Chapter 4 – The Weight of Secrets
The ink on the ledgers was barely dry when Aden heard the knock.
Soft, deliberate — the kind of sound made by someone who knew doors could be as dangerous as daggers.
"Enter," he said without looking up.
The hinges groaned as the door opened. The scent of parchment and candle wax filled the small office, mixing with the faint trace of perfume — not floral, but spiced, like Dornish wine. When he finally glanced up, the visitor was already watching him.
Varys.
The Spider's smile was as calm as the sea before a storm.
"I was told I might find the new assistant of Lord Baelish here," Varys said, voice dripping with honeyed amusement. "And what a busy little bee he seems to be."
Aden closed the ledger with deliberate care. "Information travels fast in King's Landing."
Varys tilted his head. "Faster than truth, slower than lies. Which do you trade in, I wonder?"
Aden didn't answer. The game, he was beginning to realize, was never about words themselves but the silence that followed them.
The eunuch glided closer, robes whispering against the floor. "Lord Baelish speaks well of you. He says you have a mind for numbers… and an instinct for secrets."
Aden met his gaze. "If he said that, he was lying. Littlefinger doesn't praise anyone without a reason."
Varys smiled, the expression faint and unreadable. "Then perhaps you are his reason."
The silence between them stretched. The candle flickered. Somewhere outside, a bell tolled from the Sept of Baelor.
Finally, Varys sighed softly, as though disappointed. "Be careful, my dear scribe. Men who play with secrets tend to drown in them."
He turned and glided out the door, leaving only the faint rustle of his silk robes — and the pounding of Aden's heart.
---
That night, Littlefinger summoned him.
The chamber was dimly lit, papers strewn across the table like the aftermath of a storm. Baelish didn't look up as Aden entered. "You met the Spider."
Aden hesitated. "He found me."
A ghost of a smile crossed Baelish's lips. "He always does. Tell me, did he try to charm you or frighten you?"
"Both."
Baelish chuckled. "Then he's losing his touch."
Aden stepped closer, lowering his voice. "He knows something, my lord. About me."
Baelish finally looked at him — eyes sharp, curious, dangerous. "Everyone in this city knows something, Aden. The trick is knowing what to make them believe."
The older man leaned back, the faintest smirk on his face. "You did well today. The matter with the missing tariffs — handled cleanly. But don't mistake success for safety. You've drawn attention now. Varys will test you, others will whisper your name. From this point, you either rise… or you vanish."
Aden met his gaze evenly. "Then I'll rise."
Baelish smiled — the kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Good. Just remember: the higher you climb, the better the view… and the harder the fall."
---
When Aden returned to his quarters, he found a single piece of parchment waiting on his desk.
No seal. No signature. Just four words, written in elegant script:
> The walls have ears.
He stared at it for a long moment, then slowly burned it over the candle flame.
As the ashes curled away, Aden realized something that chilled him more than the night air:
In King's Landing, knowledge wasn't power — it was a weapon.
And he had just picked one up.
---
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