The Last Reyne

The Sell-Sword

100 silver stags for looking for a wench with black hair and blue eyes. 

100 stags to deliver a cryptic message. "The moon is full."  And then take her back to the Eyrie.

Whatever the bloody hell that means. Bronn looked at the sketch  of the woman before him. Not bad looking, must be some highborn by the looks of it. Must be since a knight of the Vale passed on this job to him. He rolled it up and placed it in his satchel. Whatever business these nobles have didn't matter as long as they pay him good coin for it. 100 silver stags and this wasn't even a hunt, no bloodshed involved, no pillaging, just lots of tracking. 

A faint scent of smoke whiffed through. Smoke coming through the woods could only mean two things: wildfire or a camp. In this bloody damp weather, the latter would be more likely. As the smell of the smoke grew stronger, Bronn rested a hand on his sword. Sell-swords never had a reputation for a warm welcome in little camps like these. Dishonorable little wretches the lot of them, or so they said before they beg for their lives when a sword was pointed at their throat.  

A groan broke the silence and Bronn was instantly in the camp, sword out. 

"Help." the pathetic wretch was bleeding from a clean cut on his belly, years of murdering people made him a very good judge of whether people had good chance of survival or not. 

"You're a dead man my friend." Bronn shrugged and started surveying the camp. If this even is one. This was obviously set by a small band of sell-swords like himself. Amateurs from the looks of it. "However, if you tell me something worthwhile I'll gladly end your misery. You know, before whatever creature here starts eating you alive." 

"Fuck you."

"Your choice." He started picking at the supply bag near the now useless fire pit. Good rations, a coin pouch filled with a hefty sum of-

Bronn swore. Gold dragons. No way these wretches had this on them. Unless they were payed in advance or they pillaged this from some poor soul. 

"If that bitch-" The man groaned in agony. "If that bitch hadn't caused a commotion, we could have been rich by now. If only Grave wasn't too blinded by that bloody pouch you hold."

A woman.

"Hm, with this amount of gold I could take you to a healer after all." The dying mercenary looked at him like he was crazy and Bronn shrugged. "Gold makes the heart soft, and this hefty sum is certain to make any sell-sword kind don't you think."

"Why mince with words. I know you'll leave me to die, bloody sell-sword."

"Fancy sounding aren't you, must have been some disgraced hedge knight." The man bristled at that. "I just need to know if this woman looked like this." He pulled the parchment and showed it to the man. "Black hair and blue eyes." 

"Did they hire you too?"

"Perhaps." So others were tracking her as well. Curiosity tugged at him but he pushed it away. Whatever this is, it was always safer not to ask and not to know. Saved him a lot of trouble over the years. "Clean shot to the head of your friend right there, good arrow too. Knights of the Vale got you?"

"I'll start answering you if you end me you piece of shit."

"Done."

.................................................

It didn't take too long for Bronn to track the scout, didn't take too long to disarm him either. He put up a fuss so he made quick work of him and blacked him out with the pommel of his sword. That man wasn't lying when he said northerner was scouting the area. He'd always thought the southern winds would melt them the minute they stepped out of their territory.

And the woman. She screamed too much for his comfort so he gagged her with a cloth and calmly told her that if she stopped screaming her head off, they'll have a nice long talk. She nodded.

When Bronn removed the gag she looked at him with fury in her eyes but she kept her mouth shut. Good.

"Wasn't your lover was it?" He joked but she didn't laugh so he sighed and said "The moon has grown full."

Whatever fury she had melted into surprise. "D-did--"

"None of my business." Bronn interjected. "I was only asked to deliver a message and take you to the Eyrie."

Her eyes zeroed in on his pouch. "That's mine."

"Funny, I don't see your name on it." He gave her a lopsided grin. She was pretty, a bit too scrawny for his taste. But she had intelligent eyes. Wasn't to his taste either. Smart women were too much for him to handle.

She gritted her teeth and sighed. "This man was supposed to take me to his liege. My business is with him." 

"And why do I care?"

"Because I want you to tell Lord Arryn that I cannot go back until I'm sure." She clamped her mouth shut.  

"No can do missie. If anything, let that scout know."

"This isn't anything I can say to just anyone." 

"How do you know that man's a northerner and not some sham who's pretending."

She bit her lip. "An entourage is to go to the Eyrie, that's all he's mentioned." 

Bronn had heard that the Lord of the Vale might be marrying again and news of him racking up supplies was whispered here and there. "As interesting as that may be, my orders were to take you to the Eyrie."

"And since when were sell-swords loyal except to money?" She snapped at him.

"Last I checked, you have no money on you." He checked the skies. "Since you've made a toasty little camp here, we'll stay the night. Tell the scout to report back to his liege and whatever else you need to let the northerner know. We're leaving at dusk tomorrow. The sooner this is done, the better."

He felt her eyes burning into him but he shrugged it off. "I'll take first watch."