chapter 136 part 1
Chapter 136: A Villain's Council
Varys's face was wreathed in smiles as he continued, "Lord Stark, you are the Hand of the King. It is our duty to serve you."
After speaking, he and the other members of the Small Council took their designated seats.
Because King Robert had said all his councilors were cunning men, Lord Eddard did not let his guard down, despite his extreme exhaustion.
His gaze swept over them, and he frowned. "Why are there only five people at this Small Council meeting?"
Varys glanced at Renly Baratheon and said in a hushed tone, "Lord Hand, Lord Stannis has just returned to Dragonstone, and Ser Barristan is attending the King."
Grand Maester Pycelle, who had been sitting quietly in his seat, raised his head and spoke slowly, "Lord Hand, today's Small Council meeting is regarding the tourney. It is to celebrate the new Hand of the King's appointment, so there is no need to summon all the councilors."
Petyr pursed his lips. "I can't even remember the last time all seven seats were filled."
Lord Eddard looked at Petyr, then turned to Pycelle and said, "Maester Pycelle, you look to be in robust health. And thank you for your counsel."
Pycelle tremblingly placed a hand on his chest and said, "Lord Eddard, I am old, after all. I tire easily. I nearly dozed off just now."
An imperceptible frown creased Lord Eddard's brow. He found speaking to these people truly exhausting.
"My lords, let us first discuss this tourney."
After listening to the council's discussion for a while, Lord Eddard nearly cursed aloud.
The Iron Throne's debt exceeds six million Gold Dragons?!
Didn't the Targaryens leave behind mountains of gold, silver, and treasure? How did it come to this!
And the tourney was being held in his name. Just how far was Robert planning to take this farce? Did Robert think he would feel honored by this?
More importantly, this was piling disaster upon disaster for the realm's finances.
...
Lord Eddard took a breath, keeping his tone as calm as possible as he said, "I will speak with His Grace, Robert. The realm cannot afford such an extravagant and wasteful tourney."
Lord Renly laughed cheerfully. "Eddard, who knows when you'll next see my brother. King's Landing is already filled with people who have come for the tourney, and more are on their way. It's too late to cancel it."
Varys explained again, "Our dear King Robert has too many matters to worry about. He won't make a special trip back for such trifles."
Lord Renly shrugged. "Eddard, my brother gets a headache just from hearing about matters involving finances, harvests, and laws. He put us here to lighten his burden."
"...Damn it all!"
Lord Eddard cursed under his breath. He looked towards the Master of Coin. "Lord Baelish, how do you plan to raise the funds needed for the tourney?"
Petyr curled the corner of his lip. "Lord Hand Stark, I have already prepared the Gold Dragons."
Seeing Lord Eddard's confused expression, he explained in a tone laced with mockery, "Everyone knows the royal treasury has been empty for years. Every time we need money, don't we just extend a hand to borrow? Besides, we already owe the Lannisters over three million Gold Dragons. Borrowing a little more for the tourney is no great matter."
Lord Eddard's pupils constricted. Over three million Gold Dragons... Why would the Lannisters be so generous?
Petyr's eyes flickered, as if seeing through Lord Eddard's thoughts. He added, "There is a Lannister Queen sitting in the Red Keep, so House Lannister is more than willing to provide support, Lord Eddard."
Lord Eddard said with some frustration, "Damn this tourney. The sooner this farce is over, the sooner I'll have some peace of mind."
Pycelle suddenly spoke up, "Lord Eddard, this afternoon the Commander of the Gold Cloaks reported on the current state of King's Landing. He expressed his concern over the city's public order."
Lord Eddard leaned back in his chair. "Go on."
"The number of knights arriving in King's Landing for the tourney has steadily increased. And for every knight that arrives, two sellswords, three craftsmen, six squires, a dozen merchants, and two dozen whores follow. As for thieves, there are more than I dare to guess."
"Last night alone, someone drowned, plus there was a tavern riot, three brawls with drawn blades, one rape, two fires, and countless robberies... I heard a drunken horse even charged straight into a sept."
After Pycelle finished, Varys shivered and opened his mouth. "This morning, a woman's head was found floating in the rainbow pool of the Great Sept of Baelor. No one knows where the head came from, nor whose head it is. It's too horrifying."
Lord Renly said in annoyance, "If Janos Slynt can't even maintain order in the city, I'm afraid the Gold Cloaks need a more capable man as their Commander."
Pycelle nodded. "That is one solution, Lord Renly."
Lord Eddard asked, "Has he thought of a solution?"
"Janos hopes the Small Council will approve his request for more men."
After Pycelle answered, Petyr sneered.
More men? Lord Eddard immediately thought of Glyn's soldiers, but then secretly shook his head.
After a moment of silence, Lord Eddard spoke. "I will assign twenty of my guards to Janos. Then let him hire fifty more men. As for the money..."
He turned his head to look at Petyr and continued, "Lord Baelish will handle it."
Petyr was taken aback. "I'll handle it?"
"You heard me correctly. Since you can so quickly raise the Gold Dragons for the tourney, I trust that producing a few copper stars to maintain order in King's Landing will be no problem."
Petyr's expression was a mixture of helplessness and bitterness. He shrugged. "I am happy to be of service, Lord Eddard."
"As for the remaining matters, we'll discuss them another day..."
Lord Eddard realized his tone was not quite right, and mentally reminded himself that this was not Winterfell.
He softened his tone and continued, "My lords, I am truly exhausted. Let us conclude here for today. We will continue when my strength has returned."
Without waiting for the others to respond, Lord Eddard stood up, nodded to those seated, and strode directly out of the throne room.
...
The dining hall in the Tower of the Hand was a long room with a high, vaulted ceiling, large enough to seat over two hundred people.
The Starks were having their evening meal. With only fifty-some people in their retinue, the long table seemed desolate and empty.
The first course of the evening meal had just been cleared when Arya saw her father walk in. She could tell he was not in a good mood.
Lord Eddard waved his hand, signaling for everyone who had risen to greet him to sit down.
After the Captain of the Guards, Jory Cassel, sat down, he said, "My lord, everyone outside is talking about the tourney. They say knights from all Seven Kingdoms will come to fight for your honor, to celebrate the new Hand of the King."
Sansa's eyes lit up. "It will surely be an unprecedentedly grand tourney! Father, can we go?"
Arya noticed her father's expression darken even further. She turned to her excited sister and said, "Sansa, don't you hate swords and spears the most? Don't start crying from fright. You'd be better off staying in your room and playing with your precious needlework."
Sansa lifted her chin. "Arya, you're the one who should stay in your room! Father told us to behave, but you snuck out."