Sadog

Ser Wyclef Bywater yawned noisily as he squinted at the parchment in his hands. "Aye, well… looks to be all in order… still, why couldn't this wait till tomorrow morning, if you pardon me asking?"

"It is an urgent matter," Sadog reiterated firmly. "Time is of the essence. I must insist on your cooperation without any further delays."

"Alright, alright," Ser Wyclef muttered as he scratched one side of his bald head. The only hair he had left was the silver beard which covered his jaw and went down to the center of his chest. "Pardon me for living, heh. But those lads won't appreciate being awoken this early, I'm warning you."

"Duly noted, ser," Sadog answered politely. "I will explain everything to their captain."

Mindful of Sadog's slow gait, Ser Wyclef leisurely led him down a winding staircase, even as he struck up a new conversation. "D'you know, I can't remember the last time I had a visitor at this hour!"

"No doubt," Sadog affirmed, stifling a yawn of his own. He'd prepared for this excursion by taking a long nap during the evening. Despite his efforts, though, he felt wretched to be up so late, and it wasn't even the hour of the wolf yet. "Do you often take these shifts?"

"Often? Hah!" Ser Wyclef chuckled as he used his torch to warn Sadog of a cracked step. "I've been the only man to work these hours since Daeron the Good!"

"Really?"

"Aye! Not a day over twenty when I first started!" Ser Wyclef's mood was brightening with every word, even as every step took them deeper into the gloomy darkness. "A month after I got back from the Redgrass Field!"

"You fought against Daemon Blackfyre, did you?" Sadog's interest was unfeigned this time.

"The very same. I stood six feet from His Grace, King Maekar." He shook his head, as if he himself couldn't believe his words. "Got myself a nasty knock on the head too, you know. I still got a dent right here." He tapped his skull with one finger. "That's the reason why I took this job, you know. I get terrible headaches, make you want to die, they do! It was the Breakspear who took pity on me. He offered me night shifts so I could sleep through the day. Best thing anyone ever did for me!"

Sadog nodded sympathetically, recalling how his father still became weepy whenever he spoke of Baelor. He also understood why Prince Aegon had suggested he deal with Ser Wyclef over any of the other undergaolers.

By then, they'd disembarked from the staircase and made their way down a long corridor with cells on either side. Sadog tried to curb his curiosity, but he couldn't resist glancing to his left and right as he followed the undergaoler.

Men were snoring noisily through the noise, or else they were slowly coming round. Their unshaven and unkempt faces were contorted with bleary fatigue as discontented noises left their mouths. Others were wide awake and alert, regarding Sadog with curiosity and contempt in equal measures.

"Here we are," Ser Wyclef exclaimed, as if he'd been unsure of his destination. "From what I recall, their leader was in this cell." He drew his short sword and kicked the cell door with an ironshod boot.

The clang rang out so loudly that Sadog gripped his cane. Curses and cries of surprise rang out from within the cell. As his eyes grew used to the darkness, Sadog perceived over a dozen shackled men inside, all of them sitting upright as the undergaoler opened the door and warily stepped inside.

"Now now," he called. "No trouble for me now, lads! It's your lucky day! Now which of you smelly lot is the captain?"

Judging by the looks on their faces, Sadog was sure that half the men didn't understand the Common Speech, while the other half didn't trust Ser Wyclef's attempted gaiety.

"I am a representative of the Iron Bank," he declared in the Tyroshi tongue. "I wish to speak with the captain of Leviathan's Bane."

That got their attention. As Ser Wyclef stood by with a bemused expression on his face, the prisoners gestured to one of their own. The man had been seated close to the wall, but now he stood with his back straight, as if to salvage some dignity when recognised.

His hair and beard were wild, unwashed, and dyed a deep blue colour. Although he appeared haggard and fearful, he still managed to make his voice solemn and clear. "I am Agnellio Dekkorokk of Tyrosh."

"Is that your man, then?" Ser Wyclef asked of Sadog, but he had already resumed addressing the dishevelled captain.

"There is much we must discuss," he explained, "but rest assured that I have arranged for the release of you and your crew."

Men cheered at those words, while others muttered amongst themselves. Agnellio inclined his head and spoke a voice choked with relief. "Then we are in the Iron Bank's debt."

"We can speak of debts later," Sadog answered. "First, I will need you to identify the men of your crew."

It took longer than Sadog wished, but it was still a number of hours before sunrise when he led the released Tyroshi down to the harbour. The Leviathan's Bane was tied to one of the docks, bereft of Targaryen guards, gold cloaks, and Raven's Teeth.

Agnellio turned to Sadog and bowed low. "I cannot thank you enough. Might I know the name of our saviour?"

"Sadog Dondarrion," came his cautious reply.

As he feared, Agnellio's countenance shifted to alarm and suspicion. "What sort of game is this?"

"I understand your confusion," Sadog replied. "Truly, I do. But if you will bear with me, I can explain everything while your men get the ship ready." He hoped that his meaning would come across.

Judging by the change in Agnellio's expression, he understood what Sadog was implying. The Tyroshi glanced at his crew before turning back to Sadog. He folded his arms and glared suspiciously. "It is true what they say. The Iron Bank will have its due."

"Indeed," Sadog affirmed. "I understand you to be an accomplished sea captain, and a man of commerce. And like any man of commerce, you know of the Iron Bank's reputation. You know that the Iron Bank will honour any contract it makes, do you not?"

"Just so," Agnellio replied warily.

"The Iron Bank's reputation and authority rest entirely on the honouring of its contracts, and the keeping of its word."

"That is true."

"Therefore, when I tell you that I speak with the Iron Bank's authority, you understand what that means?"

"I do."

"Good." Sadog adopted a gentler tone. "By my authority, and on the Iron Bank's reputation, I swear to you that my sister and my father were betrayed just as much as Aenys Blackfyre was. They negotiated in good faith with him, under the belief that the Iron Throne's word was as firm as the Iron Bank's."

Thus did Sadog relay the tale of betrayal and deceit, just as he and his family had already done for Prince Aegon.

While he was sceptical at first, the Tyroshi captain gradually appeared to be convinced by Sadog's story. By the time he finished explaining what had gone on in the Great Hall, and how men had cheered Bloodraven whilst he'd held Aenys' severed head by his beard, Agnellio looked on the verge of tears.

"Monstrous," he whispered venomously. "What sort of men are these?"

"These are the men who will triumph," Sadog warned, "unless we act."

"Howso?"

"Aenys received a parchment from a raven, did he not? He would not have sailed for Westeros if he hadn't received some sort of written assurance of his safety."

"He did," Agnellio answered, glancing at his ship. "I don't doubt that those men were searching for it when they took our ship." His voice became more thoughtful. "We shall see how thoroughly they searched."

Sadog leaned on his cane wearily as the Tyroshi went back aboard Leviathan's Bane. Prince Aegon had been adamant during their discussion. He wanted proof of Lord Bloodraven's wrongdoing before he acted. "I will not condemn a man when it is one word against another," he'd insisted. Sadog had understood and respected that, but it nevertheless infuriated him to no end. If this is how Bloodraven gets away with his crimes…

"Brother?"

Surprised, Sadog glanced at the Black Bolt, which was only a few ships down the dock from the Tyroshi galley. "You should be in bed."

"Bollocks to that." Leroya held her arms out for balance as she strode down the gangplank. "I want to see them before they depart."

Thankfully, she did not have to wait long before Agnellio reemerged and hurried back to Sadog's side. A smile was on his face and a roll of parchment was in his hand. "Is this what you require?"

It was still dark, so Sadog limped over to a lit lantern and peered at the parchment. He wished that Miru or Titus were present to verify the document, but he was convinced by the wax dragon seal at the bottom of the page. "Precisely," he told the Tyroshi captain. "Consider your debt repaid."

Agnellio's surprise gave way to relief, and he gave a short bow. When he straightened himself and spoke again, his tone became vengeful. "Use it well, Master Sadog. Let Aenys be avenged."

Only then did he seem to notice Leroya's presence; after a moment's hesitation, he bobbed his head. "You have my sympathies, Captain. My prince was quite taken by you and Xalonyay."

For a moment, Sadog detected a hint of envy in Agnellio's tone, but he was more concerned with the stricken expression on Leroya's face. When she spoke again, her voice was low and subdued. "What will become of Aenys' children?"

Agnellio's countenance softened as well. "I cannot say. I can only hope that word will not reach Bittersteel before I return. I will bring them Prince Aenys' final letters, and I will do what I can to keep the children safe at their mother's estate."

Leroya nodded silently, then spoke again as Agnellio was about to leave. "Did Aenys say aught of me in those letters?"

Agnellio turned back. "I did not read his accounts, Captain. But if they should ask me, I shall speak no evil of you or your family when I return to Tyrosh."

"Thank you," Leroya replied. "But if you will, could you also give them my deepest sympathies for their loss, and my apologies for the part I played in his death?"

Sadog was taken aback, as was Agnellio. "You have nothing to apologise for," protested the Tyroshi captain.

Leroya held up a hand. "All the same?"

Agnellio did not rebuke her a second time. "Very well." With that, he gave her a more respectful bow, then hastened to get back on his ship. It wasn't long before the Leviathan's Bane was drifting from the harbour, out towards the Narrow Sea.

Whilst it was still in sight, Sadog turned back to his younger sister. "You always reminded me of Father, you know that? More than any of the rest of us."

Leroya gave a sad smile at those words.

"When I first knew him," Sadog continued, "he was burdened with guilt and shame. It nearly broke him before we sailed for the Summer Isles."

"I know," Leroya muttered dismissively. "I heard those stories too."

"Did he tell you that he nearly slew himself upon Doom's point?"

Leroya flinched, meeting Sadog's eyes for the first time. "When?"

"After Andrew and Maric had died," Sadog explained, "and after he'd lost a brace of kinsmen to the Vulture King. I once heard him admit it to Mother, before they were wed."

Leroya gaped at him. "So, why are you telling me now?"

"Because it took our father a long time to make peace with himself," Sadog explained patiently. "It would be a terrible shame if it took you as long."

"I already studied in the temple, brother," Leroya observed.

"Aye, but it might help you if you went back," Sadog suggested. Gods, what am I doing? Who am I to speak thusly to her? "Forgive me. I don't mean to lecture you. Go back or don't, but I just… you're my sister, and it pains me to see you this way. I would only urge you not to take on Father's worst traits when you already have all his best ones."

Leroya said nothing for a time. Then, as a silvery tear ran down her cheek, she suddenly stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Sadog.

Sadog grunted with surprise, but then reciprocated her embrace, patting Leroya on her strong back.

They stood there for some time, saying nothing as they clung to each other. Sadog was unsure what was going through Leroya's mind, but he was slowly being seized with a black wrath as he recalled everything that had transpired since their arrival. At that moment, it did not matter to him what the Iron Bank would say of the outcome. He did not much care which man sat that cursed throne either. But as he comforted Leroya, who had always seemed the strongest and surest of their siblings, Sadog felt the full effect of what their enemies had done, and he was determined to avenge it, or help his sister avenge it herself.

"*" "** "*"* "*"* "*" *"*" *"* "*"* "*"* "*"* "*"* "*" *"*" *"*"* "*"*" *"*" *"*" *"* "*"* "*

His quest began later that afternoon, after he'd slept through the morning, and he'd assembled the family together aboard the Black Bolt. Members of Leroya's crew provided them a hearty day meal of cooked fish, crab, and lobster, with a light ale to wash it down.

"First," he urged, "we should bring this document to Prince Aegon." He tapped the recovered writ which Cayn had deviously helped create. "That will be all the proof he needs of Bloodraven's treachery."

"I'll take care of that," Miru offered. "What shall I do afterward?"

"Nothing else for now," Sadog replied after some thought, disguised by taking a large bite of lobster. "Come back to the ship when that task is done. The less you do, the better. Bloodraven and Cayn think they've defeated us, and we shall not disabuse them of that notion. Let others campaign on Aegon's behalf."

"Like Gerold Lannister? Lyonel Baratheon?"

Sadog turned to Titus, who'd chosen that moment to speak up. "If Brynden is willing to break the Iron Throne's word, I shudder to think what he will do to those men."

"Nay, Father," Sadog replied reassuringly. "They are too powerful to intimidate. If Bloodraven tries, then he will risk turning all the great lords and all their bannermen against him."

Now it was Matthias who interjected. "Why should he care now?"

"Because I think he will try and make his own bid for the throne," answered Sadog. "After what he did to Father and the others, I would bet all the gold to my name that he was testing the waters for his own candidacy."

"No," Miru gasped. "He can't… he couldn't…"

"Correct," Sadog interjected, smiling to reassure his alarmed sister. "He does not have the support. Aemon's followers will never back him, and the Blackfyres will despise him even more when they learn the truth. Aegon's supporters are loyal, or else they have been purchased."

"Then why should Brynden think that he has a chance?" Titus asked.

"Truthfully, I'm not sure," Sadog admitted. "Mayhaps he has been in a seat of power for too long?"

"You're doing a lot of guesswork, brother," Leroya warned him.

"Maybe so. But if I'm wrong, and Bloodraven has no interest in ruling, we'll know that soon enough. If I'm right, then we should make him think that he has already won."

He looked at Miru and Matthias. "When Aegon has his proof, come back to the ship and remain here with Father and Lyman." He turned to Leroya and Baalun. "Focus on merchants, trading and doing business. If you find an opportunity, let it slip that you intend to sail away soon, but do not specify the date."

"And what will you be doing?"

Sadog turned back to Matthias. "I will carry on as I've already done during this council. Anything different will be noticed. It will also give me a chance to earn Aegon a few more votes." He smiled at Leroya. "Can you think of anyone?"

"Aye," Leroya replied with a smirk, looking more and more like her old self. "Those three northern lords still owe me a favour, last I checked. It's about time I called it in."

"Leave that to me," Sadog assured her. "I will speak to them. But what we really need are the Blackfyre supporters. If they side with Aegon, then it will secure his bid."

"How are we going to manage that?" Titus asked. "They will never listen to a Dondarrion again, no matter which bank he works for."

"They need not listen to me," Sadog answered. "Aegon has other allies. They will have five days to convince the council that if they do not choose Aegon, then Bloodraven will be the next king."

"*"* "* "*" *"*"*" *"* "*"* "* "* "* "* "* " *" * "* "* "*"*"* "*" *"* "* "* " *" *"* "* *"" *"*" *"*

The training yard, as usual, was alive with the sounds of metal and wood clanging against each other. Men swung blunted weapons through the air, or else aimed arrows at targets.

Lyonel Baratheon, known as the Laughing Storm, bellowed with mirth as he used a wooden sword as a club to batter one of his household knights to his knees. When his hapless opponent finally yielded, Lyonal's guffaws died away, and he almost seemed disappointed as he helped the man back to his feet.

Sadog took that moment to approach the mighty stormlord, confident that nobody would overhear his conversation.

Before he reached Lyonel's side, he was stopped by two men wearing the black stag on their cloth-of-gold surcoats. "Who are you," asked the elder of them, "and what do you want with Lord Baratheon?"

"Master Sadog of the Iron Bank," came his polite reply. "And I have words for Lord Lyonel's ears alone."

Fortunately, the Laughing Storm had noticed him. He stepped forward and gruffly ordered his knights to the side. "I have no debts to be paid," he observed, "nor do I wish to take one on. Or do you wish to have your nose tweaked?"

Sadog ignored Lord Lyonel's question and gave him a small bow. "You are welcome to do so, my lord, but I would prefer if you tweaked Lord Bloodraven's nose instead."

Lord Lyonel's bushy black eyebrows shot upwards. "Oho," he muttered softly. "I call that bold talk for a one-legged banker. Men have been drawn and quartered for speaking in that manner." His big arms folded across his broad chest, even as a bright blue flame blazed in his eyes. "I don't know what counts for treason in Braavos, but someone ought to give you a lesson before you find yourself sharing spikes with Aenys Blackfyre!"

Sadog felt a thrill of terror coursing through his body, but he forced it down as he spoke again. "I thank you for this sage advice, my lord. I will speak more carefully of the future king from now on."

As he hoped, Lord Lyonel was astounded by his choice of words. Surprised laughter burst from his throat. "Have you taken leave of your senses, man? He's not the-" He stopped suddenly as he took in Sadog's expression. His voice became a low growl, so that Sadog barely heard it over the clangour around them. "What are you going on about?"

"You were in the Great Hall that day too, my lord," Sadog reminded him. "You saw how men stood up and hailed the Hand for slaying Aenys."

For the first time, Lyonel was treating his words with complete seriousness. "Are you telling me that Lord Bloodraven's put himself forward as a candidate?"

"I only say what I see," Sadog replied innocently. "And seeing is all I mean to do. The Iron Bank has no preference for who sits the Iron Throne. If you do not either, then you have no reason to worry, do you not?" He gave a small bow. "My lord." He turned his back on the baffled stormlord and limped out of the training yard.

Lord Gerold Lannister did not wait for Sadog to approach him. The following day, Sadog was approached by Lady Sara Lefford, who passed on the lion lord's request to walk and talk with him. Sadog readily agreed, and followed Lady Lefford to the top of the Red Keep's outer wall. The cold winds howled, and the force was such that Sadog used his free hand to hold onto the stone parapets.

Gerold Lannister seemed at ease, looking out across the city as Sadog approached; when he made his presence known, the westerman turned and looked at him with a guarded expression.

"Good day," he began politely, but Sadog sensed none of the warm reception which he'd received before.

"My lord," he replied quietly.

"I have little patience for games," Lord Gerold warned, "but be warned, I am far more adept at playing them than my lord Lyonel is."

"Duly noted," Sadog answered, feeling a thrill of fear as he looked into those green eyes flecked with gold.

The lion lord smiled humourlessly as he watched Sadog strengthen his grip on the parapets. "I advise you to be careful, Master Sadog. The winds of winter have sent many a stout man falling from these ramparts."

"No doubt," Sadog answered, even as he felt his heart pounding faster in his chest. "Then I suggest we speak plainly and succinctly."

"Answer me this, then," Lord Gerold began. "Is this another one of your father's ploys?"

"My father is guilty of no ploy," Sadog replied, forcing himself to speak calmly. "He was deceived by Bloodraven."

"A likely story," Gerold observed. The lack of scorn or malice in his voice seemed to make him more terrifying than if he'd roared with a lion's voice. This is the man who may have murdered his own niece whilst she slept. Why would he hesitate to kill me if he sees fit? Would the Iron Bank doubt his claim that I slipped and fell? Would they even know he was on the wall with me? Lefford will swear that he was nowhere near the wall when I fell…

He forced aside these thoughts and spoke again. "What is more difficult for you to believe, Lord Gerold? That my father would ally with the man who drove him out of the seven kingdoms twice? Or that the man who spent years ruling in all but name would acquire a taste for permanent power?"

The lion lord frowned thoughtfully. "Then what was your father's intent?"

Sadog hesitated, but only for a moment. "He became convinced that Aenys Blackfyre was the only man who would remove Bloodraven from power, and who could make peace in the realm."

"Then your father was a fool," Lord Gerold observed caustically.

"You may call him that if you wish," Sadog retorted, "but you slander him if you call him an ally of Bloodraven's."

Gerold suddenly let out a sigh. "I confess, I did find it very strange. From what my father said, Lord Titus made his hatred of Bloodraven well known. But I never imagined him to be a Blackfyre supporter."

"That should tell you what sort of man Aenys was," Sadog riposted, "and what sort of king he might have been. Otherwise, why would Bloodraven break the Iron Throne's word to have him killed?"

Lord Gerold laughed at that, shaking his head. "I knew you were a clever man, Master Sadog, but you do not lack courage either." He cocked his head as his mirth faded. "So, now that Aenys is gone, you and your family have decided that Prince Aegon is your best chance?"

"Aye," Sadog declared. "We have told His Grace about Bloodraven's crimes, and he has proof of it in his possession. Ask him yourself."

"I shall." The westerman turned back to the view and leaned forward. "What strange bedfellows has this council inspired."

Sadog did not bother to ask him what he meant by that. "I have already spoken with the northmen, too. They will place their support behind Aegon. I trust that you'll continue campaigning for your Prince Aegon?"

Lord Gerold tilted his head towards Sadog, and gave a curt nod.

"Very well," Sadog declared with a sigh. "Inform me if you require the Iron Bank's services again."

"Of course," came his curt reply. "Now if you'll excuse me, I believe I must see how many lords will choose Aegon over Bloodraven." Thus did he gingerly walk past Sadog and walk back towards the tower from which Sadog had emerged earlier.

"Since we are speaking plainly, Lord Gerold," Sadog asked, unable to stop himself, "what would have occurred to me if I'd given the wrong answers?"

The westerman paused, then turned away with a laugh. "Is that why you think we were meeting up here?" He did not wait for Sadog to answer, but went out of sight down the nearest staircase.

Sadog pondered Lord Gerold's question, even as he leaned against the parapet and tried not to look down. When I return to Braavos, he vowed to himself, I will lock myself to a desk in the Iron Bank and never leave it again!