“I am sick and tired of all this rattling, and all these stupid ravens croaking around us. I can’t believe my final moments are this miserable,” I grumbled, the smell, the noise, and the constant shaking fraying what was left of my nerves.
“Actually, Your Grace, a group of ravens is called an unkindness. Or a conspiracy,” Larys offered from my side, tossing out the bit of trivia.
“An unkindness,” I repeated flatly.
“What did you even promise those poor fellows who were escorting us, anyway? It must have been quite something to keep them from turning back and handing us in.”
“What I am about to say might seem callous, Your Grace, but… not much,” Larys replied smoothly.
“They were a dim-witted, cowardly bunch. They were far too afraid of an executioner’s block to betray us, and simply not greedy enough to ask for more.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. So callous, Larys,” I muttered, shaking my head.
“Perhaps I should call you Larys the Callous.”
A faint, thin smile touched Larys’s lips at his new moniker.
“You honor me, Your Grace,” Larys replied softly, inclining his head with mock deference.
“Though I assure you, calloused minds, much like calloused hands, are the only reason either of us is still breathing.”
“That is true,” I muttered, leaning my head back against the rattling wood.
“Your calloused mind is the only reason my broken existence is being dragged out like this. Truly, you are callous.”
“Do you know, Your Grace… I could see it on their faces,” Larys said, a faint smile touching his lips as if recalling a joke.
“See what?”
“From the moment we left King’s Landing, we were entirely at their mercy. And every few miles, you could see them gathering the courage. A glance exchanged between them, a hand lingering a second too long on a dagger… trying to build the nerve to demand more gold, to cut our throats, or to turn this wagon straight back to the city for a reward. Yet every time they reached the brink, terror won out. At the final moment, one or two of them would shrink back, their faint heart failing them, and like sheep, the rest followed. Greed made them bold, Your Grace… but cowardice kept us alive.”
“I see,” I replied, genuinely amazed.
“Then you picked well, Larys.”
“Though, as our journey continued, I knew that sooner or later they would gather the courage,” Larys added smoothly.
“Our path was long and filled with enemies. It was only a matter of time before those men met their end.”
“Oh, fuck off, Larys,” I snorted, shaking my head.
“Now you’re just boasting. There is no way you knew that and intentionally let us fall into our enemies’ hands.”
Larys opened his mouth to reply, but the sudden clash of steel and blood-curdling screams from outside cut him off.
“Another plan of yours, Larys the Callous?” I asked, shifting slightly against the wooden wall.
Larys pushed himself up, leaning on his cane to peer through the wooden slats.
“I see only the road behind us, though I shall not be surprised if”
The wagon doors slammed open.
A mangy, scurvy-ridden man lunged into the opening, rambling frantically in some high-pitched foreign tongue, before an arrow punched straight through his back.
He slouched forward into the wooden steps.
Larys stared down at the corpse for a moment.
“I stand corrected. I am surprised.”
We poked our heads out the doors, taking in the sudden skirmish.
The road was a mess of blood and steel as our escorts fought off a swarm of ragged pirates shouting in Lysene and Tyroshi tongues.
“It seems the peacock, Tyland Lannister, has actually convinced the Triarchy to join our cause,” Larys muttered, observing the skirmish.
I carefully eased myself down the wagon steps, kneeling beside the dead pirate to pry a crude, rust-spotted dagger from his belt.
“Doesn’t seem to be going very well for them,” Larys noted.
“GET THEM BACK INSIDE!” the captain roared, cutting down a pirate to save his young recruit.
The green boy whirled around, raising his sword toward us with shaky hands.
“You heard him! Inside!”
Having no desire to argue, I retreated up the wooden steps, tucking the looted dagger beneath the heavy folds of my cloak.
That momentary distraction was all the pirates needed.
Before the captain could recover his footing, a Tyroshi blade drove straight into his chest, pinning him against the side of the wagon.
“It seems our journey to Dragonstone will be somewhat delayed,” Larys observed mildly as I reached his side at the threshold.
Larys hoisted one of the heavy wooden raven cages and dumped it squarely onto the green recruit’s head.
And the boy crashed face-first into the mud.
Before he could scramble back to his feet, I stepped down, drove the rusty dagger deep into the back of his neck, and twisted.
“Your Grace,” Larys called out.
“We should take shelter in the forest. Quickly. I have enough gold to secure safe passage for us.”
“Fuck Duskendale,” I said, not even bothering to look back as I wiped the bloody dagger against my cloak.
“I’m going to Rook’s Rest.”
“It would be wise to avoid that place. We could be captured again,” Larys warned.
“Fuck that,” I spat.
“I want to see Sunfyre. Besides, Cole should have a garrison there. I’m going there, you go wherever you please.”