Chapter 15 – The Echoes of Lies
Morning broke over King's Landing in a haze of gold and smoke. The city stirred restlessly beneath its shroud, markets opening, bells ringing, and whispers traveling faster than the wind. Aden Holt walked through the lower lanes with his cloak drawn tight, not as a clerk nor an aide today — but as a shadow following his own rumor.
His lies had taken root. Now he needed to hear how loudly they bloomed.
He stopped near the Silk Street taverns, where merchants and messengers gathered before the day's work. It was here the truth first unraveled — always dressed in gossip, always drunk on exaggeration.
Two traders whispered over a jug of ale.
"Lord Thorne's clerk's been dismissed," one said. "Caught with Myrish letters. Treason, they're saying."
"Rendal's men searched his house at dawn," replied the other. "Word is Baelish himself ordered it."
Aden hid a smile. Seeds, water, sunlight — and fear. That was all politics ever needed.
By the time he reached the Tower of Coin, the entire lower ward was buzzing. Rendal had indeed begun inquiries into Baelish's office, while Thorne's steward had gone missing overnight. The Game was unfolding exactly as Aden intended — yet the message on his desk lingered in his mind.
Now watch who bleeds first.
Inside the Tower, Baelish's mood was unreadable. "Men who swore loyalty suddenly tear at each other's throats," he said lightly. "One might think you enjoy watching the world tilt, Master Holt."
Aden kept his tone calm. "The Game rewards movement, my lord. Stillness invites death."
Baelish's eyes gleamed. "Spoken like a man learning too quickly."
That night, Aden wrote three letters and sent them into the dark — one lie for every truth he'd uncovered. By dawn, the Myrish envoy lay dead beneath the Sept's western arch, his throat cut cleanly.
The paper in his hand read: The Game changes tonight.
And Aden knew — he wasn't merely surviving the Game anymore. He was part of it.