Chapter 55: The Shadow of a Ghost
"So were the signs of habitation fresh? Was the camp just abandoned, or had it been empty for some time?" Ian asked.
"It was abandoned recently. When our cavalry arrived, the campfire was still smoking."
"That doesn't make sense. According to you, after the patrol from Toman's village reported to you, you immediately sent light cavalry to investigate, but only found an empty camp. Even if there was a traitor among you, they couldn't have evacuated so quickly and cleanly, could they?"
"My apologies." Ser Wilder smiled awkwardly. "When I said 'immediately,' I was being imprecise. In truth, some time passed before we dispatched cavalry after receiving the news."
"How much time? I need accurate information."
"An hour. Perhaps an hour." Looking at the serious 'Ser Lucien,' Wilder inexplicably felt like his subordinate.
"That's still too short." Ian shook his head. "Once the insider receives the message, they need to pass it along. Then the camp needs to pack everything and evacuate, vanishing before your cavalry arrives."
"Ravens," Ser Wilder explained. "We held a council to discuss this, and Ser Simon believes they used ravens to relay messages."
"Ravens?" Ian understood Wilder's meaning. If the insider and the Whitewalls ghosts were communicating via ravens, they could indeed create such a timing gap.
And if the Whitewalls ghosts were truly seeking the Blackfyre treasure, it wouldn't be surprising if they'd found someone who could raise ravens and read.
"You haven't found their temporary camp since?" Ian continued.
"No." Ser Wilder said. "We scoured the area thoroughly, but we haven't found any other Whitewalls ghost camps."
"Wait—thoroughly scoured? How can you, with just over five hundred men, claim to have thoroughly searched such a vast area?" That's thousands of square miles!
"Well, naturally it wasn't just us. Patrols and hunters from over twenty nearby villages assisted. Many are fiefs of our alliance members—my villages of Phelan's Ford, Wolf's Den, and Angalwood, and House Darry's villages of Toman's and Yorkel."
"House Darry still holds fiefs there?" Ian was surprised.
"Only a handful remain. At its peak, House Darry controlled nearly sixty villages from the eastern shore of the Gods Eye to the southern bank of the Trident. Now there are only four."
Not completely stripping them was impressive—perhaps only Robert would show such mercy, Ian thought.
"With local patrols and hunters helping, we searched areas most likely to hide camps, but ultimately found nothing," Ser Wilder continued.
Ian fell silent. He sensed something was seriously wrong, but couldn't quite grasp what.
"Never mind, let's leave that topic for now." Ian sighed quietly. "Let's discuss the ghost stronghold you discovered."
"Their base is in an abandoned fishing village on the southern bank of the Trident's mouth, six leagues north of here."
"Abandoned fishing village? Why was it abandoned?"
"It was originally a small fishing settlement built around a natural harbor. During Robert's Rebellion," Wilder paused, "it was sacked by an unknown army, and almost none of the villagers survived.
After the war, the local powers—House Whent, House Darry, and House Mooton of Maidenpool—all fell from grace for backing the Targaryens. As a result, the entire Crossroads region fell into decline. Not just that fishing village—at least forty settlements in the area were abandoned after the war."
"A tragic tale," Ian commented, though his face showed no sadness. "Continue. What did you discover?"
"We suspect the Whitewalls ghosts have found the Blackfyre treasure and are moving it there," Ser Wilder said dramatically.
Even though Ian had previously guessed Wilder's group had found a key lead on the Blackfyre treasure, he was still stunned hearing this.
That elusive bandit company known as the Ghosts, who barely left even temporary camps, have not only been tracked down, but are in the middle of moving treasure?
"Can you tell me the basis for this conclusion?" Ian expressed skepticism about Wilder's assessment.
"It actually began," Ser Wilder considered, "when we noticed the Whitewalls ghosts have essentially ceased all raiding activities these past two weeks."
"They just hit the salt mine at Lord Harroway's Town three days ago!" Ser Willy, silent until now, interrupted Wilder.
Ian couldn't help but chuckle. That's right! The Whitewalls ghosts did it! They're responsible for everything bad that happens!
"What's so amusing?" Wilder looked at Ian in confusion.
I thought of something funny. "Nothing—just that he contradicted you immediately after you spoke, and I found it rather entertaining."
So you're still young after all. Wilder relaxed slightly. "The salt mine at Lord Harroway's Town was indeed attacked three days ago, and I heard several people died.
But according to the overseer, he and the salt workers temporarily vacated the mine and leased it to a traveling merchant. This incident was likely a private dispute between the caravan and others, nothing to do with the Whitewalls ghosts. It's simply that the ghosts have been causing trouble so long in these parts that everyone blames them."
"Very well, let's assume the Whitewalls ghosts had nothing to do with the attack on the salt mine three days ago." Of course there's no connection—that was the Lannister ghosts' work, Ian added mentally. "What then?"
"The Whitewalls ghosts seem to have vanished suddenly, so we're concerned they've already found the Blackfyre treasure and are preparing to evacuate."
"Why couldn't they have simply given up after realizing they couldn't find the treasure?" Ian asked.
"That possibility exists, certainly, but regardless, their sudden disappearance isn't good for us," Wilder explained.
Isn't it good if bandits you couldn't deal with disappear? You're such a fine lord, Ian thought sarcastically.
"So we spread out our men and tried to locate them."
(End of Chapter)
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