"Captain Jules." The lead knight walked forward holding a torch, face dark as thunder.
"You know we've been rotting out here on this godsforsaken stretch of Bloodwave Cape for days with nothing to show for it. No glory, but plenty of sweat. You cracked the case, got Lady Seraphys back… so how about this? Hand the lady over to us. You keep the credit for solving the mystery, 'Honorable' old friend. We're all sellswords—let's give each other some face."
"And…" He dragged the word out. "Since both our companies were hired by the Three Daughters and war with Volantis is coming any day now… the Second Sons are obviously going to be the main force. If you're willing to hand Seraphys Rogare over to me, I won't mind putting in a good word with our captain. We'll make sure the White Company gets a nice, visible spot on the main battlefield. Your famous name and the strength of your company deserve our respect."
"I, Jon Starr, may not carry a title as shiny as 'the Honorable,' but a man's word is iron!" He spoke with fiery passion. "And you can keep part of the credit for finding Lady Haen…"
Tiberius almost jumped out of his boots.
Fuck your mother! So you take the big prize and leave us the scraps?
Of course he was pissed. Lysandro only cared about getting his daughter back, not about who solved the Bloodwave Cape mystery. He'd only pay the company that actually delivered Seraphys.
Solving the case might boost the White Company's fame, sure—but so what?
Would fame put gold in their pockets? Get him away from the Volantis meat grinder? Win Lysandro's personal favor?
None of the above. So shut the fuck up.
Besides, the entire fishing plan—from digging through the files, picking the bait, capturing the cannibals, clearing the cave—had zero to do with these clowns. All they'd done was sit around Bloodwave Cape for a few days.
Sure enough, even Jules's face showed rare, raw anger.
Your "hard work" has fuck-all to do with me.
"Jon Starr. There's a thing called first come, first served," Jules said, both hands already on his swords. "The rule for mercenaries is simple: whoever finishes the client's contract gets the coin. Face? We've all licked blood off our blades for a living. Spare me the talk of 'face.'"
"So you're refusing to hand her over!" Jon's face went black. He waved his hand. Over fifty Second Sons men stepped forward, weapons raised.
"Hand over your mother!" Vito snarled, crossbow already up. "You want a fight? Bring it! My bolts don't have eyes—I'll put one through your ugly bastard face and call it a day!"
The air crackled with real bloodlust. Both sides were seconds from open slaughter—
"Vice-Captain Jon, do you know who this is?" Tiberius pointed at Zera behind him. "This is Lady Zera, Lord Lysandro's new mistress! She came out here today voluntarily as bait to save Lady Seraphys. I'm warning you—you can try to kill us, sure. But…" He jabbed a finger at Zera. "Everything that happens here today, Lady Zera will see. So stand aside and let us through right now!"
Lysandro's mistress?
The second Tiberius dropped that bomb, low murmurs erupted among the Second Sons.
"Shit… that means she'll tell Lord Lysandro everything we did today…"
"Just kill the woman too and be done with it!"
"Fuck that—you want to die, don't drag us with you. I don't want to wake up one day drinking Lysene Tears, or find a knife in my back from some Faceless Man!"
Jon's face went as black as the bottom of a pot.
He was already starting to regret this. If they fought now, they wouldn't just have to deal with the White Company—they'd have to deal with Lysandro Rogare himself.
The White Company his captain could handle. Lysandro…
That was a stone wall nobody wanted to slam their head against.
Truth was, Jon had only rushed over after spotting the fresh blood at the bend in the road and hearing that the White Company was dragging corpses and a prisoner toward the beach.
He'd been ready to leave, but his greedy men started egging him on:
That's ten thousand gold dragons! With that money we could do anything… Hell, Captain Jon, you could even break off and start your own company!
So greed had dragged him here, hoping to snatch a piece of the pie.
Now he was stuck. Walk away? Impossible. That screamed weakness. A weak vice-captain didn't last long in the Second Sons.
"You've got a sharp tongue for a little shit!" one Second Son suddenly shouted. "But you're lying! That girl can't be Lord Lysandro's mistress… his women all wear a complete, very special set of jewelry!"
"You brain-dead fuck, did the seawater at Bloodwave Cape rot your skull? Or is it full of salty seaweed?" Vito didn't even let Tiberius speak. He raised his crossbow at the "clever" mercenary.
"Did your mother die before she could teach you anything? Tell me—if a high-class woman volunteers to come to this cursed place as bait, what kind of idiot wears every expensive piece Lysandro gave her? Are you stupid or is she? You lose the jewelry, you gonna pay for it? You couldn't afford one hairpin even if we sold your whore ass a hundred times! Use that gang-banged brain of yours and think!"
The vicious, mother-heavy comeback nearly made the veteran choke. He almost drew steel on the spot.
But it did give Jon pause.
"Kid, what's your name?" Jon asked, face still black. "You're so young to be a sellsword—bet you're just the camp whore, right? And this so-called 'mistress'… she your sugar mama?"
After his man's words, he was starting to think he'd been had.
Yeah… why the hell would Lysandro Rogare's mistress come to Bloodwave Cape?
"Watch your mouth, Starr," Jules said, expression dangerous. "This is my nephew Tiberius. He killed an Ironborn a few days ago. He's a man, not a 'kid.'"
"And Lady Zera volunteered to come to Bloodwave Cape as bait. You will show her respect!"
"Kid's a kid, Jules," Jon shot back mercilessly. "Enough with the flowery bullshit. One question: are you handing the girl over or not?"
Jules's twin swords began spinning like butterflies. Behind him, the White Company men lowered their helmet visors.
That was his answer. The Honorable never broke his word. He would not hand Seraphys Rogare over.
Just as steel was about to fly, Jon suddenly made a new proposal.
(PS: Tears of Lys is a famous poison. It tastes sweet as water and leaves no trace. In the original story, Jon Arryn—Robert's foster father and Hand of the King—was killed by it.)