Chapter 39: This is the Last Time (Seeking a Pledge)
Glyn had analyzed Petyr's scheming route while waiting outside.
Lord Jon Arryn of the Eyrie himself was the Protector of the Vale. Relying on his marriage alliance with House Tully, he influenced the Riverlands, and the Lord of Winterfell in the North was his foster son.
Jon Arryn alone could directly or indirectly control the Vale, the Riverlands, and the North.
In the original novel, Petyr first directly facilitated the marriage between King Joffrey and Margaery Tyrell, successfully forming the Lannister-Tyrell alliance.
As a reward, Petyr was granted Harrenhal and became the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands.
Secondly, Petyr informed Lord Tywin Lannister of House Tyrell's plan to secretly take Sansa Stark to Highgarden to marry Willas Tyrell. This gave Lord Tywin enough time to marry Sansa Stark to Tyrion first.
Consequently, in exchange for Lord Tywin Lannister's support, Petyr, as Lord of Harrenhal, married Lysa Tully, thereby effortlessly bringing the Vale under his control.
His third step was to come to the North, intending to help Sansa Stark acquire power there.
Petyr's route was to scheme for the power of the Vale, the Riverlands, and the North.
Petyr's rise to power overlapped with Lord Jon Arryn's. Therefore, was Petyr an imitator or an admirer of Lord Jon Arryn?
"..."
Glyn's voice was so calm it sent a chill down one's spine: "Lord Petyr, do you like gambling? I myself don't much care for it."
Petyr shook his head, his smile holding a hint of unnaturalness.
Glyn continued, "If someone were to die in this room tonight, I'd bet nothing would happen to me, and I could safely return to The Whispers and continue to enjoy the glory of my noble house."
Petyr suddenly understood why others called House Clegane a "half-wild noble."
"Too barbaric; they simply don't abide by the rules of the power game!"
Thinking of this, Petyr's heart was filled not with surprise, but with dread.
"Ha, I might die tonight!"
"How could he see through my methods? His age shouldn't grant him this ability."
"Yes, Tyrion! It must be that imp, Tyrion of House Lannister!"
Petyr recalled that the squire he had sent to inform Glyn had indeed reported seeing Tyrion and Glyn together.
"And the intelligence about my whereabouts tonight..." Petyr secretly grew to hate the talkative Tyrion even more; they were all people who didn't abide by the rules of the game!
"..."
Petyr's ash-green eyes moved, "Lord Glyn, I think there has been a great misunderstanding between us due to the slander of petty people. In fact, I have always held good intentions towards you. If we join hands, it will be a strong alliance!"
To bolster his confidence, Petyr leaned back in his chair: "You and I, we actually have many common points. We should have always held greater power."
Glyn was unmoved. Instead, he improvised a family motto: "The ancestors of House Clegane taught me, a thousand schemes are not as good as a single sword strike."
Petyr's heart felt bitter. This savage wasn't listening to his flattery at all.
Glyn, still leaning back in his chair, raised and rested one leg: "Lord Petyr, I am different from you. The ancestors of House Clegane, through centuries of bloodshed, forged House Clegane into a military noble house. I inherited all of this."
Petyr forced a smile.
Glyn then said, "Anguy, there's a wine carafe on the table over there. It's Arbor Gold wine. Pour us a glass."
Petyr felt a sudden sense of relief, and the suffocating atmosphere from before dissipated.
This made Petyr even more wary of the young, innocent-looking Glyn.
Anguy, with an utterly harmless expression, very politely and respectfully poured a glass for Glyn and Petyr.
Glyn raised his cup, gesturing towards Petyr, whose face was still a bit stiff. He boldly drank down the golden Arbor Gold wine in one gulp.
The soft, rich Arbor Gold wine flowed down, calming Petyr considerably: "Then, my respected Lord Glyn, could you tell me your purpose?"
Glyn gave a slight wave of his hand: "You are a great person, and I am an insignificant one."
Glyn cut off Petyr's meaningless compliments. Gently caressing the wine glass with his fingertips, he continued, "My ambition is too small. I am not interested in the power struggles between great people, nor do I wish to get involved. There should be no conflict between us, do you understand?"
The change in Glyn's gaze in that final moment actually sent a shiver down Petyr's spine.
Petyr nodded, his face stiff.
Glyn rose from his chair, his face radiating warmth. "Please forgive my presumptuous visit tonight. Tomorrow morning, I still have to endure the King's Hand. The Whispers advocates peace. Afterward, I ask for your help in persuading Lord Jon Arryn."
Petyr felt Glyn had relinquished his killing intent and finally breathed a private sigh of relief.
Fearing any further changes, Petyr said, "I told you, we are already friends. I am very happy to help my friends. I promise."
Glyn nodded and took his leave: "If you don't mind, I'll use the main exit."
On the surface, Petyr had already recovered his usual composure and elegance. He picked up the bell by the bed and rang it.
After the bell rang, not long after, a light knock sounded at the door.
Glyn, who had already walked a few steps, suddenly turned back and approached Petyr again. He reached out and tore open the long robe on Petyr's body. Petyr's pupils contracted, but he rationally did not move.
The dagger in Glyn's hand flashed with a cold light, leaving a palm-length scratch on Petyr's upper chest.
The scratch left by the dagger was very shallow; Petyr didn't even feel any pain.
On Petyr's upper chest, warm fresh blood continuously seeped from the scratch left by the dagger, instantly staining a large area red.
"This is the last time."
Glyn opened the door and very calmly instructed Petyr's squire outside, "Lead the way."
Petyr disliked his own squire being curious. Seeing that Petyr had no other instructions, his squire, though puzzled, did not dare to ask further, and respectfully led Glyn and his companions away.
Glyn had been gone for a while. Petyr, who had been standing motionless, sat down, his ash-green eyes deep.
Glyn's blade work was quite skillful; though it looked like a lot of blood had flowed out, the wound was actually very shallow, and the bleeding had already stopped.
After Glyn left, Petyr, who had been expressionless, showed a complicated smile.
"..."
The next morning, Red Keep, adjacent to Maegor's Holdfast.
Tyrion yawned repeatedly and undignifiedly.
Jaime looked at the just-barely-lit sky with a helpless expression.
Cersei had been a bit too enthusiastic yesterday, and Jaime had expended a lot of energy. Woken by Tyrion again so early in the morning, he was forcing himself to be energetic.
Jaime asked, "Where did you go playing yesterday?"
Tyrion, half-closing his eyes, his voice weak, replied, "First, I drank all night at Glyn's residence. Afterward, I went to Shae's establishment. Jayde, Alayaya, Daenerys—they were truly too enthusiastic. Ugh, I slept for less than two hours."
Jaime chuckled, "After such an exhausting night, you should have rested well. What's so important that you'd abandon your soft bed to find me so early in the morning?"
(end of chapter)