"Vito, grab those clothes and the skulls—they're evidence. Nothing convinces like hard proof. As for the coins, clothes, and jewelry…" Tiberius thought for a second, then waved a couple knights over. "Stuff it all in the sacks we brought."
"Some families might come looking for their missing relatives' things. We'll hand over whatever can ID the victims. But the money…" His voice turned sly. "We earned this run the hard way, and we just got the shit scared out of us. So divvy up the loose change as hazard pay. However—" he sharpened his tone "—don't get greedy. Real gold dragons and good silver stay untouched. Those go straight to the captain for the official report. Copper pennies, broken bits of silver, crappy clipped coins… you know the drill."
He cleared his throat. "Use your heads. And remember—the brothers standing watch outside get their cut too. Anyone hoards or goes overboard and Uncle Jules finds out…" He let the threat hang. No need to finish it.
"Yes, sir, young Lieutenant Lightning!" Vito snapped off a perfect mocking salute. The rest of the knights followed suit, grinning like idiots.
"We know the rules, little boss. Nobody's gonna make you or Captain Jules look bad," one knight added.
"To our young 'Lightning'!" Vito raised a skull like a wine cup in a toast. "The man who solved the Bloodwave Cape mystery that Lys couldn't crack in twenty years! Seven gods be praised!"
The kid was actually smart.
"We're locking in that ten-thousand-gold bounty from Lysandro. Better not welch!"
"Hell no—we just saved his daughter! House Rogare's the richest in Lys. Ten thousand is pocket change to them~"
The knights kept bantering, but their feet never stopped moving toward the exit. The cave stank, everything was damp, and fresh blood had soaked through their gambesons. No one wanted to stay a second longer than necessary.
"Tiberius, where you going?" Vito frowned as the boy headed deeper instead of out.
"Something feels off… like the cave's hiding more," Tiberius muttered, torch raised, eyes narrowed.
He stepped into the blackest part of the chamber. His pupils shrank.
"What the—?" Vito leaned in, then sucked in a sharp breath.
"The old cannibal—Sonny Bane—he mentioned a 'sacrifice'…" Vito whispered. "This it?"
A fucking altar made entirely of human bones rose in front of them.
Tiberius stared at the base of stacked skulls and felt his eye twitch.
These Bane bastards had eaten a lot of people.
And they'd built a goddamn bone altar for… what? Blood for the Blood God? Skulls for the Skull Throne?
Was this still the Song of Ice and Fire world, or had he somehow wandered into a different nightmare?
"Looks like we're taking even more bones with us," Tiberius sighed, then walked straight to the center of the altar.
Stuck in the middle was a witch's staff, a bone flute, and several books bound in what was obviously human skin.
Vito crowded in, took one look, and his usual smirk vanished. His face went white. He gagged, spat hard. "Fuck! Worse than every nasty thing I've seen in the brothels combined!" He lifted his torch, ready to burn it all.
"Burn it! Torch the whole filthy mess—send this evil shit straight to the Seven Hells!"
Tiberius shook his head.
"No, Vito. We take it back to Lys. This is more proof."
A calculating little smile crept across his face.
"Live prisoners prove they ate people. This—" he tapped the altar "—proves why they ate them. Proves they're not just animals—they're devil-worshipping freaks who fell into darkness."
"Let the Red Priests of the Lord of Light judge them?" Vito finished the thought.
"Exactly." Tiberius snapped his fingers. "Let R'hllor's priests burn these heretics. Our job is to deliver the full charges back to the city."
"Makes sense," Vito grunted.
What Tiberius didn't say was that the second he saw real witchcraft, he'd already decided: this was perfect for boosting Uncle Jules's reputation. If they could impress the Red Priests…
Sure, most Westerosi in the White Company—including the original Tiberius—worshipped the Seven. But anyone who'd read the books knew the truth:
The Seven were useless. The Lord of Light actually delivered.
Blood sacrifice or not, R'hllor got results. Way better than the Seven ever did.
Bottom line: stay on good terms with holy men. You never know when you'll need a miracle.
The moment Tiberius picked up the bone flute, the system chimed:
[Magic Item: Bone Flute]
[Magic Power: Extremely Low]
[Effect: Disturbs the mind and emotions]
[Magic power? What the hell is this?] Tiberius's heart skipped.
He knew magic existed in this world, but he never expected to find it inside a cannibal family's lunch box.
[Wait… Uncle Jules does swamp witchcraft—Vito mentioned it. And my own skill list has [Swamp Witchcraft: Beginner]. So I've got it too.]
Better take everything back for Uncle to look at. He might know what to do.
Touching the staff and skin-books gave no system alert.
[So those two have zero magic,] he thought. [System's pretty handy. Shame it only IDs magical stuff. If it worked on normal loot I could retire as the richest appraiser in Essos.]
"But listen, kid," Vito warned as Tiberius reached for the skin-books. "You let the captain inspect this shit first. You know… he's good with weird crap. Better safe than sorry."
Tiberius got it instantly—Jules was the only real magic user here; the rest of them were muggles.
"Fine, but I'm not packing this nightmare fuel," Vito added, bolting for the exit. "I'd rather shovel horse shit for a month!"
---
Tiberius stepped out of the cave and felt the sea breeze wash over him like a blessing.
[Finally. First step away from the Volantis meat grinder—nailed it!] he thought, grinning inside.
He was already daydreaming about collecting Lysandro's bounty and settling into a comfy little slave-owner life in Lys when the system chimed again.
Title: "Lightning" (Fame: 10%)
Title Bonus Unlocked: Lightning (Low Level)
[It jumped again?] Tiberius raised an eyebrow, surprised.
Then he found out what the bonus actually did.
Tiny blue-white sparks danced across his fingertips.
[Holy fuck—this system is S-tier!] Tiberius's heart soared with pure joy.
Dragons were the ultimate cheat code in this world, sure. Too bad he wasn't a Targaryen and had zero dragon blood. Taming one was a pipe dream.
But magic? Real, learnable power that didn't need bloodlines.
The Lord of Light, the Many-Faced God, the Greenseers—all of it was real.
[Oh my gods…]
His odds of surviving this nightmare just skyrocketed.
[Heh. Magic in one hand, Lysandro's gold in the other, Volantis war safely in the rear-view… Time to lie flat and live like a king.]
But the second he cleared the cave mouth, the smile died.
A second group stood on the beach—more men than his own party, weapons already drawn, tension thick enough to choke on.
"Uncle?" Tiberius asked, voice tight. "Who the hell are they?"
"Second Sons," Jules growled, both longswords already in his hands. "Here to steal the glory."