"So," Serena stated flatly, laying out the board. "If you stay in Mole's Town, Bowen Marsh hangs you for treason. If you flee to Eastwatch, Glendon kills you to silence you. If you go anywhere else in the North, the Night's Watch will eventually track you down for deserting their jurisdiction and stealing their steel. Either way you go, your only option is death."
Gared realized the absolute truth of her words more clearly now than ever before. He shuddered violently, a pathetic sob escaping his lips.
"Yes," Gared wept, a broken man. "My men back at the brothel... if the Crows interrogate them, they will expose everything I've done. All my deeds will come to light. They will hunt me to the ends of the earth."
He looked up at her, his piggy eyes filled with tears of pure, unadulterated terror. He was a corrupt, cruel man, but like any man, he possessed a primal, overwhelming fear of death. He wanted to live.
Serena hummed softly, a low, calculating sound, as she thought deeply.
"So, what valuables do you have left on your person right now?" Serena asked, her tone shifting to business.
Gared fumbled frantically at his belt, eager to appease her, eager to buy another minute of breath. He produced a small, slightly damp leather book and a heavy, jagged iron key, placing them trembling on the floorboards.
"This book," Gared sniffled, pointing a fat finger. "It's the recent records. Detailed transactions from the last three months. And... this key. It is the main key to my private office deep underground at the Mole's Hole. Brute force or steel axes won't break that heavy ironwood door. Only this key."
Serena looked at the items. The key was a symbol of absolute authority over the underground brothel and its hidden vaults. She wondered what other secrets, gold, and leverage were locked inside that dark room.
The silence stretched again, and Gared couldn't take it anymore. The psychological pressure of waiting for his executioner's verdict was breaking his mind.
He scrambled forward on his knees, wincing in agony, and grabbed the hem of Serena's dress.
"My lady, please!" Gared begged, tears streaming down his fat cheeks. "Help me! I am a mess! I don't know what to do!"
His only hope was pinned on her. He had witnessed firsthand how this single woman dealt with every calamity thrown at her. She was brilliant, ruthless, and always ten steps ahead. His own mind was in absolute chaos, and he was desperately begging for her to think for him.
Serena firmly shook her leg, forcing him to let go of her dress.
She leaned back in her chair, pondering the fat, crying mess before her. What should she do with him?
Should I be merciless and end him? she thought. No. That is not my way. Should I just let him free into the snow? No, he will do something foolish, get caught by the Crows, and likely drag my name into his confession just out of spite.
She looked at Gared. Despite his current pathetic state, she had to admit one truth: no matter what, this bastard had a knack for smuggling. He had built a massive, highly secretive business right under the noses of the Night's Watch. She didn't know where his confidence or sheer ignorance of danger came from, but it was a talent.
It would be too wasteful to simply kill him, Serena decided, a brilliant, far-reaching plan forming in her mind. I will replace him and slowly take over this town. But eventually, my influence will need to reach beyond the Wall. If I let him live, but hold his life over his head, I will have a terrified, obedient spider spinning webs for me in the Free Cities of Essos or the southern parts.
She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand.
"If Lord Gared simply disappears," Serena said slowly, measuring his reaction, "wouldn't that solve the problem? Glendon thinks you are dead. Bowen Marsh finds an empty brothel."
Gared cried harder, completely missing her point. "But how will I disappear?! Everyone in this miserable town knows my face! Everyone knows my size! How can I vanish into thin air?!"
"Hmm..." Serena murmured, a sharp, cunning smile touching her lips. "A small thing is all you need to do. Change your identity. If you do not look, sound, or behave like the usual fat lord everyone knows, then who will know you?"
Gared wiped a mixture of snot and tears from his face, looking deeply confused. "But what's the point? The Night's Watch has hounds. They have outriders. They will thoroughly search the Gift. I will be found within a day if I try to walk the Kingsroad."
"I am telling you to disappear from this town and go far," Serena clarified, her voice ringing with absolute certainty. "Go to White Harbor. Go south to the Riverlands. Or take a ship across the Narrow Sea to Braavos. The Night's Watch does not have the manpower to track a ghost across the ocean."
Gared felt a tiny, desperate spark of hope ignite from her idea. He slumped his shoulders, his mind racing with the possibilities of escape.
"But..." Gared stammered, reality crashing back down on him. "They will track me fast if I take any carriage from here. The guards at the town borders will recognize me instantly."
Serena smiled.
"You do not need to worry about that," Serena said confidently. "I will handle your exit. I have someone whose husband runs a large, enclosed turnip carriage. I will sneakily stuff you in the back of it under the sacks tomorrow morning, and give the driver instructions to take you to the eastern crossroads. From there, you are on your own."
She paused, letting the promise of life sink in, before springing the trap.
"But tell me... in exchange for saving your miserable life and giving you a chance to escape, will you give everything you own in this town to me? The brothel, the remaining gold, the network?"
Gared nodded furiously, his multiple chins wobbling. He was dead serious.
"Take it!" Gared pleaded, pushing the ironwood key and the ledger toward her. "Take the brothel, take the gold in the vault, take it all! I have no use for it if I am hanging from a tree. If you help me run away, I will be eternally grateful."
"Then you need to listen to me, and do exactly as I say from this moment on," Serena commanded. "Understood?"
"Yes! Anything!"
"First," Serena instructed, ticking the points off on her fingers. "You need to change your look. Then, your weight. Then, your voice. And finally, your personality."
Gared blinked, bewildered. "Oh."
"Wait... tomorrow?!" Gared suddenly realized. "How can I change everything about myself in such a short time?!"
Serena didn't answer immediately. She stood up, walked over to a small wooden drawer near her bed, and rummaged through it. She returned a moment later and tossed two items onto the floor in front of the fat man.
A thick, coarse fake mustache made of horsehair, and a worn leather eye patch.
"Wear these," Serena ordered. "As for your weight, you will stay awake for the entire night. You will perform extreme physical exercises in the corner of this room until you sweat out every ounce of water you can. You will push yourself until you bleed. Then, we will tie a thick, heavy rope so tightly around your stomach that it bruises your ribs to compress your gut. With a heavy, oversized cloak, you will look considerably less fatty."
Gared's eyes gleamed with a mixture of horror and desperate realization. The tension of not sleeping, the physical agony of exercising on a bruised knee, and having his ribs crushed by rope sounded like pure torture. But for the sake of living, he knew he had to do it.
"You will spend the hours while you sweat practicing a new, raspy voice," Serena continued, her tone offering no room for argument. "And you will practice walking with a severe limp, acting like a half-blind, broken beggar. If you act pathetic enough, no Night's Watch guard will give you a second glance."
She then reached down to the table and picked up her skinning knife, the firelight gleaming dangerously off the sharp steel edge.
Gared flinched back, terrified she had changed her mind.
"And to ensure the disguise is truly convincing," Serena said, her green eyes locking onto his with chilling intensity as she stepped toward him. "A rich landlord has soft, perfumed hair and a trimmed beard. A beggar has neither. Hold still, Lord Gared. I am going to help you change your face."