Chapter 41 – The Quiet Machinery
King's Landing woke restless.
Not with riots or shouting, but with the kind of unease that settles into a city when too many people are thinking the same forbidden thought. The markets opened, the guards changed shifts, and the goldcloaks dozed at their posts, yet something in the air felt stretched thin.
Rumor had moved on from its usual targets.
This time, it circled Baelish.
Quietly. Carefully. But it circled.
I arrived at the Treasury early. Baelish arrived late, wearing the smile he used when he was measuring the distance between his allies and his enemies.
"Holt," he said lightly. "Busy week, I hear."
"Work piles up," I replied without looking up.
"Work does," he agreed. "But influence… influence moves on its own."
He drifted away after that, but I could feel his attention even when I couldn't see him. He had begun to sense the shift — not clearly, not enough to act, but enough to unsettle him.
Good.
My tasks that day took me across the eastern wards — granaries, storerooms, toll offices. Men who barely noticed me months ago now bowed too deeply, spoke too quickly, and avoided meeting my eyes unless they had to.
All because my signature had found its way onto the right documents.
The granary overseer from the week before caught me at the door.
"Master Holt," he said, hands clasped tightly. "We corrected the storage tallies as discussed."
"Keep them accurate," I told him. "Accuracy helps the Crown. Loyalty helps you."
He nodded hard enough to hurt his neck.
The pattern repeated itself everywhere I went. A dock scribe who now triple-checked every shipment; a toll officer whose sudden honesty was suspicious but convenient; two record keepers who had started reporting directly to me without ever being told to.
Not a network. Not yet.
But the beginnings of one.
Small connections, quiet favors, debts that didn't look like debts until they were called in.
By the time I returned to the Treasury, I had counted five new assets that hadn't existed that morning.
Baelish hadn't noticed.
Tywin would.
The summons to the Red Keep came after dusk. I was led to the Queen's solar, where Cersei paced with a cup of wine in her hand and irritation written across her face.
"You work under Baelish," she said without looking at me. "You've seen the ledgers."
"Yes, Your Grace."
She stopped pacing. "Then tell me something he refuses to.
Her voice dropped a notch. "Are the Crown's debts truly under control?"
A reckless question for anyone else. For her, it was simply honest.
"The Master of Coin handles debts with… creativity," I answered. "But nothing has collapsed."
Her eyes narrowed. "Not yet."
"Your father monitors the Treasury closely," I added.
That eased her. Barely.
"Good," she said. "Keep reporting irregularities to the Hand. Discreetly."
She dismissed me with a flick of her fingers.
Not trust — acknowledgment.
A foot in a door that had been shut to me until now.
Baelish cornered me the next morning in a storage chamber off the Treasury hall.
"You met with the Queen," he said. No smile. No warmth. "What did you give her?"
"The truth," I said.
"Which version?" His gaze sharpened. "Hers, Tywin's, or your own?"
"Whichever keeps the Treasury running."
He stepped closer, studying my face like he was trying to decode something that didn't belong there.
"When you first came to me," he said, "you wanted security. Now you want something else."
I waited.
He leaned in. "Do you still remember the difference between serving and ruling?"
"Yes," I said.
He waited for more. I didn't give it.
He turned away with a thin, unreadable smile. "Good. Keep remembering."
He left me alone in the dim light.
His footsteps faded down the hall.
He was worried. Not enough to strike. Enough to hesitate.
Hesitation was leverage.
I returned to my private ledger that night, adding new lines in careful strokes:
Assets: 14.
Cersei's interest: developing.
Baelish's tension: rising.
Tywin's expectations: tightening.
City rumors: shifting.
At the bottom, I added a final note:
The pieces are in motion.
And none of them know who set them moving.