"Lord Eddard is not having an easy time," Maester Qyburn said. It was well-known that northerners weren't necessarily suited for the court intrigues of The Red Keep.
"How many men did he bring?" Gendry asked Maester Qyburn.
"A hundred guards," Qyburn said. "And his steward, two daughters, and a son, Jon."
A hundred guards. Gendry felt this was Lord Eddard's normal contingent. It seemed he had received some warning; if it were according to the original plot, he would have only brought fifty guards to King's Landing. Fifty men, in a city of five hundred thousand.
"Lord Eddard's arrival in King's Landing is somewhat ill-advised," Jorah added. Southern life seemed incompatible with northerners, and the sparsely populated North meant that raising men and organizing armies would not only take too long but also delay the farming season.
"Lord Eddard will not adapt to court intrigues," Qyburn analyzed, pointing at a large map of King's Landing. "And this many men are indeed too few. The city gates of King's Landing, The Red Keep, and order are not so easily suppressed."
"There's only one way for him to win: go to his area of expertise, not the enemy's," Gendry said. "Resolve schemes and intrigues through military means, just like Lord Cregan did back then."
But Eddard did not realize the difficulty of the task. If it was a hundred guards, these men would be utterly insufficient when King's Landing changed colors. Moreover, he hadn't anticipated the possibility that the other side would disregard the overall situation entirely and simply flip the table.
"Lord Eddard has no friends. Littlefinger, The Spider, Renly..." The Handsome Man analyzed.
"These people are mostly untrustworthy," Jorah mused.
"The secret of The Red Keep's secret tunnel, we need to be wary of it, but is this secret tunnel only known to Varys?" The Handsome Man asked.
"This is a secret kept by the Targaryen. In the past, only Mummer's Foot and The Spider, two master of whisperers, knew it so clearly, and Mummer's Foot has been dead for too many years, so only The Spider knows the secret."
"War is coming soon," Gendry thought. The two women of House Tully were like two ticking time bombs, throwing the situation into chaos. Perhaps some blame shouldn't be placed solely on these two foolish women, as Tywin and others had also been plotting for a long time.
"What are the Dothraki doing?" Gendry asked Qyburn.
"The smaller Khalasars dare not advance. What we are worried about is the largest Khalasar, Khal Drogo's. If Khal Drogo crosses the Rhoyne River, his first target might be Myr," Qyburn replied.
Many Free Cities were shrouded in shadows. Khal Drogo, due to the collapse of Khal Jhezkahn's Khalasar, would bring an unprecedented war to the Free Cities, demonstrating the pride of the Dothraki.
"It seems killing one Khal Jhezkahn isn't enough; we also need to take down the most powerful Drogo," Gendry thought. The two seemed destined for a confrontation. The Dothraki could kill each other, but they could not die at the hands of the horse people. This concerned the Dothraki's deterrent power.
"However, the Dothraki war isn't necessarily a bad thing; we've received a lot of aid," The Handsome Man said. "Qohor, Norvos, and Pentos are all worried about a large-scale invasion by the horse people and have sent us considerable manpower and supplies."
The garrisons of Qohor, the axe monks of Norvos, the Free Mercenaries of Pentos... Eddard felt himself trapped in the fog of King's Landing; everything here made him uncomfortable.
The fragrant eunuch master of whisperers was untrustworthy, and the cunning Littlefinger was even less so. He might deceive Catelyn, but he would never deceive himself. Yet, circumstances forced him to compromise.
He needed to expose the facts and the truth, which was more terrifying than war: Jon Arryn's death, and the secret of the Lannister twins.
Eddard strode into the "Small Hall." The Small Hall of the Tower of the Hand had a soaring dome and was a long, narrow room, capable of holding two hundred people. It was only named as such to distinguish it from the king's Great Hall, which could hold a thousand.
"My Lord," Jory said as Eddard entered. He stood up, and the other Attendants immediately rose as well. Each of them wore new, heavy grey wool cloaks with white satin trim, embroidered with a stiff hand, indicating they were the Hand's personal guards.
Jon also wore such clothes, representing himself as an Attendant to the Hand, but his status was special, and he also sat at the Hand's table, though Miss Sansa disliked it greatly.
Eddard told everyone to continue their meal. Although the long table was not yet full, this was his most peaceful moment here.
"My Lord, everyone outside says there will be a Tourney, and knights from all over the country will come to fight for your honor. To celebrate your appointment," Jory said.
Eddard's face immediately fell. "This is the last thing I want to see."
Jon and Arya noticed the change in their father's expression. Such flamboyant Tourneys were not typical of northerners and consumed too much wealth. Northerners only preferred real combat.
Sansa's eyes widened like saucers. "A Tourney!" Sansa gasped. She was sitting between the septa and Jeyne, in a spot that wouldn't attract her father's attention, trying to stay as far away from her sister and Jon as possible. "Father, can we go?"
"Sansa, you know my thoughts on this. This foolishness is clearly Robert's own idea. I'll just help him organize it and pretend to be flattered. That doesn't mean I have to take my daughters to participate."
"Please, I really want to go," Sansa said.
Septa Mordane also spoke, "My Lord, the little princess will also attend, and she is even younger than Miss Sansa. For such a grand event, the ladies of the court will all be present. Moreover, since the Tourney is held in your name, it might be inappropriate if your family is not there."
Eddard's expression grew more pained. These people chattering away, did they not realize that being in King's Landing was not a good thing? "Very well, I will arrange a place for you, Sansa." He then looked at Jon and Arya, "I'll arrange one for all three of you."
"I'm not interested in going," Arya said. She knew the stupid Joffrey would definitely be there and hated Joffrey.
Jon's face changed. It would be very inappropriate to meet the Lannister again. "Then I won't go either."
Sansa tilted her head and said, "Then the celebration will certainly be grand, and no one expected you to attend anyway."
Eddard was filled with anger. "Enough, Sansa. I'm tired of your endless squabbling, and besides, you are sisters; you must love each other."
Eddard no longer looked at his daughters' faces; they might still be tearful. But he had no heart to say more; the Children made his mood even worse.
"I'm sorry, I don't have much appetite tonight," Eddard said, rising to address the entire table. "Jon, come with me for a moment."
Eddard and a hesitant Jon walked out of the Small Hall, but the atmosphere inside grew livelier. Sansa excitedly whispered with Jeyne, Jory at the far end of the long table was laughing and chatting, and Hullen began to talk passionately about horses.
Arya watched their backs, wondering what they would discuss. It was uncommon for her father to attend a banquet in the Small Hall today.
Most of the time, the three of them—father and two daughters—would dine in the Hand's study, and she preferred to hide in her bedroom to eat. Sometimes Jon was there too. Arya knew Sansa was not happy with this situation, but Arya liked her dissatisfaction the most.
"I wish I could go back to Winterfell," Arya thought. If that were the case, they would often dine in the castle's Great Hall.
"How are things?" Eddard asked Jon as they entered his study.
"I have recovered," Jon's injuries had now healed. Fortunately, Joffrey's strength was not well-controlled, so Jon's injuries were not particularly severe.
"But there are spies everywhere, My Lord," Jon answered cautiously. "I just don't know if they belong to the Queen, or Littlefinger, or The Spider."
"Damn it," Eddard sighed. The power games in King's Landing made him very uncomfortable. His two daughters were not players in the political arena, but Jon's prudence was a help to him.
"Back when we dined in the castle's Great Hall, I often told Robb that a lord must eat with his men to keep their loyalty," Eddard said.
"Yes, My Lord, I once heard you tell Robb that you must not only know your men but also let them know you. Don't expect your men to fight for someone they don't know," Jon replied.
"That's true, but here, among those Crownlands nobles or knights, I cannot see their faces clearly," Lord Eddard said with sorrow.
In Winterfell, Eddard would leave a seat at his table to welcome different people: the steward, the blacksmith, old grandmothers telling stories, or the monks from the library, Hullen the horse master, and so on.
"I've found a Braavos master for Arya; the Water Dance is suitable for a girl. I hope it can change her bad temper," Eddard began. "If we attend the Tourney, with so many people and gossip, it's better for Arya to stay in The Red Keep and find something to do, so she doesn't cause trouble everywhere."
"My little sister will like it," Jon said.
"Lady Arryn took everyone in her household back to The Eyrie," Eddard said indignantly. Sometimes he thought this woman was also a crazy old woman. Lysa hadn't helped at all, taking Jon's maester, steward, Captain of the Guard, as well as her knights and Attendants.
"The facts are not all there," Jon said. "My Attendant, Mikke, is the butcher's younger brother. I asked him, and he might have some information."
"Yes, that's it. You've done very well, Jon," Eddard patted Jon's shoulder. He needed someone like this; Jon was very meticulous, something Robb couldn't compare to. Littlefinger and The Spider were completely untrustworthy; he needed to open new sources of information.
"You flatter me, My Lord," Jon replied proudly.
Eddard felt trapped in a fog. He needed to navigate through layers of mist to find the truth. Currently, his sources of information came from Littlefinger and The Spider, but he couldn't trust them and needed to find things out for himself.
Eddard thought of those matters: Stannis's letter, Jon Arryn's illness. Perhaps he should learn more, seek out Arryn's Attendants, look for Arryn's medical records, and Lord Arryn's movements before his death. Eddard was certain Old Arryn must have obtained more direct information.
Eddard first considered contacting Stannis, but that always felt somewhat inappropriate, so he set that thought aside for now.
He needed to contact Grand Maester Pycelle to understand Jon's illness and also to see Jon's last movements before his death.
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