Baldric and the Flea

[Ser Kenneth Coyn]

Winding his way through the Belly of the Beast and into the back rooms, Baldric follows the passage way back to the heart of the Flea Network.

[The Flint]

The back room held a simple round wooden table, with five chairs. A set of stairs went to a room above the bar.

Sitting in the chair, tipping back on the rear legs was a young man, in his early twenties, if that. Large dark circles around his eyes, a smile on his lips. With him sat a man with stringy black hair and a powerful looking knight in a chain shirt. The raven haired lady followed behind them, and than bolted the door, before straddling a seat and turning to face Baldric. The young man spoke first.

"Well, if it isn't Baldric Crow-Killer. Welcome to King's Landing."

[Ser Kenneth Coyn]

"Well whats left of it," Baldric said glumly, "place looks like an auroch took a dump on it and smells twice as bad," he says waving his hand in front of his nose, "though not half as bad as that fuckin' cesspool in Braavos."

[The Flint]

"She took a beating in this last war. But than we all did. Case you hadn't noticed we've lost some important people and important patrons. We're going to have to reassess and reorganize. I'd like to offer you a position of command suitable to your talents. How would that sit with you?" Flea took a tug on his flagon of beer and looked out over the top of the drink at the Stormlander killer.

[Ser Kenneth Coyn]

Baldric looked uneasily at the other men in the room, he wasn't sure why he was nervous if the Flea had wanted him dead he would of never seen it coming and the kid seemed genuine.

"Reorganize into what exactly," Baldric said looking at the Flagon enviously. The fucking boat from Dorne only had their shitty watered down wine.

"I am not sure I am the leadership type, I's always thought more with my sword arm then my brain," he said bluntly.

[The Flint]

"You're not the Whisperer type," Flea said, flatly, "That much is obvious. But you are a Silencer. And a good one. Do you think its an accident that it was you who took out The Crow? Of course it isn't an accident. You have a cutthroat's mind. I respect that." Flea said sipping his drink, and gesturing for Tania, the black haired wench, to bring Baldric one also.

"People don't think about it, but whatever effects a city, affects her underworld as well. We might be shaken up, but everyone else is just as bad off. If we move quickly, we could secure the King's Landing Underworld under our thumb. Under your thumb. Protection rackets, loansharking, whoring, smuggling. With the construction crews coming in to set the city to right, they'll need all of those crucial business looked to."

[Ser Kenneth Coyn]

Baldric thought about the days after he deserted the Stormland Host in King Landing trying to make it as a highwaymen along the Rose Road. Baldric smiled at the woman as she handed him the drink.

"Well it would certainly beat trying to find work as an assassin, fucking lord of Dragonstone gave me a list with half the fucking royal family on it," Baldric said taking a long drink from the Flagon, it had been awhile since he had his home brew. "Sounds good, but whats in it for you?" Baldric said showing his famous toothless grin, "I'se always remember you running a pretty tight ship."

[The Flint]

"You should have killed that piece of shit, but no sense in crying over unspilled blood. As for what's in its for me, that's part of what's changing. We'll provide the dragons you'll need to get started, but everything you make is your own to spend as you see fit. Of course, we'll still expect you to come when you're summoned, and to use whatever assets available to you to perform the work we ask, but there will be less supervision... less direct orders.... Go here, do this."

[Ser Kenneth Coyn]

Baldric nodded, "That piece of shit was pretty well defended and I needed to earn his trust before hand, your a man of patience so I know you can appreciate it." Baldric took another drink of the ale. "He was dumb as a box of fucking rocks but paranoid and as prepared as any man I've met in a long time. Good thing the two stooges working for him weren't as quick. . . they will end up bleeding out in the Dornish desert in short order, though doubt we will ever hear word of their demise."

"Your deal sounds pretty square, though I got a large sum of dragons saved up on my own. . . but what I don't have is your connections, if you keep me in the know and keep the gold cloaks off my back then I think we can work something out."

[The Flint]

"Of course. And we expect your ears to be low to the grounds at all times... That's just as a matter of course." Flea sipped, "Do we have a deal?"

[Ser Kenneth Coyn]

Baldric nodded, while not completely released, they were considerably better terms then he had made when he was against the whipping post in the Dornish desert. "Aye we do," Baldric said stretching out his hand to the younger man.

[The Flint]

Flea spit on his palm, and reached out for Baldric's hand.

[Ser Kenneth Coyn]

Baldric spat in his hand himself and shook the young man's hand. "I'se got about twenty-five men from Sunspear that decided to come wit me, and enough dragons to buy a small army, courtesy of the Prince of Dragon Stone," Baldric said with a chuckle.

[The Flint]

"Well I suppose a small army isn't a bad start. Keep your eyes on who your purchase, if you want we'll do our best to vet them for you. And good luck. I should also point out, two places which are off-limits. This tavern here, of course, and the Avalon. You don't tax them, you don't even look cross eyed at them. You just gut anyone who fucks around with these establishments. Understand?"

[Ser Kenneth Coyn]

Baldric nodded, "Thats fine, we'll put the squeeze to anyone who complains about fucking fairness, though tell them not to advertise that fact to every fucking person that goes in there. . . soon everyone thinks they can make exceptions and they can't."