Chapter 7: The Regretful Guest
Before the words had fully left his mouth, the spear had already flown from his hand.
The man did not hesitate; with a twist of his bracer, a dagger slid into his palm.
Faster than the dagger's arc was the reaction of the two youths.
Hofa drove himself into the man's waist without a sound, forcing him to stagger and lose balance.
It was unclear where the assassin had learned such skill; Hofa's charge merely made him sway, yet the dagger in his hand did not slow.
The spear hurled by Silver Scorpion arrived in the same breath.
The man cast a venomous look toward Valarr, who, seizing the moment created by Hofa's impact, rolled aside and grasped the broken shaft of his lance.
The spear punched clean through the assassin's body. The man did not hesitate. In High Valyrian, he spoke in a low voice to Valarr:
"I regret it."
The dagger reversed in his hand and cut deep into his own throat.
He fell lifeless.
Silver Scorpion withdrew the spear from the corpse. "A Lamenter, Valarr, my Young Master. You may need to return to Volantis sooner than planned."
"Who sent him?" The fear on Valarr's face faded, replaced by confusion as he stared at the body. Hofa moved instinctively before him, guarding him while studying the corpse carefully.
Silver Scorpion thrust his spear through the assassin's limbs, chest, and skull to ensure death. Then he turned toward the Silverblood soldiers rushing into the courtyard and several towering warriors in heavy armor wielding long-handled axes — the Weepers.
"Silver Scorpion!" Steel rang sharply. "What has happened?" Gonsor Fire-Bringer strode into the courtyard with Sebastian Jieyan close behind.
Gonsor Fire-Bringer was a tall, broad-shouldered man with brown hair and a knotted beard. His polished silver breastplate bore the Jieyan sigil — a black flame upon a deep blue field. His House was a hereditary vassal of the Varezes Family, yet by his generation its bloodline had thinned. His marriage had ended in tragedy. Gonsor's beloved wife died in childbirth, and in grief he drank Oath Wine mingled with Dragonzel's blood, swearing never to wed again.
Thus, House Jieyan's direct line ended.
Another vassal House, once the foremost among them — House Valtaken — suffered a similar fate. Its sole heir, Rafa Valtaken, choked to death while drinking.
Thus, House Valtaken's line also ended.
Fortunately, Dragonzel then had many worthy youths under his protection.
Sebastian became Gonsor's adopted son and inherited the Jieyan name. Lynn inherited the Valtaken name and the vassal seat of House Valtaken.
"Lord Gonsor, this is not the time for dispute," Silver Scorpion said firmly. "A Lamenter infiltrated the manor and attempted to assassinate Valarr, my Young Master. We must seal the estate at once."
Gonsor's anger cooled. "Understood. Sebastian, with me. Silver Scorpion, guard the Young Master." He drew his longsword and strode out with Sebastian and several Silverblood cavalry.
Their warhorses waited beyond the courtyard.
The remaining Unsullied and Silverblood soldiers secured the entrances and exits as though preparing for siege.
"Valarr, my Young Master, Hofa — you must depart with Lord Gonsor," Silver Scorpion said sternly. "Lamenters can be dealt with. But if Faceless Men were hired, the consequences would be beyond reckoning."
Valarr and Hofa grasped the gravity of it and hurried to gather their belongings.
The search lasted an entire day.
"Sebastian, any news?" Valarr approached quickly as Sebastian entered, breathing heavily. Though fear lingered beneath the surface, anger and excitement now burned stronger.
He wanted to know who dared strike at him.
Sebastian seized the glass decanter upon the table, poured amber fruit wine, and drained it.
"My father and I searched the entire manor. We found several servants who aided the assassin's entry. They did not know he was a Lamenter — he posed as a Silverblood recruit."
"What became of them?" Valarr asked.
"They live." Sebastian poured another glass and steadied himself. "Hofa made them drink Contract Wine. They could not lie. Once proven uninvolved, they were released."
Valarr nodded. Dragonzel's teachings had long taken root in him.
"The messenger to the Lord should arrive by now. We depart at dawn."
"Good." Valarr nodded firmly.
Crack.
The costly glass shattered against the floor.
"Who dares?"
Dragonzel's deep violet eyes were bloodshot. He exhaled slowly and regarded the vassals gathered along the long table. "Forgive me. I allowed anger to master me."
Lord Vansen Caron, his chief vassal, stroked his beard thoughtfully.
Aslan Longdel, silver-haired and fierce, spoke with heat. "My Lord, it must be the Tiger Party."
"Aslan, accusations require proof," said Maester Visari evenly. "The Lord is not a Triarch. To assassinate either him or Young Master Valarr would harm the Tiger Party more than aid them."
A cold laugh interrupted him.
Zesar Weaver, pale and dressed in black, regarded Visari sidelong. "Maester, do not measure the fools within the Black Wall by reason."
The hereditary Master of Whisperers of the Varezes Family was versed in Lysene poisons and Braavosi intelligence craft alike. He had trained Tigaro Dagareon after Lynn Valtaken brought the youth into service.
"Many factions within the Black Wall can hire Lamenters," Zesar Weaver said. "Yet only one stands in open conflict with you — the Bantaro Family. Morgul Bantaro is a wastrel, yet his House's wealth is ample enough to tempt reckless action."
"Then why strike at Valarr?" Dragonzel asked. "Assassinating my brother gains them nothing. Valarr stands apart from this struggle."
His jaw tightened.
"Or do they believe killing my brother will provoke me?"
Then they have misjudged.
So he thought.
"Because the cost of killing you is beyond them," Zesar Weaver said quietly, leaning upon his serpent-headed cane. A past poisoning had crippled his left leg. "Even the Great Families of the Free Cities, even the Archon of Volantis, could scarcely afford such a price."
Dragonzel fell silent.
He was protected by sworn vassals and Unsullied.
More than that, blood magic bound this estate. Oath Wine and Contract Wine had been taken. Even the animals of the grounds had tasted his blood.
For a stranger, the manor was a snare of death.
Even for the Faceless Men, entry would be perilous.
If only he had a dragon.
"Very well." Dragonzel straightened. "We will discuss how House Bantaro shall answer for this. My brother will not be threatened without consequence."
"Poison could suffice," Tigaro suggested. "Three drops of greycap extract and scorpion venom would slay every soul within the Bantaro estate. It would resemble a wasting fever."
"The cost must be greater than lives alone," Lynn Valtaken countered. "Tigaro, you think too narrowly."
"Both arguments hold merit," Lord Vansen Caron interjected. "My Lord, you must decide."
"This reckoning will not fall upon House Bantaro alone." Dragonzel narrowed his eyes at the map spread before him.
Whether Bantaro acted or not, suspicion alone made them the focal point. If they were guilty, then the Tiger Party who backed them must suffer as well.
And any blow that wounded the Tiger Party without crippling them would please their rivals, the Elephant Party.
There were many levers to pull.
This incident could serve to divert the gaze of the Black Wall nobility away from his true design.
The ships were nearly prepared. Once Marakh recovered, they would depart for the ruins of Valyria.
Dragonzel felt it still — ever since the fire prophecy, something within him urged him westward.
As though the ruins called his blood.
"Lord Caron, prepare the elephant carriage. Lord Zesar, Tigaro, remain. Aslan, Lynn — attend me to the Senate."
"We will collect our due for Valarr."
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