Chapter 57: Ros Seeks a New Path (1)
"Lord Stark has taken most of the men around Winterfell to the Wall," Ros said lightly. "And I've heard that soon every man within a hundred miles will be conscripted as well. Most of them may never return."
She shrugged faintly.
"If we stay in Winter Town, there won't be any business left."
Stepping closer, she teasingly tugged at her neckline. "My lord, I haven't had a proper customer in quite some time."
Saelen's expression did not change. "Your information network seems impressive."
Ros smiled. "After they finish, my customers always like to boast about how knowledgeable they are. So I tend to hear things first—even if I don't care much for the news itself."
Seeing he remained unmoved, she let her clothing fall back into place, a flicker of boredom crossing her face.
"Sometimes I wonder, my lord… are you even a man?" she teased, reaching toward him—only for Saelen to step aside smoothly, avoiding her touch.
At that moment, the soldier inside the tent emerged, adjusting his trousers with a satisfied look—until he noticed Saelen standing there. His face paled instantly.
"Lord Saelen!" he stammered, bowing anxiously.
Saelen waved him off dismissively and sent him away.
He turned back to Ros and regarded her thoughtfully. Youthful and striking, with clear skin and a confident bearing—she carried herself with an ease born of survival rather than innocence.
After a moment, Saelen reached into his pouch and tossed her a gold dragon.
"You're sharp," he said evenly. "If you ever decide you want a different life, come find me."
Without waiting for her response, he turned and walked away.
Ros stood frozen, staring at the gold coin in her palm, momentarily stunned.
The two women beside her immediately leaned in, their voices thick with envy.
"Ros, you're blessed. That lord must have taken a liking to you. Maybe he'll make you his mistress."
"They say the porcelain he produces is worth its weight in gold. What are you hesitating for? If you follow him, you'll live in comfort for the rest of your life."
Their words dripped with admiration—but their eyes betrayed something else. It had been Ros who answered him first, Ros who seized the moment, and Ros who had caught his interest.
And that was not easily forgiven.
Ros showed little reaction to their envious whispers. She knew her own worth—and her limits. A man like Lord Saelen was not looking for a mistress. As for what he truly wanted, that she could not yet guess.
Saelen's interest in recruiting Ros stemmed from something far more practical. Her earlier words had sparked an idea: in this world, there was no better foundation for an intelligence network than women like her. They entertained all kinds of men—high lords and hedge knights, merchants and common laborers alike. With the right training and subtle techniques, a few well-placed questions whispered at the right moment might yield information no spy could obtain through force.
Saelen had already poured many gold dragons into building intelligence channels, yet the results had been disappointing. Valuable information remained scarce. But if that same gold were invested in cultivating informants among brothels and taverns, perhaps he could establish a far more stable and effective network.
And Ros—ambitious, clever, and capable of independent thought—was one of the best possible candidates. Of course, that depended entirely on whether she was willing to follow him. Without that, the plan was nothing but idle speculation.
Still, to Saelen, these were merely secondary pieces on the board. If they proved useful, all the better. If not, he would lose nothing more than a few coins. At his current standing, anything solvable with money was hardly a problem.
A few days later, Ros sought out Gendry.
She wasted no time. The moment they were alone, she slipped close and pressed herself against him without hesitation.
Gendry was barely past boyhood—at that restless age when curiosity and heat ran high. He had followed Saelen through battles and bloodshed, surviving by instinct and strength. Faced with such direct temptation, restraint was not his strongest weapon.
Dry tinder met open flame.
Later, they lay together. Ros rested against his chest, tracing idle circles across his skin.
"My lord," she murmured softly, "I've heard you've slain White Walkers."
Gendry let out a tired breath. "No. I've never killed a White Walker. Wights, though? Plenty."
He frowned slightly, thinking back. "Dozens? Hundreds? Hard to say. The battlefield was chaos—I wasn't counting."
"Still impressive," Ros replied lightly. "But I heard some of you killed White Walkers too. Were those drunkards spinning tales?"
"That was Lord Saelen," Gendry said, pride filling his voice. "He wielded the greatsword Ice and cut down two White Walkers himself. As for wights—he felled more than I could count. That night… he was unstoppable."
A trace of regret entered his tone. "I wasn't there when he slew the third one. Heard about it later from Robb."
"Oh?" Ros asked, curiosity bright in her eyes. "And where were you?"
Gendry shifted awkwardly. He had been asleep—oblivious to everything. It wasn't a story worth telling.
Seeing his discomfort, Ros wisely changed the subject. "What's your family name?"
"I don't have one," he replied after a pause. "I grew up in a smithy in King's Landing. My mother was a tavern maid. As for my father… I never knew him."
That only deepened Ros's curiosity. How had a nameless commoner risen to become the squire of one of the Seven Kingdoms' most formidable knights?
"So how did you become his squire?" she asked gently.
Gendry shrugged. "Maybe the Seven favored me. One day, I was hammering steel in the forge when Lord Saelen walked in. He looked at me and said, 'You've the build of a warrior. Would you serve as my squire?'"
He had stared in shock for a moment—then agreed.
Ros nodded slowly, piecing together a clearer picture of Saelen.
Then she wrapped her arms around Gendry's and pressed closer, her tone soft and coaxing. "Would you introduce me to Lord Saelen?"
Gendry suddenly seemed far more awake. He gently freed his arm and sat up, no longer distracted.
"You didn't have to do this," he said quietly. "Lord Saelen noticed you days ago. He told me that if you ever came looking for him, you didn't need permission—I could take you straight to him."
He tossed her clothes toward her. "Get dressed. I'll bring you to see him."
Then, correcting her with a faint smile, he added, "And I'm a squire. Not a lord."
Chapter 58: Ros Seeks Allegiance (2)
After speaking, Gendry tossed a gold dragon toward her. Ros caught it, rolling the coin thoughtfully between her fingers. A flicker of calculation crossed her eyes before she softened her expression and replied sweetly,
"Yes… my lord."
Gendry ignored the tone. He waited for her