Chapter 32
Deep within the Red Keep, in the infamous Black Cells of the castle, lay a man alone and shriveled up. His once expensive and comfortable clothes had become rags, as the smell of shit and blood lingered in the air.
In this darkness, a small light suddenly cut through the darkness, as a tall but plump man walked into the rusting cell. The thin man shuddered and backed away in fear.
"Fear not, it is I," the plump man opened his mouth. Those blue eyes widened, and a frail voice answered.
"Varys," and the state of the former Master of Coin was a tale of humility and caution, for the Mockingbird had spent years gathering influence and power, and now all of it was taken away from him in one single stroke.
"Yes, it is I," and the thin man narrowed his eyes as he adjusted to the presence of light after spending so much time in darkness.
"Why have you come here?" asked Petry Baelish, his voice hoarse and raspy from all the screaming and wailing.
"I came here as an old friend," though they both knew that it was a lie, as the bald man reached into his doublet, took out a small flagon, and passed it to the thin man.
"Drink," and the former Master of Coin hesitated, yet his hunger and thirst ultimately prevailed when he took the flagon and brought it to his mouth, drinking the cheap wine as if he had never drunk a finer liquid than this in his life.
And as he put it down, the man turned towards the Spider and added.
"Help me, Varys. Help me, and I will reward you with gold...." but the master of Whisperers did not let him finish as he shook his head.
"I am afraid that would be impossible. I took a great risk coming here in the first place, but I would like to keep my head," and Petyr Baelish's lips thinned.
"You will help me, Varys, or I might just loosen my lips about your shifting loyalties." Varys was unbothered by the threat as he raised a brow.
"Do be careful, Lord Baelish. You are rather lacking in friends these days," the man warned as he pulled back his flagon.
"The only reason you are still alive is because of the honorable Eddard Stark, for believe there are many voices in this castle which would seek to have your head on a pike by now," as even in this dire state, he scoffed as he heard those words.
"You would not want another voice added to the case against you," Varys warned as Petyr's eyes narrowed.
"Then why have you come here?" he asked with a bit of vehemence as Varys raised a brow.
"I came here for one single purpose today, to see for myself the dangers of what it means to underestimate someone," and that was his greatest mistake.
So lost in his lust for power and influence was he that Petyr Baelish had missed the noose tightening around his neck until it was simply too late. He had underestimated their new Hand, and so had he.
And a part of Varys wondered if such a fate might also await him.
"It was a mistake to underestimate Eddard Stark," and indeed it was, but Varys had another opinion. One that was far more damning.
"Yes, it was. But the bigger mistake was underestimating his son," he added, as Baelish's head snapped towards him, and he scoffed.
"That bastard. This is his doing. Everything!" he cursed, and that was perhaps the most concerning thing about this whole thing.
"All these years, the boy always irked me for some reason, yet I pushed it all aside, dissuaded by his age, and yet I was wrong," the man coughed violently as his shackles shook.
"He is a monster, that one. A true monster." Varys would not go so far, but he was right.
"He will not stop at me. He will not!" and that he feared.
Cregan Stark had proven himself to be quite a player of the game. No matter what one would say of Petyr Baelish, the man had outplayed men twice his age, and yet a boy of barely fifteen had been his falling.
It was both strange and dangerous.
"Now, I see why you are here," and the man chuckled at those words as he once more looked at the Master of Whisperers, and it seemed his wit had not vanished completely as Petyr Baelish raised a brow.
"You did not come here to silence me," and he raised a brow.
"You are here because you are afraid as well, for if the boy knew about my treachery, then what are the odds that he knows of your own?" That was the real threat that had brought him here.
"So, tell me, what do you want?" Baelish asked as Varys raised a brow as he answered with a simple word.
"Chaos...."
.
.
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0000
EDDARD STARK
He had known that being the King's Hand would not be easy, but he had not known just how difficult and demanding the job would be and, most importantly, how it would test his patience and honor.
Capturing and imprisoning Petyr Baelish had been one thing, but proving his crimes and recovering all of the gold he had stolen from the Crown was an entirely different thing, and it was made even harder by the fact that the man had put his men all over the court.
Despite Cregan's warnings, they had been able to capture, but a fraction of his men, and the rest had done much to make this herculean task as difficult as they could, but now, months after his arrest, he could finally see this whole affair coming to an end.
"A million gold dragons?" Robert asked as the Council assembled once more, and it had taken much persuasion from him not to have Robert gut the entire council for Baelish's actions, for it would have made this entire task even more difficult.
"A million and a half," Eddard corrected, and he had spent the entire two months pouring over books, ledgers, contracts, and pages and pages filled with numbers, and after all that, this was the amount they had managed to recover.
"That was the amount we managed to recover from him," and around a third of it was in the form of loans and buildings, but the million was in actual gold.
And though it may seem like a huge sum, it was nothing in comparison to the Crown's debts.
"That is quite an impressive sum," added the Master of Laws as he shook his head.
"I can assure you, in comparison to the Crown's debts, it is not. We owe three million gold dragons to the Lannisters and three more to the Iron Bank. This is but a drop in comparison to..."
"Pah! To hell with his copper counting!" Robert screamed as his lips thinned.
"You had me stay my hand so that you could finish this whole thing, and now it is done!" he said, leaning forward as he looked into his eyes.
"Now, I want to put that prick's head on a spike!" and Eddard lashed out.
"I have no love for him, but you and I both know that you cannot do that without a tria..."
"What trial! He killed my son and tried to kill yours!" Robert screamed, and before he could answer, another voice came up as Varys joined in.
"I can understand your reasoning, Lord Stark, and it is truly heartening to see you care so much for justice and honor, but the evidence is right here," he began, pointing towards the stack of ledgers.
"Petyr Baelish's treason is now irrefutable truth. The trial would simply be a formality at this point," and that he knew.
"You want a trial," Robert suddenly cut in.
"Then you have it. It will happen tomorrow. I grow tired of this whole affair and want it all put to an end," and he tried to speak up.
"But that is not enough...."
"Enough! I have made my decision," and as he saw the futility of arguing, he nodded.
"So be it, let us be done with this whole affair..."
And so, the Council Meeting continued for an hour until it was over, and all of the people left the room except him and Robert, who still sat in his chair.
He had grown lighter in these two months as he turned to the yard to dissipate his rage, and all those hours spent in the yard had made him half a stone lighter. It was not much, but it showed, yet unlike his King and friend, Eddard felt himself grow heavier.
Back at Winterfell, he had made a habbit of training in the yard for some time every other day, yet being the Hand had robbed him of any such time, as he spent days upon days pouring over numbers and letters.
"You remember your promise, Ned?" he asked, and a part of him had hoped that his friend had forgotten about this.
"You asked me to wait until this whole thing was over, and now it is," he began as he looked into his eyes.
"So, tell me the truth, now? How did you get to the truth?" and when Robert had learned of Baelish's treason, he had been full of rage, and was determined to kill the man at once.
He had no love for the man but knew that he needed him alive to make some sense of his crimes, and so he had made a bargain with Robert. That he would tell him how he had discovered the man's treason if only he gave him enough time to force all he could from the traitor.
"You must already have a suspicion," Eddard asked, and it was one thing he had learned from this wretched city to speak as little as possible, for in the Red Keep, even the walls had ears.
And Robert did not say a word.
"So, it really was your boy," and Robert's intuition was right as Eddard nodded.
"Cregan was always suspicious of Baelish and realized that he was stealing from the crown sometime before Jon Arryn's death," and he was still amazed at how Jon had missed it all.
"He even brought it up to Jon, yet the man dismissed it and admonished the boy over it, but Baelish found out about it," Eddard clarified, as Robert's fist balled up as he understood the rest.
"And so, he paid those bandits to kill your son, yet they killed mine," and he sighed as Eddard wished he could scream and tell him how he was wrong.
How Joffrey was not his son, yet he could not. For in these months, he had learned of another vital truth, that the realm could not bear another war, and that was what would happen if he told him the truth.
War. One that would kill thousands directly and millions indirectly, for the Summer had come to an end. Winter had come, and if Cregan's fears were correct, and Eddard had little reason to doubt his son, this winter might be the longest one ever.
"He should have come to me," Robert added heatedly as Eddard defended his son.
"He went to Jon, and yet his concerns were dismissed. And, you rarely concern yourself with matters of the realm," he challenged.
"But still...." but he cut in before Robert could say any more.
"Even now, you barely attend any Council Meeting and leave it all for me, even now you barely attend any at all, and even for those I often have to send half a dozen seravnts just to have you grace us with your presence," for Robert thought it beneath himself to concern himself with the matters of the real, calling them counting coppers.
"If he had come to you, you would have simply left the matter with Jon, and unfortunately Jon put his trust in Baelish," and Cregan had already talked to the man.
"Did he kill him?" Robert questioned suddenly, and Eddard shook his head.
"He denies it," killing Jon that was, though the man denied much more, like selling slaves, exploiting children, and so forth.
"But you think it was him who killed Jon Arryn?" and he sighed as he pushed his hand through his hair.
"Truth is, I do not know. Not yet, at least," he did not lie as Robert's nostrils flared, yet he did not lash out as he sipped his wine.
"I will have his head, Ned." Robert's anger was chilling as he uttered those words, much like his own, and there was silence for a few seconds before he began once more.
"Your son," he suddenly cut in.
"Do not think that I blame him. I dislike that he did not come to me directly, but I can understand why he chose not to now," he added softly.
"I know it is not his fault. And despite it all, the boy has done the Crown a great favor, and he must be rewarded for it. Seven Hells, none of us, the bastards in the council, realized that we had been feeding a snake all this time," and he wondered if all of them were really blind to Baelish's treason or had they closed their eyes to it.
He could not be sure about them all, but he suspected that at least one of them knew of it, for it was his job to know about such things.
The Spider knew of this. He was certain of it. And the man knew much more than he let on, and it was because of this that Eddard had stilled Robert's hand when he had wished to uproot his entire council, for he could not be certain about where the man's loyalties lay.
"He has only done his duty," Eddard cut in.
"Pah! Duty," Robert scoffed.
"He has done more than any of my counselors have in their lives. Seven Hells! I should replace them all, the useless lot of them," he chastised his own brother and councilors.
"The boy has done more than those useless bastards, and he should be rewarded for it," Robert began as he reached into his pocket and took out a scroll.
"What is that?" he asked as Robert motioned for him to read it himself. So, he stood up from his chair and picked it up.
"For his role in uncovering this entire plot of treason against the Crown, I am giving him a share of the Gold recovered from Baelish and..."
"Harrenhall," he finished as he read the writings on the scroll, and his head snapped towards Robert.
"Yes," he added, as Eddard suddenly realized something.
"You already knew?" and his friend shrugged.
"It may not seem like it, but I am the King," Robert answered.
"You and I, we have known each other for half our lives, Ned," he added, smirking slightly as he gave a grunt and began to move.
"I know you to be a soldier, a commander, and a lord. Not a copper counter," Robert teased with a smile as he stood up from his chair.
"This all, it was not your doing. We are soldiers, you and I. We do our counting with our swords. I knew someone was advising you, and today you just confirmed my words," and his friend now stood infront of him as he put a hand on his shoulder.
"I always knew there was something special about your child, and I was right. The boy may not be a soldier, but he is no boy. No, he was a wolf," and that was some praise, but it was well deserved.
None of this would have been possible without Cregan's help, who had done nearly twice his work over these last two months as he helped him sort out the ledgers and loans.
Luwin had been right about him. The boy had the mind of a Maester.
"I am sure he will be honored," Robert nodded.
"He should be. The boy is set to marry my daughter, and this will give him a proper holdfast to pass to their children in the future," At that moment, the bitter taste of betrayal filled his mouth, yet he still did not say anything as he nodded.
"Speaking of that, we must name a new Master of Coin. Cregan has helped me sort through the ledgers, but the Crown will need a new Master of Coin," and Robert groaned at his words.
"Again, with this copper counting, do you not tire of this?" he asked.
"Someone has to do the copper counting because otherwise, people like Baelish would rob you blind. The Crown's debts, while manageable, are still quite exhaustive, so we need someone apt to handle this all," and Robert groaned.
"You must have some names then?" he asked, and indeed he did.
"I have thought of a few, Lord Tywin has written to me and has recommended his brother..." but Robert did not even let him finish.
"NO!" he said.
"I will have no more Lannister blood in the capital," and he was against the idea as well, though the choice was not without its merits.
"We owe House Lannister quite some gol...."
"Tell me the other one," Robert added as he sighed and took the second name, one which he knew he would like.
"Wyman Manderly," and it took him a second to react.
"The Fat lord," and it seemed that word about Wyman's weight had reached even the Red Keep.
"Yes," and after much deliberation, he could think of no one more suited for this than Wyman Manderly, and Cregan agreed with him on this.
"The Manderlys' are an old house. They are fiercely loyal and have made their wealth through trade. He is the man most suited to this job," he finished as Robert rubbed his chin.
"Manderly, huh? It's a good choice..."
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