Back at the inn, Carlo Schmidt collapsed into a chair, his face a mask of bitter amusement. He unbuckled his sword belt and slammed the weapon onto the table with a heavy thud.
"The Iron Throne does not tolerate betrayal? Hah! If the Mad King Aerys heard Tywin say that, he'd claw his way out of the grave just to laugh in the old man's face. He'd have a very different opinion on who betrayed whom."
"Keep your voice down," Marin Sharp warned, his hand resting gently on Carlo's shoulder. He scanned the common room, his eyes lingering on the heavy oak doors. "If the wrong ears catch that talk, we won't live to see the city gates. King's Landing is a nest of vipers. Varys's little birds are everywhere."
At the mention of the Spider, Marin felt a phantom shiver. Even in the depths of the Riverlands, the eunuch's reputation was a shadow that loomed large.
Viktor, the treasurer of the Dawn, stood by the window with his arms crossed. "When do we ride back to the Gods Eye? Our business here is done."
"A few more days," Carlo said, reaching for a flagon of ale. He took a long, thirsty swallow before wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "When we were waiting at the Red Keep, I spoke with several merchant guilders. They were looking at our Sun-Sugar like it was dragon glass. I told them where we were staying. If they want the trade, they'll come knocking tonight."
Viktor frowned. "Should we not simply open a shop here? A permanent place for the Alliance's goods? It would save us the constant worry of finding buyers."
"It's not that simple," Carlo sneered, his eyes darkening with memories of his time in the City Watch. "Rent in this pit is a king's ransom. And without a High Lord as a patron, you'd be bankrupt or gutted in an alley before the first moon turned. I was a sergeant in the Gold Cloaks, Viktor. I know the rot. The pay is a pittance; we lived on 'extortion.' Sometimes the orders to shake a man down came from the Lord Commander himself. It's how the city teaches country bumpkins to follow the rules."
Viktor's expression soured. "Parasites. How does a kingdom stand with such filth at its heart?"
"It's not our kingdom," Carlo laughed. "We'll wait. If the merchants come, we sell. If not, we report back to Aldric. We gave the letter of submission to Tywin. The mission is technically a success."
To save coin, the party split. Viktor led the fifty mounted warriors to the refugee camp outside the Great Sept of Baelor. It was a sprawling tent-city overseen by the High Sparrow, the man who had stood beside Aldric at the Great Assembly. Carlo and Marin remained at the Lucky Clover with a handful of attendants.
The afternoon sun was bleeding through the windows when the peace was shattered.
The front door was kicked open with a violent crack. A dozen Gold Cloaks surged into the lobby, their chainmail rattling and spears leveled. At their head was a captain with a face like a slab of raw meat. He marched to the table where Carlo and Marin were playing cards, grabbed the deck, and crushed the parchment in his gauntlet.
"What is the meaning of this?" Carlo roared, his hand flying to his sword hilt. "We are Lords of the Riverlands! Stand down!"
"Lords?" The captain sneered, flipping up his visor. "Lord Tywin Lannister has been murdered in the night. Every Riverman in the city is a suspect in the conspiracy."
Before Carlo could draw, the captain's gauntleted fist buried itself in his stomach. The air left Carlo's lungs in a sickening wheeze. He doubled over, retching his midday meal onto the rushes.
Marin and the attendants reached for their steel, but they were staring down a dozen spears. They were isolated. Viktor and the Sunwalkers were across the city.
"My Lord, have mercy!" the innkeeper cried, scurrying out from the kitchens. "We are loyal! My sister serves the Red Keep!"
"Shut up, fat man," the captain barked.
His men emerged from the guest rooms, hauling the two remaining crates of Sun-Sugar.
"Only two, Captain," a guard reported.
The captain's eyes narrowed as he looked at the gasping Carlo. "Bribes for the assassin, no doubt. Or perhaps the poison itself."
"I was one of you!" Carlo groaned, wiping blood from his lip. "I was a Gold Cloak! Captain Weiss was my brother-in-arms!"
The captain answered with a heavy boot to Carlo's ribs. "Bind them. The Hand is dead, and the Queen wants blood. You'll do as well as any."
An hour later, the terrified attendants found Viktor in the shadow of the Great Sept.
"They took them? The Gold Cloaks?" Viktor's face drained of color. "Tywin is dead?"
"They said he was murdered," the man whispered. "They took the sugar too."
Viktor went straight to the High Sparrow's tent. When he delivered the news, the old monk's eyes lit up with a terrifying, holy fire.
"The Lion of the West is cold?" The Sparrow clasped his hands. "The scourge of the smallfolk has finally met the Father's justice. The gods have heard the cries of the Riverlands."
"We need the truth," Viktor cautioned. "If the city learns the Hand is dead, the streets will turn to fire."
"I will send for Brother Kaden," the Sparrow said.
That night, Kaden Storm slipped into the tent. He looked like a ghost, his Gold Cloak stained with soot.
"It's true," Kaden whispered. "A guard found him in the privy. The Old Lion was gutted by a crossbow bolt while he sat on the stool. Blood and dung everywhere. And a whore was found strangled in his bed."
"Tywin?" Ser Theodore Wells asked in disbelief. "The man who hated the mention of brothels?"
"The whore was Shae—the witness against the Imp," Kaden explained. "And the Imp is gone. Vanished from the black cells. They found a tunnel behind his wall leading straight to the Hand's bedchamber."
"So Tyrion killed his father," Viktor whispered. The weight of the news was staggering.
"If the Imp did it, why take our men?" Theodore pressed.
"Because they are vulnerable," Kaden sighed. "The Gold Cloaks are a pack of wolves without a master. They are looting the city under the guise of an investigation. They'll ransom Carlo and Marin back to us for everything we have."
The High Sparrow looked toward the Red Keep, his silhouette sharp against the canvas. "Tywin was the iron that held the Lords together. Without him, the Seven Kingdoms will shatter into a thousand pieces of glass. This is the moment the Sun has waited for."
He turned to Viktor. "The Lion is dead. Tell Aldric to prepare. The Dawn begins tomorrow."
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