The stableman's fingers twitched near his belt, where I had no doubt a knife was hidden. His breath was slow, measured—he was thinking, calculating.
But so was I.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered.
I tilted my head, keeping my voice calm. "If that were true, you wouldn't be reaching for your knife."
His jaw clenched.
I had two choices: push too hard and force him into a corner, or give him an out—an escape he could take that would also lead me to something greater.
I sighed and stepped back, raising my hands. "Relax. If I wanted to turn you in, you'd already be tied to a chair in Lothar's chambers."
He hesitated. "Then what do you want?"
I leaned against a wooden post, keeping my posture casual. "Information. Give me something useful, and maybe I forget I ever saw you."
He licked his lips, weighing the risks. Then, after a long moment, he exhaled. "…House Bracken."
I barely kept my expression still.
House Bracken—one of the major Riverland houses, sworn to the Tullys. They had long-standing hatred for House Blackwood, and more importantly, they weren't exactly friends of the Freys.
If they had someone on the inside, feeding them information, that meant they were planning something. A betrayal? A shift in alliances?
Interesting.
I nodded slowly. "That's a dangerous game you're playing."
The stableman scoffed. "Not as dangerous as the one you're playing, bastard."
I smirked. "We'll see."
The Next Step
I left the stables, my mind racing.
If Lothar wanted this man dead, he likely didn't know who the traitor was working for—just that he was selling secrets. That meant I had something Lothar didn't.
A lesser man would rush back to him and deliver the information, hoping for a reward.
But I wasn't a lesser man.
If I played this right, I could gain more than just scraps from Lothar's table—I could gain leverage.
The Meeting
Lothar was right where I left him, still seated by his maps, sipping wine like a man who had all the time in the world.
When I entered, he raised an eyebrow. "That was fast."
I didn't sit. "The job's done."
He blinked, then chuckled. "Efficient."
I let the moment stretch, watching his reaction. Did he truly expect me to just kill the man without question? Or was this another layer to his test?
I reached into my tunic and tossed something onto his table. A small scrap of parchment.
Lothar frowned and unfolded it. His eyes flicked over the words.
Bracken.
For the first time, genuine interest crossed his face. His fingers tapped the wood. "Well, well."
I leaned in slightly. "You were about to throw away a valuable piece in the game."
Lothar chuckled. "And you think you understand the game better than me, bastard?"
I met his gaze. "Not yet. But I'm learning."
He studied me for a long moment. Then, to my surprise, he smiled.
"You are interesting."
A Seat at the Table
Lothar didn't dismiss me this time. Instead, he gestured to the wine. "Sit."
I did.
And just like that, I was no longer just another forgotten bastard.
I was playing the game.
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