c24 The Valiant Corps
Not far away,
Rhaenys, hiding around a corner at the other end of the corridor, witnessed this scene and her body trembled slightly.
A feeling called fear spread throughout her small frame.
She thought of the nightmare from half a year ago again: two groups of men fighting at close range right before her eyes, swords and axes clashing, blood spraying, and savage laughter echoing, like a silent, twisted drama playing out repeatedly in her mind, the memory of the battle at Dragonstone still vivid.
Then she would suddenly wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat, the scent of iron and saltwater lingering in her memory.
But Rhaenys still managed to suppress the urge to scream. She was smart enough to know that she couldn't make a sound at this moment, or something terrible would happen.
A little brown-haired girl huddled in a shadowed corner at the end of the corridor, one hand covering her mouth, even her breathing cautious, and her face slightly flushed from holding it in.
And not far away,
a dark-haired man with strange paint across his face jumped into the castle through the stone window.
He was tall and muscular, standing like a mountain, clad in thick leather armor, carrying a massive battle axe on his back, and wearing a tattered iron helmet with a dent on its crown. He exuded the stench of sweat, sea salt, and smoke.
He was the first mercenary to climb from below, surprisingly agile despite his imposing stature.
Dragonstone's castle, though perched by the sea, was built atop the jagged cliffs of the volcanic island, clinging to the mountain's contours, with the smoldering volcano in the distance constantly venting white smoke into the night sky.
Climbing from this side of the stone window required scaling an extremely high and steep cliff, almost impossible for a normal man. Viserys, trapped inside, had no intention of leaving, not wanting to risk a fatal fall.
For these reasons, there weren't many guards on duty that night, and the situation was unusual; most of the garrison had been drawn to the shoreline to observe and defend against the battle at sea between the Dragonstone fleet and the Green Pavilion fleet.
This group of mercenaries, hardened by a life of constant danger, seized the opportunity and slipped into the castle unnoticed.
The man's breathing was still slightly heavy after leaping through the window, a testament to the grueling climb he had just completed.
He took a few deep, deliberate breaths, his chest heaving beneath the weight of his armor, then slowly turned his head left and right, carefully scanning the corridor and listening intently.
Finding the surroundings completely silent and everything seemingly normal, he confirmed they had not been detected by the few distracted guards on duty.
Sir William, stationed at the far end of the corridor near the central hall, sensed a subtle disturbance in the quiet and instinctively tightened his grip on his longsword, preparing for what he knew would be the oncoming clash.
He then raised his hand to his lips and softly whistled downwards. The sound was very faint, like the chirp of a distant bird in the night wind whipping across Dragonstone's cliffs.
The ropes connected to the spiked claws stirred again, and his companions, who had been waiting below in the shadows, heard the signal and began to climb up one after another.
Then, to Rhaenys's horrified gaze, hidden on the opposite side of the corridor, she saw seven figures silently ascend through the stone window.
Each person was dressed differently, but all were generally well-camouflaged: dark leather armor covered with tattered black cloth to blend into the night, longswords secured at their waists, battle axes strapped to their backs, and longbows slung across their shoulders.
This seven-man mercenary squad had a very clear division of labor, even including dedicated archers and shield bearers, trained in the deadly precision required for infiltrating a castle like Dragonstone.
"Hmm?"
Just then, one of the men, whose hair was wrapped in a black turban and whose face was painted with strange camouflage streaks, noticed the doll that Rhaenys had just dropped on the floor. He bent down and picked it up.
"Hey, Langdon."
The man holding the doll was the leader of the mercenary group. He weighed Rhaenys's small doll in his hands, then looked at the burly man who had come up first and asked,
"This looks like a noble lady's toy. Are you sure you didn't see anything when you climbed up?"
They had received a hefty commission from the Iron Throne, so naturally they had to give it their full attention. They also understood how dangerous this mission was; a single mistake could mean death money for nothing.
Of course, if they succeeded, the reward would be enormous; the final payment could allow them to buy lands or even a castle, or fund a dozen ships and become legitimate benefactors of Westeros.
This mission had been ostensibly contracted by a merchant from the Vale, who had contacted them through secret channels.
However, they did not believe a word of his story. How could an obscure Vale merchant possibly offer such a vast sum to take the lives of the Targaryen heirs?
The astonishing amount initially made them doubt their ears, thinking it must be a scam.
It was only when the so-called Vale 'merchant' produced a bag of gleaming gold dragons as a deposit and promised that the remaining balance would be delivered upon completion of the mission, with the heads of Queen Lyra and Prince Viserys as proof, that the mercenaries realized he was serious.
After further inquiry, the group discovered the true patron behind the payment was none other than King Robert Baratheon himself, who, having barely settled into his throne, sought to eliminate any future threat from the Targaryens.
Moreover, there appeared to be a hint of Lannister involvement; Lord Tywin Lannister, perhaps to demonstrate loyalty to the Iron Throne, had directly funded Robert's scheme, providing the enormous sum that enabled the king to remove the last Targaryen heirs.
Hearing the leader's words, the burly man named Langdon frowned slightly, looking at the slightly dirty doll in the other's hand.
He genuinely hadn't noticed the small object on the ground; after all, he was very tall, and his attention had been entirely on scanning the corridors for guards.
"No,"
the burly man with the battle axe on his back and his face smeared with camouflage paint shook his head decisively, denying any knowledge. This wasn't a feigned excuse; he genuinely had not seen anyone when he climbed, not even a noble child.
"Besides, this is clearly the servants' quarters; how could a lady be here?"
"Perhaps it accidentally fell here," the leader muttered.
The guards would not have protected the servants whose status was lower than their own, so choosing this point to breach the castle was strategic. After all, professionals execute professional work. Their trade is solving problems for coin: assassination, kidnapping they would do anything for money. Their skills were exceptional; otherwise, King Robert's envoy would never have selected them.
"Is that so?"
Hearing Langdon's words, the leader's brow relaxed slightly, nodding without taking the matter seriously. He had only asked casually.
And at that moment
Click
A faint sound suddenly came from the corner of the corridor not far away. Sir William, standing alert with his sword in hand, instinctively stiffened, sensing a disturbance in the otherwise silent castle night.
....