"The victor is Ser Arthur Snow!"
After the Red Keep's Master-at-Arms, Ser Aron Santagar, announced the obvious result, Arthur sheathed his sword. The bout had left him feeling thoroughly refreshed, the kind of invigorating sensation one gets after a perfect workout.
The Kingslayer's reputation might be stained, but Jaime was in his prime. Both his physical conditioning and his technique were at the pinnacle of what the Seven Kingdoms had to offer. He was undoubtedly one of the top fighters in the realm.
He had given Arthur the joy of a true one-on-one duel—a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time. That was why, although Arthur fought shirtless, he hadn't activated the Unclad Duelist buff from his system. He had fought simply with his own strength and skill.
Arthur wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Kingslayer, it seems my sword is sharper than my tongue after all."
Jaime picked up his sword and helm from the dust, admitting his defeat without hesitation.
"Snow, your swordsmanship is indeed exceptional. Dawn is not wasted in your hands. But the title 'Sword of the Morning' implies more than just skill with a blade."
His voice dropped lower, becoming serious. "To keep your vows, to possess a sense of honor—to do so for a moment is easy, but to do so for a lifetime? Can you manage that, Snow?"
"I hardly need the Kingslayer to lecture me on honor and vows."
Arthur took his tunic from Penrose. As he tied the laces, he turned and walked toward the exit of the training yard.
Jaime watched Arthur's retreating back and the greatsword Dawn strapped to it. A flicker of envy—and loneliness—passed through his eyes.
Indeed. What does a Kingslayer know of honor and vows?
When keeping a vow costs nothing, anyone can be a white knight, a paragon of the Kingsguard.
I swore to serve the King and obey his commands, yet he ordered me to bring him my father's head.
I swore to protect the King from harm with my life, yet he demanded I stand by and watch the entire population of King's Landing burn to ash.
That boy dreams of being Arthur Dayne. But fate has a cruel sense of humor.
"Brother!"
A familiar voice pulled Jaime back to reality.
Tyrion waddled into the training yard on his stunted legs. "I managed to acquire a cask of Amber Peach Wine from Starfall. Care for a cup?"
"According to the merchant, Paxter Redwyne attacked the Peach Orchards of the Starfall domains specifically because of this vintage. Now, the place where it was brewed is scorched earth."
"That makes this wine an extinct rarity, more precious than gold. It sells for three times the price of the Arbor's finest gold vintages." Tyrion winked slyly. "I intended to keep it all for myself and drink it in secret, but looking at you now, I think you need a good drink to lift your spirits."
Jaime let out a light chuckle and began to undo the straps of his breastplate. "Then you'll have to help me out of this white armor first."
There is one person in this world who loves me for a kindness I never did, yet there are so many who despise me for the greatest kindness I ever performed.
Tyrion grumbled, "You'll have to find me a stool first."
---
Night had fallen by the time Arthur and Penrose returned to their inn.
Penrose was still immersed in the joy of Arthur's victory over the Kingslayer, occasionally mimicking the stance Arthur had used to wield Dawn.
They had rented out the entire third and fourth floors of the inn, though few people were currently there. Only a few guards arranged by Lothor Brune were taking turns keeping watch at the stairwell leading to the third floor.
Arthur received a report from Lothor Brune.
Septon Alyse had gone to the Great Sept of Baelor on Visenya's Hill to pay respects to the High Septon.
Gerold, along with Jimmy and the others, had gone out to gather information in the city and had not yet returned.
Quentyn and Cletus were nowhere to be seen.
After instructing Penrose to prepare food and hot water for a bath, Arthur sat alone in his room, analyzing the current situation.
Regarding the maneuvers of House Tyrell and Paxter Redwyne that Jon Arryn had mentioned, Arthur realized he had few good countermeasures.
The Tyrells were the Lords Paramount of the Reach, a top-tier Great House with immense power and staggering wealth. Paxter Redwyne was also sparing no expense, using his children's marriages as bargaining chips to increase his leverage.
In terms of financial resources and using family connections to buy allies, Arthur simply couldn't compete with them.
Furthermore, this was his first time in King's Landing. He was a stranger in a strange land—no connections, no reliable sources of information. He was essentially flying blind.
In a power center like King's Landing, a reliable intelligence network was absolutely vital. But such things could not be built in a day.
While waiting for the inquiry at the Red Keep, Arthur felt he had very little room to maneuver.
What to do when there's nothing to do? Go for a walk.
Arthur decided he would explore every corner of King's Landing. Perhaps he could gather some useful rumors, or at the very least, unlock some new cards in his 'Tactical Interface.'
King's Landing was the capital of the Seven Kingdoms; surely it would trigger at least one unlockable achievement or card.
Just as Arthur finished his dinner and was preparing to bathe and rest, he received an unexpected visitor: the Master of Whisperers, the 'Spider,' Varys.
"Ser Arthur Snow, the 'Sword of the Morning,'" the eunuch said in his unique, soft, powdery voice. "It is a pleasure to meet you."
He had a round, bald head and a smooth, hairless chin. He wore soft slippers that made no sound when he walked, and his face was heavily powdered, his body exuding a sickly sweet scent of lilacs.
"Lord Varys. To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit this late at night?"
A flash of confusion crossed Arthur's eyes. He had no prior dealings with Varys and couldn't fathom why the man would seek him out personally in the dark.
"Ser, I am deeply concerned about your predicament." Varys offered a genial smile, powder flaking from his face as he did. "You have doubtless heard from the Hand of the King regarding the preparations Highgarden and the Arbor have made for this inquiry—or should I say, this trial?"
" Lord Arryn did share some information with me," Arthur admitted. "You are well-informed, my lord."
"Being well-informed is the duty of the Master of Whisperers. However, to my knowledge, your situation is actually quite a bit worse... The preparations made by Highgarden and the Arbor are likely more thorough than even the Hand realizes."
He sighed and proceeded to recount the attitudes of the various heavyweights on the Small Council. He specifically repeated the argument put forth by Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish regarding the importance of tax revenue from the Reach.
The difference in tax contributions between the Reach and Dorne was astronomical. Only now did Arthur realize this layer of financial interest was weighing against him.
"While the realm's judgments are generally just under Lord Arryn's leadership," Varys noted, "when the disparity in profit becomes this great, men tend to lean toward the verdict that benefits their own purse. Furthermore, your conflict with Lord Paxter is a grave matter. There will likely be three judges, and Lord Jon Arryn holds only one of those seats."
"I thank you for this information, Lord Varys," Arthur said, eyeing him carefully. "But I have a question. We are not kin, nor friends. Why tell me such crucial information?"
"Ser, I serve the realm. And the realm has need of good men like the 'Sword of the Morning.'" Varys's expression was the picture of sincerity. "I am merely sharing a few whispers, doing my meager part as Master of Whisperers."
With that, Varys gave a slight bow and vanished into the night of King's Landing.
After Varys left, Arthur frowned.
Varys had taken a risk to come here and deliver this intelligence; it was a clear gesture of goodwill.
However, Arthur was deeply wary of the Spider—his cheat-like ability to gather information and his opaque motives were cause for alarm. This was true both in the moment and from what Arthur knew of the original story.
Varys claimed he served the realm, but to Arthur, that was undoubtedly a lie.
He was a foreigner, not born in the Seven Kingdoms. He had been a slave apprentice in a mummer's troupe, wandering the Free Cities, before being bought by a sorcerer who cut off his manhood to throw into a fire for a blood magic ritual.
Arthur found it hard to imagine that a foreign eunuch could truly empathize with the people of this land to the point of pure altruism.
He didn't believe Varys was the type of person who, having been drenched by the rain himself, would hold an umbrella for others.