl Julie was a step slower, and the horse soldier Thomasman hurriedly helped her onto her horse. Just as Julie pulled on the reins, several horses had already rushed out like a whirlwind.

She and her father, Thomasman, fell behind.