Duke Eddard's gray eyes flickered, and he looked sharply at Pycelle.
"I heard you sent Scholar Kemon away at that time?"
Pycelle nodded solemnly and said, "I treated Kemon like my own son, and I had absolute confidence in his abilities, but he was still too young. Young people often cannot appreciate how frail an elderly person's body is. Prime Minister Jon's body simply could not withstand bold treatment.
I couldn't just watch Kemon make a mistake, so I had to send him away and take over myself. At the time, I thought it was the best choice, but from the outcome, we still lost our respected Prime Minister Jon… Perhaps I did something wrong, and Lady Lysa will never forgive me."
After speaking, Pycelle's face was filled with self-reproach.
Duke Eddard was not good at comforting people, so he directly changed the subject.
"Did Jon say anything when he was critically ill?"
Pycelle reined in the sadness on his face. He furrowed his brows and pondered for a moment, then said, "During the final stage of his high fever and delirium, Prime Minister Jon repeatedly called out Robert. I'm not sure if he was calling his youngest son or King Robert."
Duke Eddard sighed inwardly and pressed, "Maester Pycelle, did Prime Minister Jon have no last words?"
"When I saw that Prime Minister Jon had no hope of recovery, I gave him milk of the poppy to ease his suffering."
Pycelle slowly continued, "Prime Minister Jon said some words to Lady Lysa and King Robert, praying for his youngest son. Finally, he uttered 'strong lineage,' and then his words became indistinct…"
Duke Eddard frowned tightly: "Strong lineage?"
Pycelle nodded, "Yes, Duke Eddard. Everyone present heard it, but we weren't too surprised. At that time, Prime Minister Jon was already delirious."
After a moment of silence, Duke Eddard asked, "Maester Pycelle, in your opinion, was there anything suspicious about Prime Minister Jon's death?"
Pycelle's body stiffened for an instant. He shook his head and said, "No, I believe there was nothing suspicious. Duke Eddard, death is certainly sad, but from another perspective, it is also the most natural thing."
Duke Eddard stared intently at Pycelle's face and said in a deep voice, "Northerners are not very subtle, so I'll be direct. What I mean is, was Prime Minister Jon poisoned?"
Pycelle's drowsy eyes suddenly widened, and he said, "Duke Eddard, poisoning is too despicable, and your speculation is chilling. We are in Westeros, not the Free Trade Cities, where poisoning is commonplace."
He paused, then added, "Forgive my bluntness, but I must say your speculation is baseless, because even a rural scholar could detect common symptoms of poisoning, and Prime Minister Jon showed no such signs. Moreover, everyone loved Prime Minister Jon, so how could any beast dare to poison such a noble person?"
Free Trade Cities… Duke Eddard's pupils constricted slightly. He felt that Pycelle seemed to be hinting at something.
Duke Eddard felt truly exhausted talking to these people. He wanted to directly grab the person in front of him and ask what he meant, but this was not the North. He reminded himself to endure it and not offend people for the sake of immediate satisfaction.
And would a cunning person frankly tell him the truth? Duke Eddard felt it was more likely to be another vague hint or a purposeful lie.
Recalling the secret letter sent by Lysa, Duke Eddard said as if casually, "Maester Pycelle, thank you for your answer, but I've heard that poison is a woman's weapon."
Pycelle twirled the white beard that flowed to his chest and mused, "There is such a saying, including women, cowards… and eunuchs…"
He seemed to recall something important and lowered his voice, continuing, "Do you know that Varys, the Master of Whisperers, was originally a slave in the Free Trade Cities? Duke Eddard, you absolutely must not trust him."
At this moment, the strange cry of a raven came from above them.
So, Pycelle's earlier hint was to tell him not to trust Varys? In fact, Pycelle didn't need to remind him of these things, because Varys had a way of making him feel goosebumps all over, and Duke Eddard would instinctively be wary of him.
Pycelle's gaze shifted to the roof. He sighed, "It was I who informed Winterfell of Prime Minister Jon's death. I have never in my life sent out a raven with such a heavy heart."
Duke Eddard murmured, "Black wings, bringing black tidings."
Pycelle withdrew his gaze and said, "There is such a saying, but it's not entirely true. We know that black birds also bring joyous good news."
"Maester Pycelle, you are right."
Duke Eddard rose from his chair, a polite smile appearing on his serious face: "I have taken up too much of your time. Thank you for your assistance."
Pycelle tremblingly rose, placed his hand on his chest, and said, "I hope I have helped you… Duke Eddard, it is my great honor to serve you."
As Pycelle saw him to the door, Duke Eddard said as if he had suddenly remembered something, "Maester Pycelle, please forgive me, I have one last question."
Pycelle stopped, his cloudy eyes looking at Duke Eddard.
"When Prime Minister Jon was critically ill, was Queen Cersei present?"
Pycelle gently shook his head and replied with a helpless tone, "Our Queen never showed her face. Everyone knows she dislikes Prime Minister Jon, and even King Robert cannot force the Lannister Queen to do what she doesn't want to do."
...
Outside the Prime Minister's Tower, Greene's sword easily parried Jon Snow's downward strike. He tilted his head and said, "Mr. Jon, did you not eat enough? Or perhaps…"
Greene pushed his sword, and Jon retreated several steps before steadying himself.
Greene held the hilt of his sword, his longsword resting at his side, and asked in confusion, "Are you actually a lady?"
Arya Stark, who was watching from the side, shouted, "Count Greene, don't underestimate girls!"
Greene smiled, and called out to Arya, "My apologies, Lady Arya!"
Arya lifted her chin and then yelled at Jon, "Brother, beat Count Greene down!"
Didn't this little girl say we were good friends a few days ago… Well, changeability is a child's prerogative.
Greene was not angry at all. He continued to mock Jon, who was a bit unsteady.
"Jon, do you want to eat something first?"
...
Jon, wearing a gray robe, leather vest, and chainmail, was drenched in sweat underneath. He gasped, gripping his sword tightly with both hands.
Why is he so strong? Jon had always been proud of his swordsmanship, but now he even wondered if those people in Winterfell had deliberately let him win.
He had fallen three times in a row with almost no ability to parry, making Jon question his life.
Jon gave a forced smile towards Arya, who was jumping and shouting excitedly, his face awkward.
He slowly exhaled, his gaze once again becoming sharp, fixed on his opponent not far away.
Greene raised his sword, gripping it with one hand, and assumed a fighting stance.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
After Jon blocked three sword strikes, he first stumbled, then lost his balance, and fell heavily to the ground.
Greene put away his sword, walked closer, and extended his hand to the dazed Jon.
The hand appearing before him brought Jon back to his senses. He looked up at the gentle-faced Greene, hesitated for a moment, but still reached out, grabbed the hand, and used the leverage to stand up.
Jon regulated his breathing, nodded slightly, and said, "My Lord, thank you."
Greene patted Jon's arm and walked towards another spot, having spotted Duke Eddard.
...
Jon took the cup of water Mondon offered him and said irritably, "Mondon, please control the expression on your face. I know my performance was terrible."
Mondon said sheepishly, "Jon, don't be discouraged. Lord Greene once defeated 100 swordsmen in Highgarden. He's just too strong."
Jon sighed helplessly, not feeling comforted at all.
Southerners were inherently weak. Everyone in Winterfell said that one Northerner could defeat ten Southerners.
However, being able to defeat 100 people was indeed very strong. Thinking about it, Jon felt a tiny bit comforted by Mondon.
...
Hand's chambers.
Duke Eddard leaned back in his chair, putting his feet directly on the table.
Greene also leaned back in his chair. He smiled and said, "Duke Eddard, it seems your findings from Pycelle did not satisfy you."
"Greene, call me Ned."
Duke Eddard's tone carried anger: "Talking to them can kill a man. I can't even tell if it's a lie, damn it!"
Greene leaned back and smiled. He got up, picked up the wine jug, poured a glass of wine, and handed it over.
"Duke Ned, forgive my bluntness, but King's Landing is not the land of the First Men. You can only try to adapt."
...
Two days ago, Greene was summoned to the Hand's chambers by Duke Eddard. Before Greene could finish lamenting his past days of being "oppressed" by Prime Minister Jon there, Duke Eddard suddenly said, "Greene, I trust you, and I need your assistance."
Greene Kleber Lannister Tyrell Baratheon Stark nodded heavily without hesitation.
Duke Eddard had already confirmed Greene's sense of honor through some inquiries, and from his perspective, he couldn't think of a reason why Greene would betray him.
Duke Eddard frankly told Greene that he suspected Prime Minister Jon died of murder and hoped Greene could assist him in secretly investigating the truth.
Duke Eddard gazed into Greene's eyes and said with a heavy tone, "Until we find evidence, anyone could be the murderer. We must maintain an impartial heart."
After bidding farewell to Duke Eddard, Greene immediately went to Maegor's Holdfast and had to accept the task of "monitoring" Stark from Queen Cersei.
In short, the far-sighted Lord Green was successfully ambushed by Duke Eddard. Therefore, when he had the chance today, he used the pretext of a sword skill competition to beat Jon Snow to vent his frustration.
...
"Damn it…"
Duke Eddard drank half a glass of wine in one gulp, and thinking of the rotten things that had happened these past few days, he couldn't help but curse under his breath again.