The ferry bridge over the Green Fork was old and weather-worn, left unrepaired for years. Its boards were pitted and rotten from age.
Olivier had finally reached the bridgehead with more than eighty wagons loaded with grain. When he saw the familiar black lion banner waiting there, the tension in him broke all at once. He nearly fell out of his saddle.
He was covered in dust, looking worn to the bone. He rode straight up to Solomon.
"My lord, we nearly didn't make it back! The grain's here, but House Valpin's men are right behind us!"
Solomon looked past him toward the dust rising behind the caravan.
His voice was calm, almost flat.
"What happened? What do they want?"
"Why are they chasing you?"
Olivier panted hard before answering.
"My lord, the gold dragons were already paid."
"But before we'd even been away from their castle for a full day, a knight came after us with men. He didn't say a word. Just ordered us to drop the grain on the spot and said the deal was canceled!"
Rosso Brun gave a cold snort beside him.
"Take the gold and then try to take the grain back?"
"Since when is that how business works?"
Before he finished speaking, a force appeared on the horizon.
A banner of green with a black toad snapped in the wind. House Valpin.
Solomon lifted his eyes and judged the numbers at a glance. There were more than four hundred of them. Most were simply armed farmers, but the leading few knights were fully armored and radiated hostility.
He reined in his horse and gave Olivier his orders.
"Olivier. You and your men take the grain and go straight back to Cross Town. Leave this to me."
Olivier looked worriedly at the approaching force, but when he saw Solomon give him a slight nod, he gritted his teeth and ordered the wagon drivers to get moving across the bridge.
Solomon stayed at the bridgehead with Rosso, Brin, and forty-seven mounted retainers.
They lined their horses up across the road, a disciplined wall of riders waiting in silence for the other side to come within reach.
On the opposite side, Lucos Valpin reined in his horse with a deep frown.
A knight he had sent forward to scout came back and leaned close to his ear.
"My lord, their banner is the tower with the black lion. Their armor carries the same mark. It's Solomon's men. The merchant's patron is probably him."
Then the scout fell silent.
This was no harmless fool. After a pause, he asked carefully, "Do we keep following, my lord?"
Lucos chewed on the name.
Solomon. The Black Lion.
That rising minor lord with the hard temper and the bloody methods. The one who had crushed wildlings and the Lege family, then won back land in a trial by combat after killing three men in a row.
Whether to keep chasing suddenly didn't feel so simple.
Another knight rode back at that moment and reported, "They only have fifty riders. Only one knight with a unique mark."
"We have six knights and four hundred farmers, my lord. We outnumber them."
Lucos stared at the little cavalry line at the bridgehead.
They were perfectly ordered. Silent. Every rider sat straight in the saddle as if horse and man had fused together. Sunlight struck their black armor and threw back a cold glare.
Lucos's cheek twitched.
They didn't look easy to push around at all. They looked like men who had survived a blood-soaked battlefield. Was this really a matter of counting heads?
But that grain mattered. It was critical. It could decide life and death.
And then he thought of the news he'd just received.
His heart seemed to be gripped by an icy hand.
He gritted his teeth.
"Continue the pursuit!"
The two forces met in the narrow center of the stone bridge, no more than fifty meters apart.
The horses snorted nervously. Hooves struck the stone slabs with heavy, hollow sounds. The air seemed to freeze. Only the wind and the river kept moving.
Unlike Solomon's quiet line, Lucos's men were a mess. Some of the farmers had even drifted out of formation, trying to get a better look at the Black Lion they'd heard so much about.
Lucos rode forward a few paces, trying to take the lead with his title.
"Lord Solomon? This caravan is yours?"
Solomon rode up too, stopping opposite him. The two horses faced each other.
He met Lucos's eyes evenly.
"Lord Lucos, what does it matter whose name is behind the caravan?"
"Did the business fail? Or did my people not pay?"
His voice was not loud, but it carried cleanly to everyone on both sides.
"Money for goods. That's the most basic rule, isn't it?"
Lucos's face stiffened.
That directness had irritated him immediately.
No respect. No deference. Just outright defiance.
He drew a breath and put on a more concerned tone.
"Lord Solomon, surely you know what's happening?"
He paused deliberately, watching Solomon's face.
When he saw the look of real confusion there, he frowned too. This young man really hadn't been paying attention?
"A force of two or three thousand Ironborn has been moving through the Riverlands by day and by night, raiding along every river route."
"They don't take salt wives or slaves. They kill everyone they can see, even children, then burn everything down. Their methods are brutally savage."
"The lords of the Riverlands are all hiding inside their castles. None of them dare go out and fight. They just watch the slaughter and wait for the raiders to leave."
Solomon's heart dropped.
Ironborn. Two or three thousand?
The news hit like a stone dropped into still water.
He didn't remember this happening.
What he remembered was the Ironborn burning the Lannister fleet, then attacking Seagard and running into a wall. After that, the royal fleet set out, took the long way around, and the Reach finally sent ships once they had the chance to watch the show. In the end the Ironborn were beaten at sea.
But this business of Ironborn burning and killing all along the Riverlands?
He had no memory of it.
Things were slipping beyond his control.
And in that same instant, he understood why Lucos had changed his mind.
He wanted the grain.
He wanted to hold his castle and wait out the storm.
That fit the Riverlords' nature all too well. A man like the Mountain could ride through the Riverlands with a small force, burning and slaughtering everywhere, and no one would dare come out to stop him. They would only move after the crown sent someone from King's Landing.
Solomon kept his face still.
He lifted one eyebrow slightly.
That made the grain even less likely to go anywhere. A man ought to take care of his own doorstep first.
But what did the Ironborn have to do with this deal?
Lucos saw that Solomon wasn't budging, and his patience finally snapped.
The threat came out in his voice.
"Ironborn are attacking and every lord in the Riverlands is on edge."
"Grain is life!"
Then, thinking quickly, he brought up the Freys in a last attempt to crush Solomon.
"Lord Solomon! My wife is the daughter of Lord Walder Frey!"
Solomon smiled.
This was the kind of thing that made him want to laugh.
He didn't respond well to pressure. But if Lucos had tried offering more gold to buy the grain back, he might actually have been willing to talk.
His smile was faint, almost cold.
"My lord, you've said three things."
"First, you want to break the contract."
"Second, the Ironborn are here."
"Third, your wife is a Frey."
He held up one finger.
"One at a time. The contract was made, the gold was paid, the goods were delivered. The deal is finished. That's the fact."
He raised a second finger.
"As for the Ironborn, since they're here, I'm even less inclined to give this grain back."
At last, his eyes sharpened like a blade.
"And as for who your wife is, what of it? You live off your woman now?"
Lucos's face turned red.
Living off a woman? That was an insult. A direct insult to his house's honor.
His hand tightened around his sword hilt. Behind him, his knights started drawing steel too.
The air snapped tight in an instant.
Solomon's riders did the same almost at once.
Forty-odd swords came free in one clean motion. Their horses shifted restlessly under them, but the riders held them steady. Black blades flashed in the sun, turning the bridgehead into a wall of light.
Lucos looked at the forty-plus pairs of cold, ready eyes across from him.
A chill ran down his spine.
If this turned into a fight, he had numbers. Sure.
But against these riders, his farmers would get nothing out of it. It wouldn't even be close. It would be a slaughter.
He clenched his teeth and forced the words through them.
"I can return the gold dragons to you."
Solomon shook his head.
"You threaten me, use the weight of House Frey against me, and then draw steel. I won't negotiate with you now."
He spoke slowly, with no room left for argument.
"The contract is done. The grain is mine."
"If you want the gold back, we can talk the next time there's cargo."
"Now you should take your farmers and go home, my lord."
Lucos stared at him, chest heaving.
At last, he crushed down the rage boiling in him. Reason won over impulse. He knew it too.
He could not take the grain back here.
With a furious jerk, he turned his horse around and led his farmer army back to the far end of the bridge.
Before leaving, he threw back one final threat.
"Solomon!"
"I'll tell Lord Walder Frey everything exactly as it happened!"
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