Chapter 72
The Price of Arrogance
When James walked into the council chamber, his appearance stunned everyone.
The golden armor was covered with knife marks and arrow holes, and the bloodstains had dried into dark brown lumps. Strips of cloth were haphazardly wrapped around his bare right arm.
But there was still a slight smile on his lips.
"Wow, so many people are here to greet me." James glanced around the room. "I'm flattered."
No one responded to him.
He shrugged, walked to the long table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
His injured right arm was casually draped over the armrest, as if it were just wrapped in an ordinary dirty cloth.
"Speak," Ed's voice came from the other end of the long table.
James leaned back and crossed his legs.
"I was ambushed." He got straight to the point, his tone as calm as if he were telling someone else's story.
"The crabs responsible for attacking the city were all bait. When they attacked on their own initiative, I couldn't resist."
"So I ordered a charge, and we killed several hundred of them."
"Then the cowards in the camp started shooting arrows, hitting us and their men together. The archers were all hidden behind their tents, not even showing their faces."
"Some unlucky guys got shot and thrown off their horses, and one unlucky guy even got shot in the arm while wearing armor."
He continued speaking.
"I originally planned to break out to the south and retreat to Rossby, but suddenly a bunch of pirates appeared there."
"They hid in a boat at the foot of the cliff and climbed up under cover of darkness without my noticing."
"But you're all on horseback," the little devil interjected. "How can they stop cavalry?"
"We can't stop them, but Sir Baron is on the other side, and I plan to meet up with him and retreat out of the woods together."
James's lips twitched slightly: "We had just gone inside when the woods suddenly caught fire."
"It wasn't the kind that started burning little by little." His tone rarely carried a hint of fear.
"It was a raging fire that ignited in an instant."
"The horse was startled, and we were forced out. When we looked back, the forest had been burned to the ground."
"And so time was wasted, the pirates have already set up their lines in the south."
"To the east is the crab people's siege camp, and those cowards from Dusk Valley Town didn't come out to help us at all."
"So you retreated north," Ed said.
"Yes," James replied.
Then he remained silent for a while.
"It turned out that Stannis was waiting for us to the north."
"Stannis?" everyone exclaimed.
James nodded. "The people from Dragonstone are all there."
"The fiery red heart, the silver seahorse of Valerian, the red crab of Setiga, and the minor lords of those islands."
"Several thousand men were lined up there, spearmen like hedgehogs, and behind them stood a bunch of crossbowmen."
"Damn it, they're treating us like VIPs."
The little devil blinked.
"Brother, based on what you're saying, it's as if Stannis knew exactly what you were doing, setting fires and ambushing you."
"It can't all be that..."
Although he didn't say the name, everyone knew who he was referring to.
Melisandre.
Eddard frowned. "Ser James, you are responsible for your words and actions. Are you sure Stannis is there?"
"I'm fucking sure." James jumped up. "We barely... we barely made it out."
Then he sat back down and lowered his head.
"About three hundred people fought their way out."
"Has Sir Baron returned with his men? He got separated from us while he was in the woods."
"There's still no news, and their fate is unknown." Ed shook his head.
James pursed his lips.
"That means he's dead."
Tyrion stared intently at him, a complex emotion flashing in his heterochromatic eyes, and opened his mouth as if to say something.
But in the end, she looked at Ed.
"Your Excellency, my brother may be a bit slow, but he is, after all—"
"I accept the punishment."
James interrupted him.
"I disobeyed military orders, launched an attack without authorization, and suffered ambush and losses. I will accept whatever punishment I deserve."
Ed nodded, as if confirming something he already knew.
"Jaime Lannister," he said, "is now stripped of all your military command and sent to reflect on your actions in seclusion."
"After the war, you must personally apologize to the families of the soldiers who died because of you and be responsible for recovering their remains."
"Alright." James nodded as well. "The Prime Minister is very fair."
"Now I know why Robert likes you."
"Is there anything else?"
"Of course I am," Cersei finally couldn't hold back any longer. "What happened to your arm?"
James looked down at his right arm; the filthy strip of cloth was already soaked in blood.
"Didn't I tell you? There was this unlucky guy who was completely covered up, and he still got hit by an arrow."
"let me see."
James hesitated for a moment, but still extended his arm.
Cersei walked around to his side and began to untie the strips of cloth.
"I didn't have time to deal with it at the time, I just broke the arrow shaft." His tone remained very casual.
But the slight upturn of his eyebrows was enough to prove the pain he was in.
"Later, Villar helped me dig out the arrowhead, rinsed it with alcohol, wrapped it up a couple of times, and rushed back."
"It's alright, just have Paisell get some medicine to apply."
A faint stench permeated the air.
Everyone gasped involuntarily.
The skin around the wound had turned black and purple, with an abnormal yellowish-green tinge. In the center was a deep hole with rolled-up edges, and the rotting flesh inside could be vaguely seen.
"Pyssil," Cersei's voice trembled, "Pyssil!"
The Grand Scholar shakily approached and squinted at him for a moment.
His expression grew increasingly grave, his graying eyebrows almost furrowing into a knot.
"Sir James, you've been poisoned."
The little devil's voice sharpened: "Grand Scholar, the people here aren't blind."
Paisell ignored him.
"The crab farmers often use local hemlock to make poison arrows, but judging from your wounds, they used more than just that."
"I heard that they also mix in the secretions of poison frogs, and some people even soak their feces or animal carcasses for days and nights."
"Are you still carrying the arrow?"
James reached into his waistband and tossed the item onto the table.
Paisell took a small stick out of his sleeve and poked at it a couple of times, then took out a piece of oilcloth and carefully wrapped it up.
"I need to take it back to the Bachelor Tower to analyze its composition."
"But Sir James, your condition can't be solved by just applying some medicine."
"It looks like amputation will be necessary."
Jaime was still putting on a nonchalant act, joking around with Tyrion.
Upon hearing this, he turned his head in disbelief.
"What did you say?"
"Are you going to cut off my right hand?"
“Your right hand alone isn’t enough,” Paisell said, shrinking back. “You were shot in the forearm; we need to cut it off from the elbow down.”
"Furthermore, you engaged in strenuous exercise for such a long time after being shot, the toxin may have already spread."
"Just to be on the safe side..."
He swallowed hard.
"It would be best to saw it off completely below the shoulder."
James rolled his eyes.