Chapter 95: Rossart's Gift
"It seems like today's your unluckiest day yet. The tunnel you finally found is a dead end." The Golden Knight, hiding behind two shield-bearers, called out to Ian, who was also sheltering behind two shield-bearers at the end of the tunnel.
He had been devastated when his men reported that all the enemies in the Stranger's Temple had fled into the tunnel, but he hadn't expected that this tunnel would actually be a dead end, allowing him to catch up with them here.
"On the contrary, I think this is my luckiest day yet," Ian said, turning around. "Compared to you coming here, you're the one with the worst luck."
"Really? You only have seven men with you, and I have seventy. Tell me, how are you going to make me suffer in this narrow tunnel?" The Golden Knight knew Ian was just bluffing, but he still felt a twinge of caution.
"It doesn't matter, my friend. It's almost dawn outside. How about I buy you breakfast?" Ian said with a smile.
"Outside?" The gold-cloaked knight's alarm intensified. He abandoned the thought of interrogating his opponent and simply waved his hand to order the attack, fearing he'd fall victim to the classic villain's mistake of talking too much.
Soon, the gold cloaks, five abreast, pushed past their leader and began advancing toward Ian.
However, after taking a few steps, several men leaning against the wall stumbled over clay pots on the ground, drawing the gold-cloaked knight's attention. He turned his gaze toward the wall when he suddenly saw that the trapped player had pushed open a stone door where he had thought there was only solid wall.
The players quickly passed through the stone door, and the last one threw a torch into the tunnel as he sealed the stone door again.
The last thing the gold-cloaked knight heard was the white-armored knight's voice: "Enjoy Lord Rossart's gift. I hope you savor it."
Then a green light filled his vision.
Entering the Red Keep's small council chamber, Lord Petyr Baelish pulled up a chair and sat down on the Myrish carpet.
He was short but handsome, his gray-green eyes gleaming with cunning as he studied the bald, portly man sitting across from him.
"Don't bother looking around! It's just the two of us today," Varys said with a smile. "Grand Maester Pycelle is feeling unwell, Lord Renly prefers feasts to council meetings, Lord Stannis has returned to Dragonstone, and the King has gone north, taking half the court and the other half of the Small Council with him."
"So, what did you want with me today?" Petyr left his seat at the table and wandered to a corner of the room, where a carved wooden screen from the Summer Islands stood, adorned with hundreds of vibrant, colorful figures of exotic beasts.
"What business could a master of whisperers have with a master of coin?" Varys looked meaningfully at Baelish.
"Oh, seven hells, don't tell me you need money." Petyr gently stroked the walls, hung with delicate tapestries from Norvos, Qohor, and Lys. "Look at all this! It's all coin. Our king certainly knows how to spend it."
"That's not what a good master of coin should say," Varys teased.
"Well," Petyr spread his hands. "I assume you're hiring assassins to kill two children."
"Two young dragons," Varys corrected. "I asked our dear king about this matter, and he told me, 'I'll kill every Targaryen I can get my hands on, until they're all dead. I'll give them a dragonish death, and then I'll piss on their graves.' Those were his exact words."
"Very well, then let me guess. It's a considerable expense, isn't it?"
"Quite so," Varys nodded. "But compared to the Crown's debt, it's nothing. I only need two thousand gold dragons, a trifling sum you can easily extract from the generous Lord Tywin, Lord Tyrell, or the Iron Bank of Braavos."
"You'll get what you need," Petyr said without objection. "I just hope you can handle this discreetly. Is there anything else?"
"Yes," the eunuch nodded. "Last night, there was a violent conflict in Flea Bottom. Over forty bodies were laid out outside an abandoned underground temple."
"Interesting, but you should report such matters to our Master of Laws, Lord Renly—if he hadn't already departed for the Tyrell ball. Of course, even if he were here, he wouldn't be interested in such matters. His position as Master of Laws is merely ceremonial. Such business usually fell to Lord Arryn. But Lord Arryn is gone now." Petyr showed little interest.
"Half of them were gold cloaks," Varys added.
"Oh?" This piqued Petyr's interest. "What happened?"
"You haven't heard anything at all?" Varys gave a meaningful look to his colleague, who commanded a spy network in King's Landing no less extensive than his own.
"What news?" Petyr frowned. "Flea Bottom? Are the gold cloaks involved with Janos's brother-in-law?"
Petyr remembered that man. Though he'd become a City Watch officer through nepotism, his fighting prowess was formidable, and he'd quickly won the loyalty of his men.
Not long afterward, the captain of his company had fallen drunkenly from the city walls and died, so Janos had promoted him to fill the vacancy.
"If I recall correctly, that man volunteered to patrol Flea Bottom during Lord Arryn's funeral," Petyr added.
"There's no doubt he's involved. According to the gold cloaks still in Flea Bottom, their captain pursued someone into the tunnels beneath the Stranger's Sept and never returned," Varys said.
"That tunnel... doesn't it lead to the Dragonpit?"
"So you've also heard about the explosion at the Dragonpit this morning?"
"The whore who was entertaining a client there claimed the flames were green. I assumed it was just a careless drunk who accidentally ignited one of the wildfire caches buried in the Dragonpit by the Mad King's pyromancer, Lord Rossart. Is there more to it?"
"According to the surviving gold cloaks, their captain promised them that this action would make them wealthy. Since everything related to making coin in King's Landing is connected to you, I thought to ask if you knew the inside story of this matter."
"Unfortunately, I know nothing about it, so it's obvious that something happened in King's Landing that neither you nor I were aware of."
"There are far too many things in King's Landing that I don't know." Varys smiled and shook his head, deflecting the compliment Littlefinger had attempted. "For example, I don't know how Lord Arryn truly died."
"Thank you for the tale," Petyr said, his expression unchanged, not responding to Varys's final probing remark. "I'll look into it, and if I find anything, I'll share it with you as soon as possible."
With that, Petyr bowed and departed with his signature smile.
(End of Chapter)
[+500 Power Stones = +2 Extra Chapter]
[+10 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]
If you enjoyed this chapter, leave a Review!
P*atreon/Soulforger (20+ advanced chapters)
Buy me coffee - ko-fi*com/soulforger01