Chapter 156

The four thugs blocking the path were mere pawns, brought in to bolster numbers and provide backup. Their task was simple: “If the target tries to escape, stop them.” As long as they could stall for time until their leader and the main force arrived, their job was done. Among them, only one had ever drawn blood, while the other three had barely seen a fight. They were the kind of cowards who thrived in mob situations but wilted at the sight of actual resistance—especially when faced with the life-or-death ferocity of a black-cloaked soldier charging straight at them.

Even before clashing swords, they had already lost half the battle in their minds.

Clang!

The sharp ring of metal on metal echoed through the narrow alley as the closest thug barely managed to block Aegor’s first strike. The unfamiliar weight of the sword jarred his arm, numbing his hand and draining the courage he’d built up from bullying weaker prey. Any notion of defensive tactics or teamwork fled his mind. Instead of bracing for a second strike, he turned and bolted into the darkness.

Cowards often made the easiest prey, but the remaining three thugs moved to intercept Aegor, giving their fleeing companion a chance to escape.

The second thug swung his blade clumsily, forcing Aegor to sidestep and parry. The man hesitated for a split second, as if debating whether he should follow his friend’s lead and run. But Aegor didn’t give him the chance. Pain still radiating from his shoulder, Aegor struck without mercy. He didn’t care about their names or whether they deserved death. All he knew was that these men had come to kill him, and he wasn’t ready to die.

“Die!” The word roared in Aegor’s mind as he slashed horizontally, cutting into the man’s exposed chest. Blood sprayed onto Aegor’s face and the alley walls as the thug crumpled to the ground, clutching his wound and screaming.

With one enemy down, Aegor steeled himself for the next attack—only to find that Jaqen had already dealt with the other two. The Faceless Man’s victims lay motionless on the ground, their fates uncertain. Not a drop of blood stained Jaqen’s hands. Aegor couldn’t help but marvel at the assassin’s efficiency.

The fight ended in seconds, but the night was far from over. The two men disappeared into the shadows, their black cloaks blending seamlessly with the darkness.
----


“Don’t let them get back to their hideout! Split up and cut them off!” the gang leader barked, his face twisted in fury as he surveyed the bodies of his fallen men. “You two, go that way. You two, take the other side. If you see them, don’t fight—just shout!”

“Yes, boss.”

“Move! Don’t let that Night’s Watch bastard escape!”

The leader and his remaining four men charged into the night, their anger driving them forward. But within moments, the hunters became the hunted.
----


Life was so fragile. Killing was disturbingly easy. Aegor’s instincts, buried deep within his soldier’s bones, had been awakened by the blood splattered across his face. The primal, genetic thirst for survival roared to life in his veins. His training and experience took over. Panic had no place here.

The house was still over a mile away. Running blindly in the hopes of escaping was a fool’s errand. Ambushes like this thrived on chaos, and Aegor knew better than to follow his opponents’ rhythm. The only way to escape was to break through the encirclement and eliminate a portion of the attackers.

Hiding in a side alley with Jaqen, their dark clothing making them nearly invisible, Aegor waited in silence. When the first group of pursuers came into view, he struck.

The second fight was as one-sided as the first. The five thugs had slightly better equipment and training than the initial group, but they made the fatal mistake of chasing their targets with crossbows through a maze of tight, winding alleys—terrain ill-suited for ranged weapons. When Aegor and Jaqen leapt from the shadows, it was a massacre.

Aegor’s sword came down hard on the first man, shattering his crossbow. The blade followed through, piercing his chest before the sound of snapping wood had even faded. The second thug, armed with dual daggers, finally reacted, lunging at Aegor with a sharp scream. The gang leader, a minor killer of some renown in King’s Landing’s underworld, drove Aegor back two steps with his frantic assault.

In a one-on-one duel, this man might have been a real threat. He had killed trained swordsmen before and earned his reputation. But he had underestimated Aegor’s companion. Jaqen, silent as a shadow, took out a second crossbowman with a precise elbow strike, then appeared behind the leader. The killer didn’t even have time to cry out before Jaqen twisted his neck with practiced ease, leaving him crumpled on the ground.

Within moments, the gang leader and his men were either dead or incapacitated. The remaining two thugs dropped their weapons and fled, terrified.

The fight was over as quickly as it began. Unlike sparring matches, real combat had no prolonged exchanges or flashy moves. Against untrained opponents, the difference was stark. This was the first time Aegor had killed humans—if you didn’t count the Others. It had taken only five swings of his sword to end two lives. Jaqen, meanwhile, had downed twice as many enemies without even unsheathing his blade. Aegor hadn’t even seen how the Faceless Man struck.

Aegor’s decision to recruit Jaqen months ago—what he’d thought was a useless, impulsive move—had saved his life. But the chaos of the night wasn’t over. They quickly fled the bloodied scene, running a few hundred meters before stopping to catch their breath.

“They had crossbows. Slynt has lost his mind,” Aegor muttered, wiping the blood from his blade. Letting his opponent’s madness drag him to the grave was not an option. “What now? Should we lay low for the night?”

“I follow your orders,” Jaqen replied, his voice calm and steady in the darkness.

Of course. Expecting the Faceless Man to make suggestions was wishful thinking. Aegor leaned against the wall, thinking quickly. “If they ambushed us on the way home, it means our men back at the house are probably still safe. Slynt’s next move will be to send the City Watch. We need to regroup and get everyone out of there.”
----


Half an hour later, after dodging patrols and taking a circuitous route, they reached the house. The courtyard was quiet. Three young guards, recently transferred from the Night’s Watch’s industrial site, were sitting on a stone bench chatting. When they saw Aegor and Jaqen, they leapt to their feet and saluted.

“Where’s your commander? Get everyone together. We’re leaving immediately—this place is no longer safe.”
----


Within minutes, the guards had gathered in the courtyard. Nina gasped when she saw Aegor. “What happened? Is that blood on your face?”

“Not all of it is mine,” Aegor said briskly. “Slynt knows. He sent men to ambush me on the way home. I got lucky, but he’ll send the City Watch next. We’re leaving—now.”

“Shouldn’t you bandage your wound first?”

“I’ll live! No more delays. Open the gate, and let’s move!”

As they exited, Aegor spotted eight or nine figures across the street. Upon seeing the group of fourteen armed guards pouring out of the house, the figures scattered into the darkness. Aegor sighed in relief. They had evaded immediate danger, but the pursuit was far from over.

“Where are we going?” someone asked.

Good question. Aegor quickly realized the flaw in his plan. The Night’s Watch enterprise had three sites in King’s Landing, but all of them were public and would be the first places Slynt would look. There was no safe haven within the city.

After a moment of thought, Aegor made his decision. “We head to Mud Gate and find Ser Bywater. He’s our best chance.”