"Gods damn it, Tiberius," Vito wiped sweat from his brow and glared up at the boy on horseback. "Is this fishing plan of yours even going to work? We've been baking under this fucking sun for half the day and nothing's biting."
"Patience, Vito," Jules cut in before Tiberius could answer, voice sharp. "A hunter's virtue is endurance. A fisherman's is patience. A commander's is waiting. We took the contract, so we do it Tiberius's way. Unless you've got a better idea?"
Tiberius gave Vito a small, reassuring smile and spoke calmly.
"Vito, tell me—what kind of bandit is stupid enough to attack in broad daylight when he can see twenty knights riding behind us? Just be patient…"
"I'm trying to be patient," Vito snapped, yanking his robe open and jabbing a finger toward the other side of the road. "But look! The Second Sons and every other greedy company that heard about the bounty are crawling all over Bloodwave Cape. We've passed how many already? They're beating the bushes like they're hunting rabbits!"
"Fishing… Ha! At this rate the fish are gonna get scared off!" Vito spat on the ground, still grumbling. "Ten thousand gold dragons… Lysandro really opened the vault for this. We should've just come straight here and looked for his precious daughter ourselves."
Tiberius ignored the rant.
As if. If they hadn't cleared it with Lysandro first, the second they showed up with his daughter the banker would immediately think: They refused me flat, then magically found her days later.
That screamed "we staged the whole thing."
At that point Lysandro would sooner believe Tiberius was a secret Faceless Man than accept their innocent explanations.
Plus, the missing-persons files Lysandro had handed over were the whole reason Tiberius could even make a "fishing" plan in the first place.
"Miss Zera," Tiberius said gently.
He brought over a folding stool, helped the slave girl down from her horse, and set a silver tray in front of her with a warm smile.
"Today's lunch is pan-fried cod, rabbit stew, and fresh white bread. Plus lemon-mint water. Not as fancy as what you get at the estate, but we're in a hurry—hope it fills you up." He lifted the cover, then placed a small linen bundle beside the plate containing a set of silver cutlery.
All borrowed from the villa, of course. The cooks probably still hadn't noticed anything missing.
"Look at that—the 'Lightning' kid is waiting on 'Miss' Zera now," Vito teased.
A couple of Jules's knights burst out laughing.
"Hey Tiberius, try not to be 'Lightning' in bed!" one of them called out with a crude grin.
The crude joke made Zera shrink into herself and instinctively grab Tiberius's hand like a frightened fawn. Tiberius patted her bare shoulder soothingly and whispered sweet reassurances until the little canary calmed down again.
[Plan working perfectly,] Tiberius thought with dark satisfaction. [Shame we're short on time and the setting isn't ideal. Otherwise I'd have a textbook Stockholm slave on my hands.]
Yes, Vito's dirty joke was part of the plan too.
Tiberius knew Zera hadn't volunteered to be bait. She wasn't going to obey him willingly. But for the trap to work she needed to do two things: not look obviously terrified (that would scare the fish away), and at least listen to him when it mattered.
So the "reconditioning" had begun.
Exactly like Littlefinger and Theon in the books—Tiberius was turning Zera into his own compliant little "Reek."
Not as twisted, of course. But the goal was the same: make her a temporary puppet who would do exactly what he said.
When Tiberius had first explained the "slave girl training plan" to Vito, the man had looked at him like he was a budding psychopath.
"So you're into… uh… training them?" Vito's face had been weird. "Got to admit, it's got style. And you're sure that little bird Zera will end up exactly like you said? You tell her east and she won't go west? You tell her to shake her ass and she won't—"
Tiberius's glare had shut him up instantly.
The first day had been cold and harsh—that slap from Vito still lingered in Zera's memory. But on the road to Bloodwave Cape, Tiberius had been nothing but gentle: soft silk sheets at night, fresh bread during the day, long "heart-to-heart" talks where he spun tragic stories about his "hard life" (all made up for maximum tears) and how sick he'd felt after his first kill.
Slowly, in Zera's eyes, the "nasty little pervert who wanted her body" had become "poor sweet boy—the world made him this way…"
One night, after Tiberius's fake confession about killing, she'd actually hugged him with wet eyes.
"You've suffered so much," she'd whispered, voice cracking.
Tiberius had barely managed not to laugh. He was just trying not to suffocate in her cleavage.
The knights had watched with open envy.
Zera was beautiful, gentle (at least to them she looked like a sweet little bird fluttering around Tiberius), cried for a kid like him, and could sew. Perfect wife material.
Tiberius's only thought: These horny knights are hopeless.
"Zera, listen to me," Tiberius said after she finished eating. His gentle expression vanished, replaced by the cold, commanding face he'd worn when ordering Vito.
Zera flinched, remembering that slap. But when she met his eyes she trembled and answered meekly:
"My lord… what do you want me to do?"
Tiberius pulled a mail shirt and a coarse robe from his pack.
"Put the mail on first, then the robe over it," he said flatly. "The robe will hide the armor."
Then he flashed the warm, protective smile she now trusted. "Don't worry. This is for your own safety, Sister Zera."
Several knights shot Tiberius envious glances.
Kid's got game. Whatever he says, Zera just does it!
Jules, however, watched with deep concern.
He knew exactly how Zera had been "persuaded" to come along. He also knew what kind of woman she really was.
[Don't let her twist you around her finger, Tiberius,] he thought. [She's just a toy. When it's time for a real wife, it has to be a Westerosi noble girl.]
[Besides… I don't remember the Mord family ever marrying into the Boltons. Where the hell did the boy learn how to break someone's will like this?] Jules wondered.
Ever since that Ironborn oar cracked his nephew's skull, the kid had been… different. Sharper. Colder. Smarter.