Evan Lefford felt uneasy.
As the only son of Leo Lefford, Lord of Golden Tooth, he had been raised with the finest education and lived a life of luxury. Polite and well-mannered, he was a good boy, but his one flaw was a lack of courage.
He was a young knight without the heart of a warrior.
His knighthood was granted by his father, Lord Leo Lefford, though reluctantly. Though Evan had undergone professional training in swordsmanship and horsemanship, and his physical strength was more than adequate, he simply wasn't brave or daring enough. Handsome, yes, but utterly useless in battle.
He was the charming young knight entrusted by the slick-tongued Raff to test Jeyne Westerling's loyalty under the name of Ser Ado Serrett. His aura leaned toward softness rather than strength, an obvious fact to a seasoned trickster like Raff, who had singled him out immediately.
This obedient boy wouldn't dare cross Jeyne Westerling.
Now Evan regretted agreeing to Raff's request, because a balding, black-bearded man had been watching him in the crowd. The man's right cheek twitches uncontrollably, like a spasm, making him seem less than sane.
In Evan's eyes, everyone around Ser Gregor was a bit off, but this one was especially disturbing. The jittery soldier who unnerved him so much was Polliver, Gregor's fanatic loyalist.
Last night, when Evan wrapped Jeyne in a black cloak and brought her to the watchtower, everyone had seen him, but he hadn't noticed anyone else. After completing the task, he left hastily, thinking it was over. But today he realized that same balding, twitching man had fixed his gaze on him.
When the man caught Evan's eye, he grinned widely, showing a mouthful of yellow teeth that hadn't seen saltwater rinses in ages. The sight made Evan's stomach churn and nearly brought up his breakfast.
As Evan tried to avoid the man's gaze, Polliver silently approached and startled him. Polliver was tall and strong, lean but powerful, and moved like a ghost, making no sound as he came near.
"Well, well!" Polliver said, his eyes burning with a strange heat as they fell on Evan's pale, slender hands. His tongue slipped out and slowly licked his lower lip, as if savoring some greasy roast stuck there.
A chill ran down Evan's spine, and he quickly stepped away toward his father, Lord Leo Lefford. But just as he reached him, someone grabbed his other hand. Turning around in shock, Evan saw the twitching man had circled to the other side and was now fondling his hand.
"What are you doing?" Evan barked, shaking off Polliver's touch forcefully.
The part that Polliver touched sent a wave of discomfort through Evan. If it had been a piece of clothing, he'd never touch it again in his life. But it was his own hand, despite the disgust, it was still his hand.
His sharp rebuke drew the attention of many nearby. The training grounds were crowded, and even Lord Leo Lefford, watching the knights' jousting practice, turned to look.
Every morning at Lord Tywin's great training grounds, cavalry knights drilled their lance skills as routine. After morning drills and breakfast, everyone usually returned to their lands.
Polliver grinned as if his pestering of Evan was perfectly normal, eyes sparkling with the thrill of a rare treasure.
"What beautiful hands… really, there's nothing more beautiful than these." Polliver said with a toothy smile toward Lord Leo, "These hands are a work of art. They should be chopped off and preserved in a bottle of wine, kept safe. Truly!"
His bizarre words and unnerving smile sent a shiver down Lord Leo's spine, who was about to scold the strange man when Raff hurried over.
"Sorry, my lord, this is my brother, he likes to joke around." Raff said smoothly.
Raff's honeyed tongue had made him a favorite among the nobles. Since becoming a knight, he'd earned the privilege of mingling with them. The powerful noble families of the Westerlands all knew of Raff as a sweet talker with a ruthless streak, a man who both charmed and cut deep.
"No, Raff, don't you think these hands are a masterpiece? Chop them off, put them in a glass jar with wine and a few petals…" Polliver babbled, utterly enchanted. It was clear he was obsessed with Evan's hands.
Raff quickly cut him off: "Polliver, if you don't fall back now, I'm going to tell Lady Jeyne."
Before he finished, Polliver's face changed. He gestured to Raff to lower his voice and slipped away.
Raff apologized profusely to Lord Leo and Evan. "Sorry to disturb you, my lord. Polliver collects eyes, hands, toes, things he preserves in wine for 'admiration.' But I swear, he would never touch Ser Evan's hands. Though truly, they are beautiful, losing them would be a tragedy."
Lord Leo's expression darkened. He glanced across the field where Gregor was watching the knights' duel with Jeyne.
In the Westerlands, tangling with Gregor and his band of scum was a headache for anyone.
Gregor was brutal and feared, infamous for numerous horrifying acts. Like flies buzzing around filth, a pack of unsavory characters surrounded him, none trustworthy.
Nearby, a few young knights listened with bated breath. They were the same youths Polliver and Dunsen had pulled up to the watchtower last night for a chat.
After reassuring Lord Leo and Evan, Raff moved toward the fearful young knights and lowered his voice as if eavesdroppers might be nearby.
"Hey, did you remember what Polliver and Dunsen told you last night?"
The boys nodded desperately.
"Good. We'll be waiting for your good news. In a month, Ser Gregor himself will come to thank you."
The boys were terrified, bowing repeatedly and begging Raff to tell Ser Gregor they didn't want to trouble him. They were overwhelmed and ashamed to receive such attention.
Polliver's earlier threats had shaken them deeply.
If Gregor showed up with a pack of lunatics like Polliver, it would be no pleasant visit.
As the Westerling family declined, these boys' families had snapped up lands from Lord Gawen's estates at rock-bottom prices. Gawen had been forced to mortgage nine estates to them.
Mortgaged lands were easy to redeem with money. But lands sold cheaply were gone for good, land was permanent property, with subjects tied to it.
Gregor, however, used "atonement" as a pretext to intimidate these families' children. From worldly experience, children were their parents' most precious treasure.
Sending these nobles' heirs home with minor injuries and broken spirits to spread Gregor's message was a clever opening move. The heads of these houses were nearby, and though Gregor was a bully, he lacked the authority to confront them directly.
This underhanded tactic was tactful, allowing them face, avoiding bad blood, and setting the stage for later.
If these nobles' responses were slow or apathetic after hearing from their children, then after Gregor's wedding a month later, he would officially visit them, posing as a Westerling family member, to have a "friendly" talk.
Everything began with ringing a warning bell, a gangsters' way of showing courtesy.
The body and mind of Gregor had been taken over by a cross-dimensional engineer from modern Earth. Less wild and bloody than before, now he was more cunning and scheming.
The story was only just beginning.
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