Big Iron Head.
Ironhead's reputation in Lannister Harbor surpassed that of the Three Dogs.
Three Dogs' infamy is known throughout seven countries, while Big Iron Head's infamy is the worst among the thugs and hooligans of Lannisport.
Chiswick's appearance made the group of thugs tremble with fear. The cowards had already sneaked away along the side of the street, while the bolder ones dropped their knives on the ground.
The short sword in the gang leader's hand seemed to have turned into a piece of red-hot iron.
He dropped the short sword and quickly turned and ran away.
It's not running, it's walking.
He was afraid that turning around and running away would displease Big Iron Head.
It would make you seem very cowardly.
Big Ironhead Chiswick despised those who came out to chop people up because they lacked courage.
He conquered the entire gangster community of Lannisport with his courage and loyalty, and the gang leaders felt honored to know him.
This little street is very remote, and there are no opportunities to make money.
It is a place where poor people gather.
The poorer a place is, the more likely it is to breed violence.
The thugs and hooligans all followed their boss.
They desperately wanted to stay and find a new leader, but Chiswick was too famous; he was a god in the eyes of the petty thugs. Even if they wanted to follow him, they felt inferior and feared being looked down upon by Chiswick.
Chiswick's men were all tough guys, several levels above these street thugs.
This feeling of shame and inferiority is like an illiterate mountain dweller trying to curry favor with royalty—it's a feeling of self-deprecation that leads to self-doubt.
"Damn it, don't you guys want your brothers anymore?" Chiswick cursed.
The fleeing thugs stopped abruptly, like soldiers on command, turning back without daring to look at Chiswick. They hurriedly helped their fallen comrades up and carried them away.
"You're the boss?" Chiswick frowned.
The gang leader was so frightened that his hands and feet went weak. Under the legendary reputation of Big Iron Head, few small gang leaders could stand tall and proud in front of him.
This gang leader wasn't entirely disloyal; he was just terrified. When Chiswick yelled "Get out of here!", he immediately left, forgetting to take his brother who was lying on the ground with him.
This violated Big Iron Head's taboo.
Big Ironhead's brothers followed him and respected him; loyalty was Big Ironhead's life motto. For his brothers, even wrong was right. He was a muddle-headed man who couldn't talk about grand principles; his brothers were his greatest reason. Kindness, justice, principles, laws, right and wrong—in Chiswick's eyes, they were all just a pile of dog shit.
Those whom Chiswick calls "brother" are no ordinary people. Fearlessness is a common trait among them.
The gang leader was so frightened by Chivesk's question that he could hardly breathe, his eyes darted around, his calves ached, and his stomach churned violently.
"I am…their…leader."
"Cut yourself and get lost!" Chiswick was furious at the sight of these cowardly and disloyal guys.
"...Yes..." The gang leader felt as if he had been granted a pardon. He drew the short knife from his waist and slashed his own arm hard.
He made a single, decisive cut without the slightest hesitation.
Pollyfort watched Chiswick's imposing figure and laughed maniacally, his face beaming with pride.
He liked that such a strong-willed person became a Clegane.
Cowards were also the people Polliver hated most. As for loyalty, Polliver didn't understand it; he only knew to regard the Mountain as his role model and goal in life, without exception. He would listen to the Mountain's words and do his orders.
The thugs, along with their injured buddies, vanished in a flash.
The beggar boy, covered in blood and grime, was left with a foul mouth!
"You're out?" The foul-mouthed man smiled slightly, showing no fear whatsoever.
"I'm out," Chiswick said. His eyes were like sharp hooks, but the boy, like Pollyver, was oblivious to that gaze.
"Alright, you win. Let's get started," said the foul-mouthed man. "I'm going to hell. First, I'll go to the brothel to chat with your mother. Haha, then your mother and I will come back together and take you away."
Chiswick picked up the dagger: "Good sword. You foul mouth, you'd rather disguise yourself as a beggar than leave just to see me beheaded. Fine, that's loyalty. Come with me!"
The corners of his foul-mouthed, sneer slowly stiffened.
"You want me to go with you?"
"Aegon is dead. He was a coward and didn't deserve a brother like you. Only I am. I came here specifically to make you my brother, Chiswick."
With that one sentence, Chiswick's entire life became intertwined with this man. Everything Chiswick possessed was thanks to his foul mouth.
No oaths are needed; neither family honor nor the name of the Seven Gods can compare to Chiswick's words, "You are my brother."
The foul-mouthed man was stunned!
He was prepared to die!
He was the first person to dare offend Chiswick and fight him to the death.
Chiswick came to take the foul-mouthed man as a brother without even asking the opinion of the savior, the villainous Knight Pollifer.
"Why?" The foul-mouthed man's words no longer sounded foul.
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"Of the Seagulls' thousand men, only you are willing to avenge our leader, Egan," Chiswick said. "Of all those thousand, only you have loyalty, you foul mouth. Come with me!"
"Good!" said the foul-mouthed man, laughing loudly as his body began to sway.
He was covered in blood and had been stabbed several times; he was only holding on by sheer willpower.
"You can't even withstand a few cuts? Your bones are still too weak," Chiswick said. "Sir Polliff, are there any maesters in Clegane Village?"
"have!"
"That's fine," Chiswick said. "You're a foul-mouthed guy, and you'd better be tough as nails to be my brother. There are horses just across the street."
"Good!" A surge of power miraculously burst forth from the blood-stained, foul-mouthed man's body, allowing his trembling legs to stand firmly.
This power is something amazing that stinky mouths have never experienced before.
He himself was unaware that he possessed such miraculous power within his body.
This really surprised him.
Chiswick had that ability; with just one word, "brother," he could make thugs fight to the death for him, and inspire unbelievable strength and courage in them.
Polliver and Chiswick led the way, followed by two guards, with the stinking, blood-soaked man walking in the middle.
The man with the foul mouth was already so weak he was about to collapse, and it was extremely difficult for him to take even a few steps. But miraculously, he walked across the long street, leaving bloody footprints with each step, before collapsing on the street. He had passed out.
The poor people of the entire street stood at the street corner and appeared at the windows, all watching in complete silence as a pale-faced boy moved across the long street, leaving a long trail of blood behind him.
*
In the main hall of Fort Criggan.
The Demon Mountain looked at the Iron Head kneeling on one knee.
This guy's head is indeed very big, unlike that of ordinary people.
A horrifying scar ran down his forehead; pale purple, the twisted scar resembled a large centipede, a truly shocking sight.
Miss Jenny and Mrs. Allen couldn't stand it after just one look.
This guy named Chiswick exudes an aura of evil and murderous intent; even a single glance from him can send nightmares to anyone.
"Big Head, from now on you'll follow me and be my soldier. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Lord Mountain, my life now belongs to you, Lord Chiswick." Chiswick did not call him Lord Gregor, but Lord Mountain. "My lord, I have only one regret. I still have more than a dozen brothers imprisoned in Lannister's dark dungeon. I beg you, my lord, to find a way to save my brothers' lives as well."