"I am a generous man—*exceptionally* generous," Ian said, pleased with Martha's reaction. "From the moment we entered, you've been addressing us as 'three knights.' I didn't correct you then, but in truth, these two are merely my squires."
"*Squires?!*" Martha's head snapped up as she looked at Rore and Kess, as if expecting them to refute the claim. But she was quickly disappointed—the two "knights" sat obediently beside Ian, not a trace of displeasure on their faces.
"This is the reward for their loyalty and diligence," Ian said, resting a hand on each of their shoulders. "As I said, I am *very* generous. And I am also *very* wealthy."
With that, the gold dragons were fully exposed before Martha. She stared at the coins, now within arm's reach, but didn't dare reach for them again.
"My father owns twenty deep-sea merchant vessels. Our fleet returns every year from Volantis, Qarth, even Yi Ti, bringing back *tens of thousands* of gold dragons. And I—the heir to all this—have been questioned. They say I lack ability, that I have neither wisdom nor courage. I told them none of that matters. Because I have gold—enough to make the wisest and bravest serve me. That alone ensures my victory."
"In the end, I made a bet with my uncle Jaime. He sent me with my two squires to hunt down these fugitives who committed crimes in King's Landing. And I intend to prove my capability through this mission." Ian picked up a single gold dragon and placed it in Martha's palm.
"If things go well and I'm satisfied, I might even give you the *entire* reward the Queen offered. But if things go *badly*... I can become a very *difficult* man to deal with. Now, do you understand how important this matter is to me?"
"Yes."
"Then, can you persuade Black Hawk to work for me?" Ian asked with a smile.
The story he'd just spun wasn't for Martha's benefit—a commoner like her would be completely swayed by the mere sight of twenty gold dragons.
No, Ian had taken the time to craft that tale so that *she* could embellish it when speaking to Black Hawk.
From his understanding of people like Martha, he could easily imagine how she'd exaggerate his "legendary" status when boasting to her old acquaintance. After all, since he'd be dealing directly with Black Hawk, it would be beneath him to brag about himself. Letting Martha serve as his mouthpiece was far more effective.
"Of course, ser. If it's *you*, I'm sure Morgan will agree to this favor." Martha nodded shakily.
*Everyone bends the knee to gold.*
"By the way, are all the mercenaries in your inn currently under Black Hawk's command?"
"Oh, no—only about half. There are... um..." She paused, counting in her head. "Seventeen in total. Six belong to 'Knife-Face's' mercenary band—he's one of Black Hawk's lieutenants. The other ten arrived with Morgan this afternoon."
"Do you know all of them?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Because of *this*." Ian tapped the gold dragons on the table.
"Oh! Forgive me, I spoke out of turn. Um... as for the men Morgan brought today, they should all be..." She thought for a moment, then nodded firmly. "Yes, I know every one of them."
"And among today's guests, were there any you *didn't* recognize?" Ian pressed.
"*Oh.*" *Seven hells!* Martha cursed inwardly. "This is the *Crossroads*, ser. Even the Stranger couldn't know every guest who passes through."
"I'm not asking you to know *everyone*. I just need a list of all first-time visitors who arrived *after eight this morning*—every single one, with whatever information you have on them."
The chances of a player appearing among them were slim, but *what if*? Caution never hurt.
"I'm not always in the main hall, so I might've missed some. I'll need to check with Janey and the others."
"You can ask her, but *don't* tell her why. I don't want word spreading that I'm here to hunt fugitives."
"But without Janey's help, many things will be harder. I'm usually in the kitchen—I could just warn her not to—"
"No. When someone shares a secret that isn't theirs and then demands silence, it's meaningless. If you *insist* on involving her, she can only be told *after* I've personally warned her."
"Understood, ser."
"By breakfast tomorrow, I want that list of unfamiliar guests from today."
"*List?*"
"I don't mean written names—just point them out to me."
"Very well, ser."
"Also, you said only *half* the mercenaries here are Black Hawk's men?"
"Yes."
"Then hire the *other half* for me. I want *absolute* control over this place—" Ian paused. "*Except* for any unfamiliar mercenaries who arrived today. Leave them alone—just note who they are."
Martha wisely didn't question the odd condition. "So, aside from today's newcomers, you want *all* the other mercenaries? Including full companies and solo sellswords?"
"Are there many solo ones?"
"Not many. Just a handful—I haven't counted."
"And the companies?"
"Two. Led by 'Spike' Denzell and Ser Granson."
"A *hedge knight*?"
"That's what he calls himself."
"Fine. Here's how we'll handle it: For the lone mercenaries, send them off on some random task."
"What kind of task?"
"*Any* task. Deliver a letter, fetch wine—just get them as far from here as possible."
"They won't actually *do* the job. They'll take your coin and vanish to some tavern."
"And what was my *original* goal?"
"To get them far—" Martha cut herself off. "Forgive my foolishness, ser."
"As for the two mercenary companies, I'll pay them *triple* the market rate—on the condition of *absolute* obedience. Can you arrange that?"
"At that price? *Absolutely.*" (*They'd bend over backward for you*, she almost said, but bit her tongue.)
"When negotiating, *don't* reveal my purpose. Just mention the pay. Then, arrange for the two captains to meet me when *I* decide the time is right."
Martha nodded again.
"Are you *sure* you've memorized everything?"
"Uh..." She hesitated, then shook her head. "You've given too many instructions, ser. I fear I might miss something."
"Can you read?"
"Apologies, ser."
"Then you'd better *memorize* my orders—especially the details. I won't tolerate *any* mistakes." Ian repeated his instructions meticulously.
It was tedious, but far less troublesome than the chaos of a botched operation.
A full *ten minutes* later, Martha—whose memory was hardly exceptional—finally grasped every detail.
"Now then," Ian said, satisfied, pointing at the gold dragons. "Take them. This is your advance. If all goes well, you'll receive the *same amount* when the job is done."
"The Seven bless you, generous lord!" Martha grinned eagerly, scooping up the remaining coins.
"Have someone clear the table. I'm ready to retire."
Only then did Martha notice that while Ian had been issuing orders, his two silent "squires" had *devoured* the entire spread of food.
She hurried out, and soon two servants arrived to tidy the room.
Out of habit from his past life, Ian had them bring a basin of water. He rinsed his mouth, washed his face and feet, then extinguished the oil lamp and lay down on a straw-stuffed mattress.
The framework of his "hunting net" was nearly complete. Once he met with Black Hawk and the two mercenary captains tomorrow, it would be *open season* on players.
**Footnote:**
1. *The Stranger*: One of the Seven Gods of Westeros, representing death and the unknown. Depicted as having no face.
**(End of Chapter)**