Varys folded his hands together.
“A willful queen, coupled with a brave and blooded baron…
We might actually get to sit back and enjoy a rare spectacle in King’s Landing.” Petyr Baelish’s eyes flickered.
“My Lord Master of Whispers, you sound almost concerned about something.” “So long as King Robert sits securely upon the Iron Throne, nothing beyond remedy can occur.
For that reason, I sleep soundly every night.” “Ah, but the premise hidden in your words sends a chill through me.
With only coin to keep me company each day, I find myself growing ever more anxious about the unexpected.
Thanks to you, my lord, I shan’t sleep well tonight.” Varys bowed his head in apology.
“Forgive me, My Lord Master of Coin.
I was merely reflecting on the current state of affairs in King’s Landing, never intending to cause you distress.
My sweet tongue seems to have turned sour and spread disquiet instead.” Petyr Baelish instinctively sensed the danger in Varys—a subtle threat he had never paid such close attention to before.
Petyr pondered the hidden motive behind Varys’s words, though his expression betrayed nothing.
“Well, it was only a joke, though I fear my sense of humor falls short.
I still have an audience with Lord Arryn to attend to.
Good day to you.” A polite smile graced Petyr Baelish’s face as he bade Varys farewell.
The thoughts of this rootless eunuch were always the hardest to fathom.
Today’s encounter was certainly no coincidence, and Petyr inwardly resolved to heighten his vigilance against Varys.
Varys quietly watched Petyr’s departing figure, the smile slowly fading from his face.
…
*Dum~ dum~ dum-dum-dum~…* Standing at the prow of the ship, Green looked out at the majestic silhouette of King’s Landing and the soaring Red Keep, a familiar melody from his previous life echoing in his mind.
After three days and two nights of sailing, King’s Landing was finally right before his eyes.
A good number of men in the company had succumbed to seasickness, keeping the three Crabb physicians thoroughly exhausted throughout the voyage.
Transporting soldiers from Whispers Castle to King’s Landing by sea was by far the most efficient route.
Traveling overland would require crossing too many noble fiefs, costing far more time and effort.
Since it was the men’s first time at sea, widespread seasickness was almost inevitable.
To ensure their combat effectiveness wasn’t compromised in the future, sea-adaptation training would need to be arranged in advance.
The eastern region of Crackclaw Point still needed time to be consolidated.
After that, Green’s plan was to push west, extending his sway up to Rook’s Rest and taking control of the western half of Crackclaw Point.
Ideally, if he could first secure the official title of “Warden of Crackclaw Point,” his westward expansion would carry full legitimacy.
…
The merchant ship carrying Green sailed from Blackwater Bay into the Blackwater Rush, mooring at the bustling dock near the River Gate—more commonly known to the locals as the Muddy Gate.
The laborers working on the docks suddenly felt an uncomfortable prickling sensation on their skin, causing many to pause in their tasks.
It was a familiar sensation—an aura forged through years of blood and fire.
They had seen men like this before, but the impression was sharper this time.
One by one, the crowd turned their eyes toward the same direction.
They saw a group of guards clad in gleaming silver plate armor, built like towers of iron, surrounding a young man.
The youth was tall and slender, wearing a blue robe embroidered with a marsh marigold over his left breast, white trousers, and buckskin boots.
He was strikingly handsome without a hint of effeminacy, possessing a steady composure that belied his age.
The dockworkers who made their living in King’s Landing had long since developed keen eyes for nobility; they quickly parted, clearing a wide path for Green and his retinue.
Layton, the eldest son of Surana, finally spotted Green’s party and stepped forward.
“Good day, my lord.” Suppressing his discomfort at the foul mix of smells on the dock, Green slightly furrowed his brows.
“Is our lodging in the city ready?” “It is ready, my lord.
Right after wrapping up matters at the Crabb estate, I received a raven from Steward Hershel.
The lease was settled yesterday, and the place has been cleaned.
It’s located near Hook Harbor—I’ll lead the way.” Green mounted the horse brought over by Munden, while the clan guards mounted their warhorses as well, surrounding Green in formation.
…
King’s Landing, Hook Harbor, Green’s rented residence.
After soaking in a hot bath, Green felt much refreshed.
Surana took the towel from Green.
“Are you sure about keeping only twenty guards with you, my lord?” “We aren’t here to fight a war.” Green sat down on a bench, exhaling softly before continuing.
“I noticed plenty of eyes watching us on the way in.
Twenty is enough.
Leave the guard arrangements to Munden and Foly.
You take the rest of the men straight to the estate outside the city to settle in.” Surana folded the towel.
“Besides the two maidservants, let’s leave one physician behind as well.
It’s best to guard against any mishaps.” Green nodded.
“Mm, you are always thoughtful, Surana.” “I’ve already had Layton deliver the request for an audience with Her Grace the Queen.
The letter includes this address.
While we wait for a response, you can rest up and recover from the journey.” “Leave Layton here.
I’ll feel more at ease with him managing the residence.” …
Evening, Hook Harbor, the Knight’s Tavern.
Green sat alone at a table enjoying his dinner, while Munden and the others sat nearby, dining heartily.
After half a day’s rest, their appetites—dulled by days at sea—had finally returned.
The door of the tavern opened once more, and a short, stunted figure stepped inside.
From his seat, Green had a clear view of the entrance.
Tyrion Lannister’s distinct physical features were unmistakable; Green recognized him with a single glance.
Without betraying any change in expression, Green continued eating.
The roast beef here was surprisingly good.
Tyrion Lannister tugged the rope of the brass bell by the entrance.
*Clang-ling-ling!* The sharp chime drew everyone’s attention, and Green casually shifted his gaze to Tyrion along with the rest of the tavern patrons.
Tyrion Lannister raised his voice.
“Gentlemen, I feel compelled to inform you that today is your lucky day!
Everything you eat and drink tonight is on my tab!”