Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods - Chapter 169: Someone to Protect (I)

Chapter 169: Someone to Protect (I)

*****I apologise for those who read the chapter with a missing part. I have tried to rectify this as soon as possible.

Happy Reading!****

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POV: Blade Two

At a table in the corner of the Singing Maiden.

Seconds after a drunkard called for a toast…

—–

That Haymitch was a genuine screw-up… Blade Two was still sceptical that this staggering man, with his guard mostly down and perpetually drunk, could give him a run for his money in a 1 vs 1 fight. But, if Instructor Sergeant Ramas said that, who was he to contradict him?

‘It’s not the Drunkard or the Scarred that’s your target, you idiot…! Stay focused on your task.’ The second-best sworn Frost Blade of Torrhen’s Square admonished himself.

The individual he had to watch over was on the opposite side.

It was a task that required the utmost concentration. Perhaps that boy was a target of the perilous Faceless Men… Experienced, silent and invisible assassins of the House of Black and White. Individuals who could have danced at the point of a knife against the top ten Frost Blades…

Unbeknownst to the eyes of the World, the shadow war between Torrhen’s Square, Oldtown and Braavos had already begun… The deaths of Blade Seven, Blade ’42’, Blade ’88’ and Blade ‘103’ in the lands of the Boltons had ignited a spark of conflict and vengeance between their comrades that was impossible to extinguish.

All that remained were the burnt bones of their comrades, with no clues to claim the attack.

Torrhen’s Square had tripled the funding of the secret unit, drawing resources from the ‘War Fund’ and unleashed every team in standby… His Lords demanded to know who was behind the barbaric attack.

After two moons of searching, ‘Nothing’ was all Blade Two and his comrades could come up with. No one knew where Roose Bolton’s Bastard or Euron Greyjoy had ended up – no trail, no suspicious ship, no place they could hide. Not even the help of the Fourth Organisation led to anything…

But now, the search for the bastards guilty of Blade Seven’s death was no longer Blade Two’s first priority… Instead, the Frost Blade had another set of sleeves to think about.

Another waitress approached the table. She was the second in that same evening. This time it was a girl with auburn hair and freckles on her face.

“I… Can I get you something else, Ser…?” Asked the girl shyly with flushed cheeks and a heated face… Another sweet prey, functional to his cover, tenderly took the bait.

“If you ask me in that tone, my lady, then yes… Of course, I would like another half pint of red beer, but I would like your gentle hands to bring it to me. And I long with all my heart for a song from your suave voice and the chance to snatch a kiss from you at the end of the evening.” The seventeen-year-old’s face turned crimson.

Blade Two was best suited for the job… He, unlike the other top eight blades, was handsome. His hazel eyes, square, smooth, well-shaven and well-proportioned face, short, slightly wavy, oak-brown hair, warm voice, and slender, hardened physique were almost anathema to his job.

“Girl…! Hey, Waitress!!! We were here first of that handsome baggage!” A plump Knight with the coats of arms of House Donniger rose indignantly, seeking justice for that affront.

Indeed, the Maiden had snubbed the table with the ranting and not-very-attractive Knights of the Valley.

“Wait your turn, Ser ‘Hugebelly’!!! Get your mockery back in that chair now if you don’t want the guards to make you do it!!!” So roared the ‘sweet’ and ‘placid’ red-haired Maiden furiously. The girl must have been angry at the sudden bursting of the romantic bubble…

There was an outburst of laughter among the witnessing patrons. Some began to throw butts at the Knight brought to heel by the Maiden, mocking him.

This was the tavern’s second main attraction. The verbal skirmishes between the Forbidden Maidens and the Rude Knights who coveted the forbidden fruit… Some of the more fearless and rebellious had tested the word of House Tallhart, daring to use more than mere words. The last poor man was still locked up in some icy prison cell, shivering, his face swollen and bleeding and the fingers of his offended hand broken, waiting for his lord or some good Samaritan to pay the ransom of twenty-five gold dragons for the slap…

The Knight followed the advice with a pained face but a surrendered air.

“…Emm, you were saying, Ser? What song would you like me to sing?” So asked the voice again, tender, unsure and candid…

“What is your favourite romantic song?” Blade Two asked with an affectionate grin.

“T-the my…? Well, that is… it would be ‘A Rose of Gold’, milord,” replied the tender blushing Maiden.

“Oh, but look at the coincidence… I have just the right little gift for you.” The Hedge Knight named “Ser Elbert of the Kisses” (AKA Blade Two) pulled out a spun silver chain with a gold pendant in the shape of a rose and gently handed it into the Maiden’s trembling, warm hand, caressing her smooth skin with his fingertips more than necessary.

“I-I cannot accept, Ser…” Said the shocked girl feebly with a melted heart and shortness of breath.

Blade Two knew every Singing Maiden employee’s file by heart. The lives and secrets of Jenny’s employees-an intelligence agent serving Torrhen’s Square- were an open book to the man.

“Yes, you can… ‘You must’, milady. ‘A Rose of Gold’ it is. But when you sing it, I would like your beautiful dewy green eyes to point at mine.” And so, for that evening too, the Casanova cover of chasing beautiful maidens had been duly remarked upon.

Poor Charlotte walked away from the table looking bewitched with love and fanciful promises. Blade Two felt a little pity for the maiden… Playing with the heart and feelings of a poor girl- who was blameless- made him feel dirty. But… Blade Two had dipped his gloves and boots into much dirtier work, and so far, he had not lost a minute’s sleep over any of it.

The Blades of Frost were not Knights of Honour or high virtues. They were ‘Tools of Evil’…

Necessary’ Instruments in constant battle among the shadows to eradicate even worse evils.

The Tool resumed its vigil over the room overflowing with potential threats… So far, no one suspicious had approached the table, or the dishes served to that scion heir to the North, but Blade Two’s instincts kept suggesting that someone else was also waiting and watching.

Some well-concealed predator watching and studying his prey…

It was a game between the Cat and the Mouse… Somewhere in that room, someone with a fictitious face performed an act similar to his own. It was up to the Tool of Torrhen’s Square to track and neutralise him before he could lift a finger towards his protégé…

—–

End POV

——-

POV: Duncan

Lords Hall, Winterfell.

About four weeks before an instrument began its wake…

——-

There were five of them gathered in that small council while the castle and most of its guests slept after yet another festive feast: The King in the North, the Keeper of Love, his sworn shield Ramas and myself.

I had requested that emergency meeting late at night, following the urgent missive received from Master Zick. A missive from a long-time friend of his, the former Guardian of Love and current High Priest to Sect Leader of the House of Black and White.

After a deep frown at the map lying on the table, Ned asked:

“Is there no way to know who the targets are, Master Zick?” The tone was respectful but with a trace of pleading addressed to one of the most powerful and influential beings in the Known World…

“… There would be, King Eddard, but it would come at a high price. Specifically, consuming several favours accumulated over decades with The Kindly Man… Not that I don’t want to extend you a hand, mind you, it’s just that…” I continued in the master’s place.

“The Fourth Organisation, at the moment, cannot afford such a burden, Your Grace… The coming blizzard has not even begun. Just as Winterfell cannot squander grain reserves before Winter, the Fourth Organisation cannot cheaply squander hard-won privileges with the House of Black and White before a World War.” I calmly explained, gaining the Northern Protector’s understanding.

The Kindly Man had done the courtesy of “partially” warning Zick about the recent new assignments accepted by the sect.

The High Priest of the House of Black and White and the Guardian of Love, although now belonging to opposite factions, always maintained a friendly relationship. Collaboration constantly nurtured over time through exchanges of information, mutual favours and trade agreements.

“The Faceless Men are dangerous, elusive and unpredictable, but they dare not lay a finger on any Starks. Consanguineous, servant or guest, the Agents of the Many Faced-Gods will not go against the protection of the Representative Guardian.” I said, trying to reassure the worry-stricken man.

“But this protective bond does not extend beyond the residents of Winterfell, Ser Duncan… All my vassals and their families are in danger, and the North does not have enough capable men to send to watch over them.” Ned replied, gaining assent from me, which I emitted with sad reluctance.

“As for Madame Zishua’s forces? Could not Winterfell demand the services of Pentos under fair compensation… ?” The Lord of Winterfell tried to ask.

Zick turned his gaze to his most trusted assistant; Ramas took the floor.

“Madame Zishua has already deployed one thousand four hundred chosen agents throughout the North, Your Majesty. Almost a third of our active forces; to require more would be too taxing on the stability of the Organisation… Of them, only fifty or so would be able to counter a Chosen Servant of the Many Faced-God individually. And we need such agents to not fail in our duties as Guarantors… So many lives we must watch over and cannot grant favouritism. Eight Agent-Elites is our limit to watch over your vassals, King Eddard.” Ned nodded in reply:

“I will take whatever you can offer, Sir Ramas. Winterfell thanks Madame Zishua and Master Zick for their kind disposition… Whatever just compensation the Queen of Pentos demands for the favour granted to us, it shall be paid.” Greedy or not, the already indebted Quiet Wolf did not spare any expense when protecting someone.

Ramas, the spokesman in charge of the Fourth Organisation, respectfully bowed his head, mutually accepting the offer. He then warned specifically:

“However, Your Grace, if The Kindly Man had sent one of his Three Direct Disciples for the job, not even my comrades or I would be able to foil his intentions… Not without knowing “who” we must protect, at the very least.”

The Three Disciples… The Many Faced-Gods’ best assassins and servants: White Blade, Black Tongue, and Grey Face. “The Elite among the Elite”, those who could manage to face and assassinate “successfully” even a member among the Arcane Shields of the King in the Yellow or a direct Ex-disciple of The Watcher himself…

Eleven years ago, during a legitimate trade dispute between Braavos and Pentos, a former protégé of Zick’s and an elite agent of the Spider Queen, Belwis ‘Steel Flank’, perished at the hands of the White Blade… Even the Titan, if adequately provoked, could draw many dangerous supernatural weapons.

Zick did not seek revenge for Belwis’ death, nor did he feel hatred towards those who deprived him of his former pupil-friend. Any pupil deemed by The Watcher as “Mature” and fallen on the path he had chosen no longer benefited from The Watcher’s Fury but only from deep sadness and pain to endure…

“Of that, I would not worry, Master Ramas,” I interjected, drawing attention.

“Although we don’t know for sure, we can assume with high probability that the Iron Bank is the main instigator. As rich as they are, engaging the Three Disciples now would only be a waste of resources… The Council of Thirteen has only sent a small vanguard for exploratory purposes. The Titan wants to feel our defences with his fingertips before he strikes the first real blow.” I lit a momentary glimmer of hope in Ned’s gloomy face.

“I agree with Duncan. The Kindly Man will not delegate assignments without knowing the North’s defences. Blade One… No, forgive me, ‘Edward’ showed a lot of dexterity and tenacity in Braavos. The Sect Leader knows my hand is behind the formation of the Frost Blades. Before risking the spearheads and future of the House of Black and White, the Kindly Man will send second-order agents or disciples still on probation to test the skills of the shadow unit of the North.” For some time now, the Master had often been imputing the names of all the agents of the Frost Blades.

I retook the lead on the subject by placing wooden figurines on the map to take stock of the situation.

“Lord Tywin will use all the rotten apples from the West and House Frey that he can gather to harass and slow down the construction work on Moat Cailin, and at least for a while, we should be covered there. On the journey back from the meeting with the Guardian of the Beauty, I will join Prince Benjen, and together, we will go to a parley with the Valley Clans.

If we succeed, we will get at least three thousand fierce warriors, experts in raids and ambushes, tempered by poverty and hunger to defend the Neck, and at least another fifteen or twenty thousand extra arms for the work… With their contribution and Lord Howland Reed’s Craggmen, the Neck will be untouchable.” The Watcher contributed to making amends for his shortcomings.

“The Valley Clans respect strength and tradition, King Eddard. If your brother Benjen wishes to prove himself as a worthy leader for all the Clans, he must prove his worth with Bronze and Blood… Might I suggest Prince Benjen have an… ‘intensive’ training session with Master Leng and Master Baragh in the coming moons?” Zick proposed politely.

It wasn’t a bad idea at all. The Warriors of the Clans, almost always lacking in good steel, were mostly Berserkers, bare-knuckle fighters, and expert sling shooters.

If I remember correctly, in the asoiaf canon, that damned Shagga son of Dolf, of the Stone Crows, in the battle of the Green Fork, had been impaled with a dozen arrows and still managed to survive. And Timett, son of Timett, of the Burnt Men, was able to rip out a man’s windpipe with his bare hands with a single claw…

“A proposal well received, Master Zick. May the honourable Masters Baragh and Leng be free to… ‘train’ my brother in whatever way they see fit.” Ned replied, bowing his head.

“Ahah! Good! Good! I have just had a suitable training ground prepared for the task. It will be an interesting challenge to watch!” Reacted The Watcher enthusiastically.

The Master saw Benjen as a precious rough gem waiting to be filed and polished… Well, actually, Zick saw gems everywhere. If Madame Zishua had not put a brake and limits on Zick’s manic obsession, the World would be full of monsters today.

Ned had just condemned poor Benjen to three very hard months of “Harsh Winter” accompanied by winds of tribulation, broken bones and bruises of all kinds… Master Leng wasn’t easy with punches, kicks and blows, and every time I faced Master Baragh, an instinctive part of me would often shout: [“Fuck, fuck! This guy is serious!!! Forget Friendly Sparring. The Barbarian is trying to kill us, Duncan!!! React, Fuck! Strike to kill! It’s him or you!!!”]

“What about Brandon’s Gift and the New Gift? What news do we have on the northern front?” Ned asked, focusing his attention on the opposite side.

“The Villages continue to be stormed by supposed Wildlings raids… Lord Commander Mormont has just stationed a permanent garrison of fifty men to defend Mole Town, but the Night’s Watch needs more men-at-arms to safeguard the entire land… Reconnaissance parties or squads of less than a dozen Rangers continue to be wiped out from Sentinel Bastion to Long Mound. The Brotherhood has already reached over forty losses in less than two moons…

Those bloodthirsty beasts seem to belong to the Blue Faces or the Purple Flakes… cannibalistic clansmen among the Cave Dwellers. However, their numbers and their ability to disappear and assault with such precision are somewhat suspect, Your Majesty. They may be mercenaries in the pay of someone to simulate the ungodly actions of the Free Folks and generate Chaos… but we still need proof.

We have just received confirmation that this attack was ordered neither by Mance Raider nor by any of the other four current Kings-Beyond-the-Wall… However, we have also received rumours that a probable ‘Sixth King’ is gathering followers among the various minor clans of the Cave Dwellers.” I concluded the report, and Ned replied:

“Tragic and alarming news… Even if this were not the work of the Free Folks, Ser Duncan, these abject actions would irreparably tarnish our efforts for a reconciliation between the people of the North and South of the Wall. The Clans of the Mountains and the Umbers are eager to take the field with weapons drawn, and even the Crown is pressing for the Protector of the North to intervene… We cannot wait any longer.”

“And we will intervene as soon as possible, Your Majesty, I promise. But in the right way… I think these armed dragnets of savages are well versed in guerrilla strategies: [Bite and Run].

Large armed forces would not be helpful for a speedy resolution… If we want to settle this source of hatred and Chaos as soon as possible, the ‘Wolves’ will have to be flushed out with predators disguised as ‘Sheep’. I retorted, beginning to illustrate a plan.

***

About five minutes later…

“We’ll let Commander Syggha and her unit handle it… As for the Northern Lords? Which Houses, in your opinion, will need more protection?” The King asked, indirectly addressing me.

“Many are in danger, but the Houses certainly most at risk are Mormont, Ryswell, Bolton and Magnar. House Bolton is the most vulnerable at the moment, and Domeric is the last legitimate line of the Red Kings.

The Titan’s maritime fleets will need the new portentous long-range scopes as soon as possible. However, with the Master’s help and the success of the Mormont Glass, we are confident enough to wrest from the Iron Bank a non-aggression veto against the Mormonts, which, if possible, we will attempt to extend to Bolton and Ryswell… In any case, Lady Barbrey has arranged an elite guard of choice for her nephew, Domeric, and her sister, Bethany.

It is the Ryswells who will be the most exposed. Lord Rodrick has many sons, nieces, nephews and cousins to protect, and the stallions and mares bred in the Rills are among the most sought-after horses by the nobles of Westeros and Essos… Therefore, if Madame Zishua agrees, I propose concentrating at least one-fifth of all forces sent by the Fourth Organisation in the Rills.” Ramas nodded. And I resumed the list, removing a danger marker from the Rills and pointing my finger at Skagos.

“Lord Magnar is currently leading a military expedition into the mountains of Skagos to subdue or eradicate all the lesser clan leaders not yet loyal to House Stark. It will still take time, only the men of Skagos can safely navigate the various goat paths scattered across the island, but Lord Magnar has already managed to successfully negotiate and annex the Crowls of Deepdown and the Stanes of Driftwood, the two largest clans after the Magnars.

That said, I would spend at least four of Madame Zishua’s Elite granted to us in support of the Frost Blades stationed on Skagos. The disappearance of Lord Magnars’ third-born son is somewhat suspicious… “Rarely” do trivial hunting accidents afflict experienced hunters like the Skagosi.”

The number “of accidents” throughout the general North had drastically risen after lowering The Watcher’s Iron Curtain… It wasn’t just the Titan. All the sharks of the vast ocean had sniffed the inviting smell of fresh blood. The recent market supremacy of many products in the North was irritating several wealthy and dangerous individuals around the World.

Illyrio Mopatis, for example, was a greedy and stubborn pain in the ass… The perfumed fat man wouldn’t let go of the Targaryens’ heirs and was determined to find a way to counter his losses in the spice and dragon parts trade… The Eunuch Spider would soon be looking for me, and I had to ensure I found a proper ‘Message of Peace’ to return to his friend.

I also removed the red marker on Skagos.

“This brings us to the Titan’s juiciest target, the real building block to trigger a domino effect of chaos and discontent… House Flint of Widow’s Watch.” Yet, surprisingly, the King of the North began to show signs of understanding about the complex chessboard of the Great Game.

“You believe that Robin Flint’s death during the siege of Pyke was not at the hands of a common ironman?” Asked the Lord of Winterfell. Ramas intervened.

“The Faceless Men act in many ways, Your Grace. They can use blades or poison darts directly, like simulating accidents. On the other hand, an agent of the Many Faced-Gods does not necessarily have to get his hands dirty… He, for example, could simply distract or slip – at decisive moments – a target into dangerous situations.” So explained The Watcher’s Shield.

“… I understand. If Braavos sought Chaos, he could find plenty of it on the thorny issue of Widow’s Watch’s legacy. Both the Flints of Flint’s Finger and the Karstarks and Hornwoods would boast of possible blood heirs to the succession, should Lady Lynessa Flint’s last heir, Lord Karstark’s current squire, Eliot Flint, also perish due to mysterious circumstances…” So said the Protector of the North.

“Precisely… The Flints of Flint’s Finger and Widow’s Wacht have hated each other for at least eight generations but boast a name in common and a living family line through Lady Lynesse’s great-uncle. On the other hand, the children of Lord Rickard’s sadly departed wife, Lady Tasha Flint, the daughter of Lady Lyness’ brother, have the most inheritance rights. But the Hornwoods may also enter the race, for Lord Halys Hornwood’s grandmother, decades ago, could have legitimately ascended the seat of Widow’s Watch, but Lady Wylla vacated the seat, abdicating for her younger sister, Jasmine Flint, the mother of Lady Lynesse…”

The question of ‘Legitimate Succession’ in Westeros was like a fierce battle between Crack junkies looking for the suitable cable for the X-Box console in a complex, tangled skein of electrical wires. With everyone pulling their own wire, hoping to play Videogames before everyone else…

Sooner or later, an alternative had to be found to that problem.

Ned proposed a solution.

‘It would be better for a Flint to remain on the Widow’s Watch seat should the worst happen. Lady Lynesse should be thirty-eight or thirty-nine. She is still of child-bearing age…

The bloodline of the first true Flint of Breakstone Hill is still alive in North Wolfwood.

I could oil that woman’s rusty head somehow. Lady Flint has been pestering me for years with petitions about the river rights of Weeping Water. A possible marriage with a Flint of the Mountain Clan is the solution… Artos Flint, the second son of Lord Torghet, is still a widower and only a few years younger than Lynesse. And if I’m not mistaken, Artos is supposed to have just a sixteen or seventeen-year-old daughter from his previous marriage. A double union between Artos and Lynesse and young Eliot with Lyanna would ultimately settle any possible diatribe. Even if both Flints of Widow’s Watch were to perish, if it were a Flint Progenitor to remain on the seat by marriage rights, no one would question its legitimacy.”

“A very good solution indeed, Your Grace… However, Lord Karstark has already entered into a marriage agreement with Lady Lynesse for a future union between Eliot and his second cousin, Alys Karstark. Lord Karstark is a proud and dutiful goat.

We should find a way to terminate the contract without offending Karhold…”

“The eldest son of Lord Tytos, Brynden, is still unmarried. He could be an excellent fallback for Alys Karstark. If the Blackwoods accept our offer, I could convince Lord Karstark and Lord Umber to bind their sons and daughters with the heirs of their future neighbours. That way, breaking the contract will not be interpreted as an offence but as a ‘Political Necessity’.”

“Yes… Yes, it’s a good plan. Of course, we’d have to rush things with the Night’s Watch and the New Gift concessions, but it’s doable…” I reflected on the last obstacle, exposing it to the small council.

“The marriages of the Flints cannot take place before the wedding of Lady Barbrey and Lord Jorah. So we must protect both Lady Lynesse and Eliot for this period. Torrhen’s best Square agents will safeguard the duo, and we will warn Lady Lynesse in secret of the possible threat.

Blade One cannot move from Braavos yet, but we will send the second and third best alternative to protect the Flints.” Ned nodded, placing a point on the Flint topic, so I shifted my attention to my Master, asking:

“What does the Guardian of Love say about these ‘possible’ attacks by the Titan against the First Men? Will the North be able to react without triggering legitimate grounds for war?” So I asked the individual who represented the impartial arbitral authority among the forces of the World, not my loving Master.

Zick looked at me for a few seconds, then decreed:

“There is no evidence that the Titan is behind these “alleged attacks”… However, the improper funding of the Iron Bank in directing an avowed direct attack by the Ironborns towards House Mormont and House Tallhart is in itself an action that can justify a fair “Reaction” to such an offence… And if such a reaction were “possibly” magnified with as many unprovable “alleged attacks”, the Guardians could not accommodate any justification appropriate to either faction for a full-scale war. ”

Concealed in the depths, The Watcher was a devious double agent-opportunist who feigned false ignorance and political inadequacy only when it suited him… Lucky for the First Men faction.

An evil grin and an equally evil thought leavened in me…

‘Good… I have more than a few blades ready and eager for action, 496 comrades-in-arms still seeking justice for their four fallen brothers, and a Frosty Lady pissed off at the attack on her beloved husband’s family.’ I pondered, giving full rein to my imagination in drawing up a draft plan.

It is incumbent on the Iron Bank to always remember that for every ‘Action’, there is a ‘Reaction’… And it will be Torrhen’s Square and Barrowton to remind them.

****

End Part I

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