The small council officially began.
"Lord Eddard, this is an urgent order I just received, written and signed by King Robert himself."
Domeric drew a tightly rolled piece of parchment from his sleeve and placed it on the table before Lord Eddard. The king's seal was stamped upon it.
Lord Eddard broke the wax with his thumb and flattened the parchment, intending to see what urgent command Robert had sent him.
A moment later, his brows furrowed tightly.
"What pressing order has my good brother sent?" Renly asked curiously.
"His Grace has instructed us to hold a grand tourney to celebrate my appointment."
Lord Eddard's face darkened. Robert was clearly using his name to hold a tourney. Celebrating his appointment was only the excuse. The king's own amusement was the real purpose.
"It seems His Grace truly values you highly," Varys said, apparently trying to seize the chance for some flattery.
Unfortunately, he had flattered the horse's leg instead. Under Lord Eddard's increasingly severe gaze, his voice grew softer and softer until he simply stopped speaking.
"That does sound like my good brother's handiwork," Renly said, unable to keep from laughing.
"My lords, now is not the time for that. The key question is how much this tourney will cost," Littlefinger, Petyr Baelish, asked dutifully.
Lord Eddard read out the king's requirements from the parchment.
"The winner of the tourney is to receive forty thousand gold dragons. The second-place finisher receives twenty thousand. The winner of the melee also receives twenty thousand. The winner of the archery contest receives ten thousand."
"Gods above. That makes ninety thousand gold dragons in prize money alone, not counting the other expenses. Judging by King Robert's usual habits, we will need to host lavish feasts, hire cooks, carpenters, serving girls, singers, actors, and performers…"
Littlefinger sighed.
"Can the treasury afford this sum?"
"What treasury?"
Renly rubbed his chin, speechless.
"To be frank with you, Lord Eddard, you may not know this yet, but the royal treasury is so empty mice could run races in it!"
"It is that bad?" Eddard was startled.
"I have no desire to deceive you. The treasury has been in deficit for years. The crown's total debt exceeds six million gold dragons. House Lannister is the largest creditor; we owe them a full three million. Then there is House Tyrell of the Reach, the Iron Bank of Braavos, Tyroshi trading companies…"
"Lord Renly speaks truthfully," Littlefinger agreed.
Lord Eddard was so shocked he could barely speak.
"I remember that, more than ten years ago, Aerys Targaryen left behind mountains of gold and silver. How has the treasury fallen to this state?"
Petyr Baelish shrugged helplessly.
"The master of coin only manages the money. The king and the Hand are the ones who spend it."
Renly coughed awkwardly.
"My brother loves tourneys and delicacies. What he hates most is counting coppers."
"The realm cannot afford such an extravagant contest," Grand Maester Pycelle said, offering a useless remark.
"Indeed. Money is being spent like water."
…
"Then why did none of you stop it?" Lord Eddard suddenly shouted.
Faced with Lord Eddard's question, the small councilors looked at one another, eyes wide.
For a moment, the entire council chamber fell silent. One could have heard a pin drop.
"Forget it. We shall discuss this matter later."
Lord Eddard sighed deeply. He was beginning to regret coming to King's Landing.
Robert had invited him all the way from Winterfell, only to leave him such a rotten mess.
Was this not clearly digging a pit for him to jump into?
But that was not the most pressing matter right now.
Lord Eddard pondered for a while before finally saying, "There is an important matter I must announce to all of you.
"Domeric, introduce to the council the tragedy that occurred at Darry."
"Yes, Lord Eddard."
Domeric did not put on airs before these councilors. He stood directly and said:
"Five days ago, while His Grace and the assembled nobles and officials were guests at Darry, the wife of Ser Raymun Darry, Lord of Castle Darry, was brutally murdered after a feast.
"According to the evidence found at the scene, the Imp, Tyrion Lannister, is the prime suspect.
"For that reason, Lord Eddard has decided that, fifteen days from now, a public royal trial shall be held to judge Tyrion Lannister's crimes and announce the matter to the realm."
"How regrettable."
"Poor Lady Darry. I must go to the sept and light a candle for her, to pray that she may return to the embrace of the gods."
"The gods are always so unjust."
…
Aside from Renly, who already knew about the matter, the other councilors looked as if they were hearing this news for the first time. In front of Lord Eddard, each of them showed deep grief.
As if it were their own mother who had died.
At that moment, Lord Eddard suddenly stood. An inexplicable pressure surrounded him.
For that instant, it seemed as though everyone else in the chamber had become a head shorter before him.
"In my capacity as Hand of the King, I summon the Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock, Tywin Lannister.
"Within fifteen days, Tywin must arrive in King's Landing and attend the public trial of the Imp, Tyrion Lannister."
Renly froze.
He had suggested bringing Tyrion back to King's Landing for trial in order to avoid intensifying the conflict with House Lannister.
But Lord Eddard's words carried a clear threat. He was plainly calling Lord Tywin to account.
The implication was: your son has committed a crime. As his father, you must come. If you do not, there will be consequences.
Lord Eddard continued:
"My lords, I know this action may provoke conflict with House Lannister, but I will not shrink from it.
"What I cannot tolerate most in this life is for women and children to be murdered unjustly, while the killer delays judgment and punishment simply because he is the son of a great lord. That goes against my knightly spirit.
"If I cannot obtain justice for women and children, what right do I have to sit here and uphold justice for the people of the realm?"
Lord Eddard's words rang out with force, like heavy hammers striking the hearts of all present.
For a moment, the council chamber was silent as a graveyard.
"But what if…"
Grand Maester Pycelle, who had been pretending to doze, could no longer remain seated. He asked anxiously:
"I mean, what if Lord Tywin refuses to come?"
"Then it shall be declared that Tywin Lannister is an enemy of the Seven Kingdoms. I will personally lead an army to punish him!"
The silence shattered.
It was as though thunder had pierced the entire council chamber.
The expressions of the small councilors became wonderfully varied.
Renly trembled.
Varys, the master of whisperers, felt a chill run down his spine.
Petyr Baelish's face showed a strange smile.
Grand Maester Pycelle stared blankly, as though he had seen a ghost.
Even Domeric looked amazed.
Although he had already known this news beforehand, he could not help asking himself:
For the sake of justice for women and children…
Was it worth it?
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GAME OF THRONES: SECRETS BENEATH THE DREADFORT
🏰🩸 GAME OF THRONES: SECRETS BENEATH THE DREADFORT 🩸🏰
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📢 DARK SECRETS RISE IN THE NORTH! 📢
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