Chapter 34: Blackfyre's War Chest (Part 1)
"Back then, I was just a squire. During a hunt, my horse stumbled over a fallen log, throwing me and leaving me injured, separated from the main party," Ian casually spun a new tale.
He enjoyed storytelling because it made his persona more concrete in his targets' minds, allowing him to convey exactly the message he wanted them to receive.
"I got lost in those woods, wandering through trees that all looked the same until dusk. I was terrified—the forest was full of dangerous beasts, and I had no strength to fight them off at night. Fortunately, before nightfall, a band of outlaws passing through spotted me. The moment they saw the golden lion on my surcoat, they grabbed me without hesitation and demanded a ransom of thirty gold dragons.
I agreed immediately. I was secretly relieved to buy my life with coin.
But soon, from their conversation, I learned they'd originally belonged to a bandit gang our family had destroyed. They were planning to flee back to their homeland, but they'd stumbled upon me and decided to pull off one last score."
"They never intended to release you after getting the ransom," Dennet understood Ian's meaning—letting you live to return home was the same as inviting retribution.
"Exactly. So that night, I told the bandit guarding me that if he let me go, I'd give him even more coin." Ian nodded.
"He believed you'd pay him instead of hanging him?"
"He's standing right here." Ian tapped the breastplate of Rolf beside him.
"This man?" Both Dennet and Ser Grayson looked shocked.
Rolf was momentarily stunned as well, but given the precedent of being called 'Old Dog,' he kept his surprise from showing.
"Neither of these men are knights, just my squires." Ian gestured at Rolf. "And this is the bandit who was guarding me back then. He was strong—very strong—and he didn't want to go home and become a farmer with the other drifters. He offered me a deal: one hundred gold dragons, and he'd let me go.
I agreed. Then that same night, he turned on the other four bandits and killed them all. I was stunned, so I didn't hesitate to offer him a position as my squire."
"How could you trust someone who'd betray his companions?" Ser Grayson frowned.
"What did he betray them for?" Ian asked with a smile.
"Money."
"Whose money?"
Ser Grayson found himself without an answer.
"One hundred gold dragons—almost three times my ransom. Ever since then, I've considered three my lucky number. I pay triple rate to anyone who works for me. And I also make it clear that if anyone tries to buy their loyalty, they should tell me immediately—my counteroffer will still be three times what they're being offered."
This was the method Tyrion had used with Bronn, and Ian personally thought it worked quite well, even doubling down on it.
"I have no further questions. We'll accept your terms. Half payment now, the other half in a month's time." Grayson lowered his head, formally accepting the arrangement.
Dennet took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Um, Ser Lucien, do you happen to need another squire?"
"What the hell, man?" Ser Grayson stared at him incredulously.
"Hey, why are you looking at me like that?" Dennet laughed awkwardly at Grayson's reaction. "Don't you think being Ser Lucien's squire would be more profitable than working as a sellsword around here?"
"I just didn't expect you to be so... shameless," Grayson muttered, struggling to find the right words.
"If you perform well enough in the upcoming mission, I'll consider your request. After all, I'm already planning to knight this 'Old Dog,' which will open up a vacancy in my household." Ian casually dangled another carrot.
"You'll never find a better blade than mine," Dennet immediately perked up.
Every sellsword says that, Ian thought to himself.
Watching this exchange, Grayson suddenly had an odd thought: if only he hadn't been knighted, he too could have served as Ser Lucien's squire.
Deciding to interrupt, he asked, "After all this talk, you still haven't told us what the actual job is."
"No rush. Once Masha convinces Blackwing, I'll assign everyone their tasks."
"Blackwing? You're not here for the Ghost of Whitewalls, are you?" Dennet asked without hesitation.
"Oh? So Blackwing is the mastermind behind the Whitewalls bandits?" Ian's interest was suddenly piqued.
"No," Dennet shook his head. "Blackwing is also hunting for this bandit gang."
"Also? Then why doesn't he cooperate with the alliance of local knights?"
"They tried that before, but several major joint operations failed. Then they started accusing each other of harboring informants, and they went their separate ways," Dennet explained.
"I can understand why landed knights would continue hunting bandits after the split, but why would Blackwing—a sellsword captain—keep searching for them? It can't just be to clear his name, can it?" That seemed too idealistic.
"You don't know?" Ser Grayson asked, puzzled.
"Know what?" Ian countered, equally confused.
Grayson hesitated, not answering immediately. Instead, Dennet blurted out impatiently, "The Blackfyre restoration treasure! We thought that's what brought you here."
"The what?" Holy shit. The Blackfyre restoration treasure? Ian paused, then pressed urgently, "Explain. In detail."
"Well," Dennet laughed awkwardly, "I'm not entirely sure myself. My company only participated in their first operation. We were well-prepared—Ser Wilde and Blackwing had gathered nearly five hundred men to wipe out the Whitewalls bandits in one decisive strike. But when we reached their camp, we found nothing. Not even a trace."
"So you fell under suspicion?"
"Yes. Ser Wilde and the others suspected there was a traitor in the ranks, so they dismissed all of us temporarily hired sellswords from the bandit-hunting mission. Of course, even after dismissing us, they still couldn't find any trace of the bandits, so they started turning on each other.
Then they split up to search separately, but still came up empty-handed. That's when a rumor started spreading—that this bandit gang was actually the ghost of the Blackfyre host, and that's why none of us could find them."
"The ghosts of the Blackfyre host," Ian smirked. "I understand the ghost part, but how are they connected to the Blackfyres? And where did this news about Blackfyre treasure come from? Just because these bandits operate near Whitewalls?"
Whitewalls had once been the home fortress of House Butterwell, located on the eastern shore of the Gods Eye, between the lake and the Kingsroad.
It had once been called the Milk Castle because its walls, keeps, and towers were built of fine white stone, quarried from the Vale and transported over the mountains to the shores of the Gods Eye.
According to The Mystery Knight, the floors and pillars of Whitewalls had been made of milky-white marble shot through with veins of gold, and the rafters of the houses were carved from bone-white weirwood.
The castle had possessed an almost dreamlike quality.
But why "had"?
Because Whitewalls was destroyed—demolished in the foolish Second Blackfyre Rebellion.
(End of Chapter)
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