Game of Thrones: The Impaler of the Blue Fork

Chapter 75: The Aftertaste of the Blind Grass

Before the moisture from the cracks in the rocks could seep out, it froze into a thin, grayish-white frost.

The sour smell that had been suppressed by lime near the drainage ditch in the shady part of the longhouse was now masked by a more pungent and sharper odor. It was the smell of vomit mixed with a faint bitterness similar to rotten almonds.

Otto stood by the canal, the edges of his gray smock flapping against his boots in the wind.

At his feet, the Brecken lad in his red-horned uniform was huddled on the frozen mud. His hands were digging into his throat, his nails leaving bloody scratches on his neck. Foam trickled from the corners of his mouth, rising in thin wisps of warm air before quickly turning into dirty ice crystals.

"Sir, the person is beyond saving."

Maester Ilion withdrew his fingers from the man's carotid artery, stood up, and wiped his hands on the slightly wrinkled grey robe.

"It's 'blind grass'. There's a generous amount; it must have been mixed into last night's horse feed. This kid probably stole some beans from the horse feed."

He took the slender bone needle from the medicine box and pricked the deceased's bluish gums.

"The Blackwood family's doing. This herb only grows in the crevices of rocks on the shady side of the upper Red Fork River, on the Earl of Tetos's land. They dare not shoot through the Red Horse Standard, but they want the Brecken family's horses and men to die on your land."

Otto stared at the completely dead body.

Behind him, Kevan, the caravan manager of the Brecken family, was hurrying over with four fully armed spearmen. Kevan's face was paler than the snow on the ground, and he looked at his companions, his legs trembling uncontrollably.

"Poison...poisoned?" Kevan's voice trembled. He turned sharply to Otto. "Baron! This deal is off! Tethos is a madman; he's going to poison the Blue Fork Valley! I'm taking my men back right now. I'm not selling the iron, and I don't want the salt either! I can't let the Earl's caravan rot here!"

Kavan waved, signaling the coachman behind him to hitch up the carts. The two carts of precious southern pig iron were preparing to turn around and leave because of their owner's fear.

"Polliver."

Otto spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but it was like a nail, pinning Kevan's flustered steps to the spot.

"My lord." The steward, Poliffer, emerged from the shadows of the stone tower, clutching a charcoal stick in his hand, his eyes cold.

"Take stock of the pig iron that Steward Kaivan brought back this time. How many spearheads is that enough?"

"Including wear and tear, enough spare parts for thirty sets of heavy armor, or a hundred armor-piercing spearheads. My lord." Pollifer didn't look at Kavan; his figures were accurate.

"very good."

Otto turned around, his boot crushing a brittle patch of ice. He walked toward the steward, Brecken, who was about to flee, his steps steady and without hesitation.

"Steward, you must leave now. In Earl Brecken's cellars, three hundred pigs will rot this winter because there's no good salt to preserve them. He's not just losing salt; he's losing his military funds for recruiting spearmen next year. Do you think he'll feel more sorry for this one poisoned fellow, or for those three hundred rotting pigs?"

Kevan froze, his Adam's apple bobbing violently.

"But...Tethos's poison..."

"Tethos poisoned the animals because he was afraid."

Otto pointed to the row of wooden stakes on the dock, which were filled with the heads of Ironmen.

"He dared not draw his sword against the Red Horse Flag, so he could only resort to manipulating the horse's urine. This shows that he had run out of options."

Otto took a step closer, his grey-blue eyes fixed on Kevan's pupils.

"Polliver just told me there's been a change in the purchase price of white salt?"

Kaivan swallowed hard, instinctively trying to back away, but his back pressed against the cold cart.

"That's... because the risk has increased..." Kavan stammered as he explained.

“The risk has indeed increased,” Otto interrupted him. “Therefore, the price of white salt will rise by 20%. No longer 90%, but 110%. I will exchange the extra 20% for an equivalent amount of hemostatic herbs and clean linen. If you disagree, take your iron and go back now. Lady Maria will take this batch of salt to see Baron Piper tomorrow morning.”

"Pipper?" Kavan was stunned. "He's related to Blackwood by marriage!"

"In winter, in-laws are not as valuable as a barrel of salt for curing meat," Maria's voice came from behind.

She stood under the eaves of the longhouse, draped in a dark sheepskin cloak, her hands tucked into her sleeves. Her face was slightly flushed from the cold wind, but her eyes were more resolute than ever before.

“I will tell Baron Piper that as long as he provides a safe transport route, he can get 30% of the profits from the Hohenzollern salt.” Maria looked at Kevan, a shrewd smile playing on her lips. “Manager Kevan, do you think Baron Piper would rather continue guarding that wooden fence for the Blackwood family, or use his passage in exchange for a whole year’s worth of cash?”

Kaivan's face turned from white to red, then from red to green.

"Ten...eleven percent. I'll sign." Kevan gritted his teeth, pulling out his seal from his pocket. "But sir, you must guarantee the safety of our drinking water!"

"Polliver will give you new buckets and assign two guards to watch the stables day and night. Now, go and unload the cargo."

Two cartloads of heavy southern pig iron were unloaded into the blacksmith's shop.

Cole and his apprentice Hans had already blazed the furnace to its brightest. The sound of hammers striking pig iron was particularly crisp in the oppressive afternoon.

Otto stood at the edge of the training ground, watching the guards soak the newly purchased leather armor in oil.

Gareth walked over. He looked at the body of the Brecken fellow being carried away, his brow still furrowed.

"My lord, that man was just a stable boy," Gareth's voice held a stubborn edge. "He died on our land, yet you raised their salt prices. This... this is not justice."

"Gareth".

Otto looked at the river in the distance that was being frozen over.

"Justice may not feed the people, but the herbs bought at a 20% premium can. Every silver deer Brekendo paid was worth the groom's life. His value is far greater than if he rotted in the mud."

Otto turned his head and looked at the white knight.

"You feel sorry for him. But what I value more is that through this debt, the Brecken family will hate Blackwood even more than before, and in order to keep their 20% profit, they will send more troops to clear the southern shipping lanes."

Gareth fell silent, but he felt a tightness in his chest. He strode toward the militiamen who were training.

Night fell.

Inside the stone tower, Pollifer was organizing the separate white salt ledger.

"My lord, Brecken has compromised. Lady Maria has already led a team to Piper's territory for a 'secret visit'." Pollifer put down the charcoal stick, his voice low. "But Blackwood's poisoning..."

"Seal the body in an ice bucket."

Otto sat behind his desk, the light of the oil lamp illuminating his cold, stern features.

"Don't bury it. Have Jack take two scouts and deliver the body to Seafront City tonight. Tell Earl Jason: 'The Blackwood family has openly poisoned the trade route patrolled by the sheriff, sabotaging the royal defenses' supply lines.'"

Otto's fingers gently caressed the iron ring.

"I overlooked the Old Gods, but I didn't overlook another thing Tywin taught me—if you can't destroy your enemy by force, first turn him into a pile of rotting flesh in reputation."

Outside the window, the snow was falling heavily again.