King's Landing – Rhaenys's Hill
Pierce didn't feel one bit disappointed or annoyed about not getting to stay in the Red Keep like so many first-time nobles arriving in King's Landing. Instead, he settled right into Littlefinger's "Eden" as his base in the city, perfectly comfortable.
This place was a melting pot—information flowed fast, and best of all, it kept him far away from the Red Keep's constant eyes belonging to the king and his top advisors. He could move more freely here and make easier contact with certain "shadows."
He didn't give a damn what those self-important ancient families thought of him as a "new money" upstart. Practicality was his creed.
The day of the Golden Tassel's "Tomorrow's Star" event arrived quickly.
That morning, Pierce let Littlefinger's bed slaves fuss over him and dress him carefully. He skipped anything too flashy and went with a perfectly tailored deep-blue velvet jacket, the edges embroidered with fine silver thread in subtle wave patterns like the sea.
Underneath was a soft white silk shirt with the collar slightly open—casual but elegant. A simple but heavy silver chain hung around his neck, ending in the teardrop jade pendant from Leng, perfectly matching his unique violet eyes.
He wore a few rings set with different gems, including his personal sigil ring. The whole look was charming, mysterious, and unmistakably noble.
With Rosco and Benard Blount guarding him, Pierce arrived early at the Silk Square below Rhaenys's Hill.
The place was already buzzing with people. A big detachment of City Watch soldiers—Gold Cloaks—had been pulled in to keep order, spears in hand as they carved paths and guard lines through the excited crowd.
The air was thick with mixed perfumes, sweat, and street food smells, plus that restless energy that always crackled at big public gatherings.
Rumor had it some royal or high lord might show up to watch, so security was extra tight.
After showing his special "Eden" invitation, Pierce was led to one of the best viewing stands. The stands were built in a ring like a mini arena around the central stage where the performances and displays would happen.
He'd barely sat down when Littlefinger appeared like a bee smelling honey.
"Lord Pierce, your early arrival truly makes this event shine!" Petyr Baelish beamed, personally showing him to his seat.
Just as Littlefinger was about to chat more, a tall figure slipped up quietly, bringing a heavy wave of perfume.
It was a bald, burly man in flashy but tacky satin robes, face plastered with a fawning smile.
"Honored lord," his high-pitched voice clashed with his size, "might you need a charming companion to make this wonderful time even better? We have ladies from every corner of—"
Before he could finish, a softer voice with a unique penetrating quality cut in: "I believe this lord might prefer a moment of peace and quiet."
Everyone turned. Varys the Spider stood there in a light-colored silk robe, that harmless smile still fixed on his face.
The bald man clearly recognized the Master of Whisperers and instantly shut up, bowing as he backed away.
A flash of amusement crossed Littlefinger's eyes. He made a polite excuse and slipped off.
Varys naturally took the empty seat beside Pierce, moving as lightly as a feather. "I hope I'm not disturbing your enjoyment, Lord Pierce."
Pierce turned his head slightly toward one of King's Landing's most mysterious figures. "Lord Varys is so busy with work, yet he still finds time for… entertainment like this? Quite surprising."
Varys spoke in that soft, whispery voice of his: "My work is to listen to every heartbeat in this city, my lord! And here," he swept his gaze over the noisy square, "is one of the strongest pulses in King's Landing. Besides, getting the chance for a private talk with a fast-rising young talent like yourself is worth setting aside a few minor tasks."
He paused, then casually dropped a topic: "I wonder, Lord Pierce—while you were traveling the world, especially doing business in Essos, did you ever hear of an organization called the 'Rising Tide'?"
Pierce's heart gave a tiny jolt, but his face stayed blank. He even picked up the wine cup a servant had brought and took a slow sip of chilled summer red.
"Rising Tide?" He set the cup down, tone neutral. "The name rings a bell—lots of rumors, hard to tell what's true. Supposedly they control a lot of shady trade between the eastern and western continents and have serious reach. Why the sudden interest, Lord Varys?"
Varys's eyes seemed to drift casually across Pierce's face, hunting for the tiniest twitch.
"There are indeed many rumors! Some say they're fanatics of the Star-Seating cult, others claim they're Targaryen remnants plotting a restoration… The group operates in secret but slips into everything. I'm simply curious—your own astonishing rise in wealth and power in such a short time… the path you took seems to overlap in some… intriguing ways with this mysterious organization's activities."
Pierce didn't flinch. Instead he let out a light laugh. He turned, violet eyes carrying a half-smile as they met Varys's probing gaze head-on.
"Lord Varys," Pierce said with a touch of teasing, "you know so much about old secrets… have you ever heard the legend of House Blackfyre?"
Varys's smile froze for a split second. He recovered quickly, but the flash of shock in his eyes didn't escape Pierce.
"House Blackfyre? Didn't the male line die out completely in the War of the Ninepenny Kings?"
"The male line may have ended," Pierce drawled, eyes still locked on Varys, "but what about the female line? If… just if… some woman carrying Blackfyre blood kept the family's 'mission' alive in her heart, might she not seek out a 'friend' in Essos with serious wealth and power to help her—or perhaps help one of her… 'relatives'—pursue ambitions that never quite died?"
Varys's pupils contracted almost imperceptibly. Though he controlled it perfectly, his breath hitched for the briefest moment, and the fingers on his knee curled slightly.
"Lord Pierce truly has… a vivid imagination." Varys's voice stayed soft but lost some of its earlier ease. "Such speculation is rather shocking… and completely baseless."
"Oh?" Pierce's smile widened. "You seem a little tense, my lord. Did I accidentally hit a nerve?"
Varys took a slow breath and slipped the perfect mask back on. "You jest, my lord. I simply feel that on such a pleasant occasion, discussing old history and vague conspiracies is a bit of a mood killer."
Right then a loud horn blast rang across the square, signaling the event was about to begin.
Varys rose smoothly and gave a slight bow. "Looks like the show is starting. I won't disturb your enjoyment any longer. May the 'Tomorrow's Star' you bet on bring you good luck and… handsome returns!"
With that, he melted back into the crowd as silently as he'd come.
The moment Varys left, Littlefinger reappeared like a ghost. He leaned in close, voice low with barely hidden curiosity and a hint of schadenfreude.
"I saw all that, Lord Pierce. You're the first person I've ever seen leave our all-knowing Spider speechless and rattled. Care to satisfy my curiosity—what exactly did you say to him?"
Pierce glanced at him and smiled mysteriously. "Some things are more fun when you don't know everything, Lord Petyr. A little mystery isn't bad, right?"
He smoothly changed the subject. "Speaking of which, are the 'flowers' for today's voting all set? I don't want my gold dragons turning into a pile of uncountable mess."
Littlefinger saw Pierce wasn't spilling and switched to merchant mode instantly.
"Don't worry—everything's ready. Different varieties and quantities of roses represent different vote counts, all secretly marked. We've also prepared special flower baskets with each noble's or merchant house's sigil for the big players who want to compete. Today's heavy hitters will naturally be those filthy-rich merchants desperate for fame."
Horns and bells mixed together as the crowd grew even louder. But in the middle of the noise, another figure Pierce hadn't expected appeared at the edge of the stand—Ser Davos Seaworth.
The Onion Knight wore clean but plain clothes that made him stick out like a sore thumb among the jeweled crowd. The second he spotted Pierce, obvious relief washed over his face and he walked over a little awkwardly.
"Lord Pierce!"
"Ser Davos?" Pierce sounded surprised. "Didn't expect to see you here—please, sit." He gestured to the empty seat beside him.
Davos hesitated, then sat down. He kept rubbing his hands together nervously, looking like he wanted to speak but couldn't quite get the words out. Pierce found it a little amusing.
"You look like you've got something on your mind, Ser," Pierce said easily. "Did Lord Stannis send you with a message?"
Davos sighed, clearly embarrassed. "Aye, my lord… it was Lord Stannis who sent me. He heard you'd arrived in King's Landing, so… he asked me to come check on things."
He phrased it politely, but the meaning was crystal clear—Stannis didn't trust Pierce loose in the big corrupt pot that was King's Landing and had sent his most loyal man to keep an eye on him.
Pierce nodded, understanding perfectly, tone light. "I see. Please tell Lord Stannis I'm only doing normal noble socializing. I get why he's worried—especially after that big fight he had with King Robert over the tax money and his idea to shut down every brothel in the city. He stormed back to Dragonstone in a huff."
He paused, giving an honest but gentle assessment. "Lord Stannis… is almost too honorable for his own good. He actually wanted the position of Master of Laws back then, but his rigid personality and lack of flexibility got him stuck as Master of Ships instead. This might sound a little disrespectful, but with that kind of nature, unless he loosens up a bit, he's probably going to keep running into walls in the future."
Davos opened his mouth to defend his lord, but realized almost everything Pierce said was true—and the tone carried no malice, only a touch of… regret?
Before he knew it, Pierce had steered his thoughts straight into considering the limits Stannis's character created.
Stannis despised the Lannisters in King's Landing so much that he hadn't brought his wife Selyse or daughter Shireen with him.
Sending Davos wasn't just about the city's temptations; the deeper reason was probably fear that his young future son-in-law might start copying Robert—drowning in wine, women, and endless affairs.
Pierce noticed Davos's discomfort and smoothly changed the subject, voice warmer now. "By the way, Ser Davos, how are your sons doing these days? I hear they're all serving under Lord Stannis."
Mentioning his boys instantly relaxed Davos; a hint of pride crept into his face. "Thank you for asking, my lord! My four eldest—Dale, Allard, Matthos, and Maric—are serving in the royal fleet. The youngest, Devan, is acting as Lord Stannis's squire on Dragonstone."
Pierce gave an approving nod. "That's excellent! They'll all be pillars for Lord Stannis in the years ahead." He paused, then asked almost casually, "I seem to remember you have a sixth son—about the same age as Princess Shireen?"
A spark of hope lit Davos's eyes. He took the opening. "Yes, my lord—his name is Steffon, just turned nine. I… I have a humble request. Would it be possible for Steffon to come to Golden Port someday and serve as your squire, learning from you?"
It was the classic move of a lesser noble trying to tie his family closer to a stronger lord—especially since Pierce was Stannis's future son-in-law. But Pierce shook his head.
"Ser Davos, I appreciate the trust. However, you may not know this—I never completed full knightly training and was never knighted myself. Sending a promising young man to follow me might actually hold him back on the proper path to knighthood."
Disappointment flickered across Davos's face, but he knew Pierce was right and simply nodded.
Just then music suddenly swelled from the central stage. A shower of flower petals drifted down through the air as the crowd cheered wildly. The master of ceremonies stepped forward and announced in a booming voice:
"The Golden Tassel 'Tomorrow's Star' selection—now begins!"
Every eye in the square—including Pierce's and a slightly deflated Davos's—turned toward the glittering stage. Another grand feast in King's Landing had officially kicked off.