Game of Thrones: The Impaler of the Blue Fork

Chapter 85: Silk from the South and Shadows on the Stone Wall

The ice melt in the Blue Fork Valley is more complete than in previous years, and the river water, carrying heavy silt, makes a thunderous rumble under the log bridge.

Otto Hohenzollern stood on the terrace of the highest level of the stone tower. He held the iron ring in his hand, his gaze piercing through the morning mist, landing on the distant river.

A beautifully decorated, flat-bottomed, fast sailing ship is sailing upstream, its sails embroidered with a huge twin tower emblem.

"Steveren's men have arrived."

The steward, Pollifer, appeared behind him at some point, still wearing his worn-out wool coat and clutching a falsified ledger stamped with the red seal of "Territory Deficit."

"Who is it?" Otto's voice was hoarse.

"Ward Rivers. The old Marquis's most cunning bastard."

Pollifer spat out a mouthful of muddy saliva.

"He brought with him two accounting clerks from the academy, and a cartload of southern silk, supposedly for the lady. Sir, this old fox is here to count the grains of rice in our pot."

Otto withdrew his gaze and looked towards the training ground.

Gareth was squatting in the mud, holding a wooden ladle, cleaning the wound of a farmer who had just sprained his ankle while spring plowing.

His movements were slow, and there was not a trace of disgust in his eyes.

That focus and gentleness seemed out of place against the cold, gray stone walls around them.

"Have Gareth go pick them up," Otto suddenly said.

Pollifer was taken aback: "Sir? Gareth is too honest; he would never lie. What if that Walder Rivers asked about the saltworks' output..."

"He is most trustworthy precisely because he doesn't lie."

Otto turned around, a subtle glint flashing in his grey-blue eyes.

"Ward Rivers has seen his fair share of swindlers and thieves. He would never have believed we were so poor that we had to make soup from grass roots if he hadn't seen a few real 'knights'."

---

Outside the inner gate of the fortress.

Wad River dismounted.

His boots, covered in fine leather, inevitably became stained with a layer of grayish grime when he stepped into the mud of the Blue Fork River.

He frowned in disgust, covering his nose with his sleeve, where the scent of silk was largely diluted by the smell of lime powder.

"I've come to visit Mrs. Maria."

Wad Rivers looked at Gareth walking towards him with a scrutinizing gaze befitting an upper class.

"You're the Fence Knight that Hohenzollern brought back?"

Gareth stopped in his tracks. He did not show the pathetic fear that his other subjects had displayed.

He bowed slightly, performing an impeccable knightly salute, his voice clear and bright.

"Gareth, Gareth of the Tower. Your Excellency awaits you at the Stone Tower, Lord Wald."

"I heard there was just a battle here."

As he walked, Ward Rivers pointed with his riding crop at the mud pits where lime was being buried and asked tentatively.

"Quite a few people died, didn't they? I heard that the tunnels you dug for silver were filled with corpses?"

Gareth stopped and turned to look at Ward.

Those eyes were so clear that they made this illegitimate child, who was caught up in a web of intrigue, feel inexplicably uncomfortable.

"Many people did die. Martin died, along with three other brothers."

Gareth's voice carried a genuine sadness.

"They didn't die in the mines, they died protecting the king in the corridors of Pike Town. There are no corpses like you described here, only farmers who haven't had enough to eat."

Gareth paused, his tone carrying a hint of stubborn sternness.

"My lord has used up his last savings this year to buy seeds in order to support his family. If you have come to deliver silk, I think the lady will be pleased; but if you have come to cause trouble, all I have here is this old sword."

Wad Rivers stared at Gareth for a moment.

He noticed that not only was the knight's gaze off, but even the confidence that arose from poverty seemed extremely genuine.

In the Twins, everyone speaks as if they're hiding half their tongue, but this tall man is actually getting angry at a Frey steward over the stomachs of a few farmers.

"That's interesting."

Wad Rivers looked away, and his doubts dissipated considerably in that instant.

This level of honesty and foolishness cannot be faked.

---

Stone Pagoda Study.

Otto stood in the shadows, watching Gareth lead Ward River across the training ground.

He saw Gareth help a peasant woman lift a heavy wooden bucket as he passed by the wounded soldiers' camp.

That instinctive, selfless kindness appeared both dazzling and glaring in the shadow cast by the stone tower.

Otto felt a long-cracked, hardened part of his heart being dazzled by the light.

He wondered, if he weren't Albrecht's son, if he didn't have to bear that heavy family name, could he also draw his sword for "right and wrong" like Gareth?

If he could have rushed to the front of that corridor without considering personal gain or loss, instead of calculating sacrifices and rewards from behind, would his soul be lighter now?

This thought was like a beautiful dream that shouldn't exist. Under the millstone called "reality," it lasted for less than a breath before being completely crushed.

"Sir, he's coming in."

Pollifer's reminder caused Otto to revert to his expressionless form.

He sat back down at his desk. He casually picked up a forged bill, and under the dim oil lamp, his eyes turned as cold as iron once more.

"Since Gareth shielded me from the first wave of scrutiny."

Otto's voice was very low, as if he were talking to himself.

"Then I'll have to knock those Walder Rivers' teeth out one by one right here on this table."

The door opened.

Wad Rivers walked in, carrying that affectedly sophisticated scent of silk.

Otto didn't look up. He simply picked up the charcoal stick with his right hand and heavily crossed out a number in the ledger.

"Lord Ward, if you're here to collect this month's silver tribute, you're probably too early. Those cartloads of lead slag haven't been completely smelted yet. Pollifer said that if we don't get some clean coal soon, we'll have to make up the difference with stones this month."

Otto raised his head, and in his gray-blue eyes, apart from cold calculation, there was no trace of the trembling he had shown when looking at Gareth.

And Gareth...

Otto glanced out the window at the figure outside, sweating profusely in the sunlight, a figure resembling Duncan.

He will protect this shadow.

Until one day, this shadow, because it was too upright, was forced to be swallowed by the darkness.

But at least for this moment, he greedily took advantage of the false sunlight projected by that shadow.

"Sit down, Wald."

Otto pushed aside the ledger, a cold smile curving his lips.

"Let's talk about how to convert that batch of 'damp and damaged' silk into the Duke's war rations."