Chapter 273: The Hand and the Player
Jon Connington, one of the two "Hands of the King" currently in Westeros, was staring at a war map in the great hall of Storm's End with a furrowed brow, his mood at rock bottom.
"You said if we didn't counterattack, we would never have another chance. It made sense, and I believed you. Even today, I do not doubt the correctness of your previous advice," he said, without looking up at the bald man sitting across the table who reeked of lavender and powders. "But unfortunately, a correct decision does not always mean victory. We are now in a predicament. I'd love to tell you that the Golden Company has enough to defend itself even if it lacks offensive power, but the reality is: of our two great allies, one has stood us up and the other can barely save itself. We are facing a challenge just to hold onto what we've already won."
The Dornish army had withdrawn from the battlefield without a word, and after a series of defeats, internal issues had surfaced within the Reach. Voices opposing the rebellion—arguing that King Stannis's identity should be recognized—had re-emerged. House Tyrell was busy dealing with family matters; to make things worse, Euron "Crow's Eye" Greyjoy, the new master of the Iron Islands, had led a fleet to invade the western coast of the Reach, seizing the Shield Islands and the Arbor.
Although the Reach's strength made retaking lost territory easy enough, in these troubled times, House Tyrell was bogged down by one problem after another, leaving them completely unable to provide sufficient support to the Golden Company and the Prince.
Had Stannis not also required time to rest and redeploy after the Northern army returned home—granting the Golden Company a brief respite—Storm's End might have already changed hands once again.
Varys's expression was equally grim, but he did not respond directly to the Hand's pessimistic outlook. Instead, he asked about another related matter: "Was there any issue during the meeting between Prince Oberyn and Prince Aegon?"
"If there was, I didn't sense it," Earl Connington shook his head. "The two met to get acquainted and then talked in a room for a while. I couldn't very well ask the Prince for specifics, but clearly, no unpleasantness occurred. Once Prince Oberyn finished the meeting and returned to his army, the Dornish forces quickly crossed into the Stormlands to pressure Stannis's flank. They saved us..."
The Hand puzzled over it again, still finding nothing amiss. "I must admit, since they didn't know each other at all, Oberyn Martell had no actual way to judge if the Prince was truly his nephew. The reunion was neither touching nor stirring. But—if Dorne suspected the Prince's identity and refused to help, that would be understandable. Why send the army only to withdraw at the critical moment, giving us great hope only to leave our plans in a shambles?"
"It is indeed a headache, but once you hear the news I'm about to tell you, you will no longer be confused." Varys sat still in his chair, hands tucked into his sleeves as he spoke slowly. "My little birds tell me that Prince Quentyn Martell of Dorne has been missing for a long time."
"Hmm?" Connington looked up, glancing at Varys in confusion. "The report I have is that Prince Quentyn is serving and training on the Boneway under..."
"Lord Yronwood," Varys interjected with a thin, mirthless smile. "Yes, that is the official word. But how could someone serving in his foster father's army not show his face for several months? Quentyn is a Prince of Dorne, not a lady kept in a secluded bower... And even more coincidentally, my birds in Volantis report that a group of Dornishmen landed at the port recently, searching everywhere for a ship to Slaver's Bay—Meereen, to be precise. Can you... connect the dots?"
Connington realized the danger. "You're saying Quentyn Martell went to Meereen to find our Queen?"
"Do you remember the secret pact signed fifteen years ago by Willem Darry and Oberyn Martell—witnessed by the Sealord of Braavos? It decreed that Viserys Targaryen would marry Arianne Martell. In return, Dorne would give its full support when he landed in Westeros to reclaim the Iron Throne."
"Now that Prince Viserys has met with an accident, the Dornish have turned their eyes toward Daenerys, attempting to turn our Queen... into their Queen?" Jon Connington drew a sharp breath, initially startled by Varys's conjecture but quickly falling into distress. The great cause of restoration finally had a glimmer of hope, and now the only two surviving Targaryens were already starting an internal competition. "Is Daenerys still playing her game of ruling in Meereen? What exactly are your people doing? Why haven't they brought her back yet?"
"Our Queen is not as easy to control as you imagine," Varys shook his head with a wry smile. "It's understandable. Anyone who grew up in such an environment, who suddenly possessed three dragons after experiencing various hardships, would have some ideas of their own... Moreover, she has the blood of the dragon in her veins. When Viserys was alive, he liked to call his temper 'the wake of the dragon.' Now it seems the one who truly possesses the dragon's wrath is the sister he bullied since childhood."
Connington was in no mood to discuss any dragon's wrath. He interrupted the eunuch: "Use your methods! Aren't you the best at this? What about that Littlefinger you have under your thumb? Use him to induce our Queen to return as soon as possible. We don't have much time left!"
"I must correct you on one point—I do not control Littlefinger. I haven't in the past, and I won't be able to in the future. Petyr Baelish simply had the misfortune of falling into my hands, and I arranged for men to send him to Daenerys. As the second cleverest man in the Seven Kingdoms, the day you think you can control him is the day he has likely started plotting how to kill you. The few times I successfully utilized him were through careful and cautious planning, and only when the measures taken aligned with his interests." Varys sighed, shaking his head with regret. "And I must say, even if I could successfully get Littlefinger to persuade Daenerys to return to Westeros immediately, he couldn't do it. Not because Daenerys won't listen to him, but because—our Queen is not in Meereen at the moment."
"Where did she go?"
"The Far East."
"What godforsaken place?" Connington frowned. "Did she also read that Night's Watch adventure story and believe the world is a damn sphere, thinking she can return to the west of Westeros by going east?"
"As far as I know, that isn't it. The main reason is that our Queen's three dragons are growing daily; they have developed wild instincts and a desire to hunt, and they began attacking the livestock of the farmers around Meereen... and people. On the advice of her counselors, Daenerys decided to find a place to learn dragon-riding. Under the information of some mysterious figure, she chose to fly east on a dragon. Her destination is unknown."
"You did nothing to stop her? You allowed our Queen to vanish from your sight with the vital dragons?"
"I am not her personal servant; how could I stop her? By the time I got the news, she had already been gone from Meereen for some time!" Varys frowned, countering Connington's accusation. "Besides, if Daenerys can truly master the way to control her three dragons on this trip, it will only benefit us. I am as worried about the safety of Prince Aegon's future Queen as you are, but we must also stay sober: a Mother of Dragons who cannot control her dragons is of extremely limited value to us!"
"Fine, I admit, you can't be blamed for the Daenerys matter." Jon Connington calmed down and sighed. "Let's discuss more practical issues. How is the Golden Company supposed to catch Stannis's next round of attacks, and how do you plan to deal with Dorne coveting our Queen?"
"Support from our mysterious backers in Pentos will arrive soon. All you have to do is hold out until then. Furthermore, I will communicate with Euron Greyjoy, clarify the situation to him, and have him turn his troublemaking goals elsewhere."
"I've heard he's a madman. Are you sure you can talk sense into him?"
"I won't be visiting him in person, so what does it matter if he's a madman? Perhaps he is indeed as difficult to deal with as the rumors say, but being a madman and being a fool are two different concepts. If he continues to stir the pot like this, once Stannis is done with us, the Iron Islands will be next on the chopping block—anyone with a brain will understand the stakes." Varys lifted his head, a sharp glint flashing in his habitually lazy eyes. "As for the Dornish... you needn't worry. Doran Martell plays us for fools and thinks he's being seamless. Since he shows no honor, he shouldn't blame me for what I do. That precious Prince of his will never have the chance to marry anyone."
"What are you going to do?" Connington's face shifted. To ensure someone can never do something, there is only one permanent solution: make them disappear. "I must remind you, no matter what schemes the Martells have in their heads, Dorne is one of our important allies. If you are found out doing this..."
"Naturally, I have ways to make it look like an accident. But you—are you simply worried I won't handle it well, or has the knight within you awakened again?" Away from the Red Keep, Varys no longer needed to maintain his harmless facade at all times. With Jon Connington, he could be quite blunt. "Do I need to remind you of the events and the final outcome of the Battle of the Bells? Had it not been for your 'knightly mercy' back then, would we be sitting here today, racking our brains on how to handle the assault of 'King Stannis'?"
During the Usurper's War, Robert Baratheon was defeated by Randyll Tarly at the Battle of Ashford and was forced to yield the path for the Reach army to march on his home seat of Storm's End. While moving north from the border of the Stormlands and the Reach in an attempt to link up with the Stark, Tully, and Arryn forces, he was wounded and hid in the town of Stoney Sept in the Riverlands to recover.
Jon Connington surrounded and controlled the town at that critical moment. He knew the Usurper he sought was there, yet he refused to order extraordinary measures, only allowing the loyalist soldiers to search house to house. He failed to root out Robert before being repelled by the relief force of the Stark-Tully-Arryn alliance.
Objectively, that loss wasn't a crushing defeat, but it was the closest the loyalist army ever came to ending the war early. Had the commander decisively ordered the town—which belonged to the rebels and harbored the Usurper—to be burned to the ground, the rebellion would have ended right there.
But history has no "ifs."
Ultimately, Robert, having escaped at Stoney Sept, participated in the Battle of the Trident months after his recovery. In that decisive battle, he slew the last hope of House Targaryen, Prince Rhaegar, and decided the outcome of the war.
During his long years of exile overseas, Jon Connington had woken up from dreams countless times in regret. He had always believed that his own knightly mercy had killed his beloved Silver Prince, Rhaegar Targaryen... and after being tormented by remorse, he had sworn more than once that on the journey to restore Rhaegar's son to the Iron Throne, he would kill the knight in his heart and use any means necessary.
"Remembered?" Varys saw Earl Connington remain silent and understood he had processed everything. He didn't press the point further, instead softening his tone. "This kind of dirty, troublesome work—I will do it. You don't need to involve yourself, and don't let the Prince know. Rhaegar's son must sit on the Iron Throne. No matter who stands in the way or threatens the big picture... there is only one end for them."
"I understand," the Griffin Lord said with difficulty. "As long as you are sure you won't bring us trouble, then do as you will. I won't stop you."
"Let's not discuss this further. I was also in the wrong—I should have done this quietly and never told you; it only breeds unnecessary dispute." Varys returned to his persona of an uncontentious good man and shrugged. "We are all serving the true King... let's set aside our prejudices and disagreements, fulfill our duties, and do what we must. Contract the lines and hold out through this period. In about a few weeks, things will take a turn for the better."
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