Ser Ciaphas of House Cain Ch.2

CIAPHAS II: BEAUTIFUL DECEPTION

“Some wise and not-so-wise men call me a hero. I can’t help but laugh at that sometimes. I’m far from what they think of me. In my most private thoughts, it’s not ‘hero’ I call myself, but Fortune’s Fool.”

— Ciaphas Cain, confiding in Inquisitor Amberley Vail late at night after a personal affair better left undescribed.

— Ciaphas Cain —

“Emperor be good, Emperor be merciful…” I muttered. “Dragons… I’ve vaguely heard of them in the schola, but of this size…?”

We were still practically stuck where we stood when the dragon flew overhead and showed off its fiery breath to rival any flamer. It was hard to simply move on from something like that. Sure, it was no Tyranid Hive Tyrant, but flying, fire-breathing grox were still much too dangerous for my sensible tastes.

I likely wouldn’t have been all that concerned if I had the Imperial Guard and Navy at my back. But, very pointedly, we weren’t so lucky. We didn’t have any heavy firepower at our disposal. No Hydras for anti-air support, no Avenger or Lightning Strike Fighters for rivaling the beasts in the skies, no legion of lasguns to overwhelm it through sheer volume of fire.

We were just three very much grounded servants of the Emperor, with a chainsword, a few grenades, a limited bolt pistol, and whatever concealed weapons Amberley had tucked away to our names. If that dragon decided to swoop in over the campground, we’d burn just like the locals. The thought coiled in my gut, nauseating and terrifying.

Flying foes were always the worst in my experience. There was a reason that any competent campaign by the Imperium began with air superiority. When death came from the skies, there was little to no chance to run. And as someone who prided himself on knowing when to cut his losses and do just that, the prospect of fleeing only to futility was a terrible one.

“They’re certainly massive,” Amberley agreed. “Here’s hoping that they don’t have the numbers to back it up.”

“One is already too much of a threat,” I stressed.

“I think you could take it, sir,” Jurgen said with his usual complete confidence in me.

Internally, I cringed at the very idea of fighting that massive xenos creature. It was ridiculous. I was no flying demigod like Lord Sanguinius, Hallowed Be His Sacrifice. I’d be just as cooked (literally) as any other mere man.

Externally, however, I chuckled, “Your faith in me is heartening, Jurgen. But let’s not test that theory if we can help it. We don’t have the force behind us to weather the backlash if I were somehow successful.”

My excuse was accepted by Jurgen in good faith and sense, “As you say, sir. I’ll leave the strategizing and thinking to you and the Lady Inquisitor.”

Externally, I nodded, “Good man.”

Internally, I rolled my eyes. Hard. Emperor, save me from over-confident, over-eager subordinates. Those who bought fully into my ‘legend’ were the worst. Useful, to be sure, but it was a double-edged chainsword. Time and time again, they were the ones to volunteer me for suicide missions that I only survived by the seat of my Commissariat-issued dress pants. I’d do my duty to the Emperor, but only by necessity and preferably, from as far away from actual danger as I could feasibly place myself.

A practical part of my mind spun up to thinking just how I would secure such a kill if I had to. Just emergency planning, of course. It was always good to have a Plan Z in mind. Without heavy firepower, I saw little chance at victory that wasn’t pyrrhic in the extreme. The best option I could conceive was to aim for the dragonrider, not the dragon. Then, hide and hope and pray that the beast didn’t try to avenge its master.

As I concocted my emergency plan for the worst-case scenario, I saw Amberley eye me with some small amount of amusement from the corner of my eye. She knew that I knew just how fucked I would be if everything went that tits up. That had to be it. I shot her a strained and shaky smile.

“Yes, something to avoid if at all possible.”

“I think you’ve beaten worse odds, Ciaphas. Somehow, you just seem to keep surviving the impossible,” Amberley said.

I judged her sardonic, for she couldn’t be as earnest as some would so mistake her tone, not when she knew some of my deepest, most hidden thoughts. Good. At the very least, I could count on her not to push me into such a suicidal position.

“The impossible keeps trying to kill me, more like. But until the Emperor Himself shows up before me to tell me it’s my time, His enemies will have little luck, so far as I can help it,” I joked, putting on my usual dutiful, heroic, and humble airs.

She rolled her eyes, and I just knew she saw right through me, then. “Be that as it may, we can’t go wasting what little we have in this situation. We are three against Emperor knows how many, and dragons to boot. Different avenues than the Imperium’s usual will have to be explored. I believe it’s best to start by playing within the local game. But to do that, we must first find out what that game is, and how it’s played.”

“Into the city smelling of shit in the distance, then?” I asked.

“Into the city, wary and vigilant and with our eyes open to any opportunity we can exploit to establish ourselves,” Amberley confirmed.

The disorganized and hectic campground held nothing more for us. That might change later, once we were established, but for now, we began our trek through and out of it. Jurgen shared a few of his now-limited ration bars with me and Amberley. They weren’t good eating by any stretch of the phrase, but they were filling, with all of the nutrition a guardsman might need to wage the Emperor’s wars.

Our internal clocks were going to be off no matter what we did. It was morning here, and afternoon when we left Bucolia IX. Thankfully, we weren’t very fazed by the disconnect. One got used to long hours in the service of the Emperor, or one didn’t last long at all.

The campground was a sprawling thing. A mess by anyone’s standards. Jurgen in particular seemed to be bristling at the poor organization on display.

In some places, we saw tents clustered too tightly together in ways that were bound to give rise to disease and poor hygiene. In others, we saw unutilized open ground like dead spots in the otherwise lively and chaotic sea of habitation or camp utilities arranged with awful inefficiency on a ‘first-come, first-served’ basis.

Cloth banners marked almost every tent we saw, with all the ornate symbols and heraldry to be expected of a feudal society.

Seven seven-pointed stars on pure white (boring and standard).

Three ravens in flight holding three hearts (rather striking and interesting, actually).

A pattern of red crabs strewn on white (a strange animal to claim).

A prideful peacock on cream (very flashy, I could almost relate).

Three beehives on bee-stripe black and yellow (bees…?).

A flock of ravens on scarlet around a barren white tree (‘mind the trees,’ the Harlequins’ words echoed unbidden in my head).

I’ll freely admit that last reaction spooked me. It was a strange bit of advice those xenos clowns had left us with. Half of me wished to put it completely from my mind, like everything else about those cruel, abducting xenos. The other half wished to know exactly what they meant by it, so I could avoid it at all costs.

Still, the varied heraldry went on and on. This must’ve been a vast land to bear so many nobles. And just as the banners and local nobles attracted my attention, we attracted attention from them in turn as we passed. First, for Jurgen’s distinct odor that made noses crinkle and expressions wince. Then, Amberley and I, as the locals turned to find the source.

I saw many an admiring glance at my uniform — unique but strikingly so, not losing out in quality to any local clothing — and Amberley’s beauty. Some of the latter gazes were rather covetous. I made sure to stare (certainly not glare) back at them until they backed down.

We were approached only once on our trek through the campground by a posse of noble ladies who immediately began tittering over Amberley’s fashion. Thankfully, Jurgen was quick enough to stand a bit away and downwind of the noble ladies, blending into the background until he was all but forgotten (or never noticed in the first place).

“My Lady, just where did you get those riding leathers~? They are simply soooo~ comely~,” The lead lady cooed, the shoulders of her green dress mounted by golden roses.

“Magnificent!” Her followers were quick to agree.

“So form-fitting and functional!”

“And the details, my lady! I may just swoon!”

I saw a cornucopia sewn onto the back of one of the ladies’ gloves. Five golden cranes on blue for another. And a red apple over the breast and heart for the last. The sigils didn’t mean anything to me then, but I noted them in my mind regardless.

To be fair to them, Amberley did look good. Exquisite craftsmanship saw only the best materials hugging her curves. The details were sewn in golden thread, and a cape of velvet and fur hung from her shoulders. Though these backwater ladies wouldn’t know its full extent, her fashion spoke of wealth they couldn’t even dream of.

The leading Rose kept speaking over any answer Amberley could’ve given in that naturally self-important way nobles tended to keep about them, “And that emblem, is it the sigil of your house? A dual-headed eagle cast in gold? Forgive me, I’m afraid I don’t recognize it offhand.”

Given the chance to respond, Amberley rallied, put on a perfect mask, and began to spin a yarn out of nothingness with such skill that I was almost humbled and lovestruck.

“You wouldn’t,” Amberley smiled a sad and regretful smile. “It’s a tragic tale, my house. We’re not what we once were. Not in the slightest. I am all that remains.”

Instantly, the ladies were caught in her web, gasping almost as one, “No! Tell us it isn’t so!”

“What a terrible thing, to be a lady alone in the world…”

“Yet your wealth clearly persists! It speaks well of the heights your house must’ve reached!”

The Rose reached out to lay a comforting hand on Amberley’s, “Would… Would you care to share your tale, my lady? We could be friends, I hope. Someone of your dignity and tragedy needs not worry about being completely dismissed and forgotten.”

Amberley clutched the Rose lady’s hand in turn, her expression so touched that I almost believed her. “You are kind, my lady. May I have your name? I am Amberley Vail, but I must insist that someone with so much care and consideration to so freely give calls me simply Amberley.”

“Well met, Lady Amberley,” The Rose smiled beautifully. She was a rather fetching young woman, with flowing brown locks, fine features, and gentle brown eyes. “I am Lady Jonquil of House Tyrell, youngest daughter of my recently late father, Lord Leo. My eldest brother Leyton is, of course, the Lord Paramount of the Reach, ruling the realm’s wealthiest and most fertile kingdom in King Viserys’s name.”

Ah, context… Something we so desperately needed, like a dying man in a desert needs water. I knew then that Amberley was going to milk these ladies for every scrap of information they could unknowingly bless us with.

“These are my ladies, loyal daughters and sisters of my brother’s bannermen,” Jonquil kindly and proudly continued. “Lady Nera of House Merryweather.” The cornucopia. “Lady Sonya of House Crane.” The golden cranes (to little surprise). “And Lady Elrie of House Fossoway.” The apple.

“Well met, all of you,” Amberley smiled. “As I said, I am Amberley Vail. And this dashing man is Ciaphas Cain.”

“A betrothed? A husband? Or dare I suggest…? — A lover’s affair~?” Sonya — the Crane — asked, eager for gossip.

“Merely, for all that word utterly fails to do him justice,” The coy twinkle in Amberley’s eyes as she answered was perfect to keep the ladies properly intrigued and titilated, wanting more. “A distinguished and skilled warrior in my service,” 

“A pleasure, ladies,” I greeted, putting on my most winning and charismatic smile. “Lady Amberley overstates my importance, I assure you.”

Two of them blushed, Jonquil and Elrie. One was more focused on Amberley than me, Nera… And the last, Sonya, was outright fanning herself while looking like she might just squeal from the story she was likely concocting about us in her mind.

“So humble, so dashing~,” Jonquil tittered. “That’s another story you’ll have to tell us at some point, Lady Amberley. How such a heroic Ser Knight came to be in your service~… But first, I would hear the tragedy of your house, if you would.”

It was a delicate razor’s edge Amberley had us dancing on. Quite a few ways it could go wrong. But if there was anyone I would trust to guide our new backstory through all the obstacles that came from our lack of information, it was Amberley. It was all about saying just enough and not saying so much more. We just had to let the ladies come to their own conclusions, state them aloud, and then learn from that context while they were taken in by Amberley’s tale.

“It’s a terrible thing,” Amberley sighed, perfectly mournful and downtrodden. “We are in exile and now, brought so low. Only me, Ciaphas, and our manservant Jurgen remain against the world.” Evoking pity, good.

“My line was driven out of hearth and home by cruel, damnable fools.” A safe assumption and vague foundation that could go almost any which way. Every feudal world was rife with internal strife.

“I was raised on scraped-together stories of these blessed lands, but this is my first time stepping foot on the earth my ancestors once walked.” An appeal to familiarity in ‘shared’ history and an excuse for not knowing what some would consider common knowledge. All wrapped around the vaguest kernel of truth, for the Imperium’s ancestors must’ve walked these lands at some point if they spoke High Gothic.

“I fear our legacy here has been forgotten entirely. Perhaps wiped from the annals by enemy action… ” A riskier statement, but a necessary one. Obviously, we had no real history here. That was something harder to hide, unless it was established early, as Amberley did here.

“We are lost in this world. Alone. Hopeless for a time, until I decided to take this leap of faith in coming here. And where some would desire nothing more than revenge, I simply wish to live… to return home… If I must make a wholly new one for myself here on forgotten ashes, so be it.” A focus on emotions, not details… God-Emperor, Amberley was beautiful when she lied like this.

Now, it was just a matter of seeing if Amberley’s spun yarn was accepted. I almost believed her, purposefully vague as the story was. But some tension and anticipation still remained within me. If we failed here, establishing ourselves at all would become much, much more difficult.

Thankfully, the ladies were too taken in by Amberley’s deception to care about vagueness. As far as first encounters went, we could hardly ask for a better one. Noble ladies of leisure, important as they seemed to be, wouldn’t be too inclined to peer deeper and poke holes. They cared for the story, the song, and the beautiful, tragic woman they could relate to. They wanted to believe — because it was, however vaguely, based in their reality, because Amberley was familiarly beautiful, and because it was interesting and compelling most of all.

“My deepest condolences for your hardship, Lady Amberley,” Jonquil consoled earnestly. 

“So strong, so bold, so beautifully tragic, to set out into a past you barely know,” Nera cooed. With the way she was looking at Amberley, she could’ve been convinced of anything.

“And with only a strapping man at her side, to boot~!” Sonya giggled. I could already tell she was something of a romantic.

“Do you know what lands your house once claimed? What kingdom they lay within, and what Great House they paid fealty to…?” Elrie asked, not skeptical but curious.

Amberley adopted a thoughtful expression, “I remember hearing tales of fruitful fields, beautiful meadows, life-giving rivers, and scenic landscapes, but I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you more. Tragedy and untimely deaths have seen many of the original details lost to even our memories.”

“Yet what you describe sounds like the Reach,” Jonquil happily giggled.

I suppressed a snort and didn’t let it show. It sounded like everywhere, that was the point.

“Certainly not the chilled North or desolate Dorne. Beauty like that is most prevalent in the Reach, to be sure,” Her lady Elrie agreed, nodding. “But the strife that drove them from their homes sounds like the Riverlands.”

I noted down those new bits of local context. More kingdoms. The Reach, the Riverlands, the North, and Dorne… All were spoken of with a sense of distance from our current location. Another kingdom, here, yet to be named? By the sound of things, they were disparate, but still easily said in the same sentence. An overarching sense of unity of some kind…?

That was the beauty of saying so little. The locals would fill in the rest of the blanks for us.

“It is fortuitous you dared to return now, my lady,” Nera praised. “This tourney to celebrate five years of King Viserys’s peaceful reign and his coming heir. King’s Landing is certainly the place to be this year.”

“It seemed as good a time as any,” Amberley smiled, demure and leading. “Say, what year was King Viserys crowned again?”

“101 years after the Aegon’s Conquest!” Jonquil readily answered. “After the Great Council of 101 and the Old King Jaehaerys’s death, may he find rest with the Stranger.

“My grandfather once told me stories his grandfather told him in his youth, of the days when the kingdoms were sevenfold and warring with each other. They were some of my favorite tales, with the coming of the Targaryens and their dragons after Valyria’s Doom, the unification of the kingdoms under Aegon the Conqueror, and House Tyrell’s elevation when the last Gardener King fell on the Field of Fire.”

I had to pause and parse through all of that information. A valuable deluge. Thankfully, most of the conversation’s focus was on Amberley, not me.

The unification and royal rule of these lands was downright newborn. Accounting for feudal life expectancy, it was only three or four generations past. But considering High Gothic must’ve come to this world before or during the Age of Strife, 100 years was nothing. Certainly not on the Imperium’s scale of time.

Furthermore, it said that the royal family and their dragons (I couldn’t imagine any others would be allowed to keep such statements of power) were relative outsiders. Good news for when the Imperium finally arrived. Precedence for conquest would be… useful. I’d have to keep my eyes peeled for similar cracks and nuances of our new home for the time being. For my own survival and exploitation, of course.

“Aha!” Elrie snapped in realization, pulling me from my internal musing. “It must be! Lady Amberley!”

“Yes?” Amberley asked calmly. I prepared myself for the worst as a matter of habit.

“I believe I’ve discerned a piece of the history your house has unfortunately lost!” Elrie excitedly exclaimed. “How many generations has your house seen in exile?”

“My father and his father and his father and likely more,” Amberley safely answered.

Elrie nodded, “Then, it must’ve happened during that tumultuous time of the Riverlands, when they were conquered by the terrible and damned Ironborn! Only the Seven know how many noble houses and lines were lost and extinguished by their reaving conquest. I suspect your ancestors fled instead of being forced to bend the knee to Ironborn axes.

“And make no mistake, my lady, I wouldn’t name your forefathers craven. They were truly wise to do so, for the Riverlands still bear the scars of House Hoare’s accursed tyranny.”

Oh, I love when a good lie comes together… I couldn’t help but smile. Amberley had played them perfectly. Without a hint of discontent or offense, these ladies had given us the final answer to a puzzle we didn’t know the pieces to. They’d essentially made our backstory wholesale. And having come to the conclusion themselves, they’d believe it that much more.

Amberley smiled as well, as if Elrie had given her the greatest gift this world could offer, “Truly, my lady? Oh, that’s just wonderful! I cannot thank you enough! You’ve helped recover history lost! Whatever you need and wherever you go, know that you have a friend in House Vail!”

Elrie blushed, but Amberley’s smile was infectious, “Oh, anyone could’ve put those pieces together…”

“But they didn’t. You did,” Amberley laid her thanks on even thicker. “And you’ll have my eternal gratitude for that. Without your keen mind, I would still be lost in a land lost to me. Thank you, Lady Elrie.”

The mood amongst the ladies had reached a delighted fever pitch. They’d certainly remember this. And with luck, they’d spread it to others. That would help us going forward. Greatly. Locals spreading rumors of our backstory would make it ring even truer when it reached skeptical ears.

Unfortunately, that was when a familiarly distinct scent reached everyone’s nose. The ladies paled and covered themselves. Amberley’s smile grew strained, and she leaned in close to apologize, as if sharing a shameful secret.

“Oh, I’m sorry for him, my new friends. Jurgen is a dutiful and useful servant, but… not a man fit for polite company. I hope you’ll forgive me. I only work with what little I have at my disposal.”

Jonquil tried for a forgiving smile that came out rather shaky, “Once again, my condolences, Lady Amberley.”

“No, your noses have mine,” Amberley said with good, humble humor. “I think Ciaphas and I will have to excuse ourselves for now. But… may I cautiously hope we can meet again?”

“I would like that, my lady. Perhaps we can sit together during the tourney? You are more than welcome,” The stress on that ‘you’ was clear, but Jonquil’s smile still rang truer the second time.

“I would like that,” Amberley agreed, believably relieved and mortified.

“Will your Ser Ciaphas be participating?” Sonya asked.

“We shall see. It will certainly be an entertaining event if he does,” Amberley teased. “Until then, my new friends.”

“Until then, Lady Amberley. Now, if you would… excuse us… We really must be going,” The noble ladies took their leave as quickly as politeness would allow.

When they left, Amberley sighed, “Hah… And it was going so well.”

“I think it still did. You were glorious,” I genuinely praised.

Amberley smirked, “I know.”

Chuffing a laugh, I turned to Jurgen, “And where did you get off to?”

“Around, sir,” He shrugged. “Thought it best to make myself scarce around the pretty ladies. So I took a walk around the camp. Working stiffs are working stiffs everywhere. They like to talk, even if they don’t know or like me.”

The familiar smell settled into the back of my mind, pushed there by Jurgen’s continued and ever-present usefulness, “Good man, good initiative. What’d you learn?”

“Lots and lots of gos’, sir. Not sure what’s important and what’s not,” Jurgen admitted.

“Well, keep it all in mind,” I instructed. “If something you heard seems relevant, don’t be afraid to speak up about it.”

Jurgen nodded, “Yes, sir, as the Emperor wills.”

“Now,” I clapped. “We’ve seen some unexpected success already. I’d like to continue that trend. And since we still need funds, might I suggest some good, honest gambling to gather them?”

Amberley sighed, “I would usually deny you your vices outright, but that’s actually not a bad solution…”

I began to smile, wide and eager, but Amberley continued with a glare before I could say anything, “In this particular situation, Cain.”

“Of course, of course,” I turned my smile as disarming as can be. “Extenuating circumstances.”

Amberley pinched her nose, “Emperor save me.”

“As He wills, my lady,” Jurgen said, resolute and simple.

“Just as you say, Jurgen,” She nodded. “He gives us strength.”

“Hmm, that’s something,” I hummed as we began moving again. The city of ‘King’s Landing’ awaited, red and brown stone walls looming high. “I do wonder as to the faith of these lands.”

“I’ve heard much talk of these ‘Seven’, sir,” Jurgen informed. “Don’t quite know what that’s all about. Heresy, I reckon.”

“Not malicious heresy,” Amberley shook her head. “We can’t blame this world for not knowing the Emperor in their isolation. If these Seven are the result of hidden Chaos, it would be a different story, of course. But I somehow doubt that. 7 is the Plague Lord’s number. And I’ve seen no sign of his decay.”

“Would it be possible for them to be worshipping the distant light of the Astronomican without realizing it?” I asked.

“There’s an idea,” Amberley smiled softly. “Perhaps the best case scenario. We’ll keep it as a hope in the back of our minds, but we need more information to make any judgment at all.”

I nodded, conceding the point, but didn’t say anything more. Chaotic influences running deep in this world would be just the worst. Terrible for our (my) survival and potential to thrive here. The Great Enemy could be subtle, but isolated here, they wouldn’t have a reason to be. By my rather hopeful estimation, this world would’ve been forgotten by the warp just as it was forgotten by the Imperium.

If not… well, there was nowhere for me to run. And I didn’t like that idea. Not one bit. Best to fiercely believe the opposite, as if I could force it into being. It was nice and sobering to be reminded of that ever-present threat to my well-being. Almost relieving, in a twisted way. Chaos was always widespread and insidious. And if not the Great Enemy, there were still potential psykers that could show up anywhere to worry about. I like my head not popped like a grape, thank you very much.

We were stopped briefly at the city’s gates, not by suspicion but routine, and likely influenced by our clearly noble manners of dress, “Just a moment, milord, milady. Who enters King’s Landing?”

“Ser Ciaphas Cain and Lady Amberley of House Vail,” I introduced, trying on the local titles.

I wasn’t quite sure what the different way of saying ‘Sir’ meant, but it seemed familiar and locally respected. I was happily using that to my advantage.

One of the gatesmen looked at the other, “… That a house you’ve heard of, Jon?”

“Well… there’s tha Vale, innithere? Why can’t there be a House Vale?”

“That’d make her mighty important, wouldn’t it?”

We, of course, didn’t correct their misunderstanding. Another kingdom to add to our list, it sounded. The noble ladies had mentioned the Reach, the Riverlands, the North, and Dorne. Now, we had the Vale to add to that. Five out of seven. We just needed two more kingdoms to complete the set.

The gatesmen didn’t bar our way any further. A few moments later, we were amongst medieval streets and the smell of poorly planned infrastructure. People from all different walks of feudal life came and went around us. Peasants, merchants, a few nobles, and city guards with golden cloaks. The last of which seemed to be watched with a certain wariness by most of the people. Just another bit of context I gladly compiled and catalogued.

Red and brown stone seemed to be the building materials of choice. Along with good ol’ wood, of course. It was odd to see the valuable material used so prevalently. In hive cities, wood was beyond rare, beyond priceless. Here, it was just what they had to work with. Strangely enough, by those standards, this feudal world would’ve been considered quite wealthy. Until some Rogue Trader came and cut down the whole world in one fell swoop. But those were thoughts and possibilities for much, much later.

As far as I could tell, the city was built around three hills. The one closest to us didn’t seem to be topped by anything special. But the other two bore structures that brought me up short. One was a great, domed coliseum. The other was a great castle, pure red and looming larger than life. Certainly larger than what should’ve been possible for a lost feudal world. It mounted the whole city with architectural greatness.

“An industrious people, it seems,” I hummed, commenting. “Impressive, for what little they have to work with.”

“More than impressive…” Amberley muttered in skeptical awe. She shook her head a moment later, “But appreciate it later. We need coin, first and foremost. It’s your time to shine, Ciaphas. Can I trust that you won’t lose what little we have to our names?”

I grinned, in my element for once, “You can bet on it.”

Amberley was amused by my quip, I could tell, but she hid it well under rolled eyes. I turned my scoundrel’s gaze onto this new city. It was an art, really. One doesn’t just leap into the first tavern game they see. Picking suitable marks was just as important as the swindling that would follow.

I let those observant and opportunistic eyes lead me through the city, Amberley and Jurgen following behind. Here and there, I stopped some of the locals to ask questions. Simple, prodding things that wouldn’t attract much notice. Recommendations for this, that, and everything else, mostly. I needed a proper feel for the city. Walking its streets, watching its business, and wheedling answers out of its people helped me immerse myself in the familiar unfamiliarity.

In all honesty, King’s Landing didn’t seem all that different from something I would expect to find in the Imperium. It had the size and look of a smaller Imperial settlement on an agri-world, but the air of a hive city’s mid-to-lower levels. There was that unmistakable taste of danger, to be sure. Of downtrodden people doing whatever was needed to eat another day. But there was also a noticeable taste of feudal power, of people who had too much while others had too little.

Our clothes did much of the talking for us. First impressions were a powerful thing. The locals looked at us and saw nobles. Some were selfishly happy to help because of that, and others were just usefully deferential. Either way, I exploited the advantage.

Eventually, I directed us to a nicer establishment in a middling part of town. More than a tavern, less than an inn, with a surprisingly well-maintained plaque over the door that read ‘Raven’s Respite’.

It sat near the base of the city’s largest hill, with that almost impossible castle looming close at hand. Smelling of smoke and food, beer and good cheer, the three-story building was rather lively, even this early. It was exactly the type of place that adventurous nobles would visit for a taste of danger and excitement without lowering themselves too far, the perfect venue for ‘slumming it’.

“Some things never change,” I chuckled to myself.

“Think you can work with this?” Amberley asked in a whisper.

“Just watch me.”

I affected a cocky smile and stride as I entered the Raven’s Respite. Carefreely, ignorantly self-assured in the way nobles so naturally (and often undeservedly) were. But I left a hint of the truth for those who knew where and how to look to recognize a fellow scoundrel. It was all in the eyes…

As expected, the Raven’s Respite was brimming with choice marks. Young lords who sat too deeply in their seats. Young ladies who looked at everything with wide, excited eyes. And quite a few older men, lord and knight alike, who were already drunk before noon.

Also as expected, I wasn’t the only one to smell opportunity like blood in the water. I caught a few canny eyes with my entrance. An old and grizzled mercenary veteran here, a ‘working girl’ there, and the knowing gaze of the barkeep most of all.

I saw them and understood. They saw me and understood, too. No nods or winks passed between us scoundrels, but I did purposefully separate myself from them, claiming my own hunting ground, my own marks, just as they already had.

The table I chose had a grumpy man with the look of a career guardsman to him — on the clock, I’d bet — a young noble couple — slumming it, certainly, under the watch of the first man — and a knight in worn but well-maintained full plate — already drunk to the point of swaying in his seat. It was the last one who caught my attention. His armor looked like it would fit me rather well…

The guardsman was suitably nondescript, all the better to slip beneath notice in his likely line of work. The young noble lady was fetching, red of hair and green of eyes, the light of adventure shining within. She seemed excited to just be.

She and her partner were rather young. Young enough to slip beneath the Imperium’s tithe, but not for long. If things were as I was used to, I imagined the young man would’ve been the newest and greenest commissioned officer in a regiment in only a few years. Luckily for him, he’d be able to enjoy his black-haired, pretty-boy looks and youthful dalliances in this life. The weight of duty to the Imperium would likely fall onto his children or theirs…

The last one at the table, the knight, had a certain air of life experience about him. He was blond and aging quickly. Not quite unkempt, but certainly not well put together. Clearly used to hard living, he cherished the drink in front of him more than the company he was forced into, not even looking up at my approach.

I unceremoniously slapped myself in the table’s open seat with the coordinated grace of a sack of bricks, “Greetings, new friends! Room for two more? Well, one to play and one to keep me company for good luck~.”

Beneath the table and away from my new friends’ eyes, I made the signal for Jurgen to make himself scarce. It wouldn’t do to have him scare off my marks. Considering no one winced or covered their nose, he must’ve obeyed the unspoken order. As expected from my faithful aide.

Amberley had been following me closely, and not a moment later, I pulled her right into my lap. She let out a noise of surprise, perhaps only half acted, and turned to glare at me. I just grinned back, wiggling my eyebrows. She huffed but was still quick as always on the uptake.

Looking back at the table, she shared a glance of fondly rolled eyes with the lady of the young noble couple. The lady giggled, and I knew we were already halfway to being accepted by the table.

“Pardon Ciaphas, everyone,” Amberley made polite excuses for me, falling into my rhythm as the indulgent and exasperated partner. “He seems somewhat eager this morning. Not enough fulfillment for a man like him, just waiting around for the tourney to start. I’m sure you menfolk understand. And I’m sure you can empathize with me, dear.”

“Indeed, my lady,” The other lady at the table replied, still giggling. “We must have the patience of the Mother, even when the Maiden’s youthful excitement calls to our hearts.”

Amberley covered her mouth gracefully and tittered, “Well put, well put! Ciaphas has dragged me into his longing for excitement, and I cannot truthfully say I am unaffected. Thankfully, I’ve found a kindred spirit here already. Call me Amberley.”

“Elaena!” The lady happily greeted in turn. “And my betrothed Mateo. We’re merchants!”

I didn’t believe that for a second, the information so eagerly and excitedly volunteered. Those two would barter themselves broke if they ever had to buy their own goods and services. They just had the look of leisurely inexperience about them. The man was likely half decent in a sword fight, but I very much doubted he knew how to make money.

Plus… the guard-looking man at the table let out an exasperated and stressed sigh. That was rather telling.

“Oh, what kind of merchants?” I asked knowingly. “Cloth and other textiles? Food? Bulk goods? Perhaps even good steel?”

Elaena looked poleaxed by even the slightest follow-up question to her claim, “Uhm… P-Pastry merchants…?”

“Claim variety next time, my dear. There’s not a traveling merchant alive that deals only in pastry, as delightful an idea as that is,” Amberley advised, smirking slightly. “But don’t worry. Your secret is safe with us.”

Giggling nervously, Elaena said, “Sorry~… It’s just so exciting, being out and about in King’s Landing and living amongst the Smallfolk… Why, there’s danger and adventure at every turn! And so much to see! I even got to try grog! Grog! Can you imagine, my lady~?”

“Yet our fathers would certainly chastise us most gravely if they knew we were here,” Mateo gave a relieved sigh, “Thank you for your discretion, my lord, my lady.”

“Think nothing of it. We’ll cause you no trouble,” I graciously claimed. But the nod I gave was directed at the guard, not the young couple. A man with his stressful duty deserved to be acknowledged every once and a while.

The nod he returned had subtle tension draining from his posture, and he introduced himself, “Bron, milord. Lady Elaena’s man. She insisted, ya know? All I can do is keep ‘em outta trouble.”

“Good man, good man,” I honestly praised. “I can’t imagine it’s an easy task. But rest assured: here, we are safe to play and enjoy ourselves. Why, we’ve even got a knight in shining armor at the table!”

The knight swayed his head up as he was addressed, “Hmmph…? Newcomers? When did-… Never mind. Come to play the games of prince and peasant alike? Where chance and skill intertwine?! Here, a man can eat for a week or drive himself to hunger all in one evening! Truly, a table of cards is a battlefield like few others!”

He came alive with drunken energy and exuberance as he spoke. And I could barely keep my grin on the inside. A perfect mark, already nice and loose with social lubrication. A scoundrel couldn’t ask for a better blessing. He was a man after my own heart, too. Give me a battlefield of cards and chance over one of lasguns and xenos any day of the week.

“Your name, good ser?” I asked, not bothering to hide my amusement.

“Ser Kegan,” He sketched a clumsy bow, but deftly lifted his drink out of the way before he could knock it over. He drank deeply from the rescued cup before continuing.

“Of the Hedge and the Tarot Deck! I’m a terrible knight, to be clear. I’d rather take up the lyre than the sword. But my foster father insisted, and here I am. Now, only the Father could strip me of this ill-earned title. Alas! I believe he has much bigger things to worry about than the knight who slept on a roof last night.”

He said it without a hint of shame. Already, I found myself liking this man. He was a terrible knight. I was a terrible commissar. The only difference was that he could be honest about it. I envied him.

Mateo and Elaena seemed slightly scandalized by Ser Kegan’s open confession. And slightly thrilled, as well. I doubt they met many knights who so blatantly declared themselves terrible in their usual circles. Elaena’s man, Bron, just nodded matter-of-factly, more grounded in reality than his noble charges.

“Well met, Ser Kegan,” Amberley greeted with a light joke. “I expect you and Ciaphas will get on like wood and fire.”

“You wound me with the implication, my lady!” I declared dramatically.

“Oh?” Amberley played the very picture of innocence. “I’m just saying that you enjoy a good game of cards with the best of them, Ciaphas. I would never, just never, imply that you were terrible, my good man~…”

The minx just couldn’t help herself, could she? We both knew I was as terrible as she implied. Honestly, it warmed my cold, cowardly heart to be seen and known as I was by Amberley. Still, I gave her a little pinch on the butt in place of a verbal retort. Amberley jumped slightly and pretended to glare at me, an endearing show for our new audience.

“I must say, Lady Amberley!” Elaena giggled and clapped. “You and your Ser Ciaphas are simply precious~!”

Mateo smiled at me, completely taken by our performance, “It’s clear that your lady favors you, Ser.”

“Let’s hope Lady Luck favors me just as much,” I joked. “But first, while I would like to join you in play, I find myself unfortunately lacking in disposable coin. Would a different kind of wager be enough to see me dealt in?”

“Oh? What would you have in mind, Ser Ciaphas?” Mateo asked. “I’ll admit, I’d be wary to accept owed favors or written debts from someone I don’t know.”

The kid had some sense, at least. I nodded, “Something tangible, I assure you. I’d wager my sword in parts. Sevenfold, and marked by, say, these golden coins? The man who holds all of them in the end will take my sword, and the gold representing it.”

I had no intention of losing my chainsword in a gamble. But I needed something material to get my hands on the table. Amberley shot me a slight glance, but I was unworried. I’d found no game of chance that I couldn’t pick up quickly and completely control soon after.

Left unsaid was that by doing so, I’d claim seven of the gold coins, dragons on one side and a kingly face on the other, for myself. A small con to get me started. Mateo didn’t seem to notice. If Bron did, he didn’t say anything. And while Ser Kegan likely noticed, he just chuckled.

“It looks like a unique sword, Ser,” Mateo noted with interest.

“You won’t find another like it in these lands,” I said honestly.

“In that case, I’ll put my armor into the pot as well,” Kegan offered. “I’m running low on coin myself, but I’d be loath to leave the table now.”

That was a fortuitous turn of events. It was what I was after, of course, but second to our need for local currency. I thought I’d have to push him into a corner first to get him to put his plate up for wager. But it seemed that the terrible knight was rather eager to get rid of his armor and take up the lyre as he’d said. Truly, a man after the peaceful life I held in my heart’s high esteem.

Agreement reached, I was dealt into the game. It was played with the local variety of a tarot deck, seven unique cards in four suits: Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, and Stranger. There were an ‘up’ and ‘down’ version of each for a total of 56 cards.

When I asked after the rules (citing honestly that it was our first time in King’s Landing), Kegan explained that the goal was to collect a suit of seven, all up or all down, through bidding, bluffing, blocking, discarding, and drawing. As expected, I picked it up quickly, with only one wasted round to get a feel for the rules and rhythm. Then, I began playing in earnest.

The table entertained itself with conversation about this and that as the game went on. Talk of the coming tourney, of courtly gossip when Elaena and Mateo stopped trying to hide their obvious nobility, and of other minor bits of local context that painted a more complete picture for me and Amberley. For our purposes, the information was just as, if not more so, important than any gold or silver I won. And so I listened as much as I spoke and swindled.

“-I’ve been just about everywhere across the Seven Kingdoms. From the Stormlands to the Westerlands. Even to Dorne once or twice on raids under Lord Dondarrion,” Kegan said. “It’s an exhausting life, that of a hedge knight. Many times, I’ve wished to simply put it all aside and settle down into contentment.”

…

“-Duskendale is a beautiful city, with none of King’s Landing’s stench,” Mateo said. “And we-… the Darklyns are a proud and ancient house. First Men to Andal to Targaryen, we-… they’ve endured. And none can claim more knights of the Kingsguard than House Darklyn. They even boast a Queensguard in Auntie Jonquil Darke!”

…

“-The Goldcloaks have been quiet, milords. Too quiet… They’re preparin’ for something, I reckon, under Prince Daemon. Best to be off King’s Landing’s streets when it comes, for there’s no tellin’ what the Rogue Prince will do,” Bron said.

…

“-Trouble in the Stepstones is trouble for everyone on the Narrow Sea,” Elaena said. “I don’t know how anyone can conscience slavers like the Triarchy controlling such an important sea lane. Why, I heard they even captured Lady Johanna Swann and sold her to a pillow house in Lys when her bastard of an uncle refused to pay her ransom! I can hardly imagine the horrors she must be enduring…”

…

In return, Amberley and I rehashed the backstory Jonquil Tyrell and her ladies had established for us, “-I’m afraid much is still lost to us. But it’s a start. We’ve returned, and already feel more at home than in exile. House Vail shall not completely disappear from the annals of history so easily.”

Like before, the tragic tale earned us sympathy and new friends. Mateo and Elaena already seemed offended on our behalf. It was good to gather more noble allies for our fake cause. With enough of them, we might even be able to appeal to the king and reap the unearned spoils (the kind of spoils I was rather familiar with…).

Additionally, I saw the way Kegan nodded to himself and seemed to come to a decision after hearing our claimed plight. Then, a round later, he threw what I suspected was a perfectly good hand after going all in…

I took that pot — Mateo’s gold, the wagered ‘pieces’ of my chainsword, and all of Kegan’s armor at once.

When I stared at him, questioning and assessing, Ser Kegan winked at me, “It’s your trouble now, Ser Ciaphas. You’ll do your house and lady proud, I’m sure. Meanwhile, I think I’ll be more than happy to retire into peace and obscurity.”

… Lucky bastard.

IIIII

Bonus Pics (sauce below)