Those in the Shadows
Fifth Day of the Ninth Month 293 AC
They arrived neither by ship or afoot, by horse or by cart for that would have been too slow for the purpose they had been send here for. Instead the King and his Companions ferried them across the sea by sorcery, like ghosts in the night before heading to their own mysterious journeys. Beside Anya they had about two-dozen handlers and eight investigators, all of them with knowledge of the Common Tongue and the Seven Kingdoms, some natives of the city looking to pull it from the mire, some well-traveled Essosi, come to fill in the ranks.
Most of them had also been chosen to actually be able to hold a respectable job, pay their dues and generally slide right past the Goldcloaks, except when they were looking for a bribe. The King could count enough 'loyal' cutpurses, 'honorable' thugs, and 'honest' smugglers to be his eyes and ears. Now they had to handle the part of the city that didn't smell like piss... or rather that smelled like it less. Mia gave an instinctive grimace at the foul odors rising from the Blackwater.
Funny the sorts of things you could get used to...
Good thing her cover was Braavosi so the locals would expect her to turn up her nose a bit, along with some price gouging on the wool and linen she was meant to be selling. Though of course her friends would be getting a special discount...
***
Eleventh Day of the Ninth Month 293 AC
"I'm starting to hate Petyr Baelish." Anya's tone was conversational, though Mia did not let that fool her. Interviewing the poor woman who had been Littlefinger's former employee had been disturbingly like talking to a newly freed slave, or to be more exact a slave on the run from their master.
Neither Mia nor Anya fooled themselves into thinking that the lack of formal slavery in Westeros mean that people never found themselves in a bad place and unable to escape, but the way Baelish kept a hold on the whores he deemed too valuable to lose went far beyond ordinary callousness.
If you are skilled and clever you can keep your children close, the blandishment went.
They will be taught a trade and be able to earn a living. Whether he meant to last part Mia did not know, but what had become disturbingly clear was that he would ruthlessly use the young children still in his power to control the mothers.
That was how Ann had been sent to seduce old Wyll 'the Weasel', which given the man's temperament and way with traitors was near enough a death sentence if she slipped up, and of course she slipped up. The smuggler now had a fully fledged investigator in his gang and he had all the magical and mundane resources of the Inquisition behind him.
"Be that as it may we can't move against a member of the Usurper's Small Council without orders," Mia temporized. "What I want to know is what we did to make Baelish interested enough in Wyll to try that trick. Might just be a coincidence, but it's bad tradecraft to assume so..."
"We could let him
think he's succeeded, try to guess by the kinds of questions he asks?" Anya suggested.
Mia considered the notion a long moment before finally shaking her head. "She does not have the stomach for an agent, not working at that level, not with the sort of power Baelish had over her for so long."
"Child snatching, then?" Seeing the surprise on Mia's face her friend explained. "Make it look like old Wyll is trying to wring as much revenge as he can out of her having caught on to her true loyalties. Then we put them both on a boat to Sorcerer's Deep by way of Braavos."
For a long moment there was silence. "Did you ever think about about how
terrifying the Inquisition would be if we were less careful about who we hired on? If we didn't do the Dragon King's work but instead the work of one of these bloody nobles who are fine with their people living with holes in the roof and hunger at the door?"
"No..." Anya said slowly. "I am now, so thanks for the nightmares I guess." She sweetened the words with a weary smile.
***
Twenty First Day of the Ninth Month 293 AC
The Goldcloaks did not often visit Flea Bottom, but when they did it was in force. Anything else would just be an invitation to a dagger in the back. They broke down doors and twisted arms looking for the notorious Weasel... all they found was a soup kitchen, and their troubles did not end there. The patrons of the establishment were all prosperous tradesmen of a sort that held no small measure of respect. It being the nature of shit to roll downhill, it was good Captain Lyonel who got smeared.
Thankfully for him his luck was quick to turn courtesy of a concerned party... one with heavy pockets and a generous hand.
It's nice when a plan comes together, Anya thought as she drank the last of her wine, watching the captain leave the tavern.
Establish Inquisition Base in Kings Landing 26/20 Complete
OOC: Again we have an interlude with no one using magic explicitly, but I felt it worked better since success here was more about the organization and skills on display not tossing spells around.
