"Jules… Tiberius…" Lysandro's voice cracked. Fat tears spilled down his cheeks as he dabbed at his nose with a silk handkerchief. "You two… you're incredible… My Sera is really home!"
He clapped. Six huge, dark-skinned slaves grunted under the weight of three ornate, gold-trimmed redwood chests and set them down in the middle of the hall with heavy thuds.
Vito's eyes bulged at the gilded edges and expensive wood. The solid sound made even Jules hold his breath.
"Your reward," Lysandro said, all warm smiles. "Jules, you are 'the Honorable.' No matter the job, you always give it everything. So I, Lysandro Rogare, won't be the kind of man who goes back on his word! Twelve thousand gold dragons total—this is for the White Company! Truly, the White Company deserves to be called the best in all Essos! 'The Honorable' is no empty name! From today on, Jules, you and your men are honored guests of House Rogare!"
The number hit like a warhammer. Everyone's breathing went thick.
That was two thousand more than the posted bounty. And now House Rogare owed the White Company a personal favor.
"You flatter us," Jules answered carefully. "Most of the credit actually belongs to my nephew Tiberius. He came up with the 'fishing' plan, and he… persuaded Lady Zera to act as bait…"
Jules said it on purpose—he wanted Lysandro to see Tiberius as clever and useful.
Jules understood better than most sellswords how valuable a reputation really was.
Sure, mercenaries chased coin, but if you wanted the fat contracts and the best recruits, you needed a name people trusted.
Just look at "the Honorable." That single title let Jules pick and choose jobs and made recruiting easy. Every employer knew: unless Jules was dead in the dirt, the White Company would finish the contract exactly as written.
His own men knew it too—if they died or got crippled, Jules would make sure their families got every copper owed. No widows forced onto the streets.
That same reputation even let Jules borrow at high interest from every bank in Essos, and the White Company had never once mutinied over unpaid wages. Everyone knew Jules kept his word.
Still, Lysandro couldn't help feeling a little wistful.
This was an enormous achievement—rescuing House Haen's daughter, solving the Bloodwave Cape disappearances that had haunted Lys for years, uncovering a cannibal family straight out of nightmare fuel…
And yet the glory belonged to a sellsword company.
What a waste.
The joy of getting his daughter back dimmed a fraction, but his smile never slipped.
"You've all done wonderfully! Though I must say… for such a brilliant plan to come from a child…" Lysandro turned to Tiberius with open admiration. "The younger generation truly terrifies me!"
But Tiberius didn't beam with pride. Instead he answered with perfect humility, almost embarrassed:
"My lord, wasn't it your plan that saved your daughter?"
"My… plan?" Lysandro blinked, genuinely surprised. But he was an old fox who'd survived decades of Lysene politics and finance. He didn't rush to agree or deny—he simply watched the bright-eyed boy with curiosity and waited for him to continue.
Tiberius looked up, face innocent and a little shy, like he was gently reminding a forgetful elder. "Oh! My lord must have been so worried about your daughter that the details slipped your mind in all the excitement!"
"From handing over the years of Bloodwave Cape records to the White Company, to suggesting the 'fishing' strategy, to assigning Lady Zera to me… the entire operation was your design! Uncle Jules and I were simply carrying out your orders!"
"I once heard an old Valyrian saying from the fortress days: 'Those who use strength earn glory with their muscles. Those who direct strength earn glory by ruling the strong.' So the greatest credit belongs to you, the one who directed everything! Uncle Jules and I, the ones who merely used our strength, are more than happy with whatever small reward you see fit to give us!"
"As for solving the case and rescuing Lady Seraphys and Lady Haen… the White Company knows full well that without your brilliant strategy and generous support, we could never have uncovered the truth so quickly or brought the missing ladies home." Tiberius blinked at Lysandro with nothing but sincere, boyish loyalty.
Lysandro's breathing grew heavier.
A golden opportunity had just landed in his lap.
If he accepted this "gift," he could tighten ties with House Haen, claim the glory of solving Bloodwave Cape once and for all, and boost his standing across all of Lys.
He was tempted.
Lysandro studied the respectful boy in front of him with fresh eyes.
[Tiberius may not know how to read… but he's smarter than any scholar I've ever met!]
In Lysandro's mind, the label "young, capable, silver-tongued" now gained a new shining tag:
On point.
The kid was openly, shamelessly angling for favor, wealth, and position—and doing it beautifully.
Lysandro's lips curved into a real smile.
He didn't dislike ambitious, practical subordinates. Quite the opposite—he loved them. After all, most of Lys's richest merchants and even the Triarchs had started from nothing, clawing their way up with nothing but hunger and brains.
His own Rogare ancestors had been mere book-keepers once.
Look at him now—the richest banker and plantation lord in Lys, master of more slaves than anyone else in the city. His banks could stand toe-to-toe with the Iron Bank of Braavos.
All because of that same ruthless ambition.
So he smiled at Tiberius.
"Hmm, Tiberius, you make an excellent point. I must have been so frantic with worry that some details slipped my mind. Ah, strong emotions do cloud the head, don't they? And with summer this hot, everyone's thoughts get a little foggy…"
"Yes, yes… terribly hot…" Tiberius nodded quickly.
"But Tiberius, you still contributed a great deal, and at such a young age! A true prodigy of Lys—no, of all Essos! So I will personally reward you with an extra three thousand gold dragons. Consider it an investment in a promising young man! And as for the slave girl Zera…" Lysandro's smile deepened. "You're twelve now, practically a man. Every young man needs someone to look after him, keep him warm at night, handle the little things… She's yours."
He smoothly skipped over the unpleasant detail of how Zera had been "borrowed."
To Lysandro, one bed-slave was the same as another. Whether she ended up in Tiberius's bed or some other rich man's made no difference.
Behind Tiberius, Vito's mouth twitched. He quickly lowered his head to hide a strangled chuckle. Jules elbowed him hard.
Lysandro clapped his hands together, beaming. "What a wonderful day! Not only did I get my beloved daughter back, I also discovered a brilliant new talent!"
And just like that, the story of how the Bloodwave Cape mystery was solved and the cannibal family captured was officially set in stone.
As long as Tiberius and Lysandro told the same tale, who would dare question it?
"By the way," Jules said, as if remembering something. He nodded at Vito, who hurried out. "We still have one more gift especially for you, my lord."
"My dear Jules!" Lysandro laughed heartily. "Your White Company has already given me more gifts today than I can count! But I never turn down a present!"
"Vito," Jules ordered, "bring them in."