Gerold V

He lay in bed and contemplated. It’s been a month since the battle of Ironoaks and the changes to the political landscape of the Vale was profound. The once-formidable Jon Arryn who ruled the Vale with an honest and fair grip has died with no heirs. His wife kidnapped by Petyr’s bandits didn’t have a chance to provide him with a child. Sometimes he wonders what Petyr’s drive and ambitions are. When he came to Gulltown eight months ago, he promised his city was going to be the ‘Jewel of the Vale’. Within half a year, he spoke the truth as goods as far back as Yi-ti flowed through Gulltown like a waterfall. The wealth seemed never-ending. Petyr also promised to make his lands more productive. He spoke the truth when Gerold’s people had enough copper to repair or outright buy new ploughs, scythes, horses, seeds and cattle to make their farms better. Petyr also seized the traitor’s lands and, with his permission, installed Lord-Mayors that would directly pay their taxes into Gulltown. Gerold was tempted to give it to his loyal knights but relented when the money poured from Timberton and its surrounding hamlets.

Time and time again whenever he contemplated getting rid of Petyr, he proves his immense usefulness as a capable miser and a treasure trove of wisdom. He recalled back to the first time he confronted Petyr and what he said made the hairs on Gerold’s skin stand. Petyr said he had more to give. What he was giving wasn’t enough to fulfil his Vision. His Idea. His World.

Gerold tried to put Jon Arryn’s death into his vision. His vision of prosperity, civilisation and compassion. What was so prosperous about the turmoil from his death? How does a river seeping with blood lead to civilisation? What was so compassionate about thousands of Westerosi slaughtering each other? It didn’t fit. Perhaps he killed him for the sake of Lysa’s hand? No, that can’t be it. Petyr plans to marry her off to Robar. He seems to regard her as a sister, nothing more. His brain throbbed for answers but unfortunately, it wouldn’t give any. Perhaps he was just overthinking about Petyr and that Jon Arryn was actually killed by the Dornish and not assassinated by Littlefinger’s men. No. The disappearance and reappearance of Lysa Arryn along with Jon’s death were too much of a coincidence.

A growing headache forced him to stop thinking as he looked to his right and jolted in shock. Next to him lay a lady with her shoulders and breast exposed with her silky chestnut hair laying over them. A few sprinkles of freckles lightly dotted her cheeks and nose in a way that made him want to pinch them.

He remembered thoroughly having fun last night. His wedding with Ysilla Royce was officiated yesterday and now they’re wife and husband. She seemed to be a quiet sort. A gentle maiden. Patient too as he didn’t really know what he was doing considering his father forbade him from going to brothels. But he eventually got there and hopefully, his seed would be enough for her to birth him an heir.

“Morning, Lord Gerold.” The brunette said with a purr as she yawned.

“Lady Ysilla. Thank you for being patient with me last night.”

The lady placed her hands over her mouth and lightly chuckled. “It’s not a problem. I’m glad I’m married to a man that I know would be faithful to me.” She shuffled on the bed then placed her smooth arms over his chest. “You’ll be leaving for war. Please come back soon. After last night’s… Vigorous session, I’m most confident that I’m going to be pregnant.”

Gerold couldn’t help himself blush as he stuttered, “I-I don’t kn-know what to say, my lady.”

“Perhaps we can drop the formalities, please call me Sella.”

“Gerry.” They embraced each other which made Gerold relieved and pleased. Sometimes arranged marriages, especially the ones where you haven’t seen your spouse before a wedding, tend to be a loveless affair. But connecting with Sella has been easy. He would talk about his troubles and she would calmly listen and offer words of comfort.

“So, what can you tell me about your friend? Petyr Baelish?” She smiled so serenely that her dimples started to appear.

“Well, I don’t know where to start…”

~ ~ ~ ~

Gerold looked at the fleet of ships loading 5,000 redcoats. The harbour looked like it was about to burst despite Petyr and Rydan expanding it. He saw Rydan walking with a cane yet he still looked formidable. “Oldman! You looked like you recovered well.”

The harbourmaster smiled when he saw him and rustled his hair. “Aye lad! Never been better. Fit to go back to work too.” The Oldman sternly gazed at the dockyard workers which prompted them to start lifting the cargo into the cranes and then offloading them unto the ships. “After Marq lost and me having to pick up the pieces and retreat to Gulltown, I thought I would never experience war again. Certainly not with the magics Petyr and his insane alchemists come up with.”

Gerold unknowingly held his breath as he quickly jumped to his feet. “Those cannons! They did a number to Ironoaks! Lady Anya thought she could hold on for half a year!” He laughed then pumped his chest. “Oh, how wrong she was when that Gatehouse couldn’t last less than a day!”

“Should’ve surrendered when Petyr was feeling merciful.”

“To be fair to him, that was pretty merciful. Tis a shame about Ser Deran and his motley band of murderers though.” Gerold thought back to his former instructor and felt nothing but pity. Petyr completely outwitted and outmanoeuvred him. The knight didn’t stand a chance and Gerold was forced to let him go. He was proving to be a stubborn, hard-headed man that refused his reforms. “It would’ve been great if they got captured when the town surrendered. Yet, they escaped. Again. You should’ve seen Petyr’s face.”

Rydan heavily huffed at that. “Hopefully, he wouldn’t be much of a problem now. The rest of the Vale considers him a turn cloak murderer. It certainly encouraged Petyr to snap up their fiefs and lands that’s for sure.” He looked at the sea and clasped Gerold’s shoulders and said, “I’m sorry lad for not coming with you.”

“It’s alright, Rydan. I’ll need a regent to rule Gulltown in my name and considering Maribelle is coming with us to King’s Landing, you’ll rule in my absence. And defend it using those enforcers of yours.”

The Oldman teared up and bowed. “This is a great honour, my lord.” Gerold helped him stand up and spied Petyr coming to them.

“Ah! Gerold! Rydan!” He said prompting the three to exchange greetings and pleasantries. “Master Rydan, are the preparations complete?”

“Close. I’ll give you half an hour.” The broad-shouldered man scratched his beard. “I’m curious why Robar let you set sail with 5,000 men instead of marching down from the Bloody Gate to King’s Landing?”

Petyr shrugged. “Logistics and time. The larger the host, the harder it is to supply and the longer it is to walk. However, I suspect he highly mistrusts my- the redcoats. For what reason, I don’t know.”

Gerold couldn’t help bursting into fits of giggles. “It’s not that he mistrusts your army, but I have a feeling you’re trying to avoid someone. I wonder who it could be.” He thought back to the auburn-haired girl. “You haven’t even announced that she’s alive. It’s still a miracle how you and Maribelle are keeping a tight lid on her wellbeing.”

“Or that cunt of her father simply doesn’t care to send runners and informants to find Lysa. But yes… You’re right. I’m trying to avoid Hoster. He has only banished me from Riverrun, yet I fear he may act irrationally once he sees me.”

“Are you planning to kill him as well?” Petyr and Rydan both tilted their heads.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Gerold gulped. He shouldn’t have said that. Now Petyr would likely get suspicious of him. He jolted and felt every hair sticking out when the man clasped his shoulders and leaned down near his ears.

“I think you and I need to have a talk. I don’t know how you know but we need to talk.” Littlefinger whispered.

Gerold’s heart sped up as he was about to hyperventilate. Fortunately, Rydan was there to help him from his fearful stupor. “Make sure to say it way beyond me ears. The more you age and get back and joint pain, the more you’ll realise that ignorance is bliss. So, I would appreciate it if you would continue that conversation on a ship. Where no crew can eavesdrop.”

Maribelle V

Petyr and her, husband and wife, lay on the uncomfortable cot (a sorry excuse of a bed) provided to them by the captain. At least she didn’t itch nor start seeing vermin otherwise she’ll really wring her husband’s neck. “Tell me again why I’m coming with you. To King’s Landing.” She fidgeted to physically assert her annoyance.

Petyr sighed at that and pinched his temple. “Because of my luck.”

“Excuse me what. Answer me straight otherwise or I’ll push you off this bed.”

“I didn’t even need to broach the topic with Robar. When we were let into the Eyrie by the steward, Nestor Royce, he gave me an offer out of nowhere. An offer I couldn’t refuse.” He paused as his eyes seemed to brighten in the dull candlelight. He cupped his chin and said, “He requested me to become the Master of Coin.”

Maribelle gasped then a brief silence came over them. They heard nothing but the boat swaying and the rudder creaking when Maribelle broke the silence by elbowing her husband hard, eliciting a yelp. “It didn’t come out of nowhere. I told you that’s what Robar said to the knights to convince them to fight for him. Robar offered you that position to get rid of you. To lessen you’re… Our influence in Gulltown and the rest of the Vale!”

Petyr nursed his sides as he clicked his tongue. ‘Tsk, tsk, tsk.’ “Why must you always be so violent!” He rolled his tongue then mischievously smiled. “After the talk we had about murdering Jon Arryn, which I’m afraid I may repeat to Gerold-.”

“Wait… You’re telling Gerold. Why?” Is he a fool! The fewer people that know the secret, the better!

“Because he already knows. I cannot in good conscience silence him… Permanently. After all, we’ve been through. I regard him as a friend. A very good friend.” He placed his hands behind his head and took a deep breath that seemed to stagger ever so slightly. The tone and the sobbing made him genuine. Sincere even. Maribelle was ashamed that she was this close to believing his mummer’s farce. You don’t want to kill him because he’s vital to the alliance with Runestone and their iron and minerals… And even if you did kill him, the King may appoint someone to rule Gulltown. Someone that you may not control. You don’t want to kill him because he’s your friend. I know you Petyr… No one’s your friend. Only tools.

“Do you want me to be there?” Maribelle said.

She was surprised when he suddenly spun from his side to face her and grabbed her hands. “Yes, please! I need help.”

“Now, tell me why you crave being part of the Small Council. They hardly have any power. The best they can do is to control the Crownlands. Westeros is far too decentralised for the Council to exert any reasonable power. Anytime they did, the Lord Paramounts can petition the King and ask to be exempt from whatever law the Council passes.” She stared at Petyr and frowned at him. “That’s why you should’ve rejected Robar’s request.”

Petyr clicked his tongue again which further irritated her. “Your thinking is far too short-sighted. The Master of Coin has great potential to be extremely powerful. Taxes from across the realms stream through his hands. Not only that, but he’s also responsible for trade and tariffs. Even if my new powers were to only extend In King’s Landing, it’s still a city with half a million people living inside it. Ten times that of Gulltown! The potential!”

“I assume you have ways to not limit your powers just to King’s Landing?”

Her husband gave a toothy grin. “Of course. I plan to copy what I’ve done in Gulltown and apply it to King’s Landing. Who knows? Mayhaps the Civil Service can replace the Small Council. It’s going to be challenging but I’m confident I can convince Robert.”

“Turn him into a puppet, like what you’ve done to Gerold? Good luck with that.”

“As much as I appreciate, it I don’t need luck… I need information. And information I have.” Petyr’s legs started to shake as he drummed his fingers into his bare stomach. “King Robert… Is predisposed to prostitutes. What if I set up brothels and send him whores. Whores that’ll mimic my opinion…”

“No way.” Maribelle’s face reddened with anger. “You keep forgetting we’re married. I’ll not have me, and my house’s reputation be dragged to the gutter by you!” She screeched which cause Petyr to rub his ears.

“Fine… Fine. I’ll get someone loyal to do it. Preferably, someone that shares the same vision as me?”

“Of chaos and disorder or prosperity and progress? Which one?”

She got a flick to the nose for that. “Prosperity and progress, of course! Chaos and disorder are nothing but the means to achieve something meaningful.” He yawned. “Now, let’s get some much-needed shut-eye. We’ve got to talk to Gerry tomorrow!”

~ ~ ~ ~

Petyr and she knocked on the door.

“Come in.” Both stepped inside and saw Gerold sitting behind a desk with his brown hair messy and laced with sweat.

“Gerry… You’ve never gotten seasick before? What’s happened?” Petyr asked a little bit worried.

He waited for both to sit then said, “It’s not seasickness. It’s the implication of what you’ve done is what made me sick. What possessed you to kill him? Were the rumours true of you taking Lysa’s virginity? Did you want to marry her and kill Robar in the process as well?” Gerold gave a pointed look to Maribelle. “Are you prepared to widow yourself, Petyr?”

Maribelle jolted upright at the insinuation. His husband may not be perfect, but she knows Petyr will never harm her. She was also honour bound to defend him. “I already know about what he’s done, my lord.”

Gerold fumbled as he dropped his quill, spilling ink on the desk. “W-what?! And you didn’t tell anyone? Why?”

“Because we’ll also be implicated. We’re highly linked with Petyr. For better or worse. No amount of pleading innocent and ignorance will give our enemies pause when they put our heads on spikes.” Maribelle slightly lied. The position she and Lord Gerold hold demands some leeway to… Get away with anything deemed inappropriate.

“Is that why you’ve finally confessed to me! So, that you can drag me down when your dirty secret comes out.” Gerold glared at Petyr.

“That was never the case. There’s nothing on his death that would be traced to me or Gulltown. I have made sure of that.”

The boy laughed so violently that he started to cough. Gerold eventually said, “It’s convenient, isn’t it? Everything is so well placed, so well planned, so well organised when it comes to you.” Maribelle noticed Petyr sitting straight on his chair. “His death, the succession crisis, putting Robar on the Moon Throne and having your Tully friend marry him. Well… I’ve got bad news for you. Robar distrust you.”

“I know he does. Yet he still listens to me. Do you know why?”

“The same reason why I listen to you. You’re simply too useful.”

Petyr grinned at that and started to clap. “That’s good. After we’ve crushed the Dornish and the Reach, I hope my reforms will last?”

“It will.”

“Very good, Gerry. Very good. Make sure to advise Robar on how it’s done.” He got up and messed his sweaty hair. He was about to open the door when he suddenly looked back at Gerold. “Oh, you missed one last thing. Robar listens to me because I gave him the Vale. You,” he pointed at Gerold, “best make him remember.”

Petyr XII

He should’ve realised that coming to King’s Landing with 50 ships and offloading 5,000 redcoats was going to cause attention. An uproar more like. It seems the people of King’s Landing are still traumatised from the Lannister sack. Orchestrated by none other than the redcloaks. The colour red has been burnt into their psyche as the Lannisters looted their homes, killed their husbands or raped their daughters. He felt insulted by that. The redcoats are a disciplined force that has been bloodied thrice. A real standing army that is being paid. It’s comprised of people that actually want to be there, not just levees forced by their lords to fight for them, hence their substantial morale. Furthermore, they’re all smallfolk! They understand the plight of the poor and therefore wouldn’t ruin someone’s livelihood by wanton theft. Or at least most wouldn’t.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

He walked down the gangplank and was greeted by a host of Goldcloaks and a rotund bald man. “Welcome, Lord Petyr Baelish, to King’s Landing. My name is Varys.” The bald man said in an almost feminine way.

Petyr looked at the Goldcloak shuffling in his feet. “And you? No introduction for yourself?”

“My name is Alyn Estermont. I’ve been appointed by my grandfather as the Lord Commander of the Goldcloaks. Welcome to the city Lord Baelish. We have a carriage waiting for us so you all may pay your respects to the King.”

The three continued to exchange pleasantries until they got to their carriage where the atmosphere suddenly froze. The silence was interrupted by Alyn, “So, care to tell us what happened to the Vale? There are muddied rumours regarding heresy, blasphemy and attacks on noble rights.” This made Varys smile and lightly chuckle in a way that annoyed Petyr.

“Treason most foul is what happened to Lord Grafton.” He pointed at the carriage behind them. “Perhaps you two would just have to wait till we get to Red Keep for his opinion.”

Varys giggled again. “Please, Lord Baelish, stop being so coy. We know you’re the one behind most of the changes in Gulltown. It’s not been lost on me that you managed to increase the revenue in Gulltown by ten-folds! Such a feat demands the utmost respect.”

Petyr sighed in relief which he quickly disguised as chuckling. “Thank you, Lord Varys. I don’t get a lot of compliments for my work as most people would dismiss it as copper-counting.” He ignored Alyn rolling his eyes. “To answer your question Lord Alyn, the Shepherds of Gulltown approved of my plans to secure the welfare of the poorer folk. Septon Qarlton and Septa Dennise assured me that they wrote a letter to the High Septon of King’s Landing and Oldtown denouncing the claims of heresy as false and nothing but slander. Fear not, those who dared lie and committed treason against Lord Gerold, haven’t escaped justice as they’re now in the Wall serving in the Night’s Watch.”

“It’s convenient that most of your opponents are mostly in the Night’s Watch.” Varys quipped.

Petyr tensed to force a rictus smile and responded, “Hardly so. I was the one that persuaded Gerold to have mercy on the Gulltown Arryns. He ended up punishing Isembard instead. The sins of the father don’t pass down to their wife, sons and daughters.” I also needed Robar to become Lord of the Vale. It was also fortunate Lysa took a liking to him. I hope she doesn’t become too dependent on him. It’ll be very convenient if she still had some feelings for me so I’ll have some influence on Robar. Petyr cringed but kept on smiling.

“An honourable deed.” Alyn huffed but Petyr spied him nodding slightly. “But that still doesn’t excuse the way you’ve severely curtailed the nobility’s rights. I do advise you to speak carefully from now on, as every word you say I’ll relate to grandfather – Lord Eldon and to the Small Council.”

Petyr was shocked when Varys gave him an approving glance. “We had no choice. The vast majority of knightly and masterly houses have forsaken their oaths to the Grafton of Gulltown. Their cadet branches were also not innocent. All chosen to rise in revolt to overthrow Lord Gerold. Most even chose to escape justice through murder! We were originally going to pardon their families but to our surprise, they harboured secret biases and sympathies for their exiled sons, not caring that they have committed murder.” Petyr sighed heavily and shook his head. “We tried to negotiate for them to hand over those criminals, but many refused. Fearful of another revolt, I ordered the redcoats to march and seize their lands. All resisted and all were banished.”

Alyn grunted. “Acceptable enough. The Small Council will not enrol a member that causes chaos by disrupting the order of the world. I believe you already know about Robar’s demand to send 25,000 of his men to Robert’s cause?”

“That I’ll be inducted into the Small Council. As a Master of Coin?”

“Exactly so. Lord Lyman Chelsted has been suffering from ill health for the past few weeks. He has recently resigned to live his final days in his house’s lands of Brindlewood.” Varys said as he held his arms out, palms open which Petyr shook. “I look forward to working with you, Lord Petyr.” He could’ve sworn Varys started to grin maliciously like a Cheshire cat.

“Likewise, Lord Varys.”

The small talk went back and forth until they were let into the Red Keep. Petyr saw the structure and couldn’t help but be impressed. Red bricks which interwove seamlessly with one another jutted to the sky dozens of storeys high. The battlements and watchtowers put the ones back in Riverrun to shame. It almost rivalled the majesty of the Dome of the Eyrie. A cathedral-like structure jutted out of Aegon’s Hill propped up by gothic supports that crisscrossed the length of the Throne Room.

“Everyone has the same reaction as you do, Lord Baelish. Even me when my lord Father took me to King’s Landing many years ago when I was a babe.” Alyn said as he took in the sight of the Red Keep.

“The Red Keep is truly an awe-inspiring structure. It’s beautiful. It almost made me forget the greedy looks we kept on getting from the people in Fleabottom.”

Alyn shivered and clenched his fist. “Indeed… They’re hungry. The grains from the Reach have stopped due to the war. I’m so lucky that they’ve yet to riot in the streets.”

Jackpot… I know it was worth it bringing Maribelle here. The Vanterys are going to be supplying this city with food! “Mayhaps, the Vale can help with that.” Both look stunned by his offer. “There’s a reason why Lord Robar sent me ahead with 5,000 men. The Redcoats will temporarily prop up the Goldcloaks to prevent riots and other disorder.”

“You have my thanks, my lord.” Alyn gratefully said.

“Not only that but the lands being cultivated around Gulltown and the rest of Grafton lands have been expanding. The people with their new tools have sought to that. We have enough food to start exporting to King’s Landing.”

“Incredible. Lord Robar is lucky to have such a capable and loyal vassal such as yourself. It also helped that you showed mercy to him.” Of course, I did. He was useful. I didn’t know if Bruce Hardyng can be controlled. He was a volatile factor in my plans, so he needed to go.

They rode through a bountiful garden with a spread of exotic plants and neatly trimmed hedges. They exited and Petyr was immediately accosted by his wife. “Why did the spider, the Master of Ships personally ride with you? What did he say?”

“All in good time, Maribelle.” Petyr noticed Gerold walking purposely slow behind them. “Gerry, come walk with us. Sorry to make you jealous.” He pulled Maribelle closer causing her to yelp. “You must be missing your new wife. Ysilla is a pretty thing, isn’t she?” Gerold blushed and started to stammer but Petyr reassured him. “Don’t worry. This war is good as done. You’ll get to be with her soon enough. As for me… It looks like I’m joining the Small Council.” Petyr suspiciously thought of Robar. This could be his plan to prevent Petyr from commanding the redcoats and therefore his ploy to get their loyalty. Bad news for Robar… They’re already entirely loyal to me because I pay them. Most of their families say nothing but good things about me. So as long as he’s willing to cough up thousands of golden dragons and have their families hostage, he’ll likely fail to inspire loyalty with my men.

“You won’t be going to war with me?” Gerold pouted.

“Oh, don’t be like that. Just listen to the advice I gave you back at Ironoaks. Stay back from the army. Oversee and lead from the rear. If you die you won’t be able to co-ordinate the battle anymore causing your command to collapse. After that, your army will rout.”

“You mean your army?”

“The redcoats are all from your lands. They know your father’s wise rule and your benevolent governance. You really should give yourself more credit for Gulltown’s prosperity.”

Gerold was about to argue but the herald interrupted him by announcing them into the Throne Room. “The Dignitaries for the Vale, Lord Robar Arryn’s representatives! Lord Petyr Baelish! Lady Maribelle Baelish! Lord Gerold Grafton!”

The three marched across the hall and noticed a monstrosity of a chair. The hulking chair was made up of iron steps lined with jagged swords, twisted in every direction. It would be with great caution if someone were to sit on that without cutting themselves, Petyr mused. The three kneeled and bowed their heads to the young man sitting on the throne. “I’ll take it from here,” Petyr whispered.

He took the time to stare at the Stag King. He had black hair with deep blue eyes and radiated authority and power. “Your Grace, on behalf of Robar Arryn, the Lord of the Vale and the Warden of the West, we offer our loyal and leal service to you. May our swords avenge Jon Arryn.”

“You! You’re going to be my replacement for the Master of Coin?” Robert boomed. “You don’t look much.” Parts of the audience laughed at that, but Petyr made them no heed.

“I may not look much but I’ve fought in two battles, your grace. As Lord Arryn and,” He politely pointed at Gerold, “Lord Grafton would attest. Though your right. I prefer to lift tomes than a sword. I find tomes much heavier.”

Robert guffawed and laughed prompting the sycophants to laugh with him. “You have humour too, I see. I need more of that especially when my dour Hand already makes me so miserable.”

Petyr noticed to his side, a man that resembled the King grinding his teeth along with a much older gentleman shaking his head and loudly sighing. To ease the tension Petyr replied, “The Vale sends 25,000 swords, your grace. 5,000 of them are already here. I’ve spoken with Lord Alyn that they would help with restoring order in King’s Landing.”

The older Lord huffed in approval, “As the Master of Laws, I thank you and Lord Robar for the help.”

That must be Lord Eldon Estermont. Looks like a man with a lot of experience. Old too. Must be set in his ways. It’s going to be difficult convincing him of my reforms. “Not only that, my lord. The Vale has a lot to offer. We could start shipping food here to alleviate the food crisis. I predict the next food will start to arrive within a week.” Maribelle shifted and gave Petyr a suspicious look.

The Estermont Patriarch nodded. “Very generous. The Crown will look to reward you for such generosity.”

“Now… If there’s nothing else then this court is adjourned-.”

“Not yet, brother. It seems Lord Baelish has more to say.” The man wearing a golden necklace with the Hand’s insignia said.

Petyr bowed to him. “Thank you, my Lord Hand. My liege lord bid me to share some good news. Lady Lysa Arryn has been found by the Gulltown Fleet.” The gallery and the crowd gasped. It seems the disappearance of his foster sister for two months led them to think her dead. “Lord Robar will be meeting Lord Hoster Tully to arrange a marriage between their two houses to honour the previous agreement with the late Lord Jon Arryn.”

Out of the rest of the Small Council, Varys was the one that looked stupefied and bewildered. The tactics commonly used by MI5 and MI4 seemed to work wonders against the Spider. Simple diversions, false ends and a slew of pointless rumours.

“This is indeed good news. Is she well?” Robert asked a little bit concerned.

“Yes, my lord. The pirates who captured her seemed to keep her maidenhead intact.”

A sigh of relief sounded through the hall as Robert said, “I hope that justice was delivered to the ones who kidnapped Jon’s wife?” In which Petyr nodded in return. Looks like Hoster managed to keep a tight lid on the information relating to me and Lysa. “Good. Very good. To foster peace and stability between the realms, I shall personally give my blessings between the union of house Tully and House Arryn. May their marriage strengthen the realm.”

“Hear! Hear!”

Robert stretched his muscled arms as he slowly walked down from the iron behemoth. “Now. This court is adjourned. I’m off to hunt in the King’s Wood.” The man ran from Throne Room causing the guests to part away.

An ageing man much thinner than Petyr walked over and said, “So, you’re my replacement.” He chuckled at that. “It seems Master of Coins are never the… Martial type.” He cleared his throat as he straightened his posture, “Pardon me. Where are my manners? My name is Lyman Chelsted.” Both shook hands before he continued, “I’ve read the report the bald eunuch gave me and I’m impressed. Though, I’ll warn you about grasping too much. This isn’t Gulltown.” He walked off leaving a bewildered Petyr behind.

He wasn’t sure if that was a threat but it definitely made his back shiver in fright. He saw Gerold mingling with the other lords at the same time Maribelle was walking over to him. “We’re guests and you’re now the Master of Coin. Congratulations. This means we’ll be sleeping in their chambers.”

Petyr put his finger on her lips. “You know that’s not happening. You should know by now that I’ve borrowed some of your men to scout a perfect spot for us to live in this city. It’s close to the port. Surrounded by my troops. The walls wouldn’t have ears unlike here.” Then he grinned like a fox. “A perfect place to disguise and blend in with the city.”

Maribelle looked suspicious and kept silent until they walked over to the corner of the sprawling garden. She looked left and right conspiratorially before saying, “What are you planning? And why did you lie about shipping grain? You’ve already filled those 50 ships with grain that could easily feed 5,000 people, a dozen times over! And we have ships with bushels of wheat and meat in Duskendale. We can easily order them here.”

“The people aren’t starving yet.”

Maribelle rolled her eyes and firmly crossed her arms. “What. Are. You. Planning?”

“We’ll wait till they’re on the verge of starvation. Once that happens, the food will come in. Delivered to them by my redcoats. They’ll be forced to eat where we want them to eat.” Petyr started to walk back and forth. “Tell me, Maribelle, why I need them to starve.” He waited until she shrugged. “The hungrier they are, the more chance to radicalise them. And who better to do it than us? Imagine it! As they eat we’ll fill their ears with blame and scorn! Blaming the nobility who has forgotten about them! Then we’ll simply let loose our criers, our propagandists to offer them a better life as they fill their parched stomachs. We’ll have the entire Fleabottom in a blink of an eye.”

“And what’s the overall goal of this?”

“Loyal people that will listen to us. Listen to our vision!” He clasped his hands together and started to chuckle. “They won’t be immediately useful but the deans and chancellors of the Gulltown schools could ship some of their teachers and more promising graduates here in King’s Landing.”

“And do you think the King and the Small Council will let you?”

“Soon I will become the Small Council.” He hugged Maribelle and kissed her on the cheeks. “With your help of course. Once Robert, his grandfather, brother and Lord Commander leave for war, it’ll just be me and the eunuch in the capital.”

“I’m not convinced. What makes you think that they’ll go for war?”

“The King is obvious, of course, his Kingsguard will follow him. Stannis will run off to Brightwater Keep to decimate the Tyrells. Eldon Estermont will run south to protect his lands from Oberyn’s raiders. Perhaps he’ll leave his grandson, Alyn behind. But his son, Aemon, will probably go with Robert’s host down the Boneway Path to earn his spurs. This is all speculation with a healthy dose of deduction.”

“You’ll still have potential opponents. Like the Spider, the High Septon. You’ll also need to purge out Lyman Chelsted’s cronies from the Treasury.”

“Easy. I’ll simply have them take an exam.” He grinned at her and by the way she bristled, the irony wasn’t lost on her. “Now… We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

~ ~ ~ ~

A full week passed. There were a few protests and angry rumblings, but the redcoats managed to calm the denizens of King’s Landing. But the city was about to explode – and was ripe for the taking. Petyr dressed in a layer of chainmail along with a red tunic to disguise himself as a redcoat. He and his guards came out of his manse and briskly walked to the harbour. Already a huge group of people crowded it as boats filled with food started to offload. Petyr joined the squadron of redcoats who escorted the carriages snaking towards the Barter square in Fleabottom.

He looked satisfied by the looks of hunger the smallfolk gave them. As the vans filtered through and his men went about enforcing an orderly line, he prepared to give out a speech. “Lord Petyr has promised, and he has delivered!” Petyr waved at the stands full of food causing his chainmail to rattle. “He cares for you! The good people of King’s Landing! The new Master of Coin is listening to the plight of the common people and has generously given you food! There’s enough bread for everyone! So please form an orderly line!” A thunderous applause and a roaring cheer immediately burst out of the audience as Petyr smirked and cupped his chin. Now for the criers.

The criers waited for some to finish eating their meal to maximise their attention. “It doesn’t have to be like this! Ye all shouldn’t be this hungry! The Lords of the realm should be carin’ for you as you pay your honest taxes! Yer taxes, yer meagre belongings are being used to fill the pockets of the people at the top!” The smallfolk listened with rapt attention. “And that’s why Lord Petyr has promised to give ye jobs! Jobs that would give you enough copper, or mayhaps, silver stags so that you don’t have to beggar yerself! So, ye can live in dignity! Lord Petyr has given me permission to say this! He wants anyone who is hardworkin’, honest and the will to no longer live in poverty!” The crier began to speak the specifics of applying for a school and so on, but Petyr zoned it out and focused on a rag-wearing folk smiling serenely towards him.

His grey rags promptly made him obvious upon the sea of brown. The middle-aged man was escorted by a few people armed with clubs with the sign of the Seven carved into their foreheads. His redcoats quickly tensed up and placed their hands on the sheaths of their swords but Petyr stopped them. He lowered his mask to make his face visible causing them to instantly recognise him.

“I’m sorry if my people look threatening. They refuse to escort me without adequate protection. As much as I work here and see the beauty of charity on the plight of the common man, unfortunately, this area is also full of crime.” The grey-ragged man smiled. “You don’t need to wear a disguise, Lord Petyr. I know it’s you.” He laughed as Petyr slightly stepped back in concern. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you and your wife prowling the streets of Fleabottom? I must say, I’m grateful.” The man beckoned for him. “Come, my house is on the top floor of this building.”

Petyr reluctantly followed him along with a host of redcoats who were surprisingly allowed to enter despite the menacing aura they exuded. “I must say, my good man, I thought our disguises were great.”

He chuckled at that. “Living through these streets gives you a… Sharper eye than most. But I’m really grateful. Your redcoats are the paragon of the Mother’s Virtue, the Warrior’s Resilience and the Father’s Honour. They all but eradicated villainy in the Fleabottom, and now their distributing food. My flock and I are truly grateful.”

“Your flock? You look like a holy man. But you’re no Septon.”

“Keen eye, Lord Baelish. I abhor the corruption at the top of the Faith. They should be caring for the people instead of cosying to the nobility. Some are even accepting… Substantial bribes in return for their ‘sins’ to be forgiven.” He angrily grunted at that. “Indulgences – those hypocritical lots call it. But it’s nice not all of the nobility look down on the common folk.”

Petyr’s guard went up at that. Talking badly about the nobility in King’s Landing despite his disguise was dangerous. As the city was increasingly getting full of nobles from across Westeros. Knights and young heirs who drank too much were a huge source of property damage and unfortunately rape. There was nothing that can be done without picking a fight he may not win. This all frustrated Petyr. Everyone should all be under the same laws and prosecuted equally. After all, Lady Justice is blind to wealth, to status and to power. “I may not have been born as a smallfolk but I know their plight. Their potential is awe-inspiring.”

“Is that why you’re recruiting them? Do you plan to replicate the successes of your schools in Gulltown?”

“You remind me of Septon Qarlton Master…”

This caused the man to blush and laugh. “Oh my! I seem to have lost my manners. Please forgive me. I don’t have a name. I abandoned that long ago when I saw the injustice and inequality that the common man suffered through. But… To make it simpler, everyone just calls me the High Sparrow.”

“So… High Sparrow, you’re men earlier? Why do they look mutilated?” Petyr jabbed. Looks like this was a man that shared his views but could be a dangerous zealot. And zealots are often very hard to control.

He had the grace to shrug. “I don’t know why they’ve done that but I guess it’s to be closer with the Seven. They take their faith seriously.”

“Why haven’t you done so? Do you not take faith seriously as much as them?”

“Oh no. I do take it seriously. I feed the hungry, I cloth the naked and I wash the feet of the damned and dying. I don’t need to carve the Heptagram in my forehead to be close with the Seven.”

“A man of the people then.”

“Just like you.” The High Sparrow quipped back.

“So, what do you want? You clearly want something when you invited me to your humble home.”

“I do not want anything, but the betterment of the people.”

“Material betterment or spiritual betterment?”

“Both.” The middle-aged man quickly said.

A zealot through and through. Petyr slowly contemplated. He had the men and the steel to murder everyone in this house. He had the authority to simply avert sniffing noses, nosey eyes and twitching ears. “Tell me, what are your ambitions? You must have some.”

“To serve the Gods. And the Gods have spoken.” Have they really? Petyr somehow sat still with his face neutral even when his guards started to snigger. “The Gods want me to work with you. I don’t know why they favour you, but I’m their servant till the day I die. My people know how to read and write. They may not know about the intricacies of mathematics but we can help with your schools.”

“Very well, High Sparrow.” Both stood up and shook each other’s hands. “To a lasting and productive relationship.”