After leaving Rosen's estate, Caden felt the weight on his shoulders lift ever so slightly. This was his first mission as a Sunwalker, and the lives of hundreds at the monastery depended on its success. Throughout the journey from the Riverlands, a quiet dread had dogged his heels, whispering that his meager connections wouldn't be enough.
But with Rosen's promise, the hardest part of the grain acquisition was settled. Now, it was a matter of logistics and escort.
Feeling the sun on his face and gold in his future, Caden turned to Brother Gale with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Brother Gale, what say you? A cup of sweet red to wash away the dust? I know a cellar nearby where the wine is aged and the tavern girls are as bright as the morning."
Gale offered a faint smile, but his eyes remained on the market stalls across the plaza. "Wine and beauty are fine things, Caden. But I'd rather spend my afternoon tracking the price of winter wheat. When Rosen brings us to his lords, I want to know exactly how much they're trying to fleece us for."
Caden sighed, though he couldn't fault the logic. If they went in blind, Rosen would skin them alive on the margins. "Fine. Then I'll come with you."
Gale shook his head, laughing. "No. You'd be bored to tears within the hour. You'll stand there leaning on your sword, looking like a hungry wolf, and no merchant will talk to me. Go. Drink your wine. I'll meet you back at the inn."
"Keep your eyes sharp, Gale," Caden warned. "If you find trouble, head for the 'Four-Leaf Clover' south of the market. It's an old haunt of mine."
Gale waved him off. "What trouble can find me behind stone walls? Just mind the commandments, Caden. The Lightbringer frowns on 'secular entanglements' outside of wedlock."
Caden grinned, signaled for Jasmine to follow, and vanished into the winding alleys of Tumbleton.
The Four-Leaf Clover was the largest taproom in town, a sprawling timber hall filled with the scent of roasted meat and spilled ale. Caden claimed a table by the window. Within moments, a girl with chestnut skirts and a cascade of golden curls approached, her face lighting up.
"Ser Caden! By the Mother, you're back! I thought you'd gone to the Trident to find your grave or your glory."
Caden let out a hearty laugh. "Jessica! A year away, and you've grown even more radiant. Tell me your secret, and I'll sell it to Queen Cersei for a lordship and a keep."
Jessica giggled, her eyes dancing like silver moons. "Have you been studying at the brothels of King's Landing, Caden? You've certainly learned how to wag your tongue."
"Only speaking the truth, lass," Caden said, wearing a mask of wounded innocence.
"Hmph. I've heard that line from a dozen knights today," she whispered, leaning in close. "I'm free tonight, if you have the time..."
Caden's expression soured with mock regret. "I serve a monastery now, Jessica. My companion is a monk so pious he'd pray over a chipped cup. If I'm not back by moonrise, he'll have my spurs for breakfast."
Seeing her disappointment, Caden jerked a thumb at his squire. "What about Jasmine? He's looking for a tutor."
Jasmine's eyes went wide, but Jessica just tapped his head with her ledger. "Come back when you've grown a beard, pup."
She took their order—cheese pies, sausages, and two flagons of sweet red—and vanished into the crowd. Caden's smile faded as he began to scan the room. The grain was coming, but the second part of his mission—the sale of Petal-Breaker—needed a spark.
After the meal, Caden left Jasmine to finish his pie. "Stay here. I'm going to watch the cards."
He moved to a table tucked against the far wall. card games were the lifeblood of the Clover; for some, a hobby—for others, a hunt.
Caden spotted a "sheep" immediately: a young man in flamboyant silks, fine cloth but practical cut, with only a dagger at his belt. To a merchant, it signaled wealth. To a shark, it signaled a victim. Three other men sat with him, and Caden's practiced eye told him they were working in concert.
The young merchant was sweating, his eyes darting between his hand and his opponents. Caden leaned over his shoulder, took a long pull of wine, and scoffed loudly.
"Are you a fool? Why that card? If you play the other one, this hand is as good as won."
The youth spun around, looking lost. Caden pointed aggressively at a card in the boy's hand. "This one. Trust me!"
The youth hesitated, then threw the card down. The three sharks stiffened. The move didn't win the hand, but it slashed their profits. A lean man with a thick beard glared at Caden, but Caden simply patted the hilt of his sword and tilted his chin.
The shark didn't want a brawl—not while the sheep was still on the hook. He let the play continue. A few rounds later, the merchant lost anyway, but only by a hair.
"See?" the merchant snapped at Caden. "I listened to you and still lost! Keep your mouth shut, or I'll never win a copper."
"Lad," Caden sneered. "You were meant to lose a fortune. My advice saved you half your purse. You should be thanking me."
"Enough talk!" the bearded shark barked, shuffling the deck. "Deal's out."
The next hand was a disaster. The merchant looked at his cards and went pale. He slapped them face-down on the table in despair.
"What are you doing?" Caden urged. "The blind bet is in! Pick them up!"
The merchant, sensing Caden wasn't with the sharks, followed his lead. But as the betting spiraled, his nerve broke. The shark to his left—a fat, smiling man—had only one card left to play.
"You're a coward if you don't play that one!" Caden shouted, pointing to a card the boy was hovering over.
The merchant's mind finally snapped. He shoved his entire hand onto the table, his face beet-red. "If you're so gods-damned brilliant, you play them!"
He stood up, abandoned his remaining silver stags on the table, and fled out the door. The sharks rose to stop him, but Caden stepped into their path, blocking the exit. In a heartbeat, the "sheep" was gone.
Caden shrugged. "A poor loser. No stomach for the game."
He turned to leave, but the three sharks formed a semi-circle around him. Caden's hand dropped to the hilt of Petal-Breaker. "Something on your minds, boys? Looking for a thrill?"
"You spooked our meat, lad," the bearded man hissed. "You think you can just walk away?"
"And what will you do?" Caden's voice was pure arrogance. "I'm a knight. You want to trade your lives for a few silvers?"
"Wait!" the tavern-keep, Henrik, shouted from the bar. "No brawling in my house!"
The bearded man didn't look away from Caden. "No malice, Henrik. We just want to play a hand with the brave Ser. You seem confident in your skill, 'Knight.' Dare you sit?"
Caden laughed. "Play with you? You'd best be ready to pawn your breeches."
Caden sat in the merchant's seat. The crowd gathered, sensing blood. Caden played like a man possessed—by stupidity. He made one blunder after another. Within the hour, his purse was empty. Five silver moons, eleven stags, and seven copper stars sat in a pile before the sharks.
"Enough, Caden," Jessica whispered from the sideline. "Your luck is rotted. Go home before you lose your boots. You haven't even paid the tab!"
Caden ignored her, frantically patting his pockets. "Wait... I had more. I'm sure of it." He turned to Jasmine. "Jasmine! Did you take the coin Lord Braedell gave me?"
Lord Braedell? Jasmine blinked, confused. "No... Ser. I... I don't remember any coin."
The bearded shark let out a cold chuckle, gathering his winnings. "You're dry, Ser. It's been a pleasure. Consider the silver a lesson: mind your own business next time."
He started to stand.
Thud.
Caden's longsword slammed into the grease-stained table, the point biting deep into the wood. The room went silent.
The shark's hand flew to his dagger. "So, a Stormlander knight is a thief after all? Losing at cards and trying to win it back with steel?"
Caden didn't look at him. He looked at Henrik behind the bar. "Henrik! Tell me... what is a Valyrian steel blade worth in these dark times?"
The tavern-keep's eyes, normally clouded with boredom, sharpened into daggers. He pushed through the crowd and leaned over the table, staring at the rippled steel of Petal-Breaker. He reached out to touch it, but Caden batted his hand away.
"Don't touch. It's a temperamental beauty."
Henrik peered closer at the shifting, watery patterns on the blade. He took a long, slow breath. "Lord Tywin once offered a castle for such a thing. If that's true Valyrian... it is beyond price."
Caden sneered. He took a stray card from the table and let it fall against the edge of the blade. It split in two as if hitting a razor, the cut so clean there wasn't a single fray on the paper.
"Beyond price," Caden whispered. "And I'm putting it on the table."
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