The Eminence in GOT-Chapter 47: The Palm and the Coin

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***

The end of the ninth month of the year 298 A.D.E.

Port, King's Landing, King's Landing.

«Twenty years have passed, and this place hasn't changed a bit," I said, wrinkling my nose with a perfumed handkerchief. "The Young King, a replica of my Beast King, on which I had sailed in my youth, with five escort ships, passed quickly past the towers that closed the entrance to the Blackwater in case of war, and sailed past the majestic and seemingly immovable Red Castle. It was only minutes away from the harbor docks at the River Gate.

«Did it still stink of foul sewage and rotten fish? - Alaric asked with his usual smile that never faded from his face. Dressed in blued black armor, with red patterned lines instead of his favorite white ones, he looked strange enough next to me. A big two-meter tall man, in spacious clothes that completely concealed his figure, and a knight armed to the teeth, but shorter than him by a head - it was hard to determine which of us was the most dangerous, though I had no illusions. My youngest wasn't very tall, but he'd long since surpassed his father in swordsmanship, and in those rare sparring sessions, after which I could barely stand because of an old wound I'd received at Ruby's Brood, he'd cut me down like a turtle.

«Worse. - I answered, pressing my handkerchief even harder against my nose. I liked the familiar smells of my native Osgiliath much better. - When it had been burned and sacked by the Lannisters, it had smelled nicer.

«Even so. - The head of the Citadel Guardians said thoughtfully, without even a wince. His job sometimes required him to raid the city's catacombs, and the odor of it was... it was easy to choke to death.

«Alaric, do you remember what you have to do? - I asked one last time, as the ship docked and the sailors began to throw the ropes.

«Yes, yes, father. - He said, slipping the closed black helmet over his head and fastening the clasps. - To conceal his identity, to attract attention and to impress the public. Will do.

«Good. - I replied, and together with my son I set off towards the gangway. No one knew that I had arrived in King's Landing, and it was very difficult to see my son's appearance on the ship - we were talking under a small canopy, which hid us from the shore. It's not even an intrigue. It was a filter against fools who decided to take advantage of my second heir's presence in the capital for their own petty intrigues. The right people know about him anyway.

«Well, welcome guests, you stinking dump. - I whispered to myself under my nose and, pulling the usual cold mask on my face, began to go down the gangway first. We were already being met, and besides the thirty soldiers guarding the pier, I saw some people I hadn't expected to see here.

"This day promises to be interesting," I thought, keeping a calm expression on my face. - I didn't expect to see you here, Lord Stark.

***

P.O.V. Petyr Baelish, Royal Master of the Coin of the Seven Kingdoms.

The end of the ninth month of the year 298 A.D.E.

Port, King's Landing, King's Landing.

The morning began as usual - waking at first light in one of the secret rooms of his brothel, throwing off and chasing away the whores who had fallen asleep last night. Afterwards he washed his face with a warm water bath brought by the maid, and had a light breakfast of fresh eggs, ripe fruit, and oatmeal. Still, seeing the king every day had its advantages - if you see every day what you can turn into when you stop controlling your gluttony, you will unwittingly begin to limit yourself in food.

I finished my morning ritual at the hour of the trot, dressed and tidied up, and went to the Red Castle for another useless meeting of the Small Council. They had been held almost every day since the royal cortege had arrived back in the city from the far North at the beginning of the month, and not to say that I hated sitting there.

Every day seeing Eddard Stark, the younger brother of that scorcher Brandon who left me that unfortunate scar, scrambling around like a hunted beast trying to reduce the crown's debt a little or convince his cuckold friend to cancel the tournament in his honor gave me incredible pleasure.

But today, unfortunately, I will not be able to admire this suffering northern dog. As soon as Pycelle had finished telling me how he had nursed the wine-poisoned king yesterday, I took the floor, bringing up the main topic of the day:

«My Lord Hand, I have good news for you. - I said, drawing stares from everyone on the council, including one hunted wolf. - Lord Temper is coming to the city this afternoon. He's agreed to make a new loan to the crown for some trade preferences.

«How much gold is the Bloody Jackal willing to give? - Renly asked thoughtfully, twirling the elaborately decorated dagger between his fingers.

"As if you care, you manly baklova," I thought, knowing full well that he was just waiting for the meeting to end so he could get into bed with his newly arrived lover, Loras, from Highgarden. It didn't show on my face, though. - The exact amount has yet to be finalized, Lord Renly. But I expect to settle for two hundred thousand gold dragons minimum.

«And what do you want to offer him, Lord Baelish, for that amount? - Stark looked at me in surprise, still unaccustomed to the money being discussed here. It wasn't surprising-if one were to judge by the taxes of the North, the Great House Stark's income was barely thirty thousand dragons a year. Only the Greyjoys had less.

«Exemption from customs duties in King's Landing and Chayacham City for three years. - I answered, keeping the mask of the loyal but somewhat thieving servant that had become my second face and essence over the years.

«I understand about King's Landing, but who gave you such rights to the City of Seagull? That is the domain of the Arryns and their vassals, not the King's Lands. - The younger Baratheon said, showing he knew a little about the law.

«When my Lord Arryn was alive, he had approved the idea and signed the necessary papers. - The sheets that silly Lysa had slipped under her tired husband's arm had been shown and certified by everyone on the Council. - Thanks to this we will be able to get quite a large sum at once, paying for the tournament in honor of Lord Stark and even remaining in the plus.

«But we'll lose a lot. - A bald eunuch remarked, opening his mouth for the first time today. - I am not our wise Master of the Moneta, but Lord Temper is known as a good merchant and would never agree to a deal that would not profit him.

«I agree with you there, Lord Varys. - I habitually put more venom into my words. Spider was the only worthy opponent in the Small Council, and we had long ago formed an amicable neutrality between us. Though it didn't hurt to mess with each other sometimes. - According to my calculations, the Tempers will get about two hundred and twenty thousand gold dragons from this deal. Yes, the crown will lose almost twenty thousand, but we need the money urgently, and urgency must be paid for.

There was silence. Everyone looked at the Hand, whose decision would determine whether the Iron Throne would get the money or not.

"What choice do you have, though?" - I inwardly chuckled.

«Alright, Lord Baelish. Make an arrangement with Lord Temper. - I heard the expected answer, but I didn't like the continuation. - When does he arrive? I'll meet him with you.

«Don't trouble yourself, my Lord Hand. - With my hands under the table, I began to talk him out of it, knowing full well that it would be impossible to negotiate the amount of my "reward" for such a good offer in Stark's presence. - Your presence would be too much attention to our guest. A simple Master of the Moneta will suffice.

«I haven't seen Felix Temper in fifteen years. - Silent Wolf said in a tone that brooked no objection. - Not since the day he took the bodies of Elia of Dornish and her son from the Throne Room to Dorne. I have much to talk to him about. And at least some way to assuage my guilt.

"There's that peckish Stark nobility again!" - I howled in my mind, cursing this northern family that brought nothing but trouble. I had to sit in silence for the rest of the Small Council meeting, listening to Varys and Pycelle discuss how best to send out announcements about the Hand's tournament and think about where I could meet with Temper later, without the Spider birds and the queen's underspies.

«This concludes today's meeting of the Small Council. - Stark said at last, rising from the table and walking with a steady stride toward the door. - Lord Belish, would you remind me when Lord Temper arrives?

«Ships with suns and purple flames were seen off the Spears of the Water King this morning. I think they'll be here in an hour. - I answered, trying to keep up with the northerner who had not even slowed his steps.

«Good, then we'll go straight to the harbor. - Even more accelerated he said, coming out into the courtyard of the castle and loudly barked. - Jory! Take ten guardsmen and follow me!

«Yes, my lord!

In just a few minutes, ten tall northerners dressed in leather quilts, padded with steel plates, and gray woolen cloaks, with embroidered on them lute wolves, appeared around us.

But we were not allowed to leave the castle - a little dark-haired girl of about ten years old jumped out of the gate, literally from around the corner. She was covered in dust, with black curls out of her hair, and wearing traveling clothes. If I didn't know who was in front of me, I would have thought it was either a young Lyanna Stark or a simple child from Cobbler Street.

Arya Stark, Cat's third child, was accompanied by the Guardian of the North's second bastard.

"Must have been a pretty wench that Ned Stark himself couldn't help himself," I thought as I looked at the young sixteen year old Northern girl. Dressed in simple leather clothes, with a thin sword at her belt, she was an exact copy of her father, only female.

«Arya, Elsa, what are you doing here? - Stark asked, glancing guiltily at me. - And where are your Nymeria and Sunshine?

«Out for a walk! - The younger one replied cheerfully. - The she-wolves ran off into the forest. To hunt. Where are you going? Can I come with you? It's very boring here! And Septa Mordain wants to make me embroider again! Oh, please, Dad!

"This is why I can't stand children," I thought as I stood there like a statue, watching the little brat twist the strings of her inconsiderate father with the slight smile of an illegitimate child. Eventually, our little procession was augmented by one little brat and a silent bastard who brought the former to normalcy.

Thirty heavily-armed Temper soldiers, with their giant dogs as tall as Stark dogs, were waiting for us at the pier.

"I wonder what expression the lords of most of the 'fighting' houses would have when they found out that the Temper merchants had nearly nine thousand soldiers hidden in their domain and all over Essos?" - Involuntarily I smiled as one of the lancemen approached us, with a commander's patch on his chest.

«My Lord Hand, my Lord Baelish, my lady. - He bowed to everyone, leading them through the barrier and straight to the pier, showing once again that the jackal teaches his servants very well. Even enviable - sometimes you have to work with such morons that you get more gray hairs. - Lord Temper's ship is already on the horizon. He'll be here in a quarter of an hour.

«Good. - Said Stark, looking thoughtfully at the red warriors around him, against which his guardsmen looked frankly pale. But his daughters looked round-eyed at the two swordsmen, with their gray monsters scrutinizing the surroundings.

«Are those real wargs? - The youngest asked excitedly, slowly approaching one of the dogs, its eyes shivering as it stared at her. I certainly am.

«Dainty, sit! - Shouted one of the foot soldiers, rescuing the little one from the already snarling dog. - Yes, my lady. This is a true warg, brought from beyond the Wall. Please don't touch it - it smells of wolf and it's making Gourmand nervous.

«What a funny name. Gourmand. - The little Stark laughed, quickly putting her hand behind her back and jumping away. - Why do they call her that? I, for one, named my direwolf Nymeria, after the great queen of the Rhoynar who brought her people to Dorne. And my sister Ali named her Sunshine, because she's yellow like the sun. Why do you call her that?

Stark's face shows he can barely contain himself from calling out his daughter as she talks to the soldiers.

"She does look like that northern savage," I remarked, watching the ships approaching faster and faster, with the crest of the richest Dornish house on their sails.

«She's very fussy about her food, my lady. - The soldier replied, stroking his dog's withers. - When she was a pup, she ate the best cuts of meat first. That's why she's a Gourmand. Many of us name our wargs on first impression. For example, this one.... - He nodded towards the second monster -... named Molchun, because he was born without whining or barking.

«Adin, the commander's looking at us. Let's not get distracted. Excuse me, milady. - Said the other one to him, finally giving the place some silence.

The commander was not mistaken - the Temper ships passed quickly through the Lift Towers, towering like leviathans over the fishing boats and the rare ferries ferrying people from the southern shore of the Blackwater. The six giant wooden coffins with which the Bloody Jackal had made his fortune were suggestive.

"There was some truth to what Stannis said," I thought as I glanced around the largest ship, easily finding the arcballists and scorpions hidden without much effort. And how many more of them are inside... - "There's some charm in floating vessels. Though whores are safer and more profitable in their own way."

«Zvyak... - The flip of the gangplank, along with the synchronized slamming of armored fists against cuirasses, marked the beginning of the presence of a new figure in King's Landing, to the delight of all the players.

«I did not expect to find you here, Lord Stark. - Since our last meeting in Pentos, where we discussed the issuance of a new debt to the crown, the Bloody Jackal has not changed much. He's still tall, with long black hair with graying, green Lannister eyes, and an icy expression on his face. If he weren't wearing a simple shirt, a duplet, loose pants, and a light cloak that hid the outline of his figure, I'd think he was a warrior, not the most successful merchant of the last century. - I am flattered that the Hand himself has come out to greet me, but why am I so honored?

«Lord Temper. - The northerner said thoughtfully, looking around him involuntarily. And I understood him - after the Dornishman had descended the ramp, his famous Black Guard began to descend. The two-meter tall men, with the same dogs, were walking side by side, and the impression of them was much stronger than that of the Stark Guards or the Red Cloaks of the Lannisters. And the knight in black raven armor with his hand on his sword, standing behind the jackal, made him tense up. - It's good to see you after all these years.

«Fifteen, to be exact. The last time I saw you was over there. - Temper corrected, pointing his finger toward the Red Castle. - On Baratheon's accession to the throne. When Tywin Lannister ordered the mutilated corpses of a woman and a child into the throne room. When lords stood around applauding the victor, and in neighboring halls, maidservants were raped and their children murdered. When outside the walls Lannister men and yours raped, murdered and maimed innocent townspeople. Now imagine how happy I am to see you, Lord Stark?

«I didn't start all this. - Replied the Hand while I and his daughters listened very intently. It's not every day you get to hear about the tragedy that happened that day, because no one likes to tell bad stories. - I told the king many times that Jaime and Tywin Lannister should be condemned, but he wouldn't listen to me.

«He wanted to avenge his love, your beloved sister Lyanna, and the rest of the world could go up in flames. - Temper smirked, glaring mockingly at Stark, giving me an inward pleasure and arousing considerable anger in the Northerner. - Lord Stark, let us be clear. Not as lord to lord, but as man to man. You're a soldier. A very good soldier. You were taught from childhood to lead, not to be led. And because of that, despite all Baratheon's public betrayals of your sister, his drinking and fornication, his violation of his own oaths, you could never say a word against him.

«Careful what you say, Lord Temper. - Stark gritted his teeth, clenching his fists in anger. - You could lose your head for insulting the king.

«There is only one man above me in this world, as above every lord of Dorne: Doran Martell. It's been that way ever since Jon Arryn, on behalf of the king, made the Protector's Compact (a.k.a. the very paper Arryn had to sign to keep Dorne from rebelling fifteen years ago). - The Bloody Jackal grinned, making me inwardly applaud. To piss off a Stark who hated me and stole my dear Kat... It was like a balm to my soul. - But let us not speak of the past, Lord Stark. The past is the past, and we cannot change it. Why don't you introduce me to those beautiful creatures behind you?

I have to hand it to Eddard-- he calmed down quickly, probably not angry at the truth.

«You're right, Lord Temper. These are matters of bygone days. - Stark sighed tiredly, summoning his brood of wolves to look at Temper. - This is my eldest daughter Elsa Snow and my youngest daughter Arya.

«Amazing. - The jackal said thoughtfully, leaning over slightly and scrutinizing the smallest one. - An exact little copy. The same look, the same face shape, the same build....

«Is it true that you were called the Bloody Jackal for the massacre at Ruby Brood? - The little thing suddenly shouted out. - And what are you talking about?

«Arya! - Eddard was about to reprimand her when Temper burst into a loud and infectious laugh, very much like a king's.

«And the same insolence. - Wiping away a tear, Temper smiled. - Yes, it's true, girl. It was a good battle, but your father will tell you about it. What I was saying is that you look a lot like a little copy of your aunt Lyanna Stark.

«Hey, I'm not little!

«Not in character. - Temper grinned even harder, making me slightly irritated. Of course, observing the new figures coming into King's Landing is important and necessary to predict their moves and weaknesses in the future. But he's been ignoring me for too long. - And the second lady... Hmmm... You have absorbed the best of your father and mother.

«You knew my mother? - It's the first time I've ever seen anything other than that cold mask on a bastard's face. And she's got a pretty good face, I'll admit. Maybe I should give her to a brothel if I can. She'd make a fine whore.

«We didn't know each other well. I'd love to tell you about her, but it's not my secret. When the time comes, your father will tell you. - I have to admit I'm quite interested. The girl's mother knew both Stark and Temper. We can try to solve this mystery at our leisure. - I'd love to talk to you longer, but I don't want to keep Lord Baelish waiting any longer.

«That's all right, my Lord Temper. - Quickly dismissing any extraneous thoughts, I replied. - Let me take you to a good place where we can discuss the terms of the deal over Arbor wine and good company.

«No, no, no, my Lord Baelish. - The Dornish shook his head negatively. - My eyes are still dear to me, and knowing my wife's temper, they're what I'll lose if I visit your establishment. And the wargs would probably scare away all your customers. Why don't we dine in my factories? I've brought some fine fire wine.

«How could I refuse such a generous offer? - I was hardly deceitful there. Temper's fire wines, a single glass of which could bring down even a king, were a very rare and status item, selling for an incredible thirty gold pieces for a small barrel, not counting the numerous markups. Even our drunkard king couldn't afford to drink them every day. - Lead the way, Lord Temper.

«My Lord Hand, my lady, I must leave you now. - He bowed to the wolf brood and said:

«We shall meet again. Even a recluse like me can't miss a tournament held in the Hand's honor. Good day to you.

It didn't take long to reach the Tempers' factory, which was located at the highest point of Steel Street. When you're escorted by sixty silent thugs, with monsters that mothers scare their children with, people will want to get out of your way.

The negotiations went as expected - Temper, as befits a former merchant, was very skillful in driving down the price, pressing the fact that Lisa could overturn her deceased husband's decision at any moment, and the gates of Gull City would be closed again. But, having the power over this amorous fool, I had no difficulty in persuading the Jackal, although I had to sign one unpleasant paper.

According to the results, the crown received 180 thousand gold dragons, brought in the form of precious stones and gold bars on ships, and I, as a humble mediator, got twenty-five thousand gold dragons. I had to sign a receipt, stamped with the seal of the Iron Bank, stating that if the contract was broken, I would lose my five "official" houses of tolerance in King's Landing, Staromest, and Chayach City.

"As if they mean that much to me." - I smirked, walking towards my brothel. I wasn't about to break the treaty, because the Faceless Ones or the Tempers' own men would come after anyone who messed with the bank's seal, and too many of that house's too brazen enemies had died foolish deaths in Essos not to realize one simple thing. The Tempers have their own pocket assassins' guild, and they won't hesitate to turn it on me.

But no matter. The important thing is that today's goal of learning more about the new figure in King's Landing was accomplished. And a fine lunch, of clam soup, steamed pork with rice and sweet-and-sour sauce, and several cups of scalding "brandy," as the Tempers called it, was a small but welcome addition.

"We'll have to figure out how to send some spies into their factoria. I'd like to see the ledgers stored there," I thought, holding back a slight yawn. There was nothing left to do for the day, so I could go to sleep.

***

At the same time, at the Temper factories.

«So, what do you think of Littlefinger? - I asked my son, sitting in a comfortable chair in the prearranged quarters. The local steward, one of the many whose families and themselves I've personally bailed out of debt, has assigned us quarters in the deepest and most secure part of the factories. I don't have the reputation of the Lannisters that keeps them safe from all sorts of scum, and there's always been plenty of idiots willing to do anything for easy money in both worlds.

«Dodgy, cunning, and unscrupulous. - Alaric answered, as I rested in a nearby chair. - Not that I wouldn't turn my back on him, I wouldn't trust him with a dime.

«Why the prejudice? - I was surprised at such a harsh judgment, although I was in full agreement with him. - I thought, as captain of the city guard, you had a more... impartial view of things.

«Intuition, Father. - Once again my son surprised me by making me listen more closely. - In my years as head of the Guardians, I've seen more crooks, liars, cheats, and hypocrites than the Wall had ever known in its prime. And each of them had something in common - facial expressions, looks, movements, tone of voice, manner of speech... And Littlefinger, no matter how he tried to hide it, had a lot in common with them. I'd rather trust my gut, which had never failed me before, than let a friendly smile and easy flattery mislead me.

This was... surprisingly the right stance. Littlefinger really wasn't to be trusted at all, and I was even more convinced of that today. He was playing a game of his own, and the clearest proof was his confidence in Lysa Arryn's obedience. If you remember who Baelish was before the Rebellion began, and what caused Hoster's second daughter to be given away to old Jon Arryn, you can build some very interesting theories...

"My kids are smart," I thought happily, taking a sip of my favorite sweet mint concoction. - "How else can they be matched, with their personalities?"

It would take Baratheon's men a month at most to organize the tournament, which means I don't have much time to sort through the local serpentarium. So I should waste no time and try to "accidentally" meet with all the important people in the royal court alone. And don't forget to send a man to the Red Castle - it was too important for Fiora to just forget about it.

***

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