"So your big plan is to put two people on Bloodwave Cape Road and just… wait for the kidnappers to come snatch you?" Vito's face was pure disbelief after Tiberius laid it all out.
"We hang back at a distance. The second you blow that iron whistle, we rush in and grab the bastards. That's your 'fishing'?"
"What else?" Tiberius raised an eyebrow, completely confident in his own scheme. "Go door to door asking questions? Wander around the whole damn road looking for clues? That's never going to work. Extreme situations call for extreme measures."
Back on Earth, entrapment like this would get thrown out of court in a heartbeat.
But this was the Game of Thrones world. Who the hell cared about rules?
Besides, this was about whether Tiberius could successfully dodge the front lines and stay the hell away from the Volantis meat grinder. For that goal, he'd bend, break, or fabricate whatever he had to.
"Who's playing bait?" Vito asked.
"Me, obviously," Tiberius answered without hesitation.
No question about it—he had to do it himself. He knew the old saying: no risk, no reward. As the one who came up with the plan, his age and size were actually the perfect cover. Who in their right mind would suspect a twelve-year-old kid already had a kill under his belt?
"Got balls, I'll give you that," Vito said, impressed.
"Anyway, here's everything you asked for." Vito started pulling gear from his pack. "Mail shirt—wear it under your tunic, nobody will notice. Iron whistle—blow it once and they'll hear it ten miles away. Pocket crossbow—small enough to hide easy."
"Don't forget your own kit, Vito," Tiberius reminded him.
"Your job is just as important. My uncle's knights will trail way behind us, but you'll be in the middle—between them and me. The second I blow my whistle, you blow yours and run straight to my position."
"Otherwise…" Tiberius touched his own cheek with a wry grin. "If the guy turns out to be into boys, I might have to sacrifice my virtue."
"Relax, kid." Vito's grin turned feral. Under his cloak he wore a full breastplate, daggers on his belt, and two crossbows tucked inside.
"Kidnappers? Ha! I've killed more men than they've stolen coins."
He wasn't bragging. Vito was an old sellsword. You didn't survive this long without being both vicious and careful. Vito was both.
"How's my uncle doing?"
"Captain picked twenty of his best knights. They'll follow at a distance like you wanted—ready to charge the moment they hear the whistle."
"Good. Then there's only one thing left."
"What?" Vito looked confused. "You've got everything covered…"
"Bait. I still need the actual bait."
---
The air was thick with heavy flower perfume and the cloying sweetness of honeyed pastries. A handful of beautifully dressed slave girls—some in gowns finer than most freeborn ladies—sat on marble benches, sharing a plate of candied fruit and giggling softly.
At the center of their little circle was Zera, the most beautiful slave in the entire household. Her rare, perfectly kept silver-gold hair was what had drawn Tiberius straight to her.
"What? Bloodwave Cape? Are you insane?" One of the silver-gold-haired girls cut Tiberius off mid-sentence, then turned back to her friends as if he didn't exist.
"Miss Zera," Tiberius tried again, voice low and as sincere as he could make it. "Please reconsider. You don't have to go anywhere dangerous—just walk a short stretch of the road with me, like a casual stroll. The captain's men will be close by the whole time. Total safety. This is about Lord Lysandro's daughter—it's important."
"Young sir," Zera drawled, putting on her best imitation of a highborn lady. "I've already made myself clear. I am Lord Lysandro's personal property." She twirled a lock of her glossy hair proudly between her fingers. "This is conditioned with special oils and milk baths—not meant to be blown around in dust and sea stink. And play bait? That sounds undignified. And dangerous. Besides, a proper lady walking alone with a little sellsword boy…" She didn't even finish before the other girls burst into giggles.
"I understand your concerns, Miss Zera. I swear on my uncle 'the Honorable' Jules's name that you'll be safe. Afterward, Lord Lysandro will reward you generously. Your courage will be recognized…" Tiberius fought to keep the anger out of his voice. "And I have no improper intentions toward you."
"Recognized?" Zera cut him off with a short, mocking laugh. "Am I not living well enough already? Look at what I'm wearing. Look at what I'm eating."
"As for you, little boy… you've probably never tasted grapes this sweet in your life. What do I need recognition for? Lord Lysandro already gives me everything I could want. Why should I risk it? What exactly am I missing?"
"Or maybe…" Her fox-like eyes narrowed, suddenly playful and cruel. "You're really hoping to have me out in the wilds? You're cute, I'll admit. Too bad you're not a knight… or at least the son of a baron…"
When Tiberius stayed silent, Zera assumed she'd hit a nerve.
[Another one drooling over my looks,] she thought smugly.
Bored now, she waved him away like a servant.
"Go find one of the kitchen girls. For a few silvers and that pretty face of yours, they won't mind 'teaching' you a thing or two. Now leave—I'm tired of you. Honestly, a lowborn sellsword daring to ask a favor from me?"
She never saw the shift.
The pleading, anxious boy vanished in an instant. What replaced him was cold, hard mockery far too mature for his age.
"Oh?" Tiberius's voice rose, icy and dripping with contempt. "A few days of silk and sweets and you really think you're the mistress of the house now?"
Zera and the other girls froze, stunned by the sudden change in tone.
Tiberius stepped closer, eyeing the candied fruit with open disgust. "You wear gold, eat honeyed delicacies, and suddenly you're a noble lady? Take a good look—who gave you that silk? Who puts food on your plate? Lord Lysandro. And now his daughter is missing. You—his property, his slave—dare to sit here putting on airs? Refusing to lift a finger to help save his blood? You think your comfortable little life comes from nowhere?"
"Zera, you're nothing but a slave. A slave who got to wear pretty clothes and live soft for a few years."
Zera's face went white, then flushed with rage. The word "slave" cracked her haughty mask wide open.
She shot to her feet. "You rude little sellsword—how dare you! I'll tell the steward—"
Tiberius gave a short, scornful laugh.
"So Lord Lysandro's gifts of silk and sweets didn't buy a loyal slave—just one who forgot her place and thinks she can talk down to free men and the captain's envoy? Even now…"
He was done wasting breath.
Tiberius tilted his head slightly toward Vito behind him. "Looks like 'Miss Zera' needs a little help remembering exactly who she is."
Vito grinned like a wolf, stepped forward, grabbed a fistful of her silver-gold hair, and slapped her unconscious before she could even scream.
Zera's eyes went wide with shock and fury, then rolled back. Her body slumped. The other slave girls shrieked in terror, but one freezing look from Tiberius shut them up instantly. They huddled together, trembling.
Tiberius stared down at Zera lying in the dirt, her fine silk dress now dusty and rumpled.
"You really are decisive, kid," Vito said, still holding her by the hair as he turned to Tiberius.
He'd half-expected the boy to soften at a pretty girl's tears or get tongue-tied.
"She's just a slave," Tiberius said, eyes hard and cold. "Put it bluntly—if I told Lord Lysandro that opening every slave girl in the house would get his daughter back, you think he'd blink? He'd just ask, 'Is that enough? Want a few more?'"
"I believe it. But damn, Tiberius… you're not cute at all when you're like this," Vito sighed, then easily slung the unconscious Zera over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
He headed off to find Jules and tell the captain everything was ready—time to move the men.
Looking at the girl in the carriage, Tiberius felt a brief flicker of guilt.
Then his heart hardened like steel.
Yes, he'd come from the civilized twenty-first century. He used to be a decent, law-abiding guy who helped people.
But he knew better than anyone: twenty-first-century morals had nothing in common with the morals of Westeros and Essos.
Everything he was doing was to survive.
As for slave girl Zera… let's be honest. She ate Lysandro's food, drank his wine, wore his silk. She lived better than half the minor lords in the city.
Lysandro didn't do any of that out of charity. He did it so one day he could use her exactly like this.
Tiberius gave the unconscious girl in the carriage one last contemptuous glance.
"A few days of silk and sweets, and you really think you're the mistress now?"