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Tiberius suddenly turned his head. "Vito, didn't you just brag that you can write, keep books, and scribble those sappy little poems?"
His gaze was sharp, carrying the kind of steel that didn't accept no for an answer. He flipped the subject neatly. "Vito, from today onward you're Tiberius Mord's official reading-and-writing master. I want to learn letters, writing, numbers, maps—everything you know."
Vito blinked, the teasing grin sliding right off his face into pure shock. "Me? Teach you?"
"Yes. You." Tiberius's tone left zero room for argument. "Pay is one silver coin a day."
That was actually a damn good rate for a sellsword's spare time.
"But you have to teach me properly—at least enough to read orders and documents, write simple reports, read maps, and calculate wages, rations, and death benefits."
Vito looked at Tiberius's dead-serious face, then at Jules, who gave a tiny nod of approval. He scratched his messy hair and muttered, "Fine, I'll teach… idle hands and all that. Teaching one little shit how to read will kill some time. But kid, you said it yourself—learning letters is harder than killing men. Last time I tried to teach you, you nearly threw the quill like a spear. So don't come crying when it gets tough, or I'm dropping 'Lightning Kid' and calling you 'Crybaby' from now on."
Tiberius snorted. "Shut up and stop running your mouth, Vito. Right now I need you to use those connections of yours. Bring me every tavern storyteller, bard, and rumor-peddler in Lys. Immediately."
Vito stared at the boy who had flipped back into full "little commander" mode in the blink of an eye, shook his head, and grumbled, "Lightning brat sure knows how to give orders…" But he still turned and jogged out to carry out the task.
After all, everyone who had followed Tiberius into the Bloodwave Cape caves now spoke of him with open admiration. They all called him "Little Boss Lightning" these days.
"Little Boss Tiberius is a smart one who plays by the rules!" they'd say. "He makes us money, he can fight, he's basically a second Captain Jules!"
Once Vito left, only Jules and Tiberius remained in the room.
Jules kept polishing his twin swords. After a long silence he spoke, voice low and unreadable.
"Wanting to learn is a good thing. After you killed your first man you finally realized knowledge matters. That's good."
He continued quietly, "Because… the battlefield you're fighting on now is one where I can't give you advice or protection."
Tiberius walked over to the chest and carefully straightened every book and scroll.
"Uncle, surviving in the Disputed Lands takes steel," he said softly, eyes moving across the parchment that held centuries of knowledge and history. "You're right. The fight I'm in now can't be won with swords and warhammers alone. So I can't only have swords and warhammers."
Jules's hand paused for the briefest second on the blade. He didn't look up, just gave the tiniest nod.
The kid finally understands force isn't everything, he thought. Better than when all he wanted was glory and spear tricks.
A moment later Jules dropped a bombshell that nearly made Tiberius trip over his own feet.
"Once you know a thousand characters, I'll teach you one of my herb recipes. Yes—swamp witchcraft."
---
Several days later, in a cleared area beside the company camp.
The mood was heavy. On the table lay the cleaner, identifiable clothes, jewelry, and small personal items recovered from the cannibal cave. Mourning Lyseni kept arriving, clutching the last shred of hope. Tiberius stood there himself, personally handing every confirmed relic to the parents, husbands, wives, or children who broke down sobbing the moment they saw them.
His face stayed solemn the whole time.
Jules stood at his side, watching a couple clutch a filthy, faded handkerchief and weep until they couldn't breathe. He shook his head.
"Ten days… fewer people come every day. So many items still unclaimed…" Tiberius murmured.
He looked at the small mountain of clothes, handkerchiefs, trinkets, and jewelry. They told the silent horror story of the Bane family.
Some victims had probably been travelers from far away. Others were forgotten souls no one had missed.
But no one deserved to end up as salted meat.
Vito leaned against the dirt wall, arms folded, staring at the wooden crates in the corner—the coins they had sorted from the loot. A surprising amount, from every Free City imaginable.
"Tch, even Myr and Qarth pieces… how many people did these bastards eat?" Vito muttered, flipping a silver coin. A Myr ship captain had just paid to buy every Myr-style item and walked away.
He turned to Tiberius. "Kid, what do we do with all this coin?"
Tiberius shrugged. "Split it among every brother who went into the cave with us. After all…" He glanced at the still-growing mountain of unclaimed belongings.
"Harsh truth? Most of this—especially the money—will probably end up with us anyway. Better the men who sweated and bled for it get to enjoy it. Let them drink their fill at the Perfumed Garden, sleep in soft beds, and have warm arms around them at night."
"It's money," Tiberius finished. "No point burying it."
Jules finished polishing his swords, sheathed them, and walked over. He looked at the coins and nodded.
"Tiberius is right. The brothers earned their share."
Then he added one more thing.
"But set aside a proper amount for the Red Priests at the temple of R'hllor. Tell them it's a small token from the White Company—thanks for presiding over a just purification. I want those priests and their followers to know we're not just sharp swords. We respect the local gods and customs. That's worth more than a few extra gold dragons in the long run. Even 'the Honorable' needs piety and respect to shine brighter."
Jules's words made perfect sense and snapped Tiberius awake.
This was the world of A Song of Ice and Fire. Gods and magic were real. Best to stay on good terms with the holy men.
"Oh, right," Jules said before he left. "About dividing this small fortune… you handle it, Tiberius."
With that he turned and walked away.
Vito elbowed Tiberius hard. "Kid, the boss is building you up!"
"Building me up? How?" Tiberius looked confused.
"Idiot!" Vito poked him in the forehead. "Money distribution is only ever done by two people. First—the company captain. Second—"
"The quartermaster?"
"Moron! Those greedy bloodsuckers would vanish with the chest by morning. Second is the captain's golden boy—the one he trusts with coin!"
"So?"
"So, Lightning, the old man is letting you into the inner circle of the White Company!" Vito looked at him with real respect. "The captain has never let anyone else hand out pay. Today he gave it to you. That means he thinks you're worth it. You know the whole company's calling you Lightning Kid now? 'Lightning' Tiberius has a real ring to it. And it's not just because your spear took down that idiot Jon Starr. It's because your brain moves faster than lightning!"
"Bloodwave Cape case… the way you read Lysandro's mood… Kid, you sure you didn't fuck the Crone in your sleep? Where the hell did all this wisdom come from?!"
"Vito."
"Hm?"
"If you mention the Crone one more time, I swear tonight in my dreams I'll tell her there's a man named Vito Coppola who desperately wants her wisdom… and her body."
"Don't! Spare this unworthy fool, oh Crone's little milk-pup 'Lightning' Tiberius!" Vito dropped to one knee in mock terror, pulling a ridiculous face.
But Tiberius was already looking at his system panel.
"Lightning" (Fame: 19%)
Damn… killing Jon Starr must've been a big deal. Fame jumped that fast? Tiberius thought with quiet delight. And now my Lightning isn't just a tingle that makes people twitch—it's real lightning!
Last night he had tested it. A bright arc of electricity had flashed from his fingertips, lighting up his eyes.
He wondered what would happen when the title hit 100%. God of Thunder? Did that mean he needed to start forging a hammer?
"Vito," Tiberius said, giving him a flat look, "just pretend the seawater knocked my brains into working order when I fell in the sea. Enough talk. Let's figure out how to split this coin so the brothers are happy and we don't break any company rules."