GOT : Battle Royale[ An ASOIAF Fanfiction]

"The coat of arms of the Grafson family of Seagull Town," Ian supplied the answer.

"You are truly well-informed."

"Heraldry is a compulsory course for nobles," he replied, though he wasn't a noble himself. "So," Ian returned to the topic, "He arrived at the inn yesterday afternoon? And hasn't left today?"

"Yeah, he didn't even order breakfast."

"Then which King's Landing is he rushing to?" Ian looked up and glanced out the window. From the height of the sun, he could tell it was already past nine in the morning. How could anyone on the road not set off by this time?

"I don't know, Ser."

Of course you don't know. "Knock on his door, ask him if he wants breakfast, observe his room to see what he's doing, and then come and report to me."

In truth, his intuition told Ian that this knight was unlikely to be a player. After all, if a player wanted to form an alliance or hunt here, there was no reason to tell the innkeeper they were rushing to King's Landing.

But there was no harm in paying a little extra for Jenny to go and check the situation.

"Yes." Jenny was reluctant, fearing how she'd be scolded if the knight was still sleeping. However, she was more afraid of the "richest man in the world" in front of her.

"Also, have Martha personally deliver our breakfast later."

"Yes, Ser."

"While Martha is busy in the kitchen, you can do some of her work here. You can ask her about the specific situation now, but remember, I am conducting a very important and secret arrest. If the secret gets out—"

"No, absolutely not, I swear!" Jenny quickly promised.

Ian waved his hand, signaling that she could leave.

Jenny then ran out of the room, as if relieved.

Not long after, a breakfast that was remarkably rich for this era was delivered to Ian's room.

The meal consisted of a pot of mutton soup made with turnips, barley, carrots, and onions, a big fat goose, a pot of buttered peas, a plate of beet salad, three portions of oatmeal bread, and three glasses of ale.

Ian didn't drink in the morning, so he gave the ale to Rohr.

"Tell me about the Black Falcon situation," Ian said, taking the soup that Martha had served for him.

"Sorry, Ser, I haven't communicated with Boss Morgan yet."

Ian looked at her, waiting for her explanation.

"That's right, Boss Morgan hasn't left his room yet, nor has he ordered breakfast. He probably hasn't gotten up yet."

"Your niece just reported to me that a knight of the Grafson family didn't get up. Why, did they two sleep together?"

"Ser, you truly love to joke."

"So you need me to teach you how to knock on the door?" Ian rolled his eyes. "You won't wake him up if he doesn't get up?"

"I don't dare, Ser. Boss Morgan hates being disturbed when sleeping," Martha shook her head quickly, seeming to sense Ian's displeasure. She quickly added, "But I have already taken care of the other mercenary issues for you! Four scattered mercenaries have been sent away. Of course, there's still one mercenary left in the inn who just arrived yesterday. I ignored him and let him stay in the hall."

"Then, then," Martha continued, "the two mercenary captains, Denzel and Ser Grantham, have expressed their willingness to accept your mission. Denzel's mercenary team has nine people. I negotiated a price of three thousand silver stags per month for you. Ser Grantham only has four men, but all of them are cavalry. Their price per month is two thousand five hundred silver stags."

"They can come to see me now?" Ian had no objection to the price. Three times the market price was the price he had proposed himself.

"Yes, they have been waiting for you for a long time."

"Then meet them first. You go and let the two captains in. Also, pay attention to Black Falcon. When he comes out, talk to him about me as soon as possible."

"Yes." Martha left the room after receiving the instructions.

After a while, a handsome young man with burgundy hair and a middle-aged man wearing chainmail knocked on the door and walked in.

The burgundy-haired young man wore a Dornish-style robe, with a scimitar and a dagger hanging on his belt. The middle-aged man wore a chainmail shirt with no other protective accessories. A longsword hung at his waist.

It was obvious that neither of them had any intention of disarming themselves before entering, and it was impossible for Ian to take the initiative to make such a request, which would only show his lack of self-confidence.

Without waiting for Ian's order, Keith took a step forward casually and stood at the wall between Ian and the two mercenaries. This distance would not affect Ian's conversation with them, but if the mercenaries made any abnormal move, he could immediately take action to subdue them.

"You look so young, Ser," the young man said with a smile.

"I am Ser Lucion Lannister, and I am not a grown man," Ian corrected.

When Jenny had called him "sir" before, Ian hadn't corrected her. That was because for commoners, titles weren't that important. But now there was a knight among the mercenary captains in front of Ian, so these issues needed to be clearer.

Since the role he played was a knight, he couldn't presumptuously accept the title "my lord." There was no need for Ian to leave a bad impression for such a trivial matter.

"A Lannister?"

"Any questions?"

"No," the young man shook his head. "My name is Denzel. They usually call me 'Spiky.' I am honored to serve you."

What an unflattering nickname.

"Ser Grantham," Grantham also introduced himself, then got straight to the point. "As for the price Martha negotiated with us, we can get two thousand five hundred silver stags a month."

"That's what I meant, no doubt about it," Ian looked at Denzel again. "And your team's three thousand. Regarding the remuneration, I can pay you half upfront, and then pay the other half after the task is completed."

"No, we need to get them all in advance," Grantham immediately refused.

"This is not the rule in this industry," Ian chuckled.

"But for your assignment, that's the rule of the trade."

"My mission?" Ian narrowed his eyes slightly. "What did Martha tell you?"

"She didn't say anything, but I guess you need us to do something very dangerous, don't you?"

"Why do you think so?"

"The price you offered is three times the market rate. If the mission wasn't particularly dangerous, who would give such a reward?"

"As rich as a Lannister," Ian said, quoting a motto widely circulated in Westeros. "What I want you to do for me takes a long time and requires obedience and execution, but it will basically involve no danger. As for why I want to pay three times the price, it stems from an experience I had two years ago..."