Game of Thrones: Knight’s Honor

"Is this all there is?" Lynd frowned as he surveyed the goods before him.

The items in question consisted of precious commodities from the Further East—tea, silk, and ceramics. While undoubtedly valuable, they hardly seemed worth the effort of Littlefinger making a special trip to King's Landing, let alone enlisting Janos Slynt to provide additional protection for the shipment.

"Could he have used this shipment as bait to lure out malicious actors, while the true contraband is hidden elsewhere?" Lynd mused, his instincts tingling with unease. He scrutinized his surroundings, wary of the possibility that if this shipment were indeed bait, a deadly trap might accompany it.

Despite his vigilance, Lynd detected nothing unusual inside or outside the warehouse. The guards patrolling the area conducted themselves normally, and the only discomforting element was the sound of a few drunk guards snoring nearby.

"It seems I was overthinking," Lynd muttered with a self-deprecating laugh, though his gaze lingered on the goods. Gradually, he understood the reason for his earlier misjudgment.

While the shipment's value was not extraordinary enough to justify Littlefinger's personal involvement—especially in such volatile times—it was still substantial. Sold in King's Landing, the cargo could easily fetch tens of thousands of golden dragons. However, for Littlefinger, then a mere tax officer in a port city, such wealth was unlikely to be mere bait. This led Lynd to a new conclusion: the true contraband must be concealed within this shipment.

With renewed focus, Lynd inspected the cargo once more, this time examining each bag and box meticulously. Soon, he noticed an inconsistency. Several boxes labeled as containing silk were considerably heavier than expected. Clearly, their contents were not just silk.

Though the boxes were locked, their rudimentary mechanisms posed little challenge to Lynd. Anticipating such situations, he had recently refreshed his lock-picking skills. Producing two slender iron tools, he deftly manipulated the pins within one of the locks. Moments later, it clicked open.

Carefully removing the lock, Lynd eased the box open, mindful to minimize noise. At first glance, the box appeared to contain neatly rolled silk, and for a moment, he questioned his judgment. Unperturbed, he began removing the rolls, one by one. Once the box was emptied, he tapped its bottom lightly and noticed a hollow sound.

His keen eyes quickly located a hidden button. Pressing it, he lifted a false bottom, revealing a concealed compartment filled with cushioning weeds. Nestled within were various antique bronze, silver, and gold items.

"Is this what Littlefinger deems so valuable?" Lynd wondered, skepticism gnawing at him. Lacking the expertise to assess these artifacts, he refrained from making any hasty conclusions. With deliberate care, he restored the compartment and silk rolls to their original positions.

Still unsatisfied, Lynd examined the other unusually heavy boxes. Upon opening the fourth, he found what he had been searching for: two items that left no doubt about the shipment's significance—a cracked dragon egg and an ornate dagger.

His eyes first locked onto the dagger. Its striking dragonbone handle and blade of Valyrian steel immediately confirmed its exceptional craftsmanship. Recognizing its potential importance, Lynd's thoughts turned to its possible role in future events, knowing it could very well be the infamous dagger that would ignite the War of the Five Kings.

"How did this dagger end up in Littlefinger's possession so early on?" Lynd wondered, a mix of curiosity and confusion tugging at him. Driven by the need to examine the artifact more closely, he reached out and touched the dragonbone handle.

The moment his fingers made contact, a searing, almost electric sensation coursed through him, spreading from his hand to his entire body. Yet, what truly unsettled him was the sudden reaction of his Peacekeeper's energy bar. Nearly depleted, with less than a quarter of its capacity remaining, the bar now pulsed faintly, flickering like a breathing light under the influence of the burning sensation.

For a moment, Lynd was caught off guard by the unexpected change. But his instincts soon took over, and he carefully assessed what effect, if any, the burning sensation from the dragonbone dagger had on the energy bar. Despite his hopes, his examination yielded little. The energy bar continued to blink steadily, yet it neither replenished nor advanced in any discernible way.

Still, Lynd couldn't shake the feeling that the dragonbone dagger had a deeper connection to his Cheat. Perhaps he simply hadn't uncovered it yet.

With that thought lingering, he turned his attention to the cracked dragon egg. Placing his hand on its surface, he expected a similar burning sensation. Instead, a piercing cold spread from the egg, creeping through his hand like frost. Unlike the heat from the dagger, the chill didn't envelop his body. Instead, it flowed through him like a stream, pooling in his chest before seeping into the pocket where Glory lay sleeping.

The small creature stirred faintly, responding to the cold, but quickly returned to its slumber. Lynd watched intently, noting that Glory's reaction was far from ordinary. Despite his efforts to tame the creature, its wild nature persisted. Though it was affectionate and obedient to Lynd, it showed hostility toward anyone else, often lashing out unpredictably. As Glory grew, its strength and bite became formidable, easily snapping through ropes or wooden bars. For safety, Lynd kept Glory close at all times, ensuring it remained under control.

This time, bringing Glory along seemed to yield an unexpected result.

The chill from the egg had clearly been absorbed by Glory. Lynd wasn't sure what effect this would have on the creature, but one thing was clear: the dragon egg had changed. The once-vibrant scales on its surface now appeared dull, lifeless, and pallid, as though the essence it once contained had been drained.

"Could the rumor about the albino Shadowcat be true?" Lynd mused, his thoughts racing. The chilling sensation seemed linked to what remained of the dragon soul within the egg, while Glory's absorption of it brought to mind tales of the albino Shadowcat, said to devour souls. The coincidence was too striking to ignore.

Now wasn't the time to delve into any potential changes in Glory. Lynd carefully replaced the partition in the box, leaving the Valyrian steel dagger with its dragonbone handle untouched. It was too conspicuous, and taking it could draw unnecessary attention—particularly from Littlefinger, which was a complication Lynd preferred to avoid.

The dragon egg, while visibly altered, displayed no obvious changes to the casual observer. As for the other Valyrian-era artifacts, Lynd left those in place as well. Quietly, he retraced his steps out of the warehouse, ensuring his departure went unnoticed.

Once outside, Lynd moved quickly through the slums along the castle wall, heading toward the Lion Gate. Although passing directly through the crowded arena would have been shorter, the gathering of refugees and curious onlookers made it a poor choice. The slum roads, though filthier, were quieter and would save him time.

As Lynd reached the slum exit near the Lion Gate and prepared to head toward the Tyrell camp on Lion's Hill, he noticed something unusual. The heavy doors of the Lion Gate creaked open slightly, and a group of Lannister soldiers emerged, carrying someone.

Clad in reddish-brown iron armor, the Lannister soldiers stood out sharply. Their equipment, funded by the wealth of the Lannister gold mines, was far superior to the gear of most other noble houses. Ordinary soldiers of other houses often supplied their own weapons and armor, but the Lannisters provided their troops with high-quality iron and steel equipment, making their forces look far more professional.

The two soldiers now exiting the Lion Gate belonged to Jaime or Tywin Lannister's command, as only those directly under their orders were permitted to wear iron armor. Carrying a limp figure between them, they headed toward a rubbish heap not far from the gate. In the dim torchlight, Lynd could make out their burden—a naked girl.

The soldiers unceremoniously dumped the girl into the heap, muttered something to each other, and left, returning to the castle. The girl's motionless body showed no signs of life, not even the reflexive twitch one might expect upon impact. To onlookers, she appeared dead.

The scene attracted the attention of nearby slum dwellers, who began to gather around the heap. For the impoverished of King's Landing, a corpse was valuable—something that could be sold in the flea markets. Lynd, initially uninterested, was about to turn away when he noticed the girl's hand twitch faintly.

She was alive.

Others in the crowd saw this too, but their intent was far from charitable. One man bent down, picked up a rock, and prepared to finish the job.

If the girl had been dead, Lynd might not have cared what happened next. But the fact that she was alive stirred something in him. His sense of morality from his previous life refused to let him stand by and watch. Moreover, the growing indifference toward life that came with the Peacekeeper's combat experience gnawed at him. He had found that small acts of empathy helped mitigate this side effect, grounding him in the person he once was.

His decision made, Lynd sprang into action. Closing the distance in a flash, he struck with precision, landing a flurry of punches that incapacitated the would-be attackers. The civilians crumpled to the ground, dazed and unconscious.

Without sparing them another glance, Lynd turned his attention to the girl. Her body was riddled with wounds, and her breathing was shallow. He hesitated briefly, then scooped her up into his arms and began making his way toward the Tyrell camp.