The path from the docks to the inn demanded force to push through the crowd. Varys walked ahead. His soft velvet shoes seemed to glide over the dark mud of Muddy Way without throwing a single drop of filth. The crimson-cloaked escort opened the way, pushing merchants and beggars aside with the wooden shafts of their spears.
The labyrinth of uneven alleys of King's Landing seethed with thousands of compressed bodies. Dark thatched roofs and cracked clay tiles crushed against each other on the slopes. Black smoke from forges and street fires covered the capital in a dirty haze, staining the evening light.
Far above, on top of Aegon's Hill, the Red Keep dominated the skyline. The stone of the round towers and the monstrous battlements held the flat color of dried blood.
The noise of the streets formed a continuous roar. Cart wheels cracked on the loose paving stones. Blacksmiths hammered steel and merchants bellowed the prices of salted fish. We passed a City Watch patrol. The gold of their cloaks stood out against the filth of the sidewalk. They walked in tight formation, gloved hands resting fixed on the pommels of their short swords. One of the guards kicked the bowl of a beggar blocking the gutter. The wood cracked against the wall. The man crawled aside, sinking his hands into the mud and waste.
Long banners with the three-headed red dragon hung from the stone balconies of the taller buildings. The capital was swollen past its structural limit.
"King's Landing overflows", Varys remarked, walking with his gaze fixed on the path ahead. "Prince Rhaegar's wedding to Princess Elia Martell will take place in a few weeks. The promise of extravagant feasts and court favors has dragged retinues of lords, hedge knights, and mercenaries inside our walls."
Fenrir and Hela walked pressed against my legs. Their heavy paws stepped around the puddles of dirty water. Passersby stopped abruptly and shrank against the wooden walls of the warehouses to get clear of the wolf's red eyes and the shadowcat's fangs.
We stopped in front of a three-story inn near the foot of Visenya's Hill, where the air smelled less of sewage and more of burning wood. The foundation was pale stone and thick waxed oak beams. An iron sign swung in the sea breeze, displaying the drawing of a crown of flowers.
"Your rest", Varys said, stopping before the double door. He kept his eyes away from Hela, who had driven her claws into the wood of the doorframe to sharpen the tips. "The innkeepers have already been generously paid with the Crown's silver. Hot water, clean sheets, and quality soap await you."
The eunuch opened a polished smile.
"The soap comes from a new shop that has taken the court and the nobility by storm", Varys continued, his dark eyes brightening with silent amusement. "They sell hygiene items so peculiar that women form long queues on the pavement just to buy the bars. One of the largest buyers today is Queen Rhaella herself."
I bit the inside of my cheek. The formulas sent to Rhoslyn in the North were bathing royalty in the South.
Varys slid his pale hands back inside his wide silk sleeves.
"Someone will knock on your door in the early hours of the morning", the eunuch instructed, his soft voice dripping politeness. "A trusted man will guide you through the streets to the exact location of the meeting. The capital is a confusing labyrinth for those who come from the North."
"We will be ready", I answered, keeping my hand near the leather belt.
"Before I leave you", Varys paused, his gaze sliding back to the two predators. "I recommend caution with your animals. The city is packed with every kind of man because of the wedding. Thieves, mercenaries, and drunk fools seeking fame. Someone may attempt something unfortunate."
"I appreciate the warning", I answered.
Varys dipped his bald head in a short bow and turned his heavy body on his heels. The Master of Whisperers retraced the path along the cobbled street, flanked by the guard soldiers, until he disappeared into the evening mist.
Perseu watched the eunuch's silhouette vanish into the grimy crowd.
"I have never seen so many miserable people per square foot", the warrior said, his hand resting near the guard of his greatsword. "Speaking of which, Arthur — who do you think the royal family member is that will meet us tomorrow?"
"That is obvious", I said, a quick smile pulling at the corner of my mouth. "Seems we are about to meet the most famous groom in the Seven Kingdoms."
Kevin shook his head the moment he was sure the crimson cloaks had turned the corner.
"That bald man gives me chills", Kevin muttered, rubbing his arms under his own hardened leather tunic. "I swear I prefer the smell of shit from the street over that lavender perfume."
I let out a short laugh. I put my arm over Kevin's shoulders and steered the hunter toward the double door of the inn.
"Come. The smell of shit you already have", I said.
We pushed through the doors of the Crown of Flowers. The interior smelled of roasted mutton, braised garlic, and wine spilled into wood. The main hall was wide and well kept, lit by wrought iron chandeliers and two polished stone hearths crackling at each end. The round oak tables showed no knife grooves or old stains. Heavy tapestries with floral embroidery covered the masonry walls, muffling the noise of the cart wheels on the street.
A middle-aged woman in a clean green wool dress and an immaculate white apron approached our group. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second at Hela's fangs and Fenrir's size, but she forced her professional composure immediately.
"My lords", she said, joining her hands in front of her body. "The expenses have been fully paid. Hot baths are already prepared in the tubs. Food can be served here in the lower hall or delivered directly to your quarters."
"To the quarters", I answered.
"Certainly", the woman nodded, swallowing. "I beg your pardon for the inconvenience, but the city is completely full because of Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia Martell's ceremony. We only had three rooms available at the time of the reservation. There is no way for each of you to have your own space."
"We accept without issue", I said.
We had spent the last years sleeping on frozen roots, wet stones, and bloody mud. A dry straw mattress would already have been an absurd luxury.
"We will divide up", I said, taking the three heavy iron keys from the innkeeper's hand. "Perseu and Kevin take one room. Morghaz and Belzakar in the second. I take the third."
I looked down. The giant wolf snorted, shaking his black coat, and the shadowcat dragged her flank across my boot. I would not be alone, after all.
I thanked the woman with a nod. I handed the keys to the others. We turned our backs to the hall tables and climbed the wide oak staircase toward hot water and heavy sleep.
I opened the door to my room. The space held an unusual luxury for the rot of the street outside. The floor was covered by a thick rug of dyed wool. A canopied bed occupied the center, with high pillows and white sheets pulled taut. In the corner, near the window with velvet curtains, a large copper tub steamed, revealing the hot water inside.
I dropped the packs and blades onto the bed. I removed the armor, the mud-stiff trousers, and the sweat-soaked tunic, throwing the dirty cloth into a pile on the floor, and walked straight to the bath.
I sank into the water. The heat needled the skin and entered the pores in seconds. I rested the back of my neck on the cold copper rim and let out a long breath, emptying my lungs.
"Do not think you two are escaping a bath as well", I said, turning my face toward the rug. Fenrir and Hela were already lying down, heads resting on their front paws. "The moment I find a clean lake, you both go straight in."
Fenrir snorted through his nostrils, closing his red eyes. Hela ignored the sound of my voice entirely.
The heat dissolved my sense of time. Short knocks sounded on the wooden door.
"Come in", I said.
The iron handle turned. A young woman, holding a silver tray loaded with steaming dishes, stepped two paces inside. Her eyes dropped from my face in the tub to the two black beasts on the floor. A trapped scream scraped her throat in a thin squeak. She jolted backward, her back striking the wooden door. The metal of the tray rattled loudly in her hands. Her cheeks burned a vivid red in the same instant.
"Forgive me, my lord", the girl murmured, her voice thin and unsteady. She turned her face to the floorboards, avoiding my nudity in the water and the wolf's size. "I did not see..."
"It is nothing. Come in", I answered, stretching my arm over the rim of the tub. "Leave the tray on the table."
She moved around the rug in short, rigid steps, her shoulders pulled up nearly to her ears, and set the silver down on the oak.
"Take the gold coin on top of the table. As a tip", I said.
The girl froze mid-motion. Her hand stretched out with hesitation and her short fingers closed around the heavy dragon. She raised her face. Her mouth opened and closed without producing a single sound. Tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks. The smile that broke through her trembling lips was absolute.
"What is your name?", I asked.
"M-Marga, my lord", she answered, her voice catching, pressing the coin against her apron. She glanced at the pile of stained leather and dirty linen thrown near the bed. "Would you like me to take your clothes to be washed? The washerwomen still have the vats of hot water and soap going in the back."
"That would be excellent, Marga. Take them", I answered. "And I need you to bring some large pieces of meat for my friends as well."
"Right away, my lord."
She nodded quickly and repeatedly. She walked fast to the pile of clothes, gathered the dirty fabric keeping her body as far as possible from the beasts, and left the room in a hurry.
I got out of the tub. The water ran off my body and wet the wood. I took a thick cotton towel, dried my skin, and pulled on only a clean pair of leather trousers from my pack. I left my chest and stomach bare. I sat at the table and began to cut the meat on my plate.
The door knocked again minutes later.
"Come in."
Marga pushed the door open with her shoulder. She carried two large iron plates with thick, juicy roasted lamb legs. She stopped in the middle of the room. Her eyes searched my face but dropped immediately, locking on my bare torso and the muscles crossed with scars. The skin of the girl's neck and face burned scarlet in the same breath. She blinked rapidly and redirected her gaze to the ceiling, gripping the edge of the plates with white knuckles.
I tilted my head toward the rug.
The girl swallowed. She walked slowly, knees bending with extreme care, her body leaning backward, trying to maintain the greatest possible physical distance from the beasts without looking at me again. She set the plates on the floor without sound.
The smell of bone and fat filled the room. Fenrir and Hela woke at the same instant. The muscles of their backs contracted and both lunged at the pieces, clamping down on the lamb and cracking the bones with sharp, resonant snaps.
A quiet laugh escaped me. Marga jumped back, pressed her hands together in front of her apron, and fled the room, pulling the heavy door shut behind her.
I finished my meal and wiped my hands. I walked to the center of the room and let my body drop onto the feather bed. Sleep drowned my vision before I had even pulled the sheet over me.
The morning sun broke through the gap in the velvet curtain. I got up from the feather bed, pulled on a clean linen shirt, and buckled the belt with its scabbards. I went out into the corridor. Fenrir and Hela walked just behind.
I came down the oak staircase. The lower hall smelled of cooked oats and warm bread. Several people already occupied the benches at the central tables. I walked to a dark corner near the unlit hearth. The giant wolf and the shadowcat lay down on the planks beside my boots. The sound of wooden cups knocking together faded out gradually around us.
"Looks like you two will have to stay in the room today", I said quietly, looking at Fenrir's muzzle. "You are drawing too much attention."
Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. Kevin and Perseu came down arguing about the price of wine in the capital. Morghaz and Belzakar appeared just behind, short spears in hand. The presence of the four filled the hall.
The whispers started at the neighboring tables. The eyes of merchants and travelers moved from the black fur of the beasts to the scar on the right side of my face. Loose words crossed the air mixed with the sound of spoons. Wolfpack. Direwolf. Shadowcat. A mercenary in a worn tunic murmured Demonwolf before turning his face to the wall.
The four sat around the table. The innkeeper brought bowls of steaming porridge. Kevin winked at the woman and opened a crooked smile. Perseu drove a hard elbow into the archer's ribs, pulling a muffled grunt of air.
We started to eat. An oak chair scraped on the floor to my left.
A man wrapped in a black cloak sat down at the table. The hood covered his features completely. Nobody had heard his footsteps approach. Kevin lurched on the bench, knocking his spoon into the bowl and letting out a short, sharp sound that scratched his own throat.
"It has been a long time, my friend. I missed you", I said, the corner of my mouth pulling up.
The man pulled the dark cloth back. Eldric's sharp face appeared in the lamplight.
Kevin reached across the table and grabbed the spy's shoulder, shaking him and laughing. Perseu gave a firm nod. Morghaz and Belzakar knocked their knuckles on the wood in greeting.
"Where have you been hiding? What have you been doing all this time?", Kevin said, his voice ringing loud off the wooden ceiling.
I raised my right hand, cutting the question short. The hall of a capital inn had too many ears in its walls for any answer involving our network.
"Be at ease, my lord", Eldric said. His voice seemed to slide along the table, low and rasped. "The Spider's little birds will not come near you while you are here. They say they are very afraid of the dark."
I let out a brief laugh.
"Speaking of birds, it seems you forgot to mention a detail in your reports", I said, crossing my arms. "Demonwolf?"
A slight smile appeared on Eldric's lips.
"That is what they are calling you, my lord", the spy answered. "Your stories have been heard in every corner of Westeros. The people have not had that kind of story for a long time, and you have fallen into their favor."
"But Demonwolf?", I said.
Kevin let out a rasping laugh.
"What would you prefer? The Poorwolf?", the archer answered, scraping the porridge bowl.
I shook my head slowly, tapping my fingers on the wooden table.
"Where is Rhoslyn?", I asked.
"In the Reach. She traveled to open a branch of the cosmetics shop before the king's raven could reach the walls of the North", Eldric reported. "She would be here if she had known of your arrival."
I nodded, processing the movement. The Reach concentrated the gold of the great houses. It was the perfect ground for her business.
"You have not yet been properly introduced to our vanguard", I said, gesturing toward the beasts on the floor. "Eldric, these are Fenrir and Hela."
Eldric looked down. He assessed Fenrir's dense muscle and the lethal curve of Hela's exposed fangs in complete silence. The shadowcat blinked her yellow eyes in his direction, her tail whipping the wood once. The spy lowered his hand slowly, keeping his palm open near the floor. Fenrir stretched his neck and sniffed Eldric's cold skin, releasing a warm breath through his nostrils. Hela pressed her black nose against the man's knuckles. Eldric ran his hand through the wolf's thick coat and then scratched lightly at the base of the shadowcat's neck.
"The gold flows", the spy continued, bringing his eyes back to me and resting his elbows on the table. "Rhoslyn's talent for multiplying coin fills new coffers every week. We have invested in shipyards, lands, and workshops, and the returns keep growing."
"In the Free Cities, gold like that buys armies", Morghaz cut in, chewing a piece of bread. The Essos drawl cut through the morning air. "Here it buys perfumes and stones. I prefer the utility of armies."
"The spear on your back already does the work of an entire company, Morghaz", Belzakar replied, driving his knife into the tip of a hard cheese. "But he has a point. Coin overflowing the chest draws thieves. Too much comfort dulls the guard."
"Only the guard of someone who does not know the weight of their own blade", Perseu shot back, knocking his cup back onto the table.
Perseu leaned his thick torso toward the spy, crossing his arms on the table.
"Changing the subject, Eldric. What do you think those two are doing right now? Sigurd and Astrid?"
"Killing", Kevin, Morghaz, and Belzakar answered in unison, without blinking.
Eldric confirmed with a slow nod. The spy pulled a map of the region and began to relay the Brotherhood's movements. The information matched the barkeep's parchments from White Harbor with surgical precision. Then he described the features of the person who would meet us that same morning.
A sharp, clipped sound cut through the noise of the hall. It sounded like a bird's whistle from the street. Eldric stopped mid-sentence and rose from the chair in a single movement.
"It is time for me to go. You are about to receive your guest", Eldric said, pulling the black hood back over his head. "I will meet you again when the meeting is finished. I have matters I need to discuss with you alone, Arthur."
"As do I", I said, nodding.
Eldric turned his back and walked toward the rear of the inn, blending into the shadows of the oak beams. He disappeared from sight long before reaching the kitchen door.
"He frightens me even more than before", Kevin muttered, rubbing the back of his neck under the leather.
The heavy front doors of the inn opened with the crash of heavy hinges.
A man crossed the threshold. The plates of his armor reflected the cold flashes of firelight like polished ice. A heavy white cloak fell across the smooth metal chest, fixed at the shoulders by darkened silver clasps. The white fabric at the edges showed thin streaks of road dust and smoke. The helm announced the knight's name. Two small black bat wings, forged in dark metal, rose from the sides of the narrow visor. It was not a piece assembled for tournament display. It was equipment designed for killing. Three City Watch members in gold cloaks dirty at the hem marched just behind him.
The knight's eyes swept the tables, assessed the sword on Perseu's back, the beasts on the floor, and locked on the scar across my face. He walked in a straight line toward our corner.
"Arthur Snow, I presume?", the man asked, his voice coming out muffled and metallic from behind the visor's slot.
I set my hands on my knees and rose from the wooden bench. I straightened the vertebrae of my spine. The top of the winged helm struck at the exact height of my lower collarbone. My shadow fell across the white plates.
"Ser Oswell Whent, I presume?", I answered, looking down at him.