Under the quiet of the night, King's Landing, stripped of its usual clamor, revealed a serene and almost mystical beauty.
"Tonight at nine, in the Godswood."
Ser Hobber Redwyne took out the pink ribbon once more, reading the words written on it. He found it hard to believe that Lady Nathalie would actually arrange a meeting under such circumstances, but quickly found a way to justify it to himself—
After all, he was the second son of House Redwyne of the Arbor. His status and family were surely more impressive than that of the landless, titleless hedge knight, Gerold Dayne.
Of course, Lady Nathalie would prefer him.
With his heart filled with anticipation, he began his walk to the meeting spot, imagining how the night might unfold.
The Godswood was located in the southeastern corner of the Red Keep, a rare, quiet retreat within the sprawling castle grounds. Trees such as elms, pines, and aspen grew there, but no weirwood, since this wasn't the North. Yet even so, the Seven-worshipping Hobber felt a faint chill settle over him as he walked under the trees, as if unseen eyes followed his every move.
Hobber drew his cloak tighter around himself and silently traced a seven-pointed star over his chest, muttering a prayer in his heart—
"Merciful Mother, grant me a beautiful wife."
After a pause, he added silently, "…and if she could bring a castle with her, that would be perfect."
The woods lay in silence, broken only by the crunching of leaves under his boots.
"Nathalie? Lady Nathalie?"
He called her name softly but received no response. Perhaps he was too early.
Trying to calm his nerves, he waited and began rehearsing in his mind just what he would say when he saw her.
Time ticked by, and soon the distant toll of a bell echoed from outside the Godswood.
It was time.
Yet where was Lady Nathalie?
Just as he thought to search further in, Hobber heard a soft sound nearby and, feeling a surge of hope, he walked deeper into the trees.
Finally, near a large oak draped with smokeberry vines, he spotted a shadowy figure.
"Lady Nathalie?"
Hobber stepped forward, slowing his pace to appear less eager. However, as he approached, he noticed that something about the figure seemed… off.
"You're not Nathalie…" Hobber's voice turned into an angry hiss as he recognized the man standing in front of him. "Samwell! What are you playing at?"
Samwell only gave him a small smile. "No need to get worked up. Lady Nathalie asked me to meet with you."
Suspicion flared in Hobber's eyes. "Oh, really? And why would she do that?"
"She wanted me to ask you something," Samwell replied, his voice calm.
"And what would that be?"
"What exactly were you thinking, luring pirates to our ship that day?"
At this, Hobber's face blanched, and his pupils shrank in sudden fear. Then he blurted, "Samwell Tarly, I've no idea what you're talking about!"
Samwell took a step forward, his eyes narrowing. "Did you want the pirates to 'take care' of me, Hobber?"
Seeing the intensity in Samwell's gaze, Hobber made a split-second decision and turned to bolt. But he hadn't even managed two steps before a powerful hand clamped around his throat like an iron vise, choking off his air.
He barely managed to rasp out a strangled plea when he heard Samwell's voice whisper menacingly in his ear.
"Well then, I guess someone else will just have to 'take care' of you."
Before Hobber could process the meaning of those words, he felt a sudden, sharp pain in his throat. He gasped, his mouth filling with blood.
In his final, hazy moments, his eyes blazed with hatred as he stared at Samwell, seeming to say—
My father will avenge me.
Perhaps Samwell saw the meaning in his gaze because he only chuckled quietly. "Oh, don't worry, Lord Paxter will seek justice for you. Just… not from me."
A hint of confusion flitted across Hobber's fading consciousness, but before he could grasp its meaning, darkness claimed him.
Samwell propped Hobber's lifeless body against the shadowed side of the oak tree, removed the pink ribbon from Hobber's pocket, and then disappeared into the night.
---
"Tonight at ten, in the Godswood."
Gerold Dayne, the Darkstar, glanced at the pink ribbon, reciting the words aloud as he felt the thrill of anticipation building within him.
And so, not even thirty minutes past nine, he was already making his way into the Godswood.
The woods were quiet and dim, with no one in sight.
Perhaps I was too eager.
Gerold mused, beginning to regret arriving so early. He wandered aimlessly through the trees, waiting, until he suddenly noticed the faint scent of blood.
He froze.
Maybe a wounded animal?
He shook off his nerves but cautiously followed the scent, his fingers brushing the hilt of his dagger.
As he neared the large oak, he saw it—the slumped figure of a man in shadow.
It wasn't just any man. It was a body.
His heart skipped a beat, and he slowly approached, weapon at the ready, until he recognized the face in the dim light.
It was Hobber Redwyne.
The knight he had fought just hours before… was now dead.
In shock, Gerold looked down at the pink ribbon in his hand and realization dawned on him.
This was a setup.
Rage and fear flooded his mind, but before he could form a plan, a shadow dropped down from above him. Instinctively, he rolled to the side, only to feel a sharp pain as talons raked his arm.
When he glanced up, he found himself face-to-face with a hawk, its eyes glinting in the moonlight with an almost human-like intelligence.
"Caw—!"
The piercing cry shattered the silence, sending Gerold's heart racing as he realized the sound would draw attention. Desperate to escape, he began to sprint toward the Godswood's edge, hoping the hawk would leave him alone.
Yet the bird of prey pursued him, diving repeatedly, its cries echoing through the night. It seemed bent on making as much noise as possible.
Curse that damned bird!
Gerold shielded his head with his arms and ran for his life, finally bursting out of the woods and seeing the looming figure of a Goldcloak.
"Who goes there?" the Goldcloak called out, stepping into his path.
Heart pounding, Gerold stopped and caught his breath. "It's me, Gerold of House Dayne."
"Good evening, Ser Gerold," the Goldcloak replied, scrutinizing him. "You look… unwell. Is everything all right?"
Gerold, his mind racing, considered lying but quickly decided against it. If he didn't explain, he knew it would only cast more suspicion on him.
He took a deep breath and told them the truth.
The Goldcloaks exchanged uncertain glances, and one of them nodded for Gerold to lead them into the woods. But as Gerold reached into his pocket to retrieve the damning ribbon, his hand came up empty. It was gone.
Damn that hawk!
Gerold fought back a sense of panic. "It must have fallen… in the woods. When the hawk attacked me."
The Goldcloaks gave him questioning looks but followed him deeper into the woods to the large oak where he'd found Hobber's body.
---
Meanwhile, Samwell, already dressed in his nightclothes, stepped out of his room and joined the crowd gathering in the halls of the Red Keep, feigning surprise at the commotion.
"What's happening?" he asked a nearby noble.
"Not sure, but it seems the Goldcloaks are looking for someone," replied Ser Horas Redwyne, clutching his injured arm.
Samwell walked up beside Horas, glancing at him with mock concern. "How's the arm?"
"Nothing serious."
"I'm glad to hear it." Samwell's eyes scanned the hall before he asked, "By the way, where's Hobber? Was he badly hurt?"
Horas glanced toward his brother's dark room. "No, he seemed fine earlier. Probably already asleep."
Samwell's lips curved into a small smile. "Yes… a good night's sleep indeed."
Just then, a Goldcloak entered the hall, looking grim. "Ser Horas Redwyne?"
"That's me," Horas replied, confused.
The guard's face softened. "I'm… I'm sorry, ser. But your brother, Ser Hobber Redwyne, he was found dead tonight in the Godswood."
"My… my brother?" Horas staggered, his hand clutching his injured arm. "Say that again!"
"Ser, please calm yourself. We found Ser Hobber's body in the Godswood. I'm so sorry."
Horas looked as if the ground beneath him had vanished, his face pale as death. After a long, stunned silence, he found his voice. "Who did this? Who murdered my brother?!"
"We… we believe it was Ser Gerold Dayne, ser," replied the Goldcloak somberly.
(End of Chapter)