The night grew deeper, the shadows stretching long and eerie.
Having been rebuffed by Matthew, Newar couldn't be bothered to help anymore. He decisively let go and walked ahead, leaving Matthew to limp along behind them, alone.
The distorted shadows on the ground lengthened, smoothing out the squat figures until they resembled silent giants.
When Matthew looked up, the giants raised their heads too, staring straight ahead.
"Well?"
Harlan looked at Newar, who had walked up beside him, then glanced back at Matthew, asking without emotion.
Newar shook his head lightly, complaining, "It's tricky. He probably guesses he's dead meat and is guarding against us constantly."
Harlan huffed, tapping the grass with his long stick. Showing a rare flicker of emotion, he said angrily, "Looks like Wald was right. This guy isn't honest."
Newar kept glancing back, his mouth never stopping.
"Yeah, yeah. Who would have thought he'd suddenly end up like this? Seems having King's blood isn't necessarily a good thing."
Harlan didn't respond. He looked back once more, then patted Newar on the chest and strode forward.
Newar stopped, watching Harlan's back, but called out behind him, "Can't you hurry it up?"
Matthew's legs were aching badly. He had no intention of walking faster and treated Newar's words like the wind passing his ears.
Newar had no choice but to wait. He didn't dare let Matthew run off.
But Matthew wasn't planning on running—at least, not before he got his hands on the two thousand Gold Dragons and his armor.
The trio moved in fits and starts, dragged down by Matthew's slow pace.
But this wasn't necessarily bad.
Once out of the wilderness, slow movement was mandatory.
The soldiers on the towering city walls, when bored, would often stare down blankly, or piss and spit on whatever was below. Hiding was essential.
Harlan took point. Newar waited for Matthew, pushing him ahead before bending low to sneak along the waterside reeds behind him.
By the time they returned to the Fishmarket, only the echoes of the night remained.
The three of them had just quietly slipped back into the tent when Wald arrived on their heels carrying a wooden box, startling them so much they scrambled inside.
Wald was startled too. Regaining his composure, he quickly gave the secret signal.
It was a crisp bird call—Wald mimicking a magpie.
Magpies were birds that looked pretty on the outside but were vicious on the inside.
"It's Wald," Harlan stated simply.
Matthew glanced at him, then moved aside to make room.
Harlan quickly moved the stone and welcomed Wald inside. After checking outside, he closed the tent flap and weighed it down again.
Matthew watched him do this, then walked straight to his sleeping mat, shoved Newar aside, and sat down on the wooden planks.
Newar was annoyed but walked away sensibly, fumbling to light a candle.
The flame was weak, but enough to light the tent with a dusk-like glow.
Wald, still covered in grass clippings, stood by the wooden stool near the entrance. He kicked the black wooden box at his feet and said to Matthew:
"These are the Gold Dragons Lord Varys prepared for you. But there are only five hundred."
Matthew looked at the small wooden box but didn't speak.
A box that size couldn't possibly hold two thousand Gold Dragons. It simply wasn't big enough.
Wald grinned and continued, "I suggested to the Master that we only bring five hundred first. You know two thousand dragons are heavy and hard to transport. But five hundred should be enough to buy some wildfire for now, right?"
Matthew narrowed his eyes, wondering if this was really Wald's idea or if Varys was still testing him.
But cutting off a man's fortune was like killing his parents.
Wald certainly wouldn't understand that saying, but Matthew felt a responsibility to teach him.
In the cramped tent, Matthew desperately wanted to use the axe at his waist to chop Wald into mincemeat right now.
But if Wald died, Harlan and Newar had to die too.
And right now, he was injured.
Matthew quelled his rage, forcing himself to remain rational.
Perhaps sensing something amiss, both Newar and Harlan rested their hands on their crossbows, looking ready to kill at a moment's notice.
Wald seemed oblivious. He picked up the box, walked to the center of the tent, and opened it.
The golden coins looked even deeper in color under the orange candlelight. Each one was round and full, spotless, the three-headed dragon on the back so lifelike it seemed to roar.
None of the four present had ever seen so much money. Their eyes were glued to it.
Even Harlan's mouth hung open, staring blankly.
Wald was very satisfied with their reaction, as if his own loss of composure upon seeing the chest earlier was just normal behavior.
He closed the box, sat down on it, and said:
"Now, we need to talk. Where do we keep the dragons?"
With the golden light gone, Matthew snapped out of it. He looked up at Wald, frowning like an old man, and retorted:
"Didn't you hear Lord Varys say the dragons are for my use, and that you are under my command?"
Harlan and Newar looked at each other and nodded.
But Wald sneered disdainfully. "Are you worthy?"
Matthew laughed out loud. He leaned back on the straw mat, the axe pressing uncomfortably into his side, and mocked:
"If I'm not worthy, are you?"
Wald's face darkened. He was about to speak, but Matthew beat him to it.
"It seems you're already prepared to replace Lord Varys, Wald. You treat his words like wind—obey if you want, ignore if you don't. Impressive!"
Harlan and Newar's expressions changed, their gazes turning dark as they looked at Wald.
Wald gritted his teeth. He looked at Harlan, then Newar, trying desperately to explain:
"I didn't! Don't listen to Matthew's nonsense. I just don't trust him. I think everyone should watch over the dragons together to prevent someone with bad intentions from stealing them."
Harlan and Newar thought that made sense.
This was five hundred Gold Dragons. Ordinary people wouldn't see this much money in a lifetime. Even some minor nobles couldn't scrape this together.
So, Harlan spoke up directly:
"The box stays in the tent. No one touches it. We take turns guarding it with four people."
Wald nodded in agreement. Newar shrugged, just watching Harlan.
Seeing his plan fail, Matthew dropped the pleasantries. He lay down directly, cutting the chatter.
His brain started working on how to get the money and kill these people.
Seeing Matthew silent, Harlan assumed he agreed and made the final call.
"That's settled then. Tomorrow morning, we'll go gather the squad members one by one and bring them here. Then we'll set up two more outposts."
Harlan didn't talk much usually, but he never offended anyone. Right now, that trait was useful. No one objected.
Newar looked at Harlan, clapping his hands with exaggerated delight.
"Looks like we need an honest man to speak up after all. Look at our Lord Harlan—when he speaks, no one dares to argue. Truly amazing..."
Harlan lifted his chin, rolled his eyes at Newar, and shut his mouth again, closing his eyes.
Wald gave Newar a contemptuous look and ignored him too.
Newar's mouth twitched furiously, his teeth grinding audibly, but no one cared.
He kept staring at Harlan, wishing he had been the one to speak up. He loved those moments of making decisions and stealing the spotlight.
Maybe he should learn a thing or two from Harlan?
Newar also wanted to show off in front of Wald, to make him understand that even if Matthew was about to die, no one was going to bow to Wald either.
Matthew turned his head to the side, pressing his face into the straw, quietly observing everything. The corners of his mouth slowly curled up.
He felt there might be an opportunity after all. He'd play along with them for now.