Eddard missed Catelyn's embrace, the sound of Robb and Jon practicing swords in the yard, and the cool days and cold nights of the North.
But Eddard could not back down, for this was a war.
"My Lord, the Hand's Tourney is currently underway.
I know you don't like this situation, but if you could interact with the Knights of the Vale who have arrived, I believe you would learn more," Jon suggested.
Jon now seemed a bit more mature; the sword wound Joffrey had inflicted on his face had taken root, and that short scar constantly kept him awake.
The scar, like a small centipede, marred Jon's appearance, though he was hardly handsome.
Jon was the first to experience the cruelty of King's Landing, far beyond his imagination.
"You speak very well, Jon, you have inspired me," Eddard said to Jon.
Jon's words made Eddard think deeply; Eddard pondered whether his intelligence sources were too reliant on Littlefinger.
"My Lord, I just feel this person is not trustworthy," Jon calmly replied.
bastards grow up faster than ordinary children because their blood contains a wild element.
bastards must be good at analyzing situations and understanding how to read people.
A place like King's Landing is inherently complex.
Littlefinger's meteoric rise in King's Landing only shows that schemes and tricks are his ladder; only self-interest exists in Littlefinger's eyes.
Jon had heard Littlefinger's story: clever and capable, but could such a person, someone with enmity towards House Stark, truly help House Stark honestly?
Moreover, Littlefinger had always been nostalgic about past affections.
Jon was a pessimist; he had to consider Littlefinger's dark side.
"The Vale, the Vale," Eddard thought again and again.
The Hand's Tourney was underway.
Robert had, in fact, helped him this once.
The Vale was where Eddard lived in his youth; he and Robert, at The Eyrie, were once so young and proud.
Their foster father, Lord Arryn, loved them and even launched an uprising for them.
Now, however, Lord Arryn was gone, and he needed to shoulder this burden.
Those honor-loving Knights of the Vale would surely arrive; perhaps he could ask them to learn more information.
As Lord Arryn's foster son, Eddard also had good connections in the Vale, not to mention the past marriage alliance between House Stark and House Royce.
"I once wondered what Robb lacked; perhaps it was a lack of insight into power," Eddard had to reflect on his education of Robb.
Robb might not have Jon's shrewdness; this Child, born heir to Winterfell, had never suffered any hardship, nor had he served as an attendant to other nobles, receiving systematic education.
In terms of caution, sensitivity, and meticulousness, he was far inferior to Jon, who was a bastard.
"Perhaps I should have made Robb wiser, but I didn't.
Well, when I win this war, I will educate Robb better," Eddard thought as he looked at Jon.
"You've done very well, Jon.
I have many things I need to rely on you for.
You need to act cautiously; King's Landing is full of spies and informants, unlike our Winterfell," Eddard said.
"I will do so, My Lord," Jon replied without hesitation.
"What do you think we lack?" Eddard asked Jon.
Talent is inherent, and Eddard couldn't help but admire Jon's talent.
Perhaps hardship forged the man; if not for Catelyn's cold shoulder and discrimination, perhaps Jon would not have such a mind.
"A retreat, My Lord," Jon said truthfully.
"We only have a hundred guards; even if we hastily recruit Mercenaries, at most it's two hundred men.
What can these men do?"
Jon's words made Eddard pause.
He had never thought about a retreat.
He felt he could accomplish his task, investigate the cause of Lord Arryn's death, and control the situation.
"A retreat?" Eddard countered.
"My Lord, have you noticed the situation in The Red Keep?
Begging your pardon, the King is too lenient with House Lannister," Jon replied softly.
"Those spies are watching us day and night, and those Gold Cloaks, I tremble whenever I see them."
Eddard was silent.
King's Landing was a city of half a million people; with just this force of two hundred men, nothing could be changed.
Eddard hadn't considered this; in his impression, the King was still trustworthy.
"You may leave, Jon, I need some time alone.
Also, I have a new task for you to complete," Eddard said.
The new task Eddard spoke of was for Jon to go to the monks in the Vale and inquire about Lord Arryn's condition; this was merely an attempt.
"Alright," Jon left Eddard's bedroom a moment later.
After Jon left, Eddard fell into deep thought.
The fragrant Master of Whisperers, Varys, was not trustworthy, so was Littlefinger, of all people, trustworthy?
Catelyn might be too trusting of past friendships, but he could not be.
"I am a Stark, and now I am the leader of the Wolf Pack; I must win this battle," Eddard encouraged himself.
Eddard began to think about his investigative path.
In King's Landing, Eddard was primarily looking for the cause of Lord Arryn's death.
The clues were fixed, but he was indeed too reliant on Littlefinger.
Eddard's clues mainly came from two areas: first, the large book Jon had read, and Jon's shouts about strong bloodlines.
Second, the few Attendants of Lord Arryn that Littlefinger had recommended; perhaps better clues could be found from them.
But now Eddard had a completely new idea: not just to gather clues, but also to learn the full picture of the Vale from the Knights of the Vale, and the story of Lysa and Littlefinger.
"Perhaps I shouldn't trust them too much; Littlefinger isn't worth it either."
...In the council chambers of The Red Keep in King's Landing, the Small Council convened as usual, but today there was something different.
Janos Slynt, the Commander-in-Chief of the Gold Cloaks, also attended this meeting.
As usual, the King did not come, so this meeting was still convened by Lord Eddard.
"Can I truly trust them?
No, I cannot," Eddard thought as he looked at the group of people before him; not a single one truly put his mind at ease.
The decrepit Old Maester, the princely Lord Renly, the fragrant Varys, and the cunning Littlefinger.
After all, the Hand's Tourney was also underway, and the public order in King's Landing had indeed deteriorated to a certain extent.
Janos Slynt was a tall and large man; he had a double chin, and when he got angry, he would puff up like a Frog, and his bald head would turn red.
"My Lords, all these troubles are brought by the Hand's Tourney," commander Janos Slynt of the City Watch complained to the Small Council.
"The King's Tourney," Eddard corrected him with a frown, "I assure you, the Hand has no interest in this whatsoever."
Eddard indeed had no interest in the Tourney, but there was nothing he could do; for now, he could only obey.
"Say what you will, My Lord, but the fact is that Knights from all over the Seven Kingdoms are arriving continuously.
And for every Knight who comes, there are two Free Riders, three craftsmen, six soldiers, a dozen merchants, two dozen Prostitutes, and as for thieves, too many for me to even guess.
This damned hot weather has already made half the city dizzy with heat, and now so many more people are here... Last night, someone drowned, plus a tavern brawl, three knife fights, a rape case, two fires, countless robberies, and a drunk horse ran into the street of the septas.
The day before yesterday, a woman's head was found floating in the Great Sept's rainbow pool; no one knows where that head came from, nor whose head it was," Janos Slynt said.
"Damn it!" Eddard cursed inwardly, feeling utterly exhausted.
Winterfell had never been so difficult to govern; the Northerners also lived stable lives.
King's Landing had too many people, too mixed, reaching a point where it was difficult to govern.
"How frightening," Varys shivered.
Lord Renly Baratheon was not so kind.
"I say, Janos, if you can't even maintain order in the city, I'm afraid the City Watch will have to find someone capable to be commander."
"Lord Renly, even if King Aegon were reborn, he couldn't control it. I need men," Janos Slynt said righteously.
Eddard couldn't help but frown. He had heard of this man's actions; his favorite pastimes were padding the payroll and accepting bribes from his subordinates. Now, with no men and insufficient manpower, he had to ask Eddard for help.
"How many men do you need?" Eddard asked.
"Lord Hand, the more the better, naturally."
"Then hire a hundred new recruits," Eddard said. "Fifty for you, and fifty to be incorporated into my guard. The Tourney is currently underway, and my own manpower seems a bit stretched. As for the money, Lord Baelish will handle it."
Everyone listened to Eddard's words. Fifty new recruits for himself—this Hand's appetite was not small. There was only one possibility: Lord Eddard felt a deep sense of crisis in King's Landing.
"I'll handle it." Littlefinger also frowned. Why did it always come down to money? Counting coppers was not an easy task.
"That's right. Since you can raise hundreds of thousands of gold dragons for the Tourney, it shouldn't be a problem to find a few more coppers to maintain order in King's Landing," Eddard said to Littlefinger.
"Then I'll grudgingly accept. Who can refuse the Lord Hand's command? I wouldn't want to tarnish your brilliant image," Littlefinger said.
"I will also pull thirty men from my personal guard until this group of people leaves the city," Eddard said to the Commander-in-Chief of the Gold Cloaks. The Tourney was indeed too lively, but he had to contribute some effort to this farce.
Janos Slynt, on behalf of the Gold Cloaks, thanked Eddard, "Thank you very much, Lord Hand. I will make sure they are put to good use."
"And do not embezzle their pay," Eddard reminded him. "I do not wish to hear of them causing trouble because you withheld their wages."
"Rest assured, my Lord, I will treat all soldiers as my own kin."
After the Gold Cloaks commander left, Eddard faced all the senior officials. "The sooner this farce ends, the sooner I will have peace of mind," Eddard said helplessly.
This Tourney was an enormous hassle: raising funds, maintaining order. Everyone called the Tourney the Hand's Tourney. But by the gods, Eddard did not like Tourneys. Such a name was a slander on his reputation, rubbing salt in his wounds, especially given the King's attitude, who believed Eddard would feel proud and honored.
"The kingdom prospers because of such events, my Lord," Old Maester Pycelle said. "For the upper classes, it is a great opportunity to seek glory. As for the poor common folk, they can temporarily forget their sorrows."
"Many people can also make a fortune from it," Littlefinger added. "The inns in the city are all full, the women are so busy with clients their legs can't close, and their pockets jingle with coppers as they walk."
Eddard looked at the two men, speaking in unison, and felt a sense of loneliness. This Tourney was truly extravagant. Even if others earned money, the Crown spent a vast amount of gold dragons, which was somewhat counterproductive.
Lord Renly laughed heartily: "It's a good thing my second brother, Stannis, isn't here. Do you remember that time he proposed banning Brothels? The King then asked him if he wanted to ban eating, shitting, and breathing while he was at it. Honestly, sometimes I truly wonder how Stannis's ugly daughter came to be. My brother goes to bed like he's going to battle, with a solemn look, determined to fulfill his duty."
Everyone started laughing heartily. They all knew the legends about Stannis; he was too cold, unfeeling, and lacked personal charm. Everyone believed he was difficult to communicate with.
"Ah, Stannis!" Eddard mused. Perhaps he only had one or two friends on the Small Council, but that man was currently on Dragonstone.
"Are you also thinking about Stannis?" Eddard asked Lord Renly. "I wonder when Lord Stannis will be able to leave Dragonstone and return to King's Landing to fulfill his duties."
"He'll be back as soon as we drive all the women into the sea," Littlefinger said, and the others laughed even harder.
"I've heard enough about women for today," Ned said, rising. "Let's end it here."
Eddard had no interest in continuing the conversation with these people. There seemed to be some hidden barrier between them, difficult to melt away.
Eddard retreated to the Tower of the Hand, back to his study.
Upon entering the room, Eddard shed the formal silk clothes worn by senior officials, sat down, and read for a while, waiting for Jory, as he still had to go out after the horses were prepared.
The full title of the book Eddard was reading was "The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms (with descriptions of many lords, ladies, and their children)," written by Old Maester Meryn.
Such a large, encyclopedic book was indeed dry and boring in its content. But Eddard had to persevere. Since Lord Jon had read it with particular seriousness, then somewhere within the book's trivialities, there must be something he was looking for.
Amidst these yellowed, fragile pages, important clues must be hidden. The only question was whether Eddard could decipher their deeper meaning. But what could it be?
Eddard once again turned to the section on House Lannister. He felt he should read it carefully, slowly following along, hoping to find useful information.
"The history of House Lannister is indeed long, and they once became kings," Eddard thought.
House Lannister can be traced back to the trickster "Lann the Clever" from the Age of Heroes. He was as legendary as Brandon the Builder, but more beloved by Singers and storytellers. Lann in the songs, without a sword, drove House Casterly from Casterly Rock with only his wit, and stole gold from the sun to adorn his golden hair. Eddard truly wished he were by his side now, to help force out the damned secret from the book.
A hurried knock on the door announced Jory Cassel's arrival.
Eddard closed Old Maester Meryn's tome and bade him enter. "I promised to draw thirty men from my guard for the City Watch until the Tourney ends," he told him. "The task of selecting them falls to you. Let Elin lead them, but make sure they understand that their primary task is to quell disputes, not to create conflict."
Eddard rose, opened a cedar chest, and took out a thin linen tunic.
"Have you found that stable boy?"
"My Lord, the City Watchman you mentioned," Jory said, "he swore he'd never touch another horse in his life."
"Why?" "He said he understood Lord Arryn very well, saying they hit it off perfectly." Jory snorted. "He said that on the naming day of the lads, the Lord Hand never forgot to give them a few coppers. He also said the Lord Hand understood horses, never overworked his mounts, and always brought carrots and apples for them, so they all liked him very much."
Eddard thought and thought. This was his last hope; he needed to hear everyone's answers, those who had followed Lord Arryn.
"Hold on a bit longer. I'll wait for Jon," Eddard said. "Also, check the Knights of the Vale who attended this meeting. I need their names."
"Yes, my Lord," Eddard's Captain of the Guard said.
Eddard felt it was becoming easier to get closer to the real story, but he would have to meticulously peel back the layers, like poison, to find even a small part of the story's conclusion.
"Tell me everything you know clearly, and then I'll wait," Eddard couldn't help but remind him again.
"I will, my Lord," the Captain of the Guard replied.
Eddard waited in solitude, because he had sent Jon to search for information about certain people. Eddard hoped Jon would do well and help him find the answer.
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