"Is it them?" The blond-haired man shot to his feet, one hand wrapped around the sword at his waist.
"No, m'lord," the greasy-haired brute shook his head as he closed the door. "Just a cart carrying some goods."
"Damn it!" The Goldcloak dropped back into the wobbly chair, his sword clattering against the floor beside him. "How much longer do we have to wait?"
It was a small, humid warehouse they were in, air thick with the smell of dust and grime as if it hadn't been cleaned since it was built.
Only a few square, mesh-covered windows near the ceiling allowed in any light or air. Without them, they would have been sitting in complete darkness.
"It shouldn't take them much longer, m'lord." The thug forced a smile and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "After all, how long can someone take to eat, right? Hehe."
The blond Goldcloak merely grunted as he hooked a finger beneath his sticky collar and pulled it away from his neck, trying to coax some air beneath it and dry the sweat soaking into his inner armour. 'Fuck! Why did I even think to wear my armour? It's not like I was going to fight.'
"Um, m'lord, about that..."
The greasy-haired brute edged closer, rubbing his palms together. "I heard that there's an opening in the City Watch..."
"Why? Do you want to join?"
The blond man looked him over from head to toe.
Weak legs. Fat stomach. Knobby knees. And those filthy clothes—that shouldn't be worth more than a few pennies.
The Goldcloak snorted. "There is nothing there for the likes of you."
"D-Don't worry, m'lord. I know the rules." The shabby brute hurriedly replied, his back bent so low that he had to crane his neck just to keep his eyes on the Goldcloak. "I'll pay the amount."
"Keep your distance." The Goldcloak turned his head while shooing him away. "You smell."
"Ah, sorry." The man stumbled back, his hands immediately falling to his sides, not daring to show any annoyance on his face.
"You know about the usual amount?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, wondering how this street rat had come into contact with the inner workings of the City Watch.
"Yes. There was a young orphan living on the next street to mine who became a guard, so I know that you need to have 50 gold dragons to have someone introduce—"
"That's the amount that goes straight to the commander," he cut him off with a wave of his hand. "What is that going to do for me? Why would I take the risk of bringing someone like you into the Citywatch for free?"
"N-No, m'lord. I'll pay. I'll give you my whole share. The full hundred dragons." The brute's voice cracked as a pained expression flashed across his face.
After all, this was an amount that could keep a commoner family fed for decades, and someone like him probably would never have seen wealth like this if it weren't for the risky nature of this job.
But he didn't hesitate to offer it all.
Because he knew that this Goldcloak was his one chance to come into contact with someone like him to climb the ladder.
And he had learned long ago that money mattered little in the face of power in the city; otherwise, the merchants wouldn't bow and scrape every time a Goldcloak passed their shop.
And if he really became a part of the City Watch, it wouldn't be far-fetched for him to earn that amount back in a few years, not because of the salary, of course, but by extorting the people in the area he was assigned to.
"Still, not enough." The Goldcloak shook his head with a snort. "This only covers my payment and the gold for the commander. I'll still have to convince the other members who are eyeing the spots for their relatives to give way for someone like you, who probably hadn't even had formal training."
He leaned back in his chair.
"You can't expect me to pay out of my own pocket, do you?"
"B-But that's all I have..."
The greasy-haired thug swallowed.
He knew exactly what was happening. The Goldcloak was fleecing him for every last coin he had, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
They were paid three hundred dragons to do this job, and he, as the one to plan and hire the others, took the lion's share of a hundred gold dragons while the rest was divided between the others according to their skills.
It was this amount that had given them confidence to take on the likes of that famous bastard from the North, and kidnap a woman belonging to the Tyrells.
But he had already offered his whole share, and he didn't have anything more than a few dozen stags saved up at home...
"You can borrow from your friends, can't you?" The Goldcloak said as he folded his hands over his stomach. "They've come into quite a lot of gold, haven't they?"
His smile deepened.
"It shouldn't be hard for you to borrow a little from him, right?"
The brute's face fell.
"Because I will need a full two hundred before even thinking of taking someone like you into the City Watch."
"T-Two hundred?!"
"Yes, two hundred."
The Goldcloak nodded as casually as if he'd just named the price of a loaf of bread.
The truth was that he had originally been given a full five hundred dragons to get this job done without any commotion, and had already taken two hundred as his own share before reluctantly hiring these goons with the rest.
Even then, he felt it was too much gold to waste on such lowlifes.
But what could he do?
They were the only ones he could find who were reliable enough to get the job done, but too lowly to get in touch with anyone important to sell the information for more money.
Now, however, there was a chance to keep the gold in-house, so why wouldn't he grab it with both hands?
He had been eyeing a good piece of property near the noble district, and he was still a few hundred short. This could go a long way in helping him with that.
'With that place, perhaps I could even marry a pretty daughter of a knightly house from Crownlands.'
The corner of his mouth lifted.
'Becoming a noble wouldn't be too far away.'
"I..."
"Forget it." The goldcloak shrugged when the brute hesitated for too long. "If you are having second thoughts, then you may as well use the money you have and retire out there on a farm somewhere, and live the rest of your life—"
"No! I'll do it."
The man's head snapped up. "I will get you the money... somehow."
His hand curled into a fist.
'It's better I use the money rather than let those fools spend it all away on booze.' His jaw tightened. 'I'm sure they'll understand later.'
"Good. I like decisive people like you," a smile spread across the Goldcloak's face. "And don't worry. As long as that position has not been snatched, I will definitely have them have it for you."
"T-There's a chance of that."
"Yes," the Goldcloak reluctantly nodded. "It wouldn't have been the case a year or so ago, but recently there has been a surge in people clamouring for the spots the moment they appear. Hardly leaving vacancies for long."
"How come? Who are they?"
"Who knows? But they are mostly local young smallfolk from the streets or orphans from nearby villages."
"How would they even get the gold?" The greasy-haired man's mouth twisted.
Here he had to risk his life to conspire against that dangerous pirate killer while these rats were somehow competing with him for the same position without doing anything.
"That is the peculiarity of it all." The Goldcloak rubbed his chin.
"Apparently, there is a generous lender going around giving loans with low interest to the poor families who have a good reputation." His lips curled in disdain. "It is quite vexing, but since they're able to pay, the commander doesn't mind and..."
He trailed off.
The brute's face had twisted into an expression so sour that it almost looked as though he'd swallowed spoiled milk.
"Ah, but don't worry." The Goldcloak hurriedly waved his hand. "They usually only get the choice after everyone in the Watch has already passed on the opportunity. So you still have a good chance."
"Thank you, my lord. I swear I will be your man as long as—"
A soft, pained groan cut through their conversation.
Both men turned towards the third occupant of the warehouse who had been lying unconscious so far.
"She's waking up." The greasy-haired man murmured as his eyes roved up and down the woman's dishevelled figure before stopping at her curves as a hungry smile crept across his face.
"I can see that." The Goldcloak snorted as the woman's eyes fluttered open.
For several heartbeats she simply stared, her unfocused gaze wandering across the filthy warehouse.
Then recognition—or perhaps fear—flashed across her face.
She jolted upright.
Her bound hands scraped uselessly against the floor as she scrambled backwards.
"Mm! Mmp!"
The scream came out as little more than a muffled cry.
A thick white cloth had been stuffed into her mouth and tied in place. Her wrists and ankles were bound tightly, and every frantic movement only made the ropes bite deeper into her skin.
'Where was she?'
She tried to force her hazy memories into order.
The last thing she remembered was a servant approaching her with a message that her husband was waiting for her in a nearby alley to take her for some nighttime shopping... and then...
Nothing.
"What are you doing?" The Goldcloak's eyebrow rose as he caught the ugly rat reaching his dirty palms towards the woman, who recoiled back in terror against the wall as tears welled up in her eyes.
"Ah, sorry, m'lord. I just couldn't resist wanting to get a feel, hehe," he licked his lips as he reluctantly took his hand back, but his eyes never left the terrified woman. "She is just too pretty."
"She is a noble, you fool. Of course she is pretty." The Goldcloak rolled his eyes. "She's probably never done any hard work in her life, never been out in the sun without servants, and had a plate full of food handed to her every day of her life. Her parents spent good gold to raise her like this."
"No wonder she has such good skin."
The ugly brute stared at the woman in wonder.
"And she's so plump."
For a moment, he imagined what it would be like to live such a life.
'Damn. If a woman from a small noble family is this beautiful, then how would those high and mighty ones look?'
"Are we really going to hand her back to that knight?" The thug glanced towards the Goldcloak with reluctance on his face.
"Of course not." The Goldcloak shook his head. "The knight knows too much. He will be dealt with."
The bound woman stiffened as she violently shook her head in panic.
"Then..." Hope flickered across the brute's face as his gaze returned to the noblewoman.
"Don't presume too much." The blond man snorted with disgust. "Even if she were to be used, it wouldn't be by the likes of you."
His eyes travelled over the woman. "A noble woman like her would cost dozens of dragons for one turn at Baelish's. So I am sure he'll gladly buy her from us for at least a hundred dragons." he looked back at the brute. "Do you think you deserve to lay a finger on someone like her?"
"But... m'lord. Who would even know?" The brute grinned as he whispered. "After all, it's not as if she is a virgin. We can just clean her up later, and it wouldn't hurt her price."
"MMHH!!" The woman thrashed against the ropes, screaming into the gag with terror in her eyes.
The skin around her wrists and ankles turned raw and red, but it was all useless; the men had tied her too well.
"Shut up! You slut!" the thug barked at her before turning back to the Goldcloak. "What say you, m'lord? You can have the first go, and taste her to your satisfaction, hehe."
The Goldcloak frowned as if the suggestion was beneath him.
Then his gaze drifted back to the woman.
Her trembling body.
Her tear-streaked face.
His eyes travelled lower.
"Fine, then."
He sighed as though granting him a great favour.
"But let's take care not to leave any wounds, or else her price—"
Slam!
The door behind them exploded open.
///