chapter 94 part 1
Chapter 94: Possessing One's Family
Petyr took a sip of Summer Red wine, set down his cup, and said, "Lord Glyn, when Lord Jon Arryn appointed me Master of Coin, I was full of aspirations. However, after I actually joined the Small Council, I realized I could only choose to act prudently."
After a pause, Petyr continued, "His Grace's brother, Lord Renly Baratheon, the Master of Laws, is passionate about attire. The gold he spends on clothes, I fear even the Queen cannot match."
"Ser Barristan Selmy, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, cherishes his honor. Grand Maester Pycelle, the Small Council advisor, clings to his hard-won position. Master of Whisperers Varys... only the gods know what he's thinking. And then there's..."
Petyr almost forgot about Stannis Baratheon, whose presence was often overlooked.
"Lord Stannis, the Master of Ships, will only return to the Small Council if someone sends all the women of King's Landing into the sea."
Glyn smiled and shook his head. "It certainly sounds a bit messy, but the Small Council holds a captivating charm. Many people flock to its seats like ducks."
The Small Council is the highest authority in the realm's government, comprised of key advisors who assist the King in managing the affairs of the kingdom. They are responsible for offering advice and consultation to the King from their respective fields of expertise.
The appointment and dismissal of Small Council members are at the King's sole discretion. The Small Council reports directly to the King. When the King is absent, the Hand of the King acts in his stead, and if the King is underage, the Regent exercises royal authority on his behalf.
"Due to the tradition of worshipping the number seven, brought by the Andals with their Faith of the Seven, the Council typically consists of seven members. Their respective positions are: Hand of the King, Grand Maester, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Master of Laws, Master of Coin, Master of Ships, and Master of Whisperers."
"..."
Petyr shrugged and said, "House interests supersede kingdom interests."
Glyn felt moved by Petyr's candidness, but secretly regarded his words merely as reference material.
Glyn's brown eyes trembled slightly. "Now I understand why Hand Jon Arryn isn't getting any better; he's collapsing from exhaustion."
Petyr leaned back against the chair, first letting out a soft sigh before saying, "Lord Jon Arryn has silently borne the heavy responsibilities of the kingdom for a long time. His broad shoulders are almost crushed by the realm's great affairs and other personal worries.
"Especially his son, Robert Arryn, has always been small and weak. Lady Arryn worries about him constantly and hardly dares to let him out of her sight.
"Such internal and external pressure, I believe, would be difficult for even the physically strong to bear, let alone Lord Jon Arryn, who is no longer young. For this, he is utterly exhausted, both physically and mentally; it is truly no surprise."
"Lord Jon Arryn is indeed a person worthy of admiration, but Glyn cannot bring himself to like him, especially after being under his constant scrutiny."
"It's not a matter of right or wrong; it's a conflict of positions."
"Jon Arryn represents the interests of the Vale, while Glyn Clegane represents the interests of Crackclaw Point."
"After Robert's Rebellion, the suppression of Crackclaw Point by the Vale Nobles, led by Lord Jon Arryn, for more than ten years has led to an accumulated hatred between the two regions that is now, without bloodshed, practically insoluble."
"The Vale and Crackclaw Point are also geographical neighbors."
"It would be one thing if Crackclaw Point remained weak, but Lord Jon Arryn is aging, and with Glyn's House Clegane gradually consolidating power on Crackclaw Point, it wouldn't be surprising if war suddenly erupted one day as time progresses."
"..."
Glyn's smile was complex. He raised his cup and said, "To the Old Lord's health."
Petyr's grey-green eyes flickered. He took a sip of Summer Red, curled his lips, and said, "Hahaha, I truly wish Lord Jon Arryn were here; he would be touched by you."
Glyn shrugged helplessly. "I only hope the Old Lord no longer pays attention to me. His affection for me is so profound that I have no way to repay it."
Petyr's eyes sparkled. "It's difficult for now. I once served as a tax official in Gulltown. Someone told me that a song from Crackclaw Point has become a forbidden song there."
The topic of conversation between the two naturally shifted from the Small Council to Gulltown in the Vale.
Glyn chuckled. "It's innocent. Actually, that song isn't bad."
Petyr shrugged. "I understand them. They always think the Vale is the safest place in all Westeros, and have developed a habit of making mountains out of molehills."
Hearing this, Glyn's hand holding the wine cup stiffened for a moment, which only deepened the elegant smile on Petyr's face.
Petyr had already confirmed Glyn's attitude towards the Vale.
Through the reports on parchment, Petyr was already well aware of the resentment felt towards Crackclaw Point. Tonight merely served as further confirmation.
This was Petyr's method; he liked, or was accustomed to, leaving nothing to chance.
"..."
"Conflicts will be resolved sooner or later."
Having said that, Petyr elegantly raised his wine cup, gestured towards Glyn, and continued, "On the vast sea, the most dangerous thing is not the storm, but the treachery of human hearts. If the Royal Fleet appears in the Free Cities of Essos, it will be considered an invasion. Lord Glyn, what you need most now is a reliable naval mercenary company."
Glyn's gaze shifted. "Lord Petyr, only by truly interacting can one truly appreciate your profound wisdom. This is precisely one of my greatest concerns."
"One of them?"
Petyr smiled and said, "It seems you are worried about Queen Cersei... Lord Glyn, although we are mere pawns in the eyes of the great, once we acquire value, we can name our own price. Whether in appearance or reality, you are currently entrusted with heavy responsibilities by King Robert and Hand Jon Arryn. The one who should be most anxious is certainly not you."
Glyn nodded slightly, marveling, "Lord Petyr, your insight is as sharp as a torch's flame. Please accept my sincere gratitude."
Having spoken, Glyn earnestly thanked Petyr by placing a hand over his chest.
Petyr shook his head slightly and said, "Lord Glyn, we are friends. There is no need for thanks for good counsel between friends, and besides, it's still too early for gratitude."
Noticing the confusion in Glyn's eyes, Petyr curled his lips and continued, "There's a small naval mercenary company. They possess a single ship and sustain themselves by escorting merchant vessels traveling between Westeros and Essos, often for the Vale.
"I heard about them long ago. Their reputation has always been good, but most of their members come from the North, and they have always been ostracized by their counterparts in the Vale, barely making a living.
"Perhaps they couldn't make ends meet, or perhaps these honest men believed something; Northerners aren't afraid of heat, so they decided to try their luck in Dorne. Coincidentally, this matter came to my attention..."
After a pause, Petyr shrugged and continued, "I imagine Crackclaw Point doesn't lack warriors, but it does lack sailors. So I helped them procure two more ships. Of course, I contacted them in your name, Lord Glyn."
"Petyr, the Timely Rain?"
Glyn suppressed his excitement, marveling inwardly at Petyr's methods of winning people over.
"Flexible principles, an outstanding mind, sufficient ambition..." Glyn silently elevated Petyr's danger level by a notch.