Chapter 70: Sir Simon's Ambition
"To prevent Sir Simon from riding to King's Landing to testify, I believe you and my master share a common purpose, do you not?" Rohr's voice was low and steady. "Once Simon and the Wilders present their evidence to the Iron Throne, House Grafson will not escape the consequences."
"What has this to do with House Grafson?" Daeron retorted harshly. "I was not captured."
"Do not forget, ser, that several of your own knights were trapped in that encirclement," Rohr reminded him.
"As long as they do not have me, this matter can be denied. It has nothing to do with my family," Daeron insisted, a desperate edge to his voice. "As for my knights… Sir Aris was a squire in Gulltown for many years. Who is to say they were not merely old friends, invited to aid him personally?"
He looked at Rohr, searching for some sign of agreement, some validation for his flimsy excuse.
Rohr's reply was a disappointment. "I would not know, ser. I am only a guard; I know nothing of such high matters. I only know what my master told me to say: if you do not cooperate with him, House Grafson is finished."
Daeron fell silent. The boat slid through the dark water, the only sound the gentle dip of the oars. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice hoarse. "What does he need me to do?"
Seeing that Daeron had been successfully cowed, Rohr felt a wave of relief. It meant he would not have to use force to keep the man here. "I do not know, ser. As I said, I am only a guard. My master will find us soon enough. You can speak with him then."
"It's over."
Ian sliced through the ropes binding Sir Simon's wrists. The man had just been escorted up from the cellar, blinking in the dim light.
"Thanks to you," Ian said with a thin smile, "we have annihilated the ghosts that have plagued this land for months."
"Sir Lucian," Simon replied, his own smile eager and relieved. "I have done everything you asked. Will you now fulfill your promise and let me go?"
"Did I not just do so?" Ian gestured to the severed ropes on the dirt floor.
"You… you mean I am free?" Simon's face lit up with pure joy.
"That was the intention," Ian said, his tone shifting. "Unfortunately, some rather troubling news came to light during the interrogations."
"No!" Simon's joy curdled into panic. He saw where this was going. "You cannot do this! I have cooperated with you completely! Whatever this news is, it has nothing to do with me! I have been locked away this entire time!"
"Nothing to do with you?" Ian sneered. "You are a better actor than I gave you credit for. When I first asked you why you formed this company of bandits, what was your answer?"
"Aris said he wanted to plunder enough gold to form a sellsword company and sail for Essos," Simon recited, his voice trembling. "I thought that if he left Westeros, and if something… happened… to our trueborn brother, then I might inherit Darry Hall. That is why I helped him."
"And you expect me to believe you are still hiding behind that lie?"
"It is no lie! Sir Lucian, I swear it, everything I told you is the truth!"
"Do you take me for a fool?" Ian's voice was cold steel. "Ser Daeron Grafson himself has confessed. You were raising an army to march to Pentos and pledge your swords to Viserys Targaryen."
"Viserys?" Simon looked genuinely confused. "Who is that?"
Ian stared at him. "The last of House Targaryen."
"Oh!" A look of dawning comprehension, followed by disbelief, crossed Simon's face. "You mean the Beggar King? Are you jesting? What could the Beggar King possibly have that would convince Aris and Ser Daeron to join him?"
"So you intend to play the fool until the very end?"
"No," Simon said, his eyes wide as he looked at Ian's grim expression. A cold dread was beginning to seep into his heart. "I simply do not understand."
"Viserys is to wed his sister to the most powerful Dothraki Khal in the world," Ian explained slowly, deliberately. "In exchange, the Khal will give him an army. An army to take back Westeros."
"Seven Hells!" Simon finally understood that this was no joke. The color drained from his face. "Damn him! Sir Lucian, I must see Aris! Let me see him now!"
"What is the meaning of this? Are you claiming you only just learned of this plan?"
"By the Seven, I knew nothing of it!" Simon shrieked, his voice cracking. "I swear, I knew nothing! Aris tricked me! I am a victim in this as much as anyone!"
"You were a key member of this conspiracy, and you claim you didn't know its purpose? I hope His Grace, the King, will be amused by your explanation."
That was the final straw. Sir Simon collapsed to his knees, scrambling forward and clutching at Ian's legs. "Believe me, Sir Lucian! Please, believe me! I truly did not know! That bastard Aris, he lied to me!"
The veins on Simon's forehead bulged, his eyes were bloodshot with terror and desperation. Ian looked down at the groveling man and pretended to be moved.
"Very well," he said softly. "I can see you speak the truth. But what good does it do for me to believe you?"
He let the question hang in the air.
"Your brother's treason will be reported to the Iron Throne. You have been serving as our agent within this conspiracy for some time, it is true, but extricating you from this will not be easy… unless…"
"You can save me?" Simon seized on the word, his eyes gleaming with a desperate, hungry hope.
"Perhaps. What if the story was not that we captured you and forced you to cooperate? What if, instead, the story was that you discovered your father and brother's treasonous plot and, out of loyalty to the crown, you proactively sought aid from Ser Wylis Manderly to stop them? You would not be a traitor then. You would be a hero."
The hope in Simon's eyes burned brighter, but it was quickly tempered by doubt. "But… even if you are willing to say this, Sir Wilder and the others know the truth. Why would they agree to help me?"
"Ser Daeron Grafson offered us a deal," Ian said conversationally. "A thousand gold dragons for his freedom, and for us to omit the Grafson name when we report this matter to the Iron Throne."
"A thousand gold dragons? How could he have such a sum?"
"He promised to sell his ships."
"And you agreed?"
"Not yet. You see, as tempting as the gold is, Sir Wilder and the others desire something more: the credit for crushing a rebellion and warning the throne of a possible invasion. Your brother will tell us nothing useful. Therefore, we must escort Ser Daeron to King's Landing. His testimony is essential to make the Iron Throne take this threat seriously."
"So…?" Simon still didn't grasp where Ian was leading him.
Ian patted him on the shoulder. "But… if you, the illegitimate son of Ser Raymond Darry, were to go to King's Landing and personally accuse your own father and brother of their crimes… then Sir Wilder and I could have both. We could collect the ransom from Ser Daeron, and we would still gain all the merit for thwarting this rebellion."
"You want me to… betray my own family?" Simon trembled.
"Did they ever truly consider you one of them?" Ian asked softly. "Think of it, Simon. Once your father and brother are executed for treason, or sent to the Wall… who would be a more suitable master for Darry Hall than you, the loyal son who saved the realm?"
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