Chapter 35 – Gold Can Make Even White Walkers Work
The moment Barristan finished speaking, he quickly reined his horse aside, face flushed red. Never again.
This was humiliating beyond words. If word of this ever spread, his hard-earned reputation — "Barristan the Bold," the knight who carved his legend on the battlefield — would be in shambles.
He could practically hear the snickers of his companions behind him. Ser Manly and the others were struggling to keep straight faces, their cheeks twitching violently.
"Ahem. Ahem."
Sensing that his men were about to burst out laughing, Lance coughed twice and shot a meaningful glance toward the back of the company.
Lord Symond, the Master of Laws, straightened in his saddle and rode forward with an air of exaggerated dignity.
Unlike the rest of them, he wore a flowing silk robe instead of heavy plate, the kind of clothing that screamed wealth. Combined with his usual arrogant posture, he looked exactly like some nouveau riche merchant who had stumbled into power.
"Who's in charge here?"
Symond didn't even bother to look at the villagers properly — just lifted his eyelids lazily and let his gaze slide toward the middle-aged man with the barest flick of his eyes.
The man stiffened under that condescending glance, then hurried forward, bowing deeply.
"My name is Mika—"
"Genghis Khan," Symond cut him off, his voice dripping with contempt, as though merely speaking with him was a chore.
He loosened the cord of the pouch at his hip. It clinked sharply — the unmistakable sound of coin.
He fished around in the bag with a scowl. "Damn it, all gold dragons?"
He deliberately tilted the bag just enough for the villagers to catch a glimpse of the gleaming hoard inside. Their eyes lit up like torches. In a backwater place like this, few had ever seen so much gold in one place.
"Use mine, my lord."
Lance, impressed at how well Symond had thrown himself into the role, stepped forward and tossed Mika a silver moon with a casual flick.
"Pity I've got no smaller change on me," he muttered just loudly enough for everyone to hear.
Mika clutched the coin as though it were the Seven's own blessing. He knew very well that thirty silver moons equaled one gold dragon — and a single gold dragon could keep a family of five fed and clothed for half a year in King's Landing.
Here, in the wilderness? That much silver could sustain them for two or three years. And this stranger had handed it over without even asking a question.
Pure, reckless generosity.
"Three days, Mika."
Symond's lip curled in the faintest of smiles, his tone regal, commanding.
"We will remain here for three days. In that time, no matter what game you hunt — no matter how rare or dangerous — I will buy it at the highest possible price."
He sat up straighter, raising his voice as if to proclaim it to the world.
"For I, Genghis Khan, the greatest merchant Westeros has ever known, have gold dragons to spare!"
Then he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice, speaking just to Mika:
"And you, Mika — as my assistant, you will receive one-twentieth of the total value of all purchases as your personal commission."
As he spoke, he patted the pouch at his waist. The jingle of coins made the onlookers swallow hard.
"B-But…"
Mika stared at Symond's money pouch, eyes practically burning with greed. Yet reason barely held him back.
"All the beasts in this forest belong to the Crown. If we hunt without permission, we could be—"
"Hmph." Symond snorted derisively through his nose. You weren't so cautious when you were pocketing my gold earlier, he thought.
Then, right in front of everyone, he dramatically pulled a parchment scroll from his cloak.
The scroll gleamed as though treated with fine animal oil. Its edges were embossed with intricate golden patterns — so ornate that the crowd suddenly realized just how deep Symond's coffers must be.
He spread the scroll open with a practiced, almost careless air, but his fingers were surprisingly gentle — he clearly didn't want to risk damaging something so rare.
Even as the Master of Laws, he could never afford such a luxury. This particular treasure had been personally sponsored by none other than Tywin Lannister.
"Take a good look, you ignorant country bumpkins!"
Turning the scroll so everyone could see, Symond raised his voice proudly.
"This is a Royal Hunting Writ, personally signed by the Master of Laws himself! That means as long as you sell the game to me, everything you do is perfectly legal."
"Understand?"
The words struck the villagers like a thunderclap. Nobody had expected this merchant to have something signed by the Master of Laws — his wealth and connections now seemed almost unfathomable.
"Seven bless us, Lord Genghis!"
Lance stepped forward at just the right moment, feigning astonishment as he eyed the scroll.
"You even managed to get this? Then we're going to strike it rich! The forest boars, brown bears, even those great-antlered stags — each of them is worth a fortune!"
Symond tilted his head arrogantly, nostrils flaring in pride. He didn't like bragging, but this time he made an exception.
"Of course. This scroll cost me five hundred golden dragons. With it, we can buy any beast in the royal lands without fear!"
The villagers gasped as though lightning had struck.
"Five hundred dragons!"
"Seven above! Do you know how much money that is?"
"If I had that much, I'd forge myself a gold axe — chopping wood would feel like a feast every day!"
"Idiot! Gold is soft. I've seen it. You can't chop wood with gold! If I had that money, I'd melt it down and sleep on it like a pillow!"
The crowd erupted into chatter, clearly convinced by Symond's words. Many were already itching to grab their tools and head for the forest immediately.
Mika, though tempted, approached with caution — he wanted to verify the writ's authenticity.
Unfortunately, he couldn't read.
But the glittering seals and intricate golden patterns were enough to convince him halfway.
"Just wait and see, Lord Genghis!" Mika said eagerly, bowing with an obsequious grin.
"I'll spread the word. We'll bring you the finest game in the entire forest!"
He spun on his heel and hurried away, practically running. It looked as if he feared that other villagers would get to the prey before him.
After all, even if he was promised only one-twentieth of the total profits, who would ever turn down gold?
Within minutes, word of the "great merchant" Lord Genghis had spread through the entire village. The once-quiet settlement now buzzed with life, torchlight turning night into day — and then, just as quickly, the people dispersed into the royal forest, like flies drawn to blood.
---
"Got to admit, that was brilliant, Ser Lance," Barristan said as he surveyed the now nearly-deserted village.
"Not only did we get inside without issue, but now, even if we're discovered, no one will be around to shield the enemy."
He had never imagined that greed could so easily turn simple, honest villagers into willing servants of profit.
"My old smith used to say," Lance replied with a smirk, patting Barristan's shoulder,
"With enough coin, you could hire even the White Walkers to work for you."
The plan had been Varys's idea, but the execution — the details — that was Lance's handiwork, and he was proud of how well it had worked.
"But we still don't know exactly where those bastards are," Arthur interjected, frowning.
"That eunuch's information only gave us a general area. Are we supposed to search every single hamlet?"
"No, that won't do…" Arthur muttered, immediately rejecting his own thought.
"That would make us far too obvious. They'd know we were coming."
"Damn it… what should we do?"
"Calm yourself, Ser Arthur," Lance said soothingly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"We will rescue Princess Elia and Lady Ashara. That much is certain."
"But—"
"Just wait."
Lance gently tapped his horse's neck and looked out over the empty village.
"The news of Lord 'Genghis' will spread soon enough. No one can resist the lure of gold dragons. When the dust settles, anyone who stays hidden and refuses to hunt… those will be our kidnappers."
He glanced toward the dark forest and muttered,
"Let's just hope Varys's little birds bring us word before it's too late."