"Men have many flaws," Ian commented, his voice quiet but sharp, "and greed is the most dangerous of them all."
He finally understood. He knew now why, in the histories he remembered, Ser Willy Ward was still a penniless knight more than half a year from now.
If Ser Wilder had chosen to raid the village when the caravan left, they would have secured at least a portion of the treasure. But he hadn't. He had been greedy.
And in the end, judging by the outcome Ian already knew, whatever plan Wilder eventually chose was doomed to fail.
"That's what I said at the time," Ser Willy Ward grumbled, voicing his agreement with Ian for the first time. "Once their caravan left, all we had to do was attack. The treasure they'd hoarded in the village would have been ours for the taking. But Wilder was adamant. He refused to act."
"And it proved I was right, did it not?" Wilder argued, his voice rising in defense. "They are still stationed there! No ship has come to meet them. This means they are waiting until the entire treasure is moved to the village before their transport arrives!"
Ser Willy looked as if he wanted to argue further, but he held his tongue, sinking back into a sullen silence.
"So your plan is to wait for them to move all the treasure into the fishing village," Ian deduced, "and then catch them all in one net?"
"That is the gist of it, yes," Ser Wilder nodded.
"Alright," Ian said, leaning forward slightly. "Tell me your complete plan."
He had to analyze it, pick it apart. Since he already knew the plan would fail, all he needed to do was find the reason for that failure in advance. If he could do that, he could turn certain defeat into victory.
"First, we maintain surveillance on the abandoned fishing village to ensure nothing changes."
"And you are certain they haven't spotted you?"
"Positive," Wilder confirmed. "We occupy a hidden vantage point high above the village, and the men they've left behind have never sent out a patrol."
"How many men have you deployed for this operation?" Ian asked. "I mean, if you intend to wipe them out, you'll need the full strength of your Knight's Alliance. But if you did that... I'm confused. Why would you need to ask Martha to recruit foreign knights for you?"
"No, Ser Lucien," Wilder said, shaking his head. "I have not summoned anyone else from the Alliance. For one, an action of that size would be too conspicuous. It could easily alert the enemy. And secondly..."
Ser Wilder paused. He seemed hesitant, but as he met Ian's steady, deep-set eyes, he seemed to give up any intention of hiding the truth.
"Secondly, I believe we have a problem within our own ranks." His face darkened as he spoke. "We always blame the Black Falcon mercenaries for the leaks, but I know the mole is one of our own."
The mole is on your side? Then how did the 'Black Falcon' discover him? "Do you have any evidence for this suspicion?" Ian asked.
"I thought you would ask about the Black Falcons," Wilder said, a hint of surprise in his voice. "You've been so meticulous about every other detail."
"Repl—" Ian started to snap, wanting a direct answer, but he caught himself. This wasn't Dorian. Wilder was an old, respected knight, not his subordinate. Giving repeated, sharp orders would not be conducive to their new alliance.
He softened his tone. "I have other sources of information, Ser. I've recruited several mercenaries from the Black Falcon company myself. They've told me a few things."
"You recruited Black Falcon men?" Ser Wilder's interest was suddenly piqued. "Then do you know what has become of them? I heard Morgan is dead, and that there was infighting at their garrison the night before last. Did you hear anything?"
I know it all too well, Ian thought. I have first-hand information on Morgan's death, and zero-hand information on the infighting.
"I heard Ser Harrison did what was necessary to secure his claim as the new leader," Ian said, offering the most plausible conclusion Wilder was likely to hear from any source. He then quickly steered the conversation back.
"Let us speak of our own problems first," Ian said, skillfully positioning himself as part of Ser Wilder's alliance. "What is your basis for thinking the mole is one of us?"
As expected, Wilder let the matter of the Black Falcons drop and began to answer.
"After we parted ways with the mercenaries, another of our operations was leaked. Ser Willy's brother, Ser Karyl, had discovered a clue to the enemy's whereabouts. We organized an operation with only our own men participating. And still, it came up empty."
"So, how many men participated in that operation?" Ian asked, frowning. He was beginning to doubt Ser Wilder's strength. The Ghosts of Whitewalls might be few, but they were all cavalry. The lightly-armed guards he'd seen in the manor would be little more than fodder against them without a three-to-one advantage, favorable terrain, and a brilliant tactical plan.
"My son and I, with our retainers—twelve cavalry and forty infantry," Wilder began, ticking them off. "Ser Willy and his brother, Ser Karyl, with their family's four cavalry and fifteen infantry."
"As well as some of the knights I recruited through Martha. I instructed her to ensure they were from the Riverlands or from notable houses outside the Crownlands."
"But you forgot to tell her not to bring in knights from overly powerful houses," Ian said with a wry smile.
"Ah," Wilder looked momentarily embarrassed. "Ser Lucien, please, let us not speak of that again, eh?"
"Of course," Ian said magnanimously. "We are allies now."
"Martha recruited a number of men for me," Wilder continued. "Ser Beric Errol, second son of Lady Shiera Errol of the Stormlands, with six of his companions, all cavalry. Two sworn knights from House Fossoway of New Barrel in the Reach, with their squires. And a hedge knight sworn to House Bulwer, also from the Reach, with his own small company—the Four Freedoms."
He paused, then looked at Ian. "And, of course, you, with your two heavily-armed attendants."
Wilder couldn't call Rohr and Keith knights, but it was clearly inappropriate to count them as mere servants. After all, not a single knight in Wilder's own company was as well-equipped as Ian's two men.
"So where are the others now?" Ian asked. "I didn't see them in the manor."
"We have deployed most of our forces in another abandoned village, north of here. It is closer to our target."
"And this is your entire deployment?" Ian's voice was laced with doubt. "I worry this is not nearly enough."
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