“Steel yourself,” Larys advised as the ruined castle of Rook’s Rest appeared before us.
“We must guard our attempt whilst I quietly investigate hiring a ship.”
I wasn’t really listening; my attention was elsewhere.
The stench was unbearable, the smell of rotten flesh and maggots.
On the side of the path to the castle, old decayed corpses lay heaped together, with people searching them, looking for anything to be traded for food or shelter.
“We must presume these men owe allegiance to no one but themselves,” Larys advised again as we both limped toward the castle walls.
As we reached the entry, a girl twirling her hair reached out and swiped her dirty hand across my shoulder.
I turned to look at her as a gaunt companion quickly pulled her back into the shade.
The girl was half-starved, her eyes wild with a strange, unnatural look, it almost resembled happiness, but it wasn’t.
It was pure madness.
“Your Grace,” Larys called out quietly.
“Larys, give me some coin,” I demanded.
“Your Grace, I’m afraid I cannot do that,” Larys said.
“We need every piece of copper to secure our passage and cover unexpected expenses. We cannot afford charity. Besides, even if you gave her coin, you would be doing her more harm than good. These girls can’t protect what you give them, you will only make them a target.”
“What do you mean?”
Larys sighed, stepping closer to whisper in my ear.
“These women aren’t beggars, Your Grace. They are whores, though not by choice. Village girls broken by abuse. Giving them coin will only increase their suffering.”
“Why don’t they just leave, then?”
“Go where?”
“Somewhere with law and order.”
“And how will they make that journey, Your Grace?” Larys asked, leaning on his cane.
“On foot, through woods full of deserters and thieves? Starvation or a slit throat will take them long before they ever reach the city. For people like this, there is no law, and nowhere else to go.”
“How would they know she has coin if she hides it?” I asked.
“Larys. I command you to give them something.”
Larys looked at me silently for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a single groat.
He took my hand, pressing the small coin firmly into my palm before closing my fingers over it.
“Before you give them this, Your Grace, know one thing,” Larys whispered softly, leaning in close.
“Up until this moment, there was no blood on your hands for what has happened to these people. But if you give them this coin now… whatever blood follows will be entirely on your hands.”
With that, he turned and limped deeper into the camp.
I felt the cold coin in my palm, my own blood smearing across the metal.
The girl stared right at me with desperate eyes, clinging to the broken, raving girl beside her.
I pulled my hand back, closing my fingers tight around the coin.
“I… I can’t give you this,” I said, tripping over the words as I tried to make her understand.
“If I give you coin, they’ll… they’ll hurt you. Food. I’ll get you food later. Whatever I can find. I promise.”
I turned my back on them and walked inside.
The stench hit me instantly, a vile mix of human waste, the rot of Meleys’ headless carcass baking in the sun, and the greasy smoke of cooked rats, cats, and dogs.
It balanced into a weird, sickening haze, but it wouldn’t kill you.
Not yet.
I was staring at the dragon’s rotting remains while Larys spoke with an old woman when a sharp voice barked from behind us.
“Are you Riverfolk?”
I turned.
A short man with a sword at his waist stepped into view, looking like he ran this little hellhole.
“I fucking hate Riverfolk.”
“We hail from Sharp Point,” Larys lied smoothly.
I just watched him work, Larys always had a good lie waiting on the tip of his tongue to save our skins.
“P-prince Aemond burned it to the g-ground with his d-dragon,” a stuttering boy beside the man spoke up.
“How did you get out?” the sword-man demanded.
“We nearly didn’t,” Larys said, turning to gesture toward my burned body.
“As you can see.”
The man stepped up, looking me up and down before spitting in the dirt.
“Well, we’re too many. Fuck off.”
“I have some coin,” Larys offered, pulling out his purse and handing the whole thing over.
The man pocketed it under the sharp eyes of his men.
“You can earn a tent if you’re ready to work. Have you got a trade?”
“I have some knowledge of herbs. And I can read… a little,” Larys said.
The men laughed.
“You might be useful,” the leader said reluctantly.
“I have the command here.”
“That is clear,” Larys agreed, bowing his head.
“My lord.”
“Tangle-tongue works the latrines,” the man announced, pointing at the boy.
“Collects piss for the tanners and shit for the farmers.” Then his eyes landed on me.
“This one can help him.”
Oh, fuck.
I could have told him I knew how to read and write, but I wasn’t going to squirm and beg under some lowborn cunt.
On the other hand, I wasn’t about to spend my days shoveling shit, either.