The days in King's Landing grew hotter and hotter; some fools said it was a sign of the coming eternal summer, while others said it was the last summer.
Littlefinger was a frequent visitor to Eddard, and he came to see him again this day.
Eddard knew he couldn't trust Littlefinger; the man's cunning and trickery made him uncomfortable, but he couldn't trust anyone else even less. And as Catelyn's friend, Littlefinger at least leaked many secrets to him.
Eddard entered the study, where Littlefinger was sitting by the window, watching the White Knights practice their swordsmanship in the square below. The White Knights' cloaks and armor were beautiful, especially their milk-white cloaks, which seemed to perfectly match the glorious reputation of the Kingsguard. "If Old Maester Selmy's mind were as sharp as his sword, council meetings would be much more interesting."
"Ser Barristan's valor and integrity are second to none in King's Landing." After these days of interaction, Eddard held a high regard for this respected, white-haired Captain of the Guard.
"If everyone were like Barristan," Eddard thought, though he also knew this was just a fantasy. Robert had said it many times: King's Landing was full of sycophants and idiots, and the Small Council especially so. Lord Jon was dead, Barristan was old, Stannis had fled, and as for himself, heaven knew how he would clean up this mess.
"His dullness is also second to none," Littlefinger added. "But I believe he can still be vigorous and contribute at the Tourney. Last year he unhorsed The Hound with a Longspear, and it's only been four years since he last won the championship."
Eddard had no interest in Tourneys or champions; he considered them mere entertainment. However, the Tourney champion did have some value, as the Longspear jousting in a Tourney emphasized horsemanship the most. But Longspear jousting was not the same as real warfare; take Robert, for example, he was more keen on bloody group melees that simulated real battlefields.
Eddard didn't remain silent for long, directly asking Littlefinger the purpose of his visit.
"I promised Catelyn I would help you investigate, and I always keep my word," Littlefinger said with a smile.
Eddard looked at Littlefinger, wondering what benefit Littlefinger would gain from him. He was always clever, and now he had made a fortune in King's Landing.
"What I've investigated are people, not events," Littlefinger corrected him. "In fact, there are four people. Have you ever thought about questioning the Hand's Attendants?"
"How did you know? The extra four people, didn't they all leave with Lady Lysa at the time?" Eddard looked at Littlefinger, a cold indifference hidden in his eyes. Eddard hadn't initially considered this, but since Old Maester Pycelle was untrustworthy, what exactly did this cunning Littlefinger want?
Eddard knew that Lady Arryn had packed up her entire household and returned to The Eyrie; everyone close to Jon had fled with her. Lord Jon's maester, steward, Captain of the Guard, and his Knights and Attendants.
"Don't look at me like that, my Lord," Littlefinger said, his expression unchanged. "As master of coin, I always have my own channels, and besides, I was once a retainer under Lord Arryn."
"Oh," Eddard feigned sudden understanding. He dared not trust the other man, but for now, Littlefinger was a suitable source of information.
"No, it was most of them," Littlefinger said, "not all. A few people stayed behind. A kitchen maid with a swollen belly hastily married Lord Renly's stable boy, a stable boy joined the City Watch, a waiter was fired for theft, and Lord Arryn's Attendant also remained."
"Arryn's Attendant." Eddard felt a surge of joy, because an Attendant was the person closest to the master, very clear about the master's movements. But this Attendant, it seemed he had been careless, after all, he was a newcomer to The Red Keep, had little information, and progress was slow. Eddard had to admit that he was somewhat reliant on Littlefinger's intelligence source.
"Ser Hugh of the Vale," Littlefinger continued. "After Lord Arryn died, the King knighted him."
"Then I'll gather everyone now," Eddard said rashly.
"Very good, very good, that's it," Littlefinger smiled triumphantly, a sense of accomplishment in his heart. Stupid Direwolf, King's Landing is not your den.
"My Lord, come here and look, come to the window," Littlefinger said, shrinking back.
"Look at what?" Eddard replied. "Am I to look at the spies watching me?"
"You truly surprise me," Littlefinger said with a shocked smile. "Very good, My Lord, in the game of King's Landing, you should be so cautious, but I think you may not understand much."
Littlefinger then listed them one by one: "The young man sharpening knives by the armory door, he's the Spider's spy. On the city wall, furthest to the west, above the stables, that guard leaning against the wall, that's the Queen's man."
"Damn it," Eddard sighed. "I knew the situation was bad, but not this bad. I still thank you for your warning, My Lord."
"Don't mention it," Littlefinger smiled. "This is the terrifying thing about King's Landing; The Red Keep is full of spies everywhere, otherwise why would I hide Catelyn in a Brothel?"
Eddard's face held an unbearable expression, as if he hated hearing about such cunning and schemes.
Littlefinger took everything in. Eddard was indeed still Eddard, but perhaps he had a more astute subordinate by his side.
"My Lord, since it's been said, why don't you send your exemplary subordinate, someone completely trustworthy, to inquire about the whereabouts of these few, so as not to be discovered..."
"That's not a bad idea." Eddard called out to Littlefinger, who was about to leave. "I am very grateful for your help, perhaps I shouldn't distrust you."
Littlefinger turned back with a smile. "Lord Eddard, you learn too slowly. Distrusting me is the wisest thing you've done since you fell off your horse."
A moment after Littlefinger left, Jon slowly entered Eddard's study.
"Showdown!" Eddard thought it over and over; he always felt the crisis growing larger.
When would the showdown come? He hoped he would be ready, like a climber ascending a mountain.
"He comes often, My Lord."
"Yes." Eddard looked at Jon, motioning for Jon to sit down.
"What's your impression of him?" Eddard asked Jon.
"Very good, and very bad. Lord Petyr brings laughter, is quick-witted, amiable, and seems to be kind to people; many speak well of him. But those who curse him are also numerous."
"Oh, tell me," Eddard prompted Jon to continue.
"According to the information I've gathered, Littlefinger's reputation isn't exactly good," Jon said, both anxious and restrained. "The Knights of the Vale curse him as a sycophant who curries favor with women, a small man who flatters Lady Lysa. He's a freak, with no knighthood, no lineage, only Brothels and those women who sell smiles, finding money for the King day after day. With his humble origins and riding skills, without Lady Lysa's backing, he would be nothing. And, and..."
"Speak, Child," Eddard urged Jon.
"Then I'll tell you the truth, My Lord. Many people say that Lady Lysa and Littlefinger are too close, and Littlefinger has never been shy about his relationship with House Tully, even claiming himself, himself..." Jon stammered.
"What is it?" Eddard looked at Jon.
Jon's expression was as if something was stuck, choked.
"The words are too unpleasant, aren't they? And probably about Catelyn too, right?" Eddard came to his senses. Littlefinger might also be spreading lewd rumors in King's Landing, claiming he took the virginity of Catelyn and her sister.
"Damn him," Eddard cursed angrily.
Eddard felt some shame and embarrassment, perhaps he was not a true Stark.
If he were a true Stark, with the true blood of the direwolf, he should cut off the head of a loose-tongued man like Littlefinger. But now was not the time for anger; it was about duty, honor, and the future of the kingdom, for his brother Robert.
"There's something even more terrible," Jon said, plucking up his courage. "It is said there are some malicious rumors that Lord Petyr and Lady Lysa are involved in something improper, and that even Littlefinger's position was arranged by Lady Lysa asking Lord Arryn for it. But Lord Arryn was too busy, and no one dared to say these things in front of him."
"Enough, Jon. Do you know what you're saying? I want you to listen, Child, but I hope you don't remember all these scandals." Eddard frowned deeply. This concerned his foster father's good name.
"My Lord, I know you'll scold me? But have you considered, Petyr has never married or had children, even though he comes from humble origins, with his power, many nobles and rich merchants would be willing to marry into his family, but what is he waiting for? Or, what is he afraid of? This is very abnormal," Jon couldn't help but say. "Think about it, there must be poison in Petyr's gifts."
"You speak very well, Jon. I was wrong about one thing," Eddard sighed. "Perhaps keeping you in Winterfell would have been a better choice; your meticulousness would have filled some gaps for Robb and illuminated his path."
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