Chapter 31: Perfect Asset (Part 2)
"I'm a generous man. Very generous," Ian said, pleased with Masha's performance. "From the moment we entered, you've been addressing us as three knights. I didn't correct you at the time, but in truth, these two are merely my squires."
"Squires?!" Masha suddenly looked up at Rolf and Kevan, as if hoping they'd object, but she was quickly disappointed. The two men sat respectfully beside Ian, showing no sign of displeasure.
"All rewards for loyalty and hard work," Ian said, placing his hands on Rolf and Kevan's shoulders. "I told you I'm generous. I'm also quite wealthy."
The gold dragons now lay completely exposed before Masha. She stared at the coins so tantalizingly close, but this time didn't dare reach for them.
"My father owns twenty trading galleys. Our family's merchant fleet returns from Volantis, Qarth, and even Yi Ti every year, bringing back tens of thousands of gold dragons.
And I, who will inherit all this eventually, am being questioned.
They say I'm incompetent, that I lack wisdom and courage. I tell them none of that matters, because I have wealth—enough wealth to hire the wisest and bravest men to serve me, which makes me unstoppable.
In the end, I made a wager with Uncle Jaime. He challenged me to take only my two men and hunt down the fugitive who committed crimes in King's Landing. I intend to prove my worth through this task." Ian picked up a gold dragon and placed it in Masha's palm.
"If things go well and I'm satisfied, I might even give you the entire reward the Queen offered. But if things go poorly, I can become a very difficult man to deal with. Now, do you understand how important this matter is to me?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Then, can you convince Blackwing to work for me?" Ian asked with a smile.
The story he'd just told wasn't really for Masha. For a commoner like her, those twenty gold dragons alone were more than enough to secure her loyalty.
Ian had taken the time to spin this tale primarily so she could repeat it to Blackwing.
Knowing Masha's type, he could imagine how she'd embellish the story when she encountered someone as impressive as him.
After all, he'd be working directly with Blackwing, and personally boasting about his wealth would seem crass. It was far better for Masha to do the talking.
"Of course, my lord. If it's you, I'm certain Captain Morgan will agree," Masha nodded eagerly.
Everyone has a price. "By the way, are all the sellswords in your inn Blackwing's men?"
"No, only half. A total of..." Masha paused for a few seconds, as if calculating, "seventeen men. Six belong to 'Scarface's' company—he's one of Blackwing's lieutenants. The other eleven arrived with Blackwing this afternoon."
"Do you know all of them?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Because of this." Ian gestured at the gold dragons on the table.
"Oh, forgive me, I spoke out of turn. Um, the men Captain Morgan brought today, I should..." Masha paused, then changed to a more confident tone. "Yes, I know them all."
"So, are there any guests staying here today that you don't know?" Ian asked again.
"My lord," Masha sighed internally. "This is a crossroads. Even the Stranger himself couldn't know every guest who passes through."
"I don't expect you to know them all. I just need to know how many first-time guests have checked in since dawn today. I want information on every single one."
The chances of finding a player among these people were low, but why take unnecessary risks? Caution had kept him alive so far.
"I'm not always in the common room, so I may not have a complete picture. I'll need to confirm this with Jenny and the others."
"You can ask her, but you can't tell her why. I don't want word spreading that I'm here hunting a fugitive."
"But without Jenny's help, many things will be difficult. Most of my time is spent in the kitchen, and I'd warn her not to—"
"No. When one person tells another a secret that isn't theirs to share, asking them to keep it is meaningless. If you insist on involving her, you can only do so after I've warned her myself."
"As you say, my lord."
"Before breakfast tomorrow, I want a detailed list of the strangers who arrived today."
"A list?"
"Not names. Just descriptions of who they are."
"Yes, my lord."
"Also, you said only half the sellswords staying here are Blackwing's men?"
"That's right."
"Then hire the other half for me as well. I want absolute control of this establishment." Ian paused. "Of course, exclude any strange sellswords who just arrived today. Don't hire them—just note their presence."
"Excluding strange sellswords who arrived today," Masha wisely stopped questioning this odd condition. "Do you want all the others? Both companies and individuals?"
"Are there many individuals?"
"Not many. Just a handful. I haven't counted precisely."
"What about the companies?"
"Two sellsword companies, led by 'Spike' Dennet and Ser Grayson."
"A sellsword knight?"
"That's what he claims."
"All right, for the individual sellswords, just give them some task and send them away."
"What task?"
"Any task. Delivering messages, fetching wine from the next town. Anything that gets them far from here."
"Then they definitely won't complete your tasks faithfully. They'll just take your coin and find somewhere far away to drink and whore."
"And what was my original purpose?"
"To get them far from here," Masha said, realization dawning. "Forgive my dullness, my lord."
"As for those two companies, I'll pay triple their usual rate, on the condition they obey me absolutely. Can you arrange it?"
"Of course, my lord. At that price, you could get them to—" Masha stopped herself before saying something crude.
"When you discuss this with them, don't reveal my purpose. Just mention the reward. I'll arrange to meet with the two captains when I see fit."
Masha nodded again.
"Are you certain you've memorized everything?"
"Um," Masha hesitated, then quickly shook her head. "You've given me many instructions. I'm worried I might forget something."
"Can you read?"
"No, my lord. I'm sorry."
"Then you'd better commit my instructions to memory, especially the details. I won't tolerate any mistakes or omissions." Ian proceeded to repeat his previous instructions to Masha.
It was tedious, but nothing compared to the trouble of things going wrong.
It took Ian a full ten minutes to ensure the woman, whose memory was clearly mediocre, had retained all the details.
"Well then," Ian said, confirming Masha had remembered everything, gesturing to the gold dragons on the table. "Take them. This is your advance payment. If all goes well, I'll pay you an equal amount when everything is concluded."
"May the Seven bless you, my generous lord," Masha beamed, eagerly pocketing the remaining dragons.
"Have someone clear the table. I'm retiring for the night."
Masha then noticed that even while the lord had been giving instructions, the overflowing table of food had been completely devoured by the two "squires," who'd remained silent throughout.
Masha hurriedly left the room, and two serving girls soon returned to clear away the dishes.
Following his old habits from his previous life, Ian had the servants bring a basin of water. He rinsed his mouth, washed his face and feet, extinguished the oil lamp, and lay down on a makeshift bed of three straw pallets stacked together.
The basic framework of the trap is in place, Ian thought as drowsiness took him. All that remains is tomorrow's conversation with Blackwing and the two sellsword captains.
Then the hunt begins.
Ian closed his eyes, but sleep didn't come immediately. His mind continued working through contingencies, potential complications, ways things could go wrong.
What if Blackwing refused? What if he was smarter than expected and saw through the scheme? What if one of the other guests staying here tonight was a player who'd overheard something?
Too many variables. Too many unknowns.
But that was the nature of this game. You made your plays, set your traps, and hoped the dice fell your way.
Tomorrow, Ian thought again. Tomorrow we'll see what kind of man this Morgan Blackwing really is.
And whether I've just recruited an asset... or created a problem that needs solving.
Either way, he'd adapt. He'd survived this long by being flexible, ruthless when necessary, and always thinking three moves ahead.
That wouldn't change now.
Finally, exhaustion overtook planning, and Ian drifted into uneasy sleep.
(End of Chapter)
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