King's Landing, The Red Keep, Throne Room. The scent of roasted meat, the fragrance of perfume, and the crowd were ever-present, accompanied by decadent music and bright lights.
At the feast in the Throne Room, well-dressed men and women moved to and fro. King Robert was a man devoted to pleasure; hunting, feasts, Tourneys, and beautiful women were his entire life.
King Robert's roar drowned out all other sounds. The King stood up, swaying and red-faced, holding a goblet in one hand, utterly drunk.
"You stinking woman, don't you dare tell me what to do!" King Robert screamed at Queen Cersei. "I am the King here, do you understand? If I say I'm going to hunt boars alone, then I'm going to hunt boars alone."
Everyone was stunned. The White Knight Barristan, the King's two brothers, Littlefinger. The Queen's cheeks were like ice sculptures, pale white and bloodless. The Queen chose to leave directly, pulling her skirt, turning and walking away without a word, her Attendants hurriedly following her.
Jaime went to steady the King's shoulder, but King Robert exerted force and violently shook him off. The Kingslayer stumbled, then crashed into a long table. "A fine knight indeed, you are just my servant. Remember that, Kingslayer." The King tapped the jeweled goblet on the table, spilling almost all the wine.
"Yes, His Majesty the King!" The Kingslayer steadied himself, his tone cold and stiff. Golden hair flowed, he had shining green eyes and a smile as sharp as a blade, but the nickname Kingslayer was like a shackle, suffocating him.
Lord Renly walked forward with a smile. "Robert, you've spilled your wine. I'll pour you a new glass." Stannis looked at Renly with resentment; Renly was richer and more popular than him.
Joffrey seemed accustomed to this scene, remaining silent. The Hound followed not far behind him, like a messenger of the night.
Stannis pondered the scene before him, wondering why the Kingslayer didn't take off his White Cloak, and why he insisted on staying in King's Landing to endure these humiliations.
Was the illusory honor of a knight more appealing than becoming the heir to the wealthy Westerlands? Ser Jaime's golden curls gleamed, and Joffrey's hair was the same. Stannis looked again and again, his heart stirring.
"Where is my foster father, Lord Jon! Has no one asked the Lord Hand to attend the feast!" King Robert shouted, and Lancel, a Lannister Attendant behind him, immediately came forward.
"Lord Hand's son is ill, Lord Jon is with the Child," Lancel whispered.
"Poor Robin!" A look of dejection appeared on the King's face, but he still didn't refuse the fresh wine, drinking it down.
Stannis considered his conjecture; if he could find an ally in King's Landing, then Lord Jon would be the only one... The Red Keep's underground held a network of secret tunnels like a spider's web. The cruel Maegor believed that only a true dragon could master these secrets, so he killed all the craftsmen who built The Red Keep.
The Targaryen family once regarded the secret tunnel as top secret; among the foreign ministers, only the Master of Whisperers usually knew about them.
Deep within the dark secret tunnel, Varys and Illyrio conversed secretly, the light dim, with only a torch illuminating the shadows.
Varys, a naturally stout man, was skilled in disguise. Varys wore a leather half-cloak. Although he wore heavy boots, his feet seemed to glide silently over the ground. Beneath his steel helmet was a scarred round face and a short beard. He wore hardened leather armor with a dagger and a short sword at his waist.
"Stannis is secretly searching for those bastards; perhaps he has a secret theory," Varys said. "Gods above, the King certainly has too many bastards. There are ready ones in the Stormlands and the Vale, and also in King's Landing."
"What will Stannis do?" Illyrio's yellow handlebar mustache looked rather lewd. His rings sparkled in the torchlight, red-gold, silver, set with rubies and sapphires, and even yellow-striped tiger's eyes. Every finger wore a ring, some even two.
"I don't know, it might provoke a war. I think he will share this secret with Old Jon! Because Stannis has no allies, few people like him! The lion, the wolf, the Rose, even the knights of the stormlands, poor Stannis."
"Too fast, my old friend. If the lion and the deer fight, it won't do us much good! We are not ready yet!" Illyrio said worriedly. "And the timing."
"We have no army, that's a deadly problem!" Varys sighed.
"Perhaps we should consider those savages. Although they hate the sea and lack culture, at least there are tens of thousands of Screaming Warriors!"
"Really consider those savages? The Dothraki hate the sea and have no ships. Moreover, we give gifts to the Dothraki, and we don't know when their Return will take effect!" Varys said, displeased. They knew the barbarians' weaknesses.
"We can only believe in this possibility. The Archons don't have such an army and aren't considering an invasion. The marriage between Khal and the true dragon. It would be better if the princess were pregnant; only after the Child is born might Khal be possible!"
"Perhaps, we have a new option!" Varys reminded him.
"Are you referring to that mysterious Butter-King?" Illyrio mused. Though corpulent, he moved lightly, his weight on his heels, walking like a Water Dancers should.
"Do you still remember that I once gave a King's bastard to a blacksmith, with black hair, blue eyes, and a strong physique!"
"Are you saying!"
"Indeed, based on his physique and deeds, I suspect it's that Child. But he has also escaped my control!" Varys emphasized. "If this bastard learns of his lineage, he will surely attack House Lannister."
"My old friend, we cannot place our faith in outsiders. The Butter-King has challenged slavery, which will turn the world upside down. Our cooperation with him has too many concerns, and the Butter-King doesn't have tens of thousands of warriors. Let's wait until the Butter-King withstands Myr's attack first!"
"My old friend, what are the Rose and our lovely Renly up to?" Illyrio asked.
"The Rose and Renly's schemes, the King and Queen's quarrels, Renly sees it all. The Knight of Flowers has been writing letters to admonish his father. A teenage maiden, both beautiful and obedient, Lord Renly and Ser Loras plan to make Robert like her, then marry her, and establish a new queen. As for Littlefinger, who knows what he's thinking... And Lord Stark, the northerners are still patient..."
"My old friend, the situation is complex. We need time, there are many balls in the air. I hope you are a beautiful magician and can buy us some more time."
"Whatever I can do, I will do," Varys, holding the torch, said softly, "but I need funds, and thirty birds."
"That many?" The light ahead dimmed, and Illyrio's voice grew fainter.
"The kind you want is hard to find... both young and literate... if they're a little older... not so easy to die..."
"No, young ones are safer... be good to them..."
"...if they keep their mouths shut..."
"...take risks..."
"Wait for the situation, wait until we sell the princess for a very good price."
"We need an army, no matter which one. If the Butter-King breaks through, that could also be considered."
The two figures in the shadows stretched longer and longer.
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