Chapter 114: Artos Isn't That Weak
The Red Keep was never truly quiet.
Even in its calmer hours, there was always the echo of footsteps in the stone corridors. The castle breathed in whispers and watched in silence. It did not sleep so much as wait.
Artos had grown used to that.
He sat in one of the smaller chambers near the Tower of the Hand with Robb before him, a cup of mead in hand and a map laid open on the table between them. The day's council had ended, but the work had not. It never did. Not in King's Landing. Not when Tywin Lannister himself had arrived for the Hand's Tourney, and not when half the realm's great lords seemed determined to gather beneath the same roof and smile at one another like knives wrapped in velvet.
Artos leaned back slightly, his good eye on the map but his mind elsewhere.
Robb noticed.
"You are thinking too much, Uncle," Robb said.
Artos gave a short, dry sound. "Am I, boy?"
His tone was flat, clearly pushing back at Robb.
"The damn old lion is coming my way, and I am thinking too much."
Robb's mouth twitched. "Tywin Lannister is the king's good father. I am just saying we should show some restraint. It is not always necessary to invite trouble. He will not create it himself."
"No," Artos said. "That is what makes him dangerous."
He set the cup down and folded one hand over the other.
"You do not know him as I do. The man is rich, clever, patient, and cruel. I despise the man, but I am not a fool enough to think he is weak, or our friend in any way. I am not looking for trouble. But I will not sit and wait for it to arrive at our doors."
Robb leaned forward slightly. "You think he will make trouble?"
"I think he may decide whether trouble is worth the effort," Artos said. "That is the sort of man he is. He is clever, but also vain with his pride. One of the most dangerous men in the realm."
Robb was quiet for a moment, considering that.
"They say you and he do not like each other very much."
"We do not," Artos said. "Starks and Lannisters do not like each other. We were at each other's throats when Robert came to King's Landing. Your father threatened Lord Tywin. Ah, that was good to watch."
A faint smile touched Artos's mouth as he remembered it.
"So you can guess how much we like each other. Even a man like your father was threatening him, so you could imagine our relationship. The incident was enough to make the halls feel smaller."
Robb gave a small nod.
Artos's expression grew harder.
"You are representing the North here. Not just Winterfell, but as the next ruler of the North. You represent every lord from the North, and they all stand behind you now."
Robb listened without interrupting.
"If any Lannister tries to press you, do not bend. If they insult you, do not lower your eyes. If they test you, meet it. But do not be stupid either. There is a difference between standing firm and walking into a blade."
Robb looked at him steadily. "And if Lannisters trying to anything?"
Artos gave a faint smile.
"Then answer as a wolf, not as a boy. I think I taught you that."
Then his voice turned colder.
"Do not worry about it. I will stand behind you. Just do not bend down. It may not be physical, but it will be psychological. So be ready for that."
Robb let that settle before speaking again.
Artos continued, "Do not let them believe you weak. Not for a heartbeat. The Northerners has earned the right to be seen as hard man. Make that clear."
Robb nodded once, thoughtful. "Aye. I think I will—"
Before he could finish, the chamber door burst open.
The sound cut through the room like a thrown blade.
Arya rushed in at a speed that would have made any septa scream and any proper lady faint. Vakho followed close behind her, but not quickly enough to stop the storm that had already entered the room.
"Uncle!"
Arya's face was flushed, half from running and half from excitement, and she stopped only long enough to catch her breath before speaking in a rush.
"I am sorry, my lord," Vakho said. "I could not stop her. She said it was urgent."
Artos shook his head. "No worries. I will handle it from here."
Vakho nodded and retreated.
Artos's good eye narrowed slightly. "Arya. Are you all right? What happened? Or are you up to some new trouble?"
She ignored that completely.
"I heard something in the tunnels."
Robb frowned. "What tunnels?"
"The ones under the castle," Arya said, as if that explained everything. "The ones you let me go and look around—"
Artos nodded. He had, in fact, told her that.
"Go on."
"I heard two men talking," she went on.
"They were fat, and one had a funny voice. It was not like ours. He was saying things about the Hand. They said the new Hand needs to be handled like the old one."
She said it worriedly.
Artos became very still.
Arya, seeing she had his attention now, rushed ahead before he could stop her.
"One of them said to kill you."
Robb's face changed immediately.
Arya pointed sharply. "But the other one told him to wait. Wait and see, as this Hand is more aware and cautious."
She swallowed, then added, "The one who said to wait had a Westerosi accent. The other one sounded foreign."
The chamber had gone quiet.
"The foreign-sounding one seemed to know you," Arya said, her voice lowering slightly. "He said he knew you and had dealt with you before. He said he knew how powerful you are, and that is why I am telling you to act fast."
Robb looked from Arya to Artos, alarm rising in his face. Vakho stood near the door with his usual unreadable expression, though his eyes were hard now. He had clearly judged this worth bringing to Artos, but Arya had beaten him to the telling.
Artos motioned Arya closer.
"Come here."
She obeyed at once, still breathing hard.
He took her by the shoulders and looked down at her carefully. Her eyes were wide, but there was little fear in them.
"You did well to come to me," he said softly.
Then she became serious. "Are you going to do something?"
"Yes," Artos said at once. "Do not worry about this. It is not a big deal, Arya. But it is good that you caught it. We have an advantage now. You should not be afraid, all right? I am not that weak that some fools who think they are smarter than everyone else can kill me. So do not worry about it."
Arya looked reassured by that, though not entirely satisfied.
"Are you sure, Uncle? I do not want to lose you," she said, and there was feeling in it.
Artos crouched slightly so he could meet her eye to eye, and then he hugged her.
"Now remember this. I am not that weak. Not to fat men in tunnels. Not to lions in their dens. Not to anyone in this castle. So put your worries aside. We are wolves, all right, and we do not fear anything. We hunt our prey. Not the other way around."
He held her a moment longer.
"I am a wolf, and what they do, they survive. Wolves survive."
Arya smiled then, sharp and pleased.
Robb watched all of this with a strange mix of concern and admiration. He knew better than most that Artos's calm was not a lack of danger. It was often the opposite. It meant the danger had already been measured.
Still, the warning lingered.
Artos let Arya go and gave her the rest.
"Vakho, stay with her and protect her," Artos said with a smile, but his eyes told a different story.
Vakho understood. Lord Artos was serious about this.
Artos and Robb were left alone in the chamber, and Artos summoned Raka to speak with them.
Robb frowned. "Any clue, Uncle, on who it could be?"
Artos was silent for a moment, thinking, more serious than ever.
"I am fairly certain who the Westerosi man is," he said. "But the foreign-sounding one is interesting. He is probably from Essos. Most likely Varys is our Westorosi. I am suspicious of him already. But do not worry. My information network is better in Essos than it is here. I will have the picture soon enough."
Robb nodded, trusting his uncle.
Raka arrived in the chamber already aware of what had happened from Vakho.
Artos looked at Raka, serious as ever. "I want men around every Stark increased. Their safety must be the priority for our men. Do whatever it takes to make sure of it. Kill anyone if you must. DAMN THE CONSEQUENCES. I will handle it later, but not a single Stark should be harmed."
Raka nodded. "I understand, my lord. I will make sure everyone is protected and guarded."
He hesitated after saying it, as if he wanted to say something else but feared to do so.
Artos caught it. "Anything else?"
Raka nodded, and with some courage said, "My lord, it would be good if you started keeping a sword with you now. It is a dangerous time."
Robb also agreed. "That is a wise suggestion, Uncle. You should keep something, at least."
That seemed to put Artos in thought.
He looked at his hand, where a chain was wrapped around it, with a ring on that chain. He closed his eye for a moment.
At last, Artos spoke.
"Do not worry about me. I do not need a sword to kill a man. I will survive."
He said it stubbornly.
Now both Robb and Raka had opinions about that, but neither spoke them aloud, knowing it would only make his stubbornness worse.
Someone in the castle was talking too much.
Someone had begun to think Artos was too soft now.
But that mistake would cost them dearly.
Far from that chamber, in another part of the Red Keep, Cersei Lannister was in no mood for patience.
She stood before her father's chambers with her arms crossed tightly beneath her chest, her face drawn in anger that she had not bothered to hide.
Tywin sat as he often did when others tried to force urgency upon him — calm, still, and entirely in command of the room.
"Father, this man is making a spectacle of himself again and again," she said at once. "He even challenged the king's authority."
Tywin did not look up immediately.
"Artos Stark," she snapped. "The Hand. He sits there smiling as if he has already won every game in the realm. He has little respect for proper order, no respect for the crown's dignity. He disrespects the prince and the Lannisters, father."
Tywin's hands folded neatly before him.
"The lion does not concern himself with the opinions of sheep, Cersei."
Cersei's eyes narrowed. "Are you defending him, father?"
"I am telling you not to concern yourself with the wolf," Tywin replied. "He barks now, but he will bite if you continue being foolish. He is a Hand. You are a queen. Your son is a prince. You should all behave as such."
That only irritated her more.
Cersei's face hardened. "Then what would you have me do?"
Tywin turned back to her.
"Be patient," he said. "And watch him carefully. I know patience is not one of your virtues, nor is cleverness . You think yourself smart, but you cannot think two steps ahead."
Cersei let out a short, displeased breath. She gave him an irritated look, but Tywin did not flinch.
"You are a Lannister," he said. "Act like one. You should know your enemy first. You know nothing of this one, Cersei. You only know what he allows you to know."
Cersei looked away, still dissatisfied.
Tywin continued, "You will not provoke him unless you are prepared to finish what you begin. He is not weak, Cersei. Do not mistake restraint for softness."
She frowned at that. "He is a powerful lord and warrior, but so are we, father. Are you going to let a lord of the North disrespect the Lannisters?"
Tywin gave a faint, humorless smile.
"There are many kinds of weapons, and many tools used in war: fear, influence, men, gold, and the stupidity of one's enemies. The last – You have given enough of that already."
Cersei fell silent at the reprimand.
Tywin folded his hands behind his back and resumed his measured pacing.
"He is one of the most powerful men in the realm now," he said. "Not only in Westeros, but beyond it as well. Men like that do not survive by accident. If he has set aside his steel, it is because he believes other strengths are enough."
Cersei's eyes flashed. "And if he strikes first? What then, father?"
Tywin's gaze became colder. "Then we will make certain the wolf remains toothless."
He stopped and looked at her.
"But do not imagine that will be simple."
Cersei held his gaze for a long moment before turning away.
"Very well," she said coldly. "I will be patient."
Tywin said nothing.
She paused at the door, then glanced back. "And if he continues to mock us?"
Tywin's expression did not change.
"The lion does not concern himself with the opinions of sheep," he said again. "The lion does what he wills. You are a queen. Act like one. He is only a Hand, and only until Robert is king. The crown is ours in the end."
Cersei left after that, but her anger did not.
Tywin remained where he was, staring out over King's Landing as the tower windows caught the dim light of the city below.
Artos Stark was not weak.
That was precisely what made him dangerous.
And Tywin Lannister know dangerous men better than anyone and understood they were not immortal.
...
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