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Jimmy's story had holes in it, but it was more than enough to fool a group of small-time merchants who had never seen much of the world.
As for his earlier worry that they might mistake him for a roadside bandit, that turned out to be unnecessary.
A short distance ahead lay the Rose Road. Close to King's Landing, security was still reliable.
"Selling swords. May I see them?"
The speaker was a knight.
Young, Broad-featured. Not handsome. He wore a suit of gleaming new armor that looked impressive at a glance, but was clearly more for show than war.
On an actual battlefield, armor like that only served one purpose. It drew every eye and got its wearer killed faster.
Jimmy seriously doubted whether it could even stop a heavy war bow.
A blue cloak hung over the armor, its edge embroidered with a crescent moon. Behind him stood several attendants in leather armor, Two were mounted. Four or five followed on foot.
"Watch your words, lowly merchant, you are speaking to the noble Ser Hugh of the Vale."
Hugh.
Jimmy nearly laughed.
'I know hounds, I know mutts. But Hugh. Who in the world is Hugh?'
The name rang no bells at all, Still, anyone called a knight had to have some backing, probably.
And really, did his servant need to shout it like that? Hugh was a knight, Everyone could see it; You were nothing. Talk to me like that again and I will remember it.
Jimmy set the swords down on the ground; There were both one-handed and two-handed blades.
"Which would the noble Ser Hugh like to examine, One-handed or two-handed?"
"A two-handed sword is ten gold dragons, A one-handed sword is eight. Out of respect for your title, if you take two, fifteen will do."
"Do not think the price is high. I begged a master smith for these; An entire ship's worth of goods was lost. Only these remained, and they are the most valuable."
"I need to sell them quickly. Otherwise, a single two-hander would not go for less than twenty gold dragons."
"Put it this way. Unless you pit it directly against Valyrian steel, it will not lose to any weapon."
Ser Hugh frowned.
He was only a knight of low birth. He had some ill-gotten coin, but maintaining the image of a knight drained most of it. There was not much left he could freely spend.
If what Jimmy said was true, the price was not high at all. It was absurdly cheap.
If the claims held, the swords would be worth at least five times that.
"I am not skilled with a two-handed sword," Hugh said, his brow still creased. "I will take a one-handed blade."
Just looking at a greatsword reminded him of someone he despised. Hugh had no interest in copying that man's style.
---
In truth, Ser Hugh was far unluckier than Jimmy realized.
He was not unknown, He was infamous, just not publicly.
The former Hand of the King, Jon Arryn. Foster father to Eddard Stark.
Hugh had been the one who poisoned him.
Petyr Baelish and Cersei Lannister had worked together. Bribes. Threats. Promises.
They had convinced this man, who had served Jon Arryn for five years, to deliver the poison.
Afterward, the king, ignorant of the truth, rewarded Hugh with a knighthood.
If this were a hero's story, the lowborn knight would rise from this moment onward.
Unfortunately for him, he was not the protagonist.
When Eddard Stark learned that Hugh was the only man left in King's Landing who had served Jon Arryn closely, he frowned.
It happened just as the king announced a grand tournament.
So Ned arranged for Hugh to be sent away.
A letter to Dragonstone.
And a one-way road toward his end.
Hugh thought himself untouchable.
I have ties to the Master of Coin and the Queen herself. And you, the Hand of the King, think you can use me as a courier.
The king barely involves himself in anything. Who do you think you are?
Do you know how the last Ha?d died?
I poisoned him. With my own hands.
Hugh went straight to Petyr Baelish, intending to refuse the errand. The message was clear. I am already your man. I helped you kill Jon Arryn. You should be backing me now.
That visit sealed his fate.
Instead of protection, he sparked murderous intent in both Littlefinger and Cersei.
That was the rule of the game. No money. No land. No power. Then do not play.
One misstep, and you vanished.
With no one willing to shield him, Hugh had no choice but to obey. He set out as a messenger to Dragonstone.
Now he was on the return journey. The tourney was about to begin, and Hugh had already decided to enter.
He did not expect glory. He only wanted to be seen.
With his skills, survival should not be a problem.
At least, he knew his limits.
---
Jimmy casually selected a one-handed sword and offered it to Ser Hugh.
The scabbard was plain. Not ornate. The material was unfamiliar. The grip as well. Hugh could not identify either, but he did not comment.
Perhaps it was simply his low birth showing. Maybe he lacked the refinement to recognize quality.
If Jimmy had known what he was thinking, he would have laughed outright.
The grip was dense rubber. If Hugh had recognized it, that would have been impressive.
Hugh took the sword. The balance was excellent. The grip fit naturally in his hand. The stainless steel clasp on the scabbard was finely made.
He drew the blade.
Tight forging lines ran along the steel. He flicked it lightly. The blade hummed, clear and resonant. The sound of good steel.
"Harren. Draw your sword."
One of the attendants complied reluctantly, already guessing what was coming.
Clang.
The blades met.
A pale mark appeared on Jimmy's sword, then faded when wiped away. Harren's standard-issue blade, however, now carried a deep notch, nearly a third of its width gone.
That sword was finished.
One more strike, or slightly more force, and it would have snapped.
"A fine blade," Hugh said, eyes shining. "Does it have a name?"
"It has not found its owner yet," Jimmy replied. "So no."
Hugh laughed. "Then from today, it shall be called Crescent. Now tell me. What do you want in return?"
Jimmy paused.
Gold dragons were the obvious answer. That had been the agreement. But judging by Hugh's posture and entourage, the man did not actually have much coin.
Jimmy's gaze drifted to the two horses behind Hugh.
An idea formed.
"Ser Hugh," Jimmy said calmly. "I have been traveling on foot. If you would trade the two horses behind you for Crescent, I believe we would both be satisfied."
Hugh's eyes lit up.
That worked.
Those horses were worth far more than eight gold dragons on paper. But Hugh had acquired them through Littlefinger's channels. A small bribe to the City Watch had secured three fine, unmarked horses for five gold dragons.
Personal benefit.
The problem was liquidity.
Commoners could not afford such horses. Nobles would not touch them. The army did not want small numbers. Merchant caravans preferred cheap draft animals.
A good deal that could not be sold.
Trading them for a blade like this.
Now that was perfect.
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