Chapter 35: Blackfyre's War Chest (Part 2)
Fifteen years after the defeat of the First Blackfyre Rebellion, in 211 AC, Lord Ambrose Butterwell of Whitewalls held a grand tourney at his seat. The champion's prize was a dragon egg—a gift (or compensation) given to the family by King Aegon IV the Unworthy for having bedded Lord Butterwell's three daughters during a royal visit.
Ostensibly, the tourney celebrated Lord Butterwell's marriage to a Frey of the Twins. In reality, it was a conspiracy orchestrated by Lord Butterwell and other Blackfyre supporters.
They gathered the survivors of the First Blackfyre Rebellion and others dissatisfied with the oppressive rule of the Hand of the King, Brynden "Bloodraven" Rivers. They sent Daemon II—son of Daemon Blackfyre—to compete under a false identity.
Their plan: manipulate the tournament to ensure Daemon II's victory, reveal his true identity, and launch a Second Blackfyre Rebellion.
As it turned out, Daemon II wasn't nearly as formidable as his father, the so-called "Warrior Come Again." Instead, he proved a mediocre combatant who couldn't even win his rigged matches, becoming a laughingstock among the assembled lords.
Furthermore, Bloodraven somehow learned of the conspiracy and led his army to Whitewalls before the tournament concluded.
Unable to rally the nobles to his cause, Daemon II left the castle alone and challenged Bloodraven to single combat. However, Bloodraven—unconcerned with chivalric posturing—simply had him arrested.
Thus, the Second Blackfyre Rebellion was crushed in a farce of humiliation.
Whitewalls was completely razed on Bloodraven's orders, and the ground was sown with salt.
Today, the ruins of Whitewalls remain just that—ruins. While mention of Whitewalls immediately evokes the Blackfyre Rebellions, it seemed absurd to assume a bandit gang operating in those ruins had any connection to the Blackfyres.
"I don't know," Dennet shook his head. "When I was hired for the bandit suppression, I wasn't invited into the planning councils. Perhaps Ser Grayson knows more." He looked at the older knight.
After noticing Ian's attention shift to him, Grayson seemed reluctant to explain. "Truth is, the first person to discover this bandit group's connection to Blackfyre was Ser Wendel Ryger—leader of the local knights' alliance. When he clashed with one of the outlaw knights, he cut open the man's cloak and saw a Blackfyre sigil on his breastplate."
"A black dragon on a red field?" Ian asked.
"Aye, black dragon on red," Grayson nodded. "Many of us questioned him, asked if he'd been mistaken. But Ser Wendel swore on his honor he'd seen it clear as day."
"As for this 'war chest,'" Grayson continued, "I don't know the details. But since both Ser Wendel and Captain Morgan are searching for it, they must know something. You could ask Captain Morgan yourself when you meet him."
"Uh," Ian was stunned for a moment, then let out a bitter laugh. What am I doing?
He'd come to the Crossroads Inn to hunt players. With his current strength, he had no business getting involved in fights over supposed Blackfyre treasure.
If he expressed interest in the war chest, he might even attract hostility from Blackwing and the others—and then his plan to set traps and hunt players here would be ruined.
"No, I've no interest in Blackfyre treasure," Ian shook his head. "I'm here for other business."
Dennet looked visibly disappointed. He'd seen this generous Lannister lord show interest in the matter and thought he could leverage the situation for his own benefit. But Ser Lucien was merely curious.
After a brief silence, Dennet suddenly cocked his head. "By the way, do you hear that?"
Ian listened and heard loud shouting and banging coming from below.
"Someone go see what's happening?" Ian said. He had no intention of joining whatever commotion was brewing downstairs. What if it was a brawl and he got dragged into it?
Just then, Jenny burst through the door, looking terrified. She slammed it shut behind her and locked it.
"What happened?"
"Oh, my lord, I... he... you wanted me to..."
"Easy, easy. Calm down." Ian gestured for Rolf to pour her some wine.
Jenny took the cup and downed it in one gulp, then coughed violently as it went down wrong.
"Slowly now. You're safe here. Tell me what happened down there."
"Morgan—cough cough—Captain Morgan is dead, and his men are saying they'll tear down the inn!"
"Blackwing is dead?" Ian was stunned. The sellsword captain had been perfectly fine, and Ian had been about to seek him out. Now he was inexplicably dead? Am I cursed by the Stranger himself?
"Who did it?" Grayson interrupted, no longer concerned about propriety. Then, realizing his rudeness, he added, "I'm worried one of my men got drunk and did something stupid."
"I don't know," Jenny shook her head, trembling. "I don't know."
"Forgive me, ser, but I must go down and assess the situation." Seeing he'd get nothing more from Jenny, Grayson urgently looked to Ian for permission.
"I should go as well," Dennet agreed.
"Go, but try not to start any fights." Ian waved them off, feeling his irritation spike.
If Blackwing's death sparked a major brawl here, it would absolutely ruin his plans to hunt players.
After the two sellsword captains departed, Ian had Rolf lock the door again and turned back to Jenny.
"Calm yourself. No one can hurt you here." Ian placed his hands on Jenny's shoulders. "If you can't form complete sentences, I'll ask questions. Just answer yes or no."
Jenny nodded quickly.
"Did you see Blackwing die?"
"Yes."
"Did you see who killed him?"
"No."
"Where did Blackwing die? No, wait—" Ian shook his head, realizing that question couldn't be answered with yes or no.
"Sorry, my lord, I'm better now," Jenny forced a smile onto her pale face. "I can answer properly. Captain Morgan died in that Gra—Gra-something knight's room. The one whose sigil is the yellow tower."
"???"
Hearing Jenny's answer, Rolf inexplicably recalled Ian's earlier joke to Masha: 'What, did they share a bed?'
As expected of one touched by the divine, Rolf thought with awe. His prophetic insights are truly terrifying.
Ian, meanwhile, was processing entirely different implications. A sellsword captain dead in a knight's room. A knight who was supposedly traveling to King's Landing but hadn't left despite the hour being well past dawn.
Player?
The timing was too convenient. The circumstances too suspicious. A foreign knight who'd arrived yesterday, hadn't ordered breakfast, hadn't left when he should have—and now a dead sellsword captain in his room?
"Jenny," Ian said carefully. "This knight with the yellow tower sigil. What did he look like?"
"Young, my lord. Maybe twenty years? Brown hair, average height. He wore good traveling clothes but nothing too fine."
Definitely sounds like it could be a player, Ian thought. Someone trying to blend in without standing out too much.
"And his equipment? His sword?"
"I... I didn't notice, my lord. I'm sorry."
Ian waved off her apology, mind already racing through possibilities. If this knight was a player, why kill Blackwing? Self-defense? Or had the player somehow discovered Blackwing was connected to Ian's plans?
Or maybe it has nothing to do with me at all, Ian reminded himself. Maybe it's exactly what it looks like—a knight killed a sellsword captain for reasons unknown.
But Ian's instincts screamed otherwise.
"Rolf, Kevan—arm yourselves fully. We may have a situation."
Both knights moved immediately to don their armor.
Ian stood and moved to the window, looking down at the courtyard where Blackwing's men were gathering, their voices rising in anger.
This just became a lot more complicated, Ian thought grimly.
And somewhere in this inn, there might be another player—one who'd just committed murder.
The hunt had just taken an unexpected turn.
(End of Chapter)
If you enjoyed this chapter, leave a Review!
P*atreon/Soulforger (advanced chapters)
Buy me coffee - ko-fi*com/soulforger01