Chapter 37: Casting the Net (Part 1)
Ian's original plan had been to partner with Blackwing, deploying sellsword companies at all the major inns, ports, and villages along the northern shore of the Gods Eye to hunt players passing through.
With Blackwing's network already so extensive, Ian naturally hadn't dared involve himself in the Blackfyre treasure. First, he'd been too occupied to handle it, and second, he'd worried about damaging his relationship with the sellsword captain.
Now that Blackwing was dead, and without the company's support, Ian could only cast his net within this inn and on the Kingsroad outside. (Those were the two critical locations anyway; anywhere else was just gambling on chance.) He'd hardly need to personally participate at all.
Furthermore, the powerful Blackwing company was now consumed by internal strife over their captain's death. So why wouldn't he involve himself in the Blackfyre treasure?
"But before we discuss that, I need to assign your original mission," Ian said, changing the subject.
"Ser, what exactly do you need us to do?" Ser Grayson was noticeably more engaged than before.
"Hunting."
"Hunting?"
"You can tell them now, Masha." Ian didn't explain directly, letting Masha handle it.
Soon, Masha recounted how Ser Lucien and his men had come from King's Landing to capture a fugitive. Perhaps harboring some ulterior motive, she conveniently omitted mention of the Queen's bounty.
"In short, your mission is to monitor this inn and the Kingsroad outside, then secretly capture the person I identify," Ian took over.
"My men don't have horses, so I can handle operations within the inn," Dennet spoke first.
"How many of you can ride?" Ian asked, then amended, "How many can fight from horseback?"
"Three, including me, 'Pickle' Lean, and 'Britches' Jimmy. We used to be outriders, but the market's been poor these past two years, so we sold our horses."
"You're outriders again now. I'll provide horses, better weapons, and mail or plate that can be concealed under your clothes. Consider them gifts," Ian said, looking at Grayson. "You'll receive some as well, of course."
"Your generosity makes me uneasy," Dennet said, clearly pleased.
"I'll provide funds shortly, and you'll arrange for someone to purchase equipment from the nearby castle. After that, you and your two riders will join Ser Grayson's command. You'll be responsible for watching the Kingsroad and pursuing targets we can't conveniently take from the inn."
"Ah, Ser Grayson commanding us—I've no objection, but what about the rest of my men?"
"The others remain at the inn under my direct command. Though first, you'll need to choose a leader from among them who'll report to me."
"That'll damage my standing, ser," Dennet objected.
"Aren't you here to serve as my squire? Do you still care about your standing among sellswords?"
"As you wish." Dennet, stymied, could find no other argument and bowed his head in acceptance.
"Fetch him now. I need him for the war council."
A moment later, Dennet brought in a burly, gray-bearded man.
"This is 'Earthy' Erik, a veteran blade and my mentor," Dennet said, gesturing to the man he'd brought. "I recommend him to temporarily command my company."
Pickle, Britches, Earthy! Ian thought. I take back calling your nickname 'Spike' uninspired.
"Ser, it's an honor to serve," Erik said with a wide grin. Just as he opened his mouth to continue, Ian ruthlessly cut him off.
"My first order: no bawdy jokes in my presence."
"Oh, seven hells," Erik feigned shock. "I didn't realize you were a Warrior's Son, though I'm sure the High Septon himself isn't half as pious as you."
"My second order: no smirking in my presence," Ian interrupted the chatterbox again.
"As you command," Erik replied, still wearing that playful expression.
"Right, remember every word I say next," Ian clapped his hands, demanding everyone's attention.
"I'm hunting a gang. They're composed of sellswords and wandering mercenaries, including several archers and possibly even ironborn. They scattered while we pursued them, but they may come here to regroup.
The sellswords among them wear full mail, including gauntlets and greaves. They're armed with bastard swords, have only one horse each, and no squires.
The archers use yew longbows and daggers as secondary weapons. No armor, no horses.
The ironborn carry three throwing axes, one large enough to serve as a battle axe.
The wandering mercenaries wear boiled leather and carry short swords and daggers."
"Forgive me, ser," Dennet interrupted. "Seven out of ten sellswords fit that description."
"So that's not all. Patience, my friend," Ian smiled. "Of those matching my description, you need to focus on unfamiliar faces, loners, and those who seem excessively wary.
Your men will be divided into two groups. The first, led by Ser Grayson, will be entirely mounted, watching the Kingsroad outside. If you spot a suspicious individual passing by without entering the inn, follow and bring him back. I'll personally identify whether he's the fugitive I seek.
The second group—"
"I have a question, ser," Dennet interrupted again.
"Speak."
"What if someone we capture isn't the man you're hunting?"
"That..." Ian paused. He hadn't really considered this question.
Mistakes were inevitable when arresting people under these conditions. So what should be done with those wrongly captured? Simply releasing them wouldn't work. Lock them up and release them after the hunt concluded?
"You're not planning to let them go, are you?" Dennet seemed to read Ian's thoughts. "Ser Lucien, you and your companions are from House Lannister. You needn't consider the feelings of knights and sellswords wrongly captured. But my men and I can't afford that luxury.
We've operated here for years. If we seize someone—regardless of reason—we've made an enemy. And if they happen to be someone you don't want captured, releasing them will make things very uncomfortable for us."
Ian considered this. Dennet had a point. The sellswords had reputations and relationships in this region. Randomly kidnapping people would have consequences—especially if those people turned out to be innocent.
"Then what do you suggest?" Ian asked.
"Two options, ser. First, we could be more selective in who we detain—only take those we're nearly certain match your description. Fewer captures, but fewer complications."
"And the second?"
Dennet hesitated. "We don't let anyone go. Anyone we capture who isn't your fugitive... doesn't leave alive."
The room fell silent.
"You're suggesting we murder innocent men to cover our tracks," Ian said flatly.
"I'm suggesting we protect ourselves from retaliation, ser. It's not pleasant, but it's practical. In this business, word travels. If people learn we're snatching travelers off the Kingsroad, every sellsword and knight in the Riverlands will know our faces. We'll never work again—or worse, we'll have prices on our heads."
Ian steepled his fingers, thinking. This was the ugly reality he'd been avoiding. In his previous life, he could design game systems where NPCs conveniently forgot about player crimes. Here, actions had consequences.
If he wanted to hunt players efficiently, he'd need to accept collateral damage. Innocent people would be caught in his net, and those people would need to... disappear.
Is this who I'm becoming? Ian wondered. Someone who orders the murder of innocents to protect a hunting operation?
But then he thought of Harry, of the other players out there, of the game they were all playing. This wasn't a simulation. It was survival. And survivors didn't have the luxury of clean hands.
"Third option," Ian said finally. "We're more selective, as you suggested. But for those we do capture by mistake..." He paused. "We compensate them generously, swear them to secrecy, and make it clear what happens if they break that oath."
"Gold and threats," Erik said, nodding approvingly. "Classic combination."
"Will it work?" Ian asked Dennet.
"For most, yes. The occasional knight might take offense regardless, but most sellswords and common travelers? Gold talks louder than pride."
"Then that's what we'll do. More expensive, but fewer bodies. I can live with that."
For now, a darker part of his mind whispered. For now.
(End of Chapter)
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