Chapter 63: Unshakeable
The shrewd Petyr felt that both he and Glyn had underestimated the force of Lord Stannis's attack.
Lord Jon's eyes were closed, his breathing faint and weak.
Had Glyn been here, he might have been pleased to see Lord Jon provoked to the point of death.
But the outcome Petyr sought was for Lord Jon to remain bedridden so he could continue encroaching upon the power of the Hand of the King, not for him to die on the spot.
...
Petyr stood up, the usual elegant smile gone from his face. His gaze was fixed on Lord Stannis as he said in a low voice, "Lord Stannis, as you can see, I believe our conversation for today can conclude."
Lord Stannis snorted coldly. "Petyr, do you find fault with what I have said?"
Petyr shook his head slightly. "Lord Stannis, I am only the Master of Coin. I do not pass judgment."
Petyr had no desire to debate right and wrong with Lord Stannis. All he wanted now was to send the man away immediately. Lord Jon was in dire need of rest.
...
Stannis rose from his chair. Perhaps it was due to his tall frame, but Petyr, a man of average height, felt a sense of pressure.
"To think The Realm is controlled by you lot of incompetent fools!" Lord Stannis said coldly.
Lord Stannis's eyes shifted to Lord Jon, who was leaning weakly against the back of his chair. His gaze turned frigid. "Weakness should not be an excuse to ignore the law! If you will not listen to my words, then at least give more thought to The Realm."
After speaking, Lord Stannis shot another icy glare at Petyr. Without another word, he bowed to Lord Jon, then turned sharply and left the Hand's study.
...
Outside the Tower of the Hand, Lord Stannis stood still, his sharp gaze turning in the direction of the Throne Room.
Lord Stannis thought of King Robert's favored councilors, and for a moment, he felt a trace of powerlessness. But this feeling of weakness was fleeting.
At least he was still here. Stannis was still here.
Lord Stannis began to walk again, his stride firm. His heart was like iron; he was an unshakeable man.
...
Not long after Stannis had left, Lord Jon opened his eyes.
On the surface, Lord Jon appeared to have returned to normal, but Petyr, who knew him well, could see at a glance that his apparent strength was a sham.
A subtle smile played on Petyr's lips. It seemed Lord Stannis's provocation had a significant effect on Lord Jon—the degree was just right.
...
Lord Jon sighed, his voice laced with fatigue. "Stannis... his temper is the same as ever. Stubborn and unyielding."
Petyr asked with a concerned expression, "My Lord, your health?"
Lord Jon let out a breath, his face weary. "It seems I will have to move my duties back to my bedchamber."
Petyr made a move to stand. "I will fetch Maester Pycelle..."
Lord Jon waved a weak hand, stopping Petyr, who, contrary to his usual composure, had a look of urgency on his face.
"Summon Pycelle later tonight, when there are fewer people about."
After a moment's hesitation, Petyr nodded silently in agreement.
"Petyr, pay no mind to Stannis's words. He..."
Lord Jon pondered for a moment before speaking again. "Though he is stubborn and unyielding, and easily disliked, he is a difficult man to truly hate."
Lord Jon sighed again. "He is too fanatical about the law. Those who serve under him have no end of complaints."
He paused, then said to Petyr, "Many think His Grace Robert favors his youngest brother, granting Storm's End to Renly, while Stannis, who rendered such great service..."
"There was a reason for it. If Storm's End had been given to Stannis, with his harshness, the Baratheon vassals would have soon fallen into chaos. The Realm needed stability at that time."
"In His Grace Robert's words, throwing the ill-tempered Stannis onto Dragonstone was the best choice. Surrounded by the sea, he could rage and fume there as he pleased."
"Unfortunately, with His Grace Robert's temperament, he never gave a thought to placating Stannis afterward. The Baratheon brothers nearly turned on each other and became enemies."
"Petyr, I tell you these things in the hope that your eyes might see what lies deeper."
Petyr placed a hand on his chest and bowed his head, saying respectfully, "Yes, my Lord Hand. I will remember your teachings."
...
In the Kingswood, a Goldcloaks officer named Stepan had an accident.
In a corner of the camp, Glyn looked down at the mangled, bloody pulp of the Goldcloak's corpse and frowned slightly.
The first thing Glyn did after looking away was to issue a gag order.
Although the death of the Goldcloak, Stepan, was an accident, a man was still dead. Letting rumors spread would easily cause panic.
"He was drunk and went deep into the woods by himself?"
A Goldcloak answered Glyn's question. "Yes, my lord! Stepan was very strong, and a superb swordsman. Even though he was drunk, we didn't think much of him leaving the camp."
"That's right, he always held his liquor well. In the past, he'd just go for a walk and come back sober."
"Exactly, none of us ever thought he would go deep into the forest all alone."
...
Glyn's gaze sharpened. He asked, "How did you find him? Was he still alive when you did?"
A Lannister Redcloak spoke up. "Lord Glyn, it was our squad that found him. We were patrolling that sector as you commanded."
Glyn nodded slightly. "You did well. Tell me what happened."
"We heard a commotion and rushed over at once, but by the time we arrived, Stepan was already dead. The ground was covered in blood. He had been gored by a wild boar until he was almost unrecognizable."
...
Glyn nodded, his gaze returning to the corpse on the ground.
Glyn had had a few brief interactions with Stepan. In his memory, Stepan had indeed seemed tall and robust.
By now, Glyn was certain that the drunken Stepan had been attacked and killed by a wild boar.
Glyn shook his head slightly, thinking it a pity. Stepan was not old and was already an officer. He should have had a promising future in the City Watch.
One must never enter the woods while drunk, even if...
Suddenly, the name of King Robert flashed through Glyn's mind.
...
"Her Grace, the Queen!"
"Her Grace, the Queen!"
"Her Grace, the Queen!"
Hearing the sounds from a distance, Glyn's thoughts were interrupted.
Queen Cersei, with Jaime as her Guard, was walking in his direction.
*Tsk, those two are out for one of their excursions again,* he thought.
The men all bowed in salute. Glyn stepped forward and reported Stepan's death to Queen Cersei.
"Leave the aftermath to the garrison. Let them handle it themselves."
Queen Cersei glanced sideways at Glyn and asked, "Was Stepan very strong?"
Glyn's heart skipped a beat. "I have met him. Stepan was as strong as an ox."
Queen Cersei stared at the bloody mess that was "Stepan." Her beautiful eyes seemed a few shades brighter than usual, but her face remained expressionless.
(End of Chapter)