nyslfriends Chapter 42: The Sludge and Leaping Fish Seals of the Twin Towers
Chapter 42: The Sludge and Leaping Fish Seals of the Twin Towers
Chapter 42: The Sulphur of the Twin Towers and the Leaping Fish Seal
The cold autumn rain pattered against Blackfish Brinden's leather hood.
He rode on that tall, chestnut-colored warhorse, water dripping from the scabbard down the stirrups. The ground around him was littered with mutilated corpses, and the air was thick with the acrid stench of rotting entrails soaked in mud and water.
Otto sat atop a blood-soaked, broken chevaux-de-frise, looking up at the Duke of Riverrun's younger brother. Dark purple blood seeped from the linen bandages. He offered no explanation for the corpses whose throats had been slit by inverted iron hooks.
"Sir! Something has happened!"
The steward, Pollifer, stumbled and scrambled from the direction of the longhouse in the inner fortress, tumbling and crawling into puddles. He didn't even glance at the unfamiliar old soldier on horseback, but rushed straight to Otto's feet.
Pollifer lowered his voice, but fear made his tone tremble uncontrollably.
"It rained for three days straight, and the sewage ditches overflowed. The mine waste we buried behind the earthen kiln a few days ago, the ore fragments and lead ash that hadn't yet been put into the furnace, were all washed out by the water. It flowed all the way to the pier at the wooden dock."
Otto's grey-blue eyes suddenly narrowed, and his right hand, which was resting on his thigh, slowly clenched into a fist.
"The Twins patrol boats just docked to avoid the rain." Pollifer swallowed a mouthful of rain-soaked saliva. "Raymond's second-in-command, that yellow-toothed Wald, led his men ashore. His boots sank into the acidic mud. He dug a fingernail-sized piece of ore, still smeared with undiluted silver flecks, from the filth."
Footsteps came from the dirt path behind Polliff.
"Yellow Tooth" Wald, wearing a wet hooded cloak emblazoned with the Twin Towers emblem, walked over with four mercenary infantrymen, their hands on their sword hilts, wading through the muddy water. His face was filled with a mercenary cruelty and terror.
"Lord Hohenzollern, may the gods protect you! Your gray wall is truly sturdy; it allowed a bunch of farmers with hoes to chop dozens of heavily armed thugs to pieces."
Wald didn't approach the dark ditch where the smell of blood was strongest. He stood ten paces away, feigning anxiety. Because of the heavy rain, he didn't recognize the silent, hooded old man on horseback beside him.
"But look at this rain," Wald said, pointing to the dark south. "The defeated army is scattered everywhere across the Red Fork River. This group hasn't even gotten close. If a hundred more hungry, rabid dogs come tonight, our two flimsy wooden boats won't hold up."
He touched the leather pouch on his side; though the movement was discreet, Otto knew what was inside.
"The brothers' lives are all on the deck. I've already ordered the sailors to raise the sails; we must retreat to Twin Towers tonight and plead with Lord Raymond for reinforcements. As for the safety of this crossing, it all depends on your longsword, sir."
Wald neither extorted money nor mentioned the silver slag.
Looking at the corpses of routed soldiers lying on the ground, their necks torn open by barbs, Wald's lips curled into a hypocritical, obsequious smile. "My lord, you've fought hard tonight. This blood you shed for the peace of the river—I will report your bravery and loyalty to Young Master Raymond as soon as I return to Twin Towers. I will ensure my brothers' sacrifices were not in vain."
Otto sat in the rain.
"The water is swift and the wind is cold; it is extremely easy for a boat to run aground on a rainy night. You would be better off having some hot porridge in the longhouse before you go." Otto's voice was completely flat.
"The military situation is urgent and cannot be delayed for a moment. May the Seven Gods protect this good territory of yours!" Yellow-toothed Wald patted his chest, his eyes more greedy than a leech that had sucked its fill of blood. Then he quickly turned around with his guards and rushed towards the dock pier.
"That dog has bones in its pocket that could kill you."
Brynden, the black fish on horseback, coldly watched the Frey soldiers' departing figures. Rain streamed down the old soldier's deep-set eyes. "The moment the ships drop their mooring lines, the secret of your mill will be out of reach. That old Marquis of the Twin Towers is a miser who'd tear down a bridge plank for a single copper coin."
"It's raining heavily outside, and the broken intestines scattered all over the ground have made my boots filthy."
Otto used his right hand to support himself on the wooden stake to stand up, his body swaying slightly, before he stood upright in the mud like a nail. He cleared the way to the inner fortress.
"If Lord Brynden wishes to see what kind of barbs have sprung up in this mud, he should go to my cellar, where the oil lamp is lit, and have a sip of warm, mild wine to keep warm."
Fifteen minutes later. The sealed cellar at the base of the stone tower.
The heavy oak door was bolted shut from the outside by Pollifer. There was no brazier, only a cheap oil lamp made from tallow, flickering in front of the drafty crack in the stone.
Blackfish removed his dripping grey leather cloak, revealing a dark black armor underneath, devoid of any insignia. He didn't sit on the rough wooden stool; his tall frame, like a weathered iron rock, stood blocking the stone wall.
"Jason Mellist treats you like a grey hawk guarding the city," Blackfish stared at Otto's paper-white face. "But what I see is that you've dragged the defeated armies of the Red Fork and now you're even trying to bite the Freys. Riverrun hates nothing more than those reckless, stoic vassals."
Otto walked to a dark corner and dragged out a heavy wooden crate without any markings with one hand.
With a rough scraping sound, three raw silver ingots, not yet fully cooled, bearing the distinctive blackened holes of the ash-blowing method, slammed onto the stone table.
The dull clanging of metal echoed in the narrow cellar.
"These are bones that the dogs of the Twins just smelled in the sewers."
Otto turned around, his gray-blue eyes chillingly cold in the dim light.
"Since Lord Brynden has come to this desolate land incognito, I will not bring up those old wheat and salt concoctions used to deceive the judge. This entire silver vein beneath me—I have not reported it to the Sea Frontier City, much less left a single portion for the Frey family."
The blackfish raised its eyelids slightly.
"You want to use this dirty money to buy back Riverrun's blindness to your unauthorized military expansion?" Blackfish's rough fingers gripped the end of his sword hilt. "What makes you think I won't immediately order this stone tower to be razed to the ground under the pretext of tax evasion? And drag all its wealth back to the Duke's treasury?"
"Because if this matter comes to light, Flowing City won't get even a single silver coin!"
Otto's Adam's apple bobbed, the sharp pain making his words sound particularly stiff, yet they carried a clear logic.
"Once the Frey family's patrol boat leaves tonight, old Wald will take that piece of silver slag to Sea Frontier City tomorrow to cause trouble. The two families will completely break ties over this mine. At that point, the Duke will have to intervene, and to appease both sides, he'll either have to seal the well or allow the Frey family to extend their reach into the Blue Fork River."
Otto took a half-step closer, his right hand bracing against the edge of the dusty stone table.
"You let Raymond set up checkpoints and extort money along the shipping lanes. Today he dares to strangle me, tomorrow Marquis Walder will dare to block the supply lines to Riverrun's northward trade routes for bridge tolls."
"The Duke needs a knife." Otto stared intently into Blackfish's eagle-like eyes. "A swift knife that can be planted between Twin Towers and Raventree, without the Tully family having to pay for it, and that will only sever the throats of those greedy dogs that cross the border."
"You want me to be blind, to pretend I can't see you here with your army and silver-refining?" Blackfish's voice sounded like two stones rubbing together.
"If you lose sight in one side, you will see the other side."
Otto's palm pressed against the edge of the raw silver.
"It's not just about being blind. You also need to provide a name to keep those greedy dogs who sniff out the meat from getting away."
His gaze was sinister as he presented the conditions, word by word.
"That old dog from the Frey family thinks he's got my Achilles' heel; he wants to take this ship in exchange for an army. If Lord Brynden drinks half a jug of ale here tonight, consider it a rainstorm blocking the road."
"I need Riverrun to bear any infamy. Tonight, on the Blue Fork, there will only be a few dozen Red Fork soldiers, driven mad by hunger. To seize provisions, they swam across the undercurrent and, under cover of darkness, scuttled the Frey patrol boat. These bastards were ruthless, beheading the sailors; the ship sank, and all lives were lost."
Otto stopped.
The only sound in the stone chamber was the faint crackling of burning grease.
Blackfish's hands were crossed and pressed against the hilt of his sword. He didn't speak. His deep-set eyes held a silence that seemed to swallow everything around him.
In the brief moment when the deathly silence was almost drawing the air away,
A sudden, piercing scream erupted from the longhouse next door. It was the agonizing cry of a wounded farmer branding his broken leg with a hot knife. The scream pierced the rainy night, scraping through the cracks in the stone wall.
The two of them turned their heads almost simultaneously to look at the tightly closed oak door.
Blackfish slowly turned his gaze back to the pale face. "I'll use the blood of the Frey family to mend your wounds, and the name of the Duke of Tully to shield you."
Blackfish swiftly drew his unadorned, battle-hardened blade. The cold tip of the sword was less than half an inch from Otto's damaged left throat.
"You took the fire of Blackwood for us, and you pounded the knees of the Twins for us. Hohenzollern, Jason of Seafront has already given you enough to fill your stomach. What bone do you want after taking such a great risk?"
"The title of acting knight is nothing but a chained shell. In the eyes of the Sea Frontier City, I will always be a tenant farmer whose wages can be taken away at any time."
Otto stood upright on his right side, his chest rising and falling.
"This gray stone wall was built with the blood and flesh of refugees whom Riverrunners no longer needed; this defense littered the ground with the remains of routed soldiers. What I want is that wax-sealed parchment from Duke Horst!"
"I demand that the Duke of Tully formally relinquish my acting authority. I want this place elevated to a border defense territory directly under Riverrun's control. I want a baronial title of my own, and the right to establish a legitimate armed force."
Otto's cold, grey eyes blazed with a captivating fervor under the oil lamp.
"Once you cross that true threshold from knighthood, Hohenzollern's blood-stained spike will, from this day forward, only bleed and bleed within the blind spots marked out by Riverrun!"
Blackfish Brinden stared at the nineteen-year-old youth.
"If when the sun rises tomorrow, there's still a wooden plank on the river with the primer from Twin Towers City remaining."
Blackfish pulled a bronze-lustered sheepskin wine bag from the leather pouch, bit off the stopper with his teeth, and took a swig of murky, spicy liquor.
"I will use this sword, in front of your dozens of farmers, to personally sever your head from your neck, and put it, along with all this dark silver, into the box to be sent to Haijiang City."
This is a tacitly agreed-upon death pact.
In the hallway outside the door, Pollifer stood there, his legs trembling, carrying a basin of water mixed with hemostatic powder.
The door opened. As Otto stepped out, he casually took the basin of scalding cold water from Pollifer's hand and poured it over his bare right arm, which was covered in mud and bloodstains.
"My lord..." Pollifer's voice was barely a whisper, "the ships at the dock..."
"Go tell Toren."
Otto carelessly tossed the basin of water onto the ground. He picked up the tattered, long-handled broadsword, stained with the blood and grime of fleeing soldiers, which he had just discarded. He held the axe up in the dim light, glancing at the small, tattered piece of his robe, embroidered with dark raven patterns, clinging to the wooden handle. After confirming it was indeed him...
Otto's face was as still as a dead lake.
"Select sixteen of the most fearless and resilient veterans. Dress them all in the tattered armor of those defeated soldiers outside."
"No need for shields. Everyone bite a short knife into your mouth. Navigate underwater, following the undercurrent." Otto issued this death order, as if it were a check. "Bring plenty of pliers for the bottom-cutting tool. Once the planks are broken open, anyone still breathing inside should be bled to death and drowned."