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"You're right," Yaris said after a brief silence, finally seeming to realize there was no point in hiding it anymore. "We should have killed the Mountain Weasel when we had the chance. We thought he hadn't discovered anything, but shortly after, Black Falcon started threatening us."
"But you hadn't been to Taman Village, had you?" Yaris changed the subject, though he added silently in his heart, otherwise you wouldn't have gotten out alive.
"Fortunately," Ian said calmly, "I found other clues quickly — so I didn't have to take that risk."
"What clues?"
"You were moving the so-called 'Blackfyre treasure' at an unbelievably slow pace."
"Eh?"
"You only had one 'caravan.' A pitiful number of men. How could you move real treasure that way? How did you even transport your plundered goods?"
"We had no choice but to store them temporarily in the Ghosts' village," Yaris muttered angrily, realizing there was no other explanation.
"Exactly. And that led me to a realization — the so-called 'Blackfyre treasure' didn't exist at all. What you moved to the abandoned fishing village was simply the valuable goods you had plundered. That guess suddenly made everything fall into place."
"I... don't understand," Yaris said stiffly.
"I've said enough for now," Ian replied coldly. "Think back — how many questions did you ask during this conversation?" He smiled faintly. "If you want the rest, you'll have to answer my questions first."
"You bastard."
"If you were moving your loot to the abandoned fishing village," Ian continued, ignoring the insult, "then clearly a ship was coming to pick you up. Where were you planning to go?"
At Ian's question, Yaris's expression stiffened instantly. His relaxed attitude vanished, replaced by wariness.
"You're trying to avoid the question," Ian said, voice low and steady. "That won't work. We're playing by the rules you set. Out of respect, I'm sticking to them. But if you don't respect me, then we'll play by my rules."
Yaris took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "Of course... to Seagull Town. Where else could we go? We planned to sell the goods there and make a fortune."
"Lie," Ian interrupted softly, staring at Yaris for three silent seconds. Under that pressure, Yaris finally lowered his head.
"...Braavos," he admitted reluctantly. "We wanted to use the funds to form a mercenary company there... build our own future. You know, my brother and I — we're both illegitimate. Daeron's only the second son of Earl Grafson. None of us were born with anything to inherit."
"A beautiful story," Ian said lightly, "but I know you're still lying."
"This wasn't part of the rules," Yaris said with a forced smile. "I'm only required to answer. Whether you believe me or not — that's your business." He hesitated, then added quickly, "But... what I said is true."
"Fine. The game continues." Ian clapped his hands.
Yaris stared at him in disbelief, hardly able to believe he had gotten away with it so easily.
"Then continue answering the previous question," Yaris said cautiously. "After you realized we were only transporting plundered goods — what conclusion did you reach?"
Ian chuckled. "An old question that had bothered me for a long time: where did the legend of the Blackfyre treasure even come from?"
He shook his head, as if laughing at himself.
"From the very beginning — when my mercenaries first heard about it, when I questioned Black Falcon's adopted son, and even in my conversations with Ser Wilder — everyone seemed convinced this treasure existed.
But when I compiled all the inferences and so-called evidence, I realized something shocking: all of it traced back to the same man — your brother, Ser Simon."
Yaris's expression froze.
"And conveniently enough," Ian continued, "when the Black Falcon mercenaries first called for help against the bandits near White Wall City, all the local nobles ignored them.
It wasn't until Ser Wilder saw the black dragon sigil during the battle that Darry City — which had been detached from the world for years — suddenly decided to send reinforcements.
And it was Ser Simon, who came representing Darry City, who proposed the idea of the Blackfyre Restoration Treasure — a tale that both captured everyone's imagination and conveniently 'proved' that Ser Wilder wasn't mistaken about what he saw that night."
"He wanted everyone to believe Wilder had seen a black dragon — not a red one."
"Seven Hells..." Yaris muttered, stunned. "Wilder remembered?"
"No," Ian said calmly. "That's just my inference."
He leaned forward slightly, watching Yaris.
"Now, can you answer my question? Why did you paint the red dragon over the breastplate, Ser Yaris?"
"Is this... a new question?"
"Let's say it is."
Yaris gave a bitter smile. "It wasn't me. That plate belonged to my uncle, Jonothor Darry — the Kingsguard of the Mad King Aerys II. He fought until his last breath for Prince Rhaegar on the Trident."
"And how did you get his armor?"
"After the war, King Robert — out of respect for Jonothor's loyalty — ordered his body returned. The plate was of excellent quality and barely damaged. It was kept by our family."
Ian narrowed his eyes.
"That... sounds like something Robert would do."He suddenly froze.
Wait — what have I overlooked until now?
Ian slapped his forehead, realization hitting him hard.
He should have noticed something strange about the Darry family long ago...
Before, he had asked Case and two mercenaries to buy armaments at the Crossroads Inn...
Back then, Case and the others had gone to Darry City first, only rushing to Harrenhal after they found nothing of value there.
At the time, Ian's first thought was simple: the Darry family had been loyal to the Targaryens, and so they had been suppressed harshly — so much so that they couldn't even recover some of the equipment from their fallen soldiers.
And that reasoning wasn't wrong. For a diehard loyalist house like the Darrys, any new ruler would keep a wary eye on them.
But Ian had overlooked one crucial thing:The new ruler of Westeros was Robert Baratheon!
Not the bloated, drunken Robert who appeared at the start of the original story, but the young Robert — the charismatic leader who could make even his enemies admire him.
Young Robert Baratheon had no interest in weakening potential threats by stripping surrendered enemies of arms. On the contrary, all who bent the knee to him often became his most loyal supporters.
And back then, Case was traveling with two local mercenaries.
Now, think about it: would local mercenaries go to Darry City if there weren't any arms available? The only reason they would have chosen to visit Darry first was that, during a previous visit, Darry City still had abandoned weapons for sale.
But this time, there were none left.So where had all the abandoned armaments gone?
The answer was obvious: they had been used to equip the "ghosts" — the mysterious raiders who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere!
Such an important clue, and I missed it? Ian rubbed his brow in frustration.
Had he realized this earlier, he could have avoided so many unnecessary detours.
Ian let out a soft sigh, then looked at Yaris and said, "Alright. I have no more questions."
"No more?" Yaris asked in disbelief. Happiness surged inside him. "Are you sure?"
"You think you've successfully saved your family?" Ian asked, his gaze full of pity.
"Why not? I'm just a bastard. If I become a simple outlaw, it shouldn't implicate my family, right?"
"You didn't just become a robber."
"Oh, Sir, you already said no more questions. The game is over. As promised, you must let my family go."
"I don't need to ask anymore," Ian said with a shrug. "You already answered the most important question — right at the beginning."
"I... what?" Yaris felt a sinking feeling rise in his chest.
"I asked you if you were distancing yourself from your family to avoid implicating them," Ian said calmly. "You didn't deny it. That means what you did would indeed implicate your house."
Yaris froze. An icy dread crept over him.
"Think about it," Ian pressed. "What crime could a bastard commit that would drag down the entire family?"
Yaris felt as if he had been struck by lightning.After a long, dreadful silence, he muttered, "Treason."
Ian nodded slightly. "If I'm right, once you finished transferring the supplies, you were planning to sail straight to Pentos and swear allegiance to Viserys Targaryen. After all, he's about to marry his sister to a so-called invincible Horse King.
The restoration of the Targaryen dynasty... is the Darry family's last hope for regaining its lost glory."
"How do you know about the Horse King?! Darren only mentioned—"Yaris stopped abruptly, realizing too late that he'd given himself away. His face drained of color.
Across from him, Ian was equally stunned — though he didn't show it.
Truth be told, Ian's guess about defecting to Viserys had been the boldest of gambles, based purely on the logic that the crime had to be treason.He reasoned that since it took three to four months to travel from Vaes Dothrak to Pentos, it wasn't impossible for rumors about Daenerys' marriage to reach certain Westeros ears early, especially with lllyrio Mopatis maneuvering behind the scenes.
But without these characters appearing in the original history, Ian had little confidence in his speculation.
And yet — he had guessed correctly.
But if that's the case, why hadn't they made it to Viserys and Daenerys?As Ian pondered this, Yaris spoke again, his voice shaking slightly:
"Can I ask one last question, Ser?"
Ian made a gesture of permission.
"Who are you?"
"If all goes according to plan," Ian said, grabbing a handful of Yaris's hair and lifting his head roughly, "I'll be Ian Rivers — the blood brother of you and Ser Simon."