"Pure fucking horseshit!" Jules roared. "This is your grand plan? I get drunk at the feast and start spilling some sappy love story about 'Honorable' Jules?"
He grabbed Tiberius by the ear and growled through clenched teeth.
"Come on, kid—explain it to me. I'm a wandering knight, I meet a beautiful girl, I swear on my honor to protect her for life. Then she vanishes on the Kingsroad because of 'Westeros security problems'…"
"And the reason I turned down Lysandro today is because I've got some… what, old heartbreak? I refused him on the spot because I can't face my own failure and weakness. After all, the very first time 'the Honorable' Jules broke his word… it was because of a missing girl…"
The more Jules read the pages Tiberius had scribbled for him, the redder his face got, spit flying everywhere.
Even with his ear being twisted, Tiberius watched his uncle's flushed face with genuine worry, half-afraid the man was about to stroke out.
[Old man, your tolerance is trash. If you'd ever survived web novels you wouldn't be this dramatic,] Tiberius thought.
Truth was, entertainment in Essos and Westeros sucked—banquets, bards, tourneys, dwarf comedies. Barely any real magic shows or circuses.
Tiberius had just added a little extra drama, some flowery oaths, a tragic backstory… that was all.
Jules's reaction? Pure culture shock. The "romance novella" had hit the old knight like a warhammer to the balls.
In the story, Jules became "the Honorable" precisely because he'd failed his very first vow—to protect his first love. That failure forged the man who would never break his word again.
Jules: Seven Hells, that's the knight I always wanted to be in my dreams!
He got so worked up his grip tightened.
You sneaky little shit, Tiberius—didn't know that head of yours could spin gold like this!
"Ow, Uncle, let go of my ear!" Tiberius yelped, covering it. "I already told you—we need a story so Lysandro drops his guard. You turned him down at lunch. Tonight we have to make him believe it, or our biggest client is going to screw us sideways and we still need that contract."
It wasn't like Tiberius enjoyed writing romance trash. Jules had dealt himself a shit hand; Tiberius was just playing the cards.
Jules stopped wrestling with Tiberius and turned to Vito, who was peeking through the shutters at the servant girls.
"Vito, stop staring at ass. Lysandro… really has a grudge against us?" Jules's voice dropped, suddenly cautious.
Just like Tiberius had warned—if the banker held a grudge, wartime was the perfect moment to strike. No swords needed. One quiet word to logistics, one nudge to the Lysene generals, and the White Company gets sent straight into the meat grinder.
"Boss… it's true," Vito said after a pause.
He repeated everything Lysaro had told them. The second Jules heard "my father doesn't want to see anyone from the White Company right now," his thick brows slammed together.
Getting on your paymaster's shit list right before a war was never good—especially when that paymaster could starve you on the march or drop you on the worst part of the front line.
"Fine. I'll do it your way, Tiberius," Jules said. "At the feast…"
"You pretend to get drunk, start talking about the past, let Lord Lysandro understand why you really refused him, then swear that this time you're not just doing it for one girl's safety—you're doing it to finally keep that first broken vow!" Tiberius finished.
Jules sucked in a deep breath.
"This is… humiliating."
"But legendary, boss!" Vito jumped in. "Tiberius's story is better than anything the bards sing. Hey, Captain… you sure you didn't actually become 'the Honorable' because of something like this—"
Jules kicked Vito square in the ass.
"That's because honor is knightly virtue, you horny idiot! It has nothing to do with women!"
"Oh, and Uncle," Tiberius reminded him on the way out, "remember to ask Lysandro for one thing."
"What?"
"The missing-persons files from Bloodwave Cape Road—all the reports and wanted posters. They're probably still sitting in the Lys city watch archives."
"Those are important?" Jules frowned.
"Extremely important, Uncle." Tiberius nodded hard. "Those files decide whether we actually find Lord Lysandro's daughter."
---
Six o'clock that evening, every officer and knight in the White Company gathered at the villa gate to wait for Lysandro. Polished breastplates and mail gleamed in the sunset. Swords hung at every hip. A few men held the company banners—white field split by a single thick gray-black line—that snapped and rippled in the breeze.
First time Tiberius had seen the White Company sigil up close.
[Uncle's banner… yeah, it's… minimalist,] he thought, raising an eyebrow.
Compared to the famous Golden Company or the Second Sons, their flag looked like it had been designed by a drunk with a single crayon.
"Vito, you sure Lysandro actually accepted the invitation?" A spear-captain elbowed Vito's breastplate. "He's really coming? Lysandro Rogare—the biggest man in Lys—is showing up to drink with us sellswords?"
"Enough, you damn fool Tom," Vito snapped. "I just polished this armor till it shines. Touch it again with that filthy hauberk and I'll plant my boot so far up your ass you'll taste leather. I swear it."
"So… how'd you convince him? He's not here yet—spill!" Tom quickly wiped Vito's armor with the hem of his own silk cloak.
"I'll tell you, but keep it quiet." Vito leaned in, mouth to Tom's ear. "It was all 'Lightning' Tiberius—that little bastard…"
He launched into a dramatic retelling—how Tiberius had analyzed everything in front of Jules, how the kid's silver tongue had sweet-talked Lysandro into attending…
"Seven Hells!" Tom gasped when Vito finished. "The kid's that sharp? Before he got knocked out he could barely do anything except throw spears and stab with a lance. How'd he wake up a damn orator?"
"Shhh—don't tell anyone," Vito whispered, eyes wide. "Truth is, you don't know the half of it. You know why Tiberius won't talk about what he dreamed while he was unconscious? Because in that dream he was with the Crone—"
Tiberius, standing a little way off, had no idea that thanks to Vito's colorful storytelling, his reputation was already racing straight off a cliff into legend.