"The Iron Bank will have its due!"
That single line had toppled kings, lords, and power players by the score.
"Legend says the Iron Bank was founded by sixteen men and seven women. Twenty-three founders, each holding one key to the underground vaults. By now their descendants probably number over a thousand, but the keys stay with the key-keepers. Grab even one and we can pop those vaults wide open."
On the march, cavalry commander Gylo wouldn't shut up about the Iron Bank's history. The ex–Long Lances boss had practically begged to lead the vanguard the second he heard the king wanted the Bank looted. Pointing-Rat-Calling-It-Duck figured a turncoat guide beat wandering around blind, so he let the guy tag along.
Having a sell-out on the payroll never hurt.
"So you're telling me those vault doors are pretty damn solid?" Pointing-Rat asked with a grin.
"Solid? The Bank used to brag that even without guards, nobody could open those doors without a key. Not by any method."
Gylo blinked at the question but answered the king's top intelligence man anyway.
"Hmph. Guess what's riding in that long cart back there?" Pointing-Rat slapped Gylo on the shoulder and jerked a thumb at the massive wagon hauled by two war elephants.
Gylo shook his head—he had no clue.
Pointing-Rat just smiled, deciding to play mysterious. "You'll see exactly what it is when we reach those famous doors of yours."
Gylo looked confused but dropped it. The secret-police chief looked way too smug. In his mind, once they stormed the Bank they'd flip the place upside down and find a key easy enough. His old boys were pros at that.
Viserys had already figured the Iron Bank's doors would be a problem. Today's treasure haul had included a pack of fire wyrms—burrowing, fire-breathing monsters—so he'd simply waved one off to Pointing-Rat.
Truth be told, the second Pointing-Rat laid eyes on the thing he nearly jumped. Minus the wings it looked almost exactly like the Western dragons from every fantasy story he'd ever read. He would've bought it if Brother Wei called the wyrm a crippled dragon spawn.
Ugly as sin, and Viserys had warned it was vicious. Yet on the march the beast had stayed weirdly calm—just heavy breathing, no trouble at all.
The whole column—thousands of troops and players—marched straight for the Iron Bank.
With that much noise the Bank couldn't miss them. The top brass were furious but could only rally every guard they had while sending riders to hire the Golden Company and crush this beggar king who didn't know his place.
At the same time they grabbed every key in sight and prepared to run. They were certain the beggar had zero chance of cracking the vaults without a key.
They still had backup vaults elsewhere—plenty of gold to hire the Golden Company and a few regular mercenary outfits on top.
When we come back with an army we'll finish this beggar king.
The Bank executives all thought the same thing.
Even if it was a little late—like the mom showing up after the kid was already dead—they still had their escape hatch. Behind those "unbreakable" doors sat endless gold… and a secret tunnel to safety.
By the time Pointing-Rat's force reached the Iron Bank the big shots had already fled with the keys.
All that remained were a thousand-plus guards left to die.
A thousand men plus high outer walls should buy them time, right?
The guard commander told himself they could hold for at least two days—the bosses' orders—before he could slip away. The Bank had other secret exits, of course. Whether he actually survived the Dragon Army's pursuit… that was his own problem.
The army halted outside the high walls. A player stepped forward and shouted, "Open the gates right now! If you refuse, take a good look at the army behind me! The Sealord brought over ten thousand troops and still couldn't stop King Viserys the True Dragon. You think you've got more soldiers than he did?
The money belongs to the Iron Bank. Your lives belong to you! Which one weighs more? As soldiers you already know the answer!"
Up on the wall the guard commander saw mercenaries starting to waver. He snapped at his trusted men to shoot the troublemaker.
But the player was quick—he finished talking and ducked back into the ranks before a single arrow flew.
At the head of the column Storm-Cloud-Split nodded to player Little Li Guang. The archer stepped up, nocked an arrow, and called out, "This is my first shot! Drop your weapons!"
The arrow flew. A mercenary on the wall took it square in the chest and toppled backward.
"This is my second shot! Open the gates!"
Another arrow streaked like a meteor and dropped a second guard.
The mercenaries on the wall panicked. The shooter was way outside normal bow range and still hitting like a machine. Nobody wanted to stand there like a target. They all ducked behind the parapets.
"This is my third shot! Open the vault!"
The third arrow slammed into the wall, shaft still quivering.
"You surrendering or what?!" Little Li Guang yelled.
"Surrender or die!" the troops roared back. Players joined in with scattered shouts.
Silence behind the wall. Then a string of over a dozen severed heads came flying over the parapet.
The waverers had been beheaded as an example. Message received: no surrender.
Pointing-Rat shook his head. He'd wanted to keep playing mysterious until they reached the actual vault doors, but it looked like he'd have to show off early.
Just as Gylo, Bloodbeard, Teflon, Storm-Cloud-Split, and the rest of the players started prepping the assault—
Pointing-Rat ordered the huge black cloth yanked off the long cart. Then he pulled a scepter-like object from inside his robe with a mysterious little smile.
"Holy shit! What the hell is that?!"
"Fuck me, look at the size of that worm!"
"They just left that thing sitting on the cart?!"
The cloth came off. On the cart a massive creature shook its heavy head, eyes locking onto the tiny scepter in the human's hand.
"ROAR!!!"