Chapter 37 – I Must Begin the Slaughter at Once
When Ulmer entered the cabin, the corpses of Longneck and the woman were already gone. In matters of "cleaning up," Ben was nothing if not professional.
"Boss, you called for me."
"Sit. Have some water."
"How are things these past few days?"
"Nothing unusual."
Ulmer sat gracefully on the bench, sipping from a waterskin in small measured gulps. As the Brotherhood's scout, his burden was heavier than anyone else's. He rarely rested, yet his position was also the most trusted. The Smiling Knight had placed the safety of the entire band in his hands. For that reason, Ulmer alone felt comfortable enough to act casually in the knight's presence.
"Oh, right."
Suddenly recalling something, Ulmer set the waterskin aside, brow furrowing.
"A while ago, a band of merchants arrived. They carried a royal warrant signed by the Master of Laws himself, authorizing them to purchase beasts at steep prices. They called themselves something like… 'Chinggis Khan'?"
"They were throwing gold around freely. I heard they paid over a hundred dragons for a single brown bear. Now every settlement nearby has emptied into the forest to hunt. Only children remain in the villages."
"Merchants?"
The Smiling Knight's eyes narrowed, a dangerous light flickering there.
"From King's Landing?"
"Doesn't look like it." Ulmer shook his head, then hesitated.
"But… I'm not entirely certain."
"Explain."
"Their leader spends lavishly. His guards wear armor, but the styles don't match — more like sellswords than sworn retainers. They're vigilant, though. They've holed up in Mika's village and won't step outside, just waiting to buy what the locals bring them."
"Carrying that much gold on the road… caution is only natural." The Smiling Knight nodded, showing little suspicion.
When Ulmer had rested enough, the knight gave his order:
"The Chief has sent word. The exchange will be within two days. To be safe, take the Dornish princess to the old spot in the woods. Wait for my command."
"And the other one?"
"Kill her."
The Smiling Knight's lips were still curled upward, but the words were colder than steel. Not a hint of pity softened them.
"The Chief says the Dornish princess alone is leverage enough. The rest are burdens."
"As you wish, Boss."
Ulmer bowed politely. He did not hesitate; his obedience was crisp, his departure swift. His tall frame, upright and poised, could almost have passed for that of a true nobleman.
The Smiling Knight watched him go, the grin slipping from his face, replaced by something darker. He murmured under his breath:
"I've wagered everything on you. Do not disappoint me… Ser Simon Toyne."
---
Outside, Ulmer glanced left and right before heading toward a small hut nearby.
But he failed to notice the shadow trailing him, slipping silently through the darkness in his wake…
---
"I can't take it anymore, Ser Lance…"
Symond staggered through the doorway, clutching his aching back and groaning like a man half-dead from exhaustion.
To keep their cover, he had thrown himself into the merchants' charade from the very first day, scarcely resting before being buried in endless bargaining. Hours on his feet had left him drained.
"I'm finished. Find someone to take over for me!"
He collapsed bonelessly into a chair, still muttering between groans:
"Seven save us… who knows how much game these bastards have been poaching from the Kingswood. They're demanding outrageous prices for every carcass! We've already spent nearly a thousand gold dragons!"
"Half the animals they drag in aren't even fresh — the stench is unbearable! I can't get the reek out of my nose."
"Gods above, with the king gone, the Kingswood may as well belong to these poachers!"
"And that Mika fellow — acted the harmless villager at first, but when I searched his home I found three whole racks of antlers!"
As Symond ranted, Lance shot him a sharp look, expression unreadable, and said nothing.
After all, as Master of Laws, Symond could hardly deny that the Kingswood had descended into lawlessness under his watch while the king was away. And yet here he was, complaining?
"Think of something, Ser Lance!"
When Lance remained silent, Symond leapt from his chair in a panic.
"The money we brought was all from Lord Tywin's coffers. If we run out—"
"Run out?" Lance gave a derisive snort, rolling his eyes.
"Lord Tywin gave us five thousand gold dragons. Even if those outlaws butchered every beast in the Kingswood, we'd still have enough for this mission. What's this — planning to keep the remainder for yourself?"
"I—what? Of course not, my lords!"
But Lance's words had already turned every eye in the room toward him, suspicion heavy in the air. Symond waved his hands frantically, denying everything.
"Good. See that you don't."
Lance's smile returned, but his tone was sharp as a blade.
"That money was Tywin Lannister's gift to fund the campaign against the Kingswood Brotherhood. Whatever's left over will be shared among us. Don't get clever."
"Heh… perish the thought," Symond said with a forced laugh, rubbing his hands together. He really had been entertaining such thoughts — but the idea vanished as quickly as it came. This was the wilderness. If he angered these men, a sudden 'accident' would hardly be surprising.
Only then did the knights' expressions soften a little.
Do not think that "honorable knights" are immune to the lure of gold. Their plate, swords, spears, destriers — all of it is paid for with dragons. Even a man like Ser Arthur Dayne, who bore the ancestral sword Dawn, still needed coin to maintain his equipment, feed his horse, and pay his squires. The paltry wages of a Kingsguard could never cover it all.
Truth be told, most members of the Kingsguard were effectively paying out of their own pockets to serve the king — which is why only the wealthiest houses could afford to send a son to wear the white cloak.
Take Barristan Selmy for instance. As the heir to Harvest Hall, he had given up his birthright to join the Kingsguard — but his family showered him with whatever he required. Money was never an issue.
Did you know the Selmy lands are called Harvest Hall? Wealth enough to embroider the fastenings of his Kingsguard armor with silver thread — an extravagance rivaled only by the Lannisters themselves.
And then there was Lance, whose every expense was paid directly by King Aerys.
But it was precisely this unmatched equipment that allowed these top knights to become legends on the battlefield. Imagine charging through enemy lines in plate heavier than a small child — and seeing your foes' faces when their strongest blows barely left a dent. No wonder entire companies would break and run.
The gap between a common soldier and a knight of this caliber was almost as vast as that between a knight and a dragon.
And dragons, after all, had been brought down by mobs before. More than once.
"Still… I really can't keep going, Ser Lance."
At last, realizing he could neither skim funds nor oppose these warriors, Symond collapsed dramatically into his chair, choosing to give up entirely.
Lance sneered at his defeatist posture.
"You don't get to quit, Lord Symond. Not yet."
"Because…"
He grinned, suddenly driving a dagger down into the map spread across the table, its point stabbing a single marked location.
"…we're about to move out."
Symond bolted upright, suddenly animated.
"You've found their lair?"
"Not with complete certainty," Lance admitted, the corner of his mouth quirking upward, "but I'd wager seventy, eighty percent we're right. Everyone else has emptied into the forest to hunt — except this place. No movement at all."
"So their clever leader isn't quite as clever as I thought."
Barristan silently agreed. Aside from you and the Spider (Varys), who would have thought of such a devious plan?
"To avoid tipping them off, you'll have to keep up appearances here a while longer, Lord Symond — draw their attention, make them believe we're still distracted."
"Y-yes, Ser Lance."
Symond's legs were still trembling, but he knew this was no time to falter.
Lance nodded, satisfied, then let his gaze sweep the room.
"Ser Barristan. Ser Arthur. Ser Manly. Ser Jonothor."
His tone grew grim, voice hard as steel.
"You are the finest knights in all the Seven Kingdoms — but what we face is no mere rabble. These are cutthroats who destroyed a Dornish escort and hold Princess Elia and Lady Ashara hostage."
"As commander of this mission, I order you — when you find them, no matter the situation, no matter what tricks they try — strike to kill."
Arthur Dayne's face was solemn as he nodded. He understood the meaning: even if they threatened to use his sister as a shield, he could not hesitate.
"Good."
Lance looked each of them in the eye before continuing:
"We'll leave in pairs, one after another, and rendezvous at the site."
Then he smiled, a wolfish, dangerous smile.
"Let's show them what the Kingsguard are capable of."
"It's time to open the slaughterhouse."