Early in the morning, a customer arrived at little Esther's stall. He was bald, with a black beard and an intense stare that flicked sharply from one person's rear, hand, face, or eyes to another. Whenever the person caught his gaze, they would shy away, and only then would he reluctantly pull back.
He was a tall man.
No helmet, no neck guard, just some simple armor protecting his arms and lower legs. His chest and back were covered only by leather.
This nervous-looking man wore very few pieces of armor, but each was clearly expertly crafted by a skilled blacksmith using the finest steel.
At his waist hung a sword belt, holding a longsword, a short knife, a dagger, and a steel spike.
Esther's broth stall had no seats; customers usually stood or squatted on the street to drink. But this first customer insisted on sitting.
Esther and her grandfather Buzz immediately sensed he was trouble, so they gave up their stools.
Each had a small stool for resting during quiet moments, but this man didn't want to sit outside like everyone else, he boldly took a seat behind the stall itself, drinking inside.
Esther was afraid of him.
Whether drinking soup or doing anything else, his eyes never left her body. Whenever she glanced at him, he'd meet her gaze and flash a sly, unsettling grin.
His look was strange, neither clearly hostile nor entirely normal.
The girl and her grandfather just hoped this odd fellow would finish his soup quickly and leave.
But he had an enormous appetite. He drank five bowls in a row, showing no sign of leaving.
Customers came and went steadily, and the large pot of broth slowly dwindled.
Meanwhile, the dozen or so neighboring stalls had only a few sparse customers, many still hadn't served their first.
Then, a mercenary arrived, speaking broken Common Tongue. His name was Yigo, a member of the infamous Brave Companions. The common folk called them the Bloody Mummers.
The Bloody Mummers had a cruel reputation: whenever they caught someone, they'd either chop off their hands or feet.
They were revealed in blood and dismemberment. Their distinctive clothing styles, drawn from various tribes across the Narrow Sea, resembled theatrical costumes, hence the guild's name.
Yigo swaggered up to the stall and tossed a silver stag coin into the steaming pot of broth. "Little girl, I want this whole pot."
Splash!
The coin hit the broth, splashing hot soup onto Polliver's face, the big man sitting behind the stall, who had been studying Esther's waist. Polliver blinked in surprise and noticed the foreign mercenary, Yigo.
As soon as Yigo's silver stag landed in the pot, the few customers drinking in front of the stall dropped their bowls and slipped away quickly.
The poor people of the Flea Bottom had an uncanny instinct for trouble.
The dozen or so stall owners around them smiled grimly. This Yigo was the mercenary they'd pooled money to hire to drive the grandfather and granddaughter away.
Though infamous for cruelty, the Bloody Mummers had a reputation for reliability, once paid, they took their jobs seriously.
Yigo wasn't the only Dothraki curved-sword mercenary in the troupe. Several criminals were exiled here, led by a fat man named Zollo.
Yigo ranked lowest in the troupe's hierarchy, but being hired by the dozen broth stall owners to deal with the little stall was their biggest expense yet.
Polliver, who'd been waiting for the grandfather and granddaughter to finish selling broth and pack up, brightened upon hearing this. He stood, wiping the soup from his face, and said with a smile, "Alright, alright, brother, you can have all the broth here, even the pot."
One silver stag was enough to buy around 140 bowls of broth, and the pot only held about twenty.
Noticing a tall figure behind the stall, Yigo realized this wasn't a city watchman or noble's soldier but likely another mercenary.
Professional soldiers wore full standard armor and helmets, but this tall man only had a few plates of armor and no family insignia, clearly a mercenary.
Among all mercenary groups in King's Landing, the Bloody Mummers were the most feared and formidable.
"Brother, I'm Yigo of the Bloody Mummers. I've bought all the soup here, drank it for free, then got lost quickly." Yigo said arrogantly.
He expected the other to tremble and offer a fearful smile.
Instead, the tall man smiled cheerfully and said, "Esther, Buzz, let's go. We won't be needing this stall anymore. Let's pack up quickly and leave."
The Bloodplay name terrified Esther and Buzz. They weren't sure if this strange bald, bearded man was part of the troupe, but the surrounding stall owners had already made it clear: they wanted the duo gone, by force if necessary.
It seemed the retaliation had truly come.
What surprised the grandfather and granddaughter most was that the other stall owners had spent a lot of money hiring such ruthless mercenaries. Their hatred ran deep.
The Bloody Mummers's name was enough to hush crying children in King's Landing.
Polliver grabbed the old man and young girl roughly by the arms and pushed them. Terrified, they didn't utter a word. Esther wanted to reach back for the copper coins in the stall's drawer, but Buz was too scared and held her hand tightly, hurriedly pulling her away.
The Bloody Mummers were notorious for their preferred cruelty: chopping off hands and feet, earning them the nickname "Foot Hunters."
As the duo fled, an Arakh curved sword suddenly appeared before them, blocking their path.
Yigo's fake smile barely reached his eyes. His accent was strange, marked by the lands of Essos, but since he spoke the Common Tongue, Esther and Buz barely understood him.
"Think you can just walk away? I've been paid, old man. I want your right hand, and no more stalls here for you."
Whoosh!
A flash of cold steel: the arakh sliced straight toward the old man's right wrist.
The strike was lightning fast.
The Dothraki were a horseback people, masters of mounted combat, and their deadliest weapon was the arakh curved sword.
Clang!
A sharp clash echoed as a longsword intercepted the arakh. The longsword spun in a tight arc, then slashed down like lightning, striking Yigo's left neck.
The blow was brutal.
The longsword slashed deeply, breaking Yigo's shoulder and collarbone, cutting nearly halfway through his chest.
The sword remained embedded in Yigo's tall frame, its blade protruding from both ends.
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