A Shadow and a Wolf

Bronn II

Bronn gave his last instructions to his men. Some of them were Lannister guards, but others were gold cloaks he knew from his time as Commander of the City Watch. These gold cloaks were chosen among the most loyal men he had in this time. He chose them very carefully. The task they were about to perform required boldness, courage and obedience. They were a collection of people with more or less honor who would get the job done. Bronn couldn't allow himself to fail. His future was at stake. He gave enough reasons to his men to execute the plan without mistake.

Soon they were gone after receiving their final instructions. Bronn walked out from his personal room and paid a visit to the filthy old stoat. He entered in his chamber without knocking, and not for the first time. And like the first time, he had company. Like the first time, the old crawling man tried to cower away, but there was no way to leave the room. The girl went as far away as she could from Bronn.

"What... What are you doing here?" Pycelle asked.

"Stay calm, old man. Only here to make sure you did as I told you. You remember? What I told you yesterday? Or do you begin to forget about everything? Perhaps your brain begins to limp too."

"I... I did exactly as you told me. You won't have to complain"

"You'd better be sure. There is much at stake for me, and so for you. If this fails, I won't have a single hesitation to make another cut on you, and this time it won't be the beard. And you won't end in a place so friendly as the black cells."

Bronn emphasized his words by putting a knife on his throat while grinning. "I am your loyal servant," the Grand Maester whimpered.

Bronn noticed a strange smell. He looked at the sheets under the old man and saw a puddle of urine he just made. Bronn pushed him away in disgust and went to the young girl in the corner, tossing a silver stag in her direction. He then turned to the Grand Maester again.

"Don't forget to pay her. And pay her well." He then grinned towards the girl. "I'll come to see you tonight. That will be much more pleasant for you than with this old slug."

Bronn left without another word and went to the battlements. He followed them until he reached the place where it was. All his men were already in position. Good. He hoped the men to who he gave other tasks were doing their work right now. In the end of the day, he would be a sellsword no more. He overlooked the yard. For now, there was no one in the square space under him, but he knew people would come very soon. Normally, men sentenced to death would be executed in this area early in the morning. Today, with some hope, only one man would die, and his death would mean lands and a castle for Bronn. He didn't spit on this work to do, but that wouldn't be easy. He was very careful. A single stumble and they could fail. The error wasn't something he could allow this time.

Finally he came. He only wore breeches and boots, nothing else. His chest was displayed to the world, his enormous muscles contracting and inflating at every movement he made. Bronn really never saw a man bigger than this, but he also never saw a man crazier than this beast. He was alone, an eight-foot tall man only accompanied by his short squire. He was drinking from a huge flask the boy held for him. Bronn knew what it contained. The mad dog drank large quantities of milk of the poppy all the time because of extreme headaches he suffered constantly. However, this milk of the poppy was different. The old man made sure of that. At least he should have.

He drank deeply, then tossed it back to his squire, and went to the middle of the yard and looked around. He seemed lost. He expected poor men to slaughter for fun, and instead he found nothing. The mad dog looked all around many times, as if he was trying to understand something. Bronn doubted he could understand anything. The huge man turned to his squire.