"Great Lord Eddard hasn't been having an easy time of it," Maester Qyburn said. It was widely known that northerners did not always adapt well to the intrigues of the Red Keep.
"How many men did he bring?" Gendry asked.
"A hundred guards," Qyburn replied. "Along with his steward, two daughters, and a son named Jon."
A hundred guards. Gendry thought that sounded about right for Eddard. It seemed he had received some sort of warning. In the original course of events, Eddard had gone to King's Landing with only fifty men. Fifty guards in a city of half a million.
"Lord Eddard coming to King's Landing is unwise," Jorah added. "Life in the south does not suit northerners. And the North is vast with few people. If he needed to gather men or raise an army, it would take too long and disrupt the farming season."
"Lord Eddard will not adapt well to court intrigue," Qyburn said, pointing at a large map of King's Landing. "And this number of men is far too small. The city gates, the Red Keep, the order of the city. None of it will be easily controlled."
"The only way for him to win is to fight on ground he understands, not the ground his enemies prefer," Gendry said. "Deal with schemes and conspiracies through military force, the way Great Lord Cregan once did."
But Eddard had not fully grasped how difficult his task would be. Even a hundred guards would be insignificant once King's Landing turned against him. Worse still, he had not considered the possibility that his enemies might abandon all restraint and simply overturn the board.
"Lord Eddard has no real friends," the Handsome Man said. "Littlefinger, the Spider, Renly…"
"Most of them cannot be trusted," Jorah said thoughtfully.
"We should also watch out for the secret passages of the Red Keep. But is Varys the only one who knows them?" the Handsome Man asked.
"That secret was kept by the Targaryens," Qyburn replied. "In the past, only two masters of whispers knew the passages in detail. The Hunchback and the Spider. The Hunchback has been dead for many years. Now only the Spider knows the full secret."
War is coming soon, Gendry thought.
The two women of House Tully were like ticking time bombs, throwing the situation into chaos. Though perhaps it would not be fair to blame only those two foolish women. Tywin and the others had been preparing their schemes for a long time.
"What about the Dothraki movements?" Gendry asked Qyburn.
"The smaller khalasars do not dare advance," Qyburn replied. "Our real concern is the largest khalasar, the one led by Khal Drogo. If Khal Drogo crosses the Rhoyne, his first target may well be Myr."
A shadow hung over the Free Cities. With the collapse of the Zekko khalasar, Khal Drogo might bring an unprecedented storm of war upon them, restoring the pride of the Dothraki.
"Seems killing one Zekko wasn't enough," Gendry said quietly. "We may have to bring down the strongest one as well. Drogo."
It seemed inevitable that the two sides would clash. The Dothraki might kill each other in battle, but they could not die at the hands of the milk men. Their reputation depended on it.
"Still, the Dothraki threat is not entirely bad for us," the Handsome Man said. "A great deal of aid has already arrived. Qohor, Norvos, and Pentos all fear a large-scale Dothraki invasion. They've been sending us manpower and supplies."
The garrison soldiers of Qohor. The axe-wielding priests of Norvos. The free sellswords of Pentos.
...
Eddard felt as though he had been swallowed by the fog of King's Landing. Nothing here felt familiar.
The perfumed eunuch master was not trustworthy. That sly Littlefinger was even less so. He might fool Catelyn, but he would not fool Eddard. Yet the circumstances forced him to compromise.
He needed to uncover the truth, and that task was more dangerous than any war.
Jon Arryn's death.
The secret of the Lannister twins.
Eddard strode into the Small Hall.
The Small Hall of the Tower of the Hand had a tall domed ceiling and a long narrow shape, large enough to hold two hundred people. It was called the Small Hall only to distinguish it from the king's great hall, which could hold a thousand.
"My lord," Jory said as Eddard entered.
He rose to his feet, and the other guards followed at once. Each wore a new cloak of thick gray wool trimmed with white satin. Embroidered on the cloak was a stiff hand, marking them as the personal guards of the Hand of the King.
Jon wore the same clothing, marking him as one of the Hand's guards as well. Because of his special status, he was seated at the Hand's table, something Sansa clearly disliked.
Eddard told them to continue eating.
Though the long table was not yet full, this was the moment when he felt the most at ease.
"My lord, people outside are already saying there will be a grand tournament," Jory said. "Knights from all across the realm will come to compete for your honor, to celebrate your appointment."
Eddard's face immediately darkened.
"That is the last thing I wish to see."
Jon and Arya noticed the change in their father's expression. Those colorful tournaments were never favored by the North. They wasted far too much wealth.
Northerners preferred real steel and real battle.
Sansa's eyes grew as wide as plates.
"A tournament!" she gasped. She sat between the septa and Jeyne, carefully choosing a seat where her father might overlook her, and as far away from her sister and Jon as possible. "Father, can we go?"
"Sansa, you know how I feel about this," Eddard said. "This foolish idea was Robert's. I'm only helping him arrange it and pretending to be honored. That doesn't mean I must bring my daughters along."
"Please, I really want to go," Sansa pleaded.
Septa Mordane also spoke up. "My lord, the little princess will attend, and she is younger than Lady Sansa. When such grand occasions arise, the ladies of the court all appear. Besides, this tournament is held in your name. If your family does not attend, it may seem improper."
Eddard's expression grew even more strained. They chattered endlessly, yet none of them seemed to realize that life in King's Landing was no blessing.
"Very well," he said at last. "I will arrange a place for you, Sansa."
He then looked at Jon and Arya.
"I will arrange places for the three of you."
"I'm not interested in going," Arya said at once. She knew that stupid Joffrey would be there, and she hated him.
Jon's expression shifted slightly. If he encountered the Lannisters again, it would be awkward.
"Then I won't go either."
Sansa lifted her chin proudly. "The celebration will be magnificent anyway. No one expected you to come."
"Enough, Sansa," Eddard said sharply. "I'm already tired of your endless quarrels. You are sisters. You should treat each other with love."
Eddard avoided looking at their faces. They might already be holding back tears. But he had no desire to say more. His children had already worsened his mood.
"I'm sorry," he said to the table as he rose. "I have little appetite tonight. Jon, come with me."
Eddard left the Small Hall with the hesitant Jon. Behind them, the atmosphere in the hall quickly grew livelier.
Sansa leaned toward Jeyne, whispering excitedly. At the far end of the long table, Jory laughed and chatted with the others. Hullen had begun enthusiastically discussing horses.
Arya watched her father and Jon leave, wondering what they were going to talk about. It was rare for Father to host a meal in the Small Hall.
Most of the time, the three of them ate in the Hand's study. Arya would rather hide in her bedroom and eat there. Sometimes Jon joined them.
Arya knew Sansa disliked that arrangement, and that was exactly why Arya enjoyed it.
I wish we could go back to Winterfell, Arya thought.
Back then they often ate together in the castle's great hall.
...
"How are things?" Eddard asked as he entered his study with Jon.
"I've recovered," Jon replied. His injuries had already healed. Fortunately, Joffrey had not struck with much control, so the wounds had not been severe.
"But there are spies everywhere, my lord," Jon said cautiously. "I just don't know whether they belong to the Queen, Littlefinger, or the Spider."
"Damn it," Eddard muttered with a sigh.
The games of power in King's Landing made him deeply uncomfortable. His two daughters were not suited to such a dangerous place. Jon's caution, however, proved helpful.
"When we used to dine in the hall at Winterfell, I often told Robb that a lord must eat with his men," Eddard said. "That is how you keep their loyalty."
"Yes, my lord," Jon replied. "I once heard you tell Robb that a lord must understand his men, and his men must understand him. No one will risk their life for someone they do not know."
"That is true," Eddard said quietly. "But here, among the lords and knights of the Crownlands, I cannot even see their real faces."
At Winterfell, Eddard always left a seat open at his table for different people.
Sometimes the steward, sometimes the smith, sometimes an old woman who told stories, sometimes the septon from the library, sometimes Hullen the stablemaster.
"I have found a Braavosi teacher for Arya," Eddard continued. "The water dance suits a girl well. Perhaps it will also temper her temper."
"If we attend the tournament, there will be far too many people and far too much gossip. It would be better if Arya stays in the Red Keep and keeps herself occupied. That way she won't go around causing trouble."
"She'll like it," Jon said.
"Lady Arryn has taken her entire household back to the Eyrie," Eddard said with frustration. At times he thought the woman was half mad. Lysa had not helped him in the slightest. She took Jon Arryn's maester, steward, captain of guards, along with his knights and servants.
"That may not be the whole truth," Jon said.
"My squire Mycah is the butcher's boy. I asked him to listen around. Perhaps he might learn something."
"Yes. Exactly," Eddard said, patting Jon on the shoulder. "You've done well, Jon."
He needed someone like this. Jon was careful and perceptive, in ways Robb could not match. Littlefinger and the Spider could not be trusted. He would need to build his own network of information.
"You praise me too much, my lord," Jon replied proudly.
Eddard felt as if he were trapped in a thick fog. Somewhere within that fog lay the truth, and he would have to push through it to find it.
At present his information came from Littlefinger and the Spider, but he trusted neither of them. He would have to search for answers himself.
He thought of several things.
Stannis's letter.
Jon Arryn's illness.
Perhaps he should investigate further. Find Arryn's attendants. Examine records of his sickness. Trace the movements of the old Hand before his death.
Eddard was certain Jon Arryn had discovered something important.
At first he considered contacting Stannis directly, but the idea felt inappropriate for now, so he set it aside.
Instead, he decided to visit Grand Maester Pycelle.
He needed to learn more about Jon Arryn's illness and retrace the final days of the late Hand of the King.