Fifteen years after the failure of the First Blackfyre Rebellion, in 211 AC, Lord Ambrose Butterwell of Whitewalls hosted a grand tourney, with the champion's prize being a dragon egg (this egg was a "gift"—or compensation—from the profligate King Aegon IV, who had once slept with all three of Lord Butterwell's daughters during a visit).
On the surface, the tourney celebrated Lord Butterwell's marriage to a Frey of the Twins. In truth, it was a conspiracy orchestrated by Butterwell and other Blackfyre loyalists to gather the defeated remnants of the First Rebellion and those discontented with the oppressive rule of Hand of the King Brynden "Bloodraven" Rivers.
They planned to have Daemon II Blackfyre, son of Daemon I, compete in disguise, rig the tourney in his favor, then reveal his identity and launch the Second Blackfyre Rebellion.
But Daemon II turned out to be nothing like his father—the legendary "Warrior Incarnate." Instead, he was a pathetic disappointment who couldn't even win a *fixed* joust, becoming a laughingstock among the nobles.
Meanwhile, Bloodraven, having somehow learned of the plot, arrived at Whitewalls with an army before the tourney concluded.
The useless Daemon II failed to rally any support and was forced to challenge Bloodraven to single combat. But Bloodraven, ever pragmatic, simply had him arrested.
Thus, the Second Blackfyre Rebellion was crushed like a farce.
Whitewalls was torn down on Bloodraven's orders, its lands sown with salt.
Now, the ruins of Whitewalls are nothing but rubble. While the castle is forever tied to the Blackfyre Rebellion, the idea that a bandit group operating near its ruins must be connected to the Blackfyres is absurd.
"I don't know," Denzel shook his head. "When I was hired for the bandit hunt, I wasn't invited into the castle. Maybe Ser Granson knows more." He glanced at his companion.
Under Ian's expectant gaze, Granson reluctantly explained: "The first to link these bandits to the Blackfyres was Ser Wylde Reg, leader of the local landed knights. During a skirmish, he slashed open a knight's surcoat and saw the Blackfyre sigil on his breastplate."
"Red field, black dragon?" Ian asked.
"Yes. Many of us doubted him, but Ser Wylde swore on his honor that it was the red-and-black sigil."
"As for the Blackfyre restoration treasure," Granson continued, "I don't know the details. But since both Ser Wylde and Morgan are after it, they must have their reasons. You can ask Morgan yourself later."
"Uh..." Ian paused, then chuckled self-deprecatingly. *What am I doing?*
He'd come to the Crossroads Inn to hunt *players*. With his current strength, meddling in some Blackfyre treasure hunt was suicidal.
Even showing interest might provoke Black Hawk's hostility—ruining his entire player-trapping scheme.
"No need. I have no interest in Blackfyre treasures," Ian shook his head. "I'm here for other matters."
Denzel couldn't hide his disappointment. Seeing the generous Lannister knight intrigued, he'd hoped to ride coattails to a share of the spoils.
A brief silence followed before Denzel suddenly asked: "Wait—do you hear that?"
Ian focused and caught the distant roar of shouting and thuds from below.
"Someone go check," Ian ordered. He wasn't about to risk getting caught in a brawl.
Just then, Janey burst in, pale-faced, and locked the door behind her.
"What happened?"
"Oh, m-my lord, I—he—you told me to—"
"Breathe." Ian signaled Rore to hand her a cup of wine.
Janey gulped it down inelegantly, then coughed violently from the burn.
"Slowly. You're safe here. Now, what's happening downstairs?"
"Morgan—*cough*—Morgan's dead! His men are tearing the place apart!"
"*Black Hawk's dead?*" Ian was stunned. The mercenary captain had just been alive—was he some kind of death magnet?
"Who killed him?" Granson cut in urgently, then added upon realizing his breach of decorum: "I fear my men might've drunkenly provoked this."
"I—I don't know," Janey trembled. "No one knows."
"Apologies, ser—I must go down," Granson said, seeing no answers from Janey.
"Me too," Denzel added.
"Go. Avoid bloodshed if possible." Ian waved them off, frustration mounting. A full-blown riot would ruin his plans.
Once they left, Ian had Rore relock the door and turned back to Janey.
"Calm. No one can hurt you here," Ian gripped her shoulders. "If you can't speak clearly, just answer yes or no."
Janey nodded rapidly.
"Did you see Morgan die?"
"Yes."
"Did you see the killer?"
"No."
"Where did he die? Wait—" Ian stopped. That couldn't be answered with yes/no.
"Forgive me, ser, I'm better now," Janey forced a smile. "Morgan died in—in that knight's room. The one with the yellow tower sigil."
"???"
Rore suddenly recalled Ian's earlier quip to Martha: *"What, are the two of them sleeping together?"*
*Truly, the foresight of a god's avatar is terrifying!*
**(End of Chapter)**