Night slowly deepened, and Eddard heard the laughter and revelry of the feast, but he wasn't too fond of it.
Eddard quickly led Jon away from the camp, and because their destination tent was secluded, it was easier to conceal their presence.
Jon silently followed Eddard until they reached Eddard's study in The Red Keep. Ghost vigilantly circled the study, preventing anyone from overhearing their conversation.
"Do you remember when the Knight of the Vale died?" Eddard asked Jon.
Jon nodded. "I'm sure Gregor was deliberate. He could have won without harming that boy, but he chose the cruelest method."
"King's Landing is more dangerous than we thought," Eddard mused.
"I've observed the situation in the Tourney grounds. Gregor, The Hound, and Kingslayer are all masters, and there are a few White Knights whose identities are unknown," Jon whispered. Jon had also received systematic knight training in the North, but he wasn't optimistic enough to fantasize about defeating these formidable opponents.
Eddard also knew that individual differences were indeed significant, but for now, they had to press on.
"How was your communication with Ser Ando of the Vale?" Jon asked Eddard.
"Terrible, regarding Lysa." Eddard had no choice but to tell the truth. He had initially thought Lysa might still support him in finding the truth about Lord Arryn, but now it seemed she was only interested in causing trouble for everyone. Perhaps she had never loved Lord Arryn.
"My Lord, if I may speak the harshest truth. Love can turn a woman into a monster; this is a truth known to all."
"Yes." Eddard painfully admitted that he naturally knew those past events. Perhaps time had not erased Lysa's traces; she still hated Lord Arryn and was still deeply in love with Petyr. Lysa's marriage itself was a product of arrangement and a union of interests.
That year, Petyr was wounded by Brandon in a duel. Lysa voluntarily went to care for Petyr and gave him her virginity. But when they coupled, Petyr called her Catelyn. Soon after, Lysa discovered she was pregnant with Petyr's Child. Her father, Lord Hoster, was furious and forced her to abort the Child, then sent Petyr away. This was because Petyr's family was too insignificant to have any marital value.
Having lost her virginity, it was difficult for Lysa to find a suitable husband from a prominent family, but Lord Hoster still found a way. Hoster planned to marry her to the aging, heirless Lord of the Vale. Firstly, Lysa had already proven her fertility, and secondly, during the War of the Usurper, Lord Arryn needed the support of the Riverlands, so he agreed to the marriage. Lysa and her sister Catelyn held their weddings simultaneously in the same sept, but Catelyn's groom had become Eddard Stark.
"Given the current situation, it's difficult for us to get support and help in King's Landing. Only the King is inclined towards you. However, a King is still a King," Jon said calmly. Northerners have always struggled to thrive in King's Landing due to differences in faith and customs, which make the city's residents dislike them. Furthermore, in terms of financial and human resources, the North currently holds no advantage.
"Damn it, they've really put me in a terrible spot." Eddard sighed. He didn't know who to curse: Robert, Lysa, Stannis, or the hidden schemers.
If not for Robert's laissez-faire attitude, the situation in King's Landing would not have become such a mess.
Eddard had to confront his sense of crisis, which was so heavy, permeating his heart. The urgent matter at hand was to write a letter to Catelyn. Lysa was not to be trusted, but this content could not appear in the letter itself.
"I also need to attend tomorrow's Tourney," Eddard said, to see how the situation truly was.
"Take my fiancée back to the city, be careful not to let her get hurt." On the other side of King's Landing, the royal feast ended awkwardly, with the Prince ordering The Hound to escort Sansa away.
The Hound had removed his armor and changed into a red wool tunic with a leather dog's head sewn on the chest. The torchlight made his scarred face appear a fiery red.
Sansa found the journey incredibly agonizing, for she was truly afraid of The Hound, who was certainly not the legendary knight.
The Hound seemed to have drunk too much. In his conversation with Sansa, he referred to her as a beautiful, talking Little Birds.
The Hound not only stated that Gregor was not a knight but also revealed the truth about the death of the Knight of the Vale. "That lad today, you saw him, didn't you? That little fool was just asking for it. No money, no Attendants, no one to help him put on his armor properly. His gorget wasn't even fastened. Do you think Ser Gregor didn't notice?"
The Hound then showed Sansa something even more terrifying, forcing her to look at his face. The right side of The Hound's face was gaunt, with sharp cheekbones and thick eyebrows over gray eyes. He had a large aquiline nose and dark, fine hair. He deliberately wore his hair long and combed it to one side, for he had no hair at all on the other half of his face.
The left side of The Hound's face was a mass of ruined flesh. His ear was completely burned away, leaving only a hole. Though his eye was not blind, it was surrounded by large, twisted scars, the smooth black skin as hard as leather, covered with pockmarks and pits, and streaks of moist red cracks that appeared when he moved. The charred part of his jaw vaguely revealed bone.
One terrible thing after another, The Hound also told Sansa the story of how his face was burned.
Sansa, still shaken, returned to The Red Keep. The Hound grabbed her hand and leaned in.
"What I told you tonight," The Hound's voice was even hoarser than usual, "if you dare tell Joffrey, or your sister, your father, your brother... if you dare tell anyone."
"I won't tell," Sansa whispered. "I promise."
But The Hound felt this was not enough. "If you dare speak to anyone, I will kill you."
The next day, in the pale morning light, Eddard first sought out Ser Barristan, who was keeping vigil for the unfortunate knight. Only the Old Knight was willing to do so, keeping vigil all night for a stranger.
After a few pleasantries, Ser Barristan and Eddard went together to find the King.
Eddard greatly admired and trusted the Old Knight because of his noble character, but precisely because of this, Eddard knew the Old Knight would only serve the King and would not be swayed by outsiders.
The morning light also seemed to awaken the camp. The first to rise were the young Attendants and cooks. The Attendants needed to serve their masters, while the cooks needed to provide food for everyone. Fat roasted sausages sizzled on the fire, dripping with grease, and the air was filled with the aroma of garlic and pepper.
Eddard saw the tents, and the shields displayed outside each tent bore the sigils of the nobles residing within: The Reach, Riverlands, Stormlands. Of course, the North was rarely seen, as Northerners did not particularly enjoy such activities.
"The King intends to participate in the melee today," the Old Knight told Eddard as they passed Ser Meryn's tent. This was the White Knight's tent, not far from the King's. Ser Meryn had been defeated by the Knight of Flowers yesterday, and a deep scratch marred the paint on his shield.
"Yes." Eddard also knew this information; the sense of crisis was painful, and the news also made it difficult to sleep. Melee combat was bloody and brutal, and deaths and disabling injuries were common occurrences in a Tourney.
Eddard knew of a grand Tourney hosted by House Umber at Last Hearth in 170 AC. In that Tourney, at least eighteen participants died, and at least twenty-seven were disabled by injury.
As Eddard and the Old Knight talked, they reached the King's tent. The King's tent, located near the waterfront, was the most luxurious and largest structure, made of gold thread. The King's warhammer and a large iron shield were placed outside the entrance, bearing the symbol of the crowned stag.
When Eddard and the Old Knight arrived, the King was not asleep, but he was still drinking beer from a polished horn cup, shouting at the two Attendants who were helping him into his armor. The two Attendants were flustered, as the King's obesity made it difficult for them to fit him into his armor. One Attendant was so anxious that the King's gorget even fell to the ground again.
"Seven hells! You damned imbeciles, pick that up!" the King roared. "Lancel, pick it up for me!"
Only when he saw the new visitors did the King begin to complain. "Eddard, just look at these fools! My wife insisted I take them as Attendants, but they're worse than useless. They can't even help someone put on armor. What kind of Attendants are these? They're pigs in clothes!"
Eddard had no choice but to state the truth. "It's not their fault, Robert. You're too fat; that's why it doesn't fit."
The King took a long swig of beer, tossed the empty horn cup onto the bearskin bed, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then said darkly, "Too fat? Too fat, you say? Is that how you speak to a King?" Suddenly, he burst into laughter like a storm. "Ah, damn you, Eddard, why are you always right?"
...Far away in Myr, in the map room high above Wolf's Den.
Qyburn gravely recounted the latest intelligence to Gendry, rumors from King's Landing.
"The Spider says Dany is pregnant?" Gendry asked Qyburn. This information seemed plausible, but unfortunately, it was false.
"That's right. Only The Spider has firsthand information regarding our movements and Princess Dany's, whether true or false, and this is precisely The Spider's capital for dancing in King's Landing," Qyburn said.
"It seems Varys is truly restless. As soon as this intelligence is released, it will immediately stir up the Small Council in King's Landing," Gendry said.
Daenerys was not old, and the girl's physique was too slender and small. She should be a bit larger and healthier.
Years of exile and constant insecurity had left Daenerys small and weary; she had only recently begun to recover. The birthing bed was a woman's battlefield, and Gendry disliked shortsightedness and disregard for others' lives. Moreover, even without considering her beauty, Daenerys possessed immense value. If the dragons were revived, Gendry would have many children and dragons.
"Should we teach Varys a lesson?" Qyburn inquired. Even in distant King's Landing, they had their own informants.
"No need. Do the fat man and Varys think they are flawless? They will know sooner or later that I always repay kindness and grievances in full." Gendry thought for a moment. "Strengthen security."
As for the fat man and Varys, Gendry intended to eliminate them both; the fat man was a double agent, and so was Varys.
"Have the Beggar King, the captain of the Windblown, provide more information about Pentos. Among the many Archons in Pentos, surely some still remember the Beggar King."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"But Varys releasing such information to muddle the waters suggests that the situation in King's Landing is already dangerous, on the verge of explosion." Gendry looked at King's Landing on the map; the situation had reached this point. With Lord Arryn's death, the influence of the Vale swiftly departed King's Landing. Now, in King's Landing, because the King acts like a hands-off manager, the main struggle is between the Wolf and the Lion.
"The situation has deteriorated to a certain extent. Stannis is holed up in Dragonstone, and Lady Lysa has fled back to The Eyrie. If Eddard makes even a slight misstep, King's Landing will descend into chaos," Qyburn said. "I think we also need to do something, either to delay the war or to instigate it."
Qyburn's words had a hidden meaning; they also possessed a very heavy scandal, the Lannister rumors, which were enough to ignite the situation.
"For now, let's not act. War will come soon enough." Gendry knew how terrifying that storm would be.
"If Lord Arryn were still alive, perhaps the situation would be more stable. Lord Arryn would surely compromise with all parties and stabilize the realm," Qyburn recalled the deceased Old Knight, whose time truly felt like a golden age for Westeros.
"Tolerance, compromise—the iron throne was ruined by these very words," Gendry deeply understood.
Lord Arryn was indeed far-sighted, but the foundation of the Baratheon Dynasty was not unification, but alliances, intermarriages, and compromises, a mutual union of several great Lords, not the overwhelming power of the Baratheon. The policy of appeasement and compromise had always been in operation, and finally, with the addition of the Lannister and Baratheon families, these major thunderclaps, the country was bound to fall into turmoil sooner or later.
"My plan, however, is by no means what Lord Arryn envisioned, but rather, after the old is abolished and the new established, a true King."
"Your ideal is correct. A King should be like the sun, illuminating all things. The only sun beneath the heavens."
"Let them be. Continue to monitor the situation in King's Landing."
"Yes."
"Poor Lord Eddard, why doesn't he leave this game?" Qyburn said.
"Do you think Stark will lose?"
"Yes, Your Highness, and he will lose terribly. Firstly, Lord Stark's experience; he has primarily been a soldier and a Northern Lord, with little experience in the machinations of King's Landing. Secondly, Stark's preparations are very meager; he only brought a hundred guards south. Can these men control the situation? Thirdly, there's public sentiment; the Green Lands and the North differ too much in customs and faith. If a crisis truly arises, not many people will help these savage Northerners," Qyburn analyzed, with sound reasoning.
"If Stark were to leave King's Landing at all costs, taking a ship back to White Harbor, perhaps he would still have a chance to survive."
"But if he were to leave, he wouldn't be Eddard," Qyburn added.
"Master Qyburn, for now, I'll trouble you with information from our surroundings," Gendry told Qyburn. To prepare for this unprecedented great war, they needed to strategize, gather intelligence, and collect information on surrounding forces.
Pentos, Lys, Volantis, and even the Golden Company, the Windblown, and Dorne.
"It is my duty. You also need to take care of your health, Your Highness," Qyburn said. Commanding thousands of troops is not as simple as theorizing on paper; it requires complex and precise planning.
"I will." Gendry nodded. Commanding large-scale battles itself is an activity that consumes physical and mental energy. Throughout history, peak figures have found it very difficult to succeed without good health and a strong will... Catelyn left the inn in the rain. Her destination was not Winterfell, but The Eyrie.
Because the capture of The Imp failed, if the situation worsened prematurely, then the Vale was a force she had to unite with, not to mention her sister was still there.
"Please, everyone, do not spread what just happened," Ser Rodrik said with a bitter expression to the others. He had no clever plan either, because his mistress was indeed too outrageous.
But Ser Roderick knew that his idea was very unlikely to be realized. With so many people in the inn, someone was bound to leak the news. Moreover, Frey's men would surely report to their master, and Old Frey, who knew what he would do. Frey was certainly a vassal of Riverrun, but he would always side with the victor; this was the old fox's mentality.
At least Catelyn had won over the group with generous rewards and promises, and they hurried towards Winterfell.
The road now became increasingly narrow, with steep and treacherous hills visible all around, and jagged, snow-capped peaks on the distant horizon. This was the most perilous road to the east, to Winterfell.
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