It had been more than two weeks since the entourage from King's Landing had departed for Winterfell, and they had already covered more than half of their journey.
Just a day earlier, another small convoy from the Westerlands, consisting of Tywin Lannister and Kevan Lannister, had joined the royal procession.
Varys was riding his horse in the middle of the convoy when a rider pulled up beside him. It was Tywin Lannister. His face was plastered with its usual expression of stiff, unyielding sternness.
"The weather is getting colder and colder, Lord Varys," Tywin remarked.
"It is, Lord Lannister," Varys responded smoothly. "It is cold and chilly."
"We have crossed the Neck," he continued. "The closer we get to Winterfell, the colder it will get. We should be prepared for the cold."
"Have you ever been to Winterfell?" Tywin questioned.
"It is my first time," Varys replied. "Just like you."
"Yes, indeed," Tywin grunted. "It is my first time."
"You personally visiting Winterfell is a very big deal, Lord Lannister," Varys noted.
"Is it?" Tywin questioned.
"You are more accomplished than I am in these matters, Lord Lannister," Varys replied deferentially. "You know better than me. You know that a lot of people might overlook your importance, that your visit might be overshadowed by the King's presence. But both of us know that your visit to Winterfell is a very big deal whatever your reasons may be."
Tywin did not say anything further. He knew Varys was speaking the truth. He was the Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, and Lord Paramount of the Westerlands. He was no ordinary man. He was an immensely important man, and he was traveling to Winterfell without an invitation. He did not even know if Ned was even aware of his visit to Winterfell.
It would not have mattered if he were a member of the King's Small Council. Then, he would merely be part of the royal entourage. But he was not. He was going of his own accord, and that made his presence highly significant.
"Lord Lannister," Varys said, his voice dropping low. "I doubt you are riding with me just to discuss the chill of Winterfell."
"Not really," Tywin replied with a slight shrug.
"I wanted to know more about what happened at the House of Black and White in Braavos," he continued. "Why did the Faceless Men reject the contract on Rhaenys Targaryen?"
"I cannot really say," Varys answered. "They did not give any explanation. But they were clear that they would not accept any contract to kill her."
"And you have no thoughts on the matter?" Tywin pressed. "Any ideas?"
"No," Varys replied. "I am as perplexed as anyone. This is the first time I have ever heard of the Faceless Men rejecting a contract."
"Is it possible they believe it is impossible to kill Rhaenys, and that is the reason they rejected it?" Tywin questioned.
"It could be," Varys replied after a moment of contemplation. "But I would not be certain. If they truly thought it was too difficult to kill Rhaenys Targaryen, they could have simply asked for an exorbitant price. A price that we could not have paid. That would have been an indirect rejection. I do not think they normally opt for a direct refusal."
Tywin nodded his head in thought.
"And what news do you have of her?" He asked. "Have you heard anything lately from your little birds? Is she preparing for a major move, or anything of the sort?"
"My birds have not sung of anything like that," Varys replied. "For now, she is staying in Pentos. She is leading the city through a transformation. You know the usual thing she had done in Qohor. Rebuilding houses, constructing drainage systems, and laying down wide, paved streets."
"As for her other ventures, Dragonsteel is creating a storm in Essos. The steel is selling like wildfire. Even traders from Westeros are crossing the sea on quests to source it. She is swimming in coins. Gold coins."
"And is she building an army?" Tywin questioned.
"Not really," Varys replied. "Though she has recruited the Golden Company, she has not recruited new men. She has merely taken over the personal guards of the Magisters."
Tywin did not respond immediately. He rode beside Varys in silence for a few moments before finally speaking.
"Lord Varys," Tywin said, his tone measured. "How close are any of your birds to Rhaenys Targaryen?"
"Why would you ask such a thing, Lord Tywin?" Varys questioned, a slight frown creasing his brow.
Tywin looked at the Master of Whisperers for a long moment.
"If you have a man, a woman, or a child close enough to Rhaenys, make arrangements to have her poisoned or stabbed in her sleep or pushed from the window or anything like that," Tywin said coldly. "Have her assassinated. I will pay you whatever I was willing to pay the Faceless Men, provided you can accomplish this."
Varys stilled for a fraction of a second, but he quickly regained his usual placid composure.
"I am afraid that would not be possible, Lord Lannister," Varys said, shaking his head gently. "I have not been able to place a single spy close enough to her. The moment they cross a certain threshold, they simply disappear."
"I believe you yourself might have experienced something similar with your own informants," he remarked pointedly.
Tywin gave a terse nod of agreement. Varys, on the other hand, lost himself in his own internal thoughts. Pentos submitting to Rhaenys and her subsequent relocation to the city had been a massive personal loss for the Spider.
Pentos was a city over which Varys had traditionally held immense leverage. He had spies in every nook and cranny of its streets. He had even placed informants directly inside the household of his old friend, Illyrio Mopantis.
But after Rhaenys settled in the city, any spy who managed to get close to her, or who tried to slime their way into her inner circle, vanished without a trace. Varys had abruptly stopped receiving any real reports from his network there.
Even Illyrio rarely sent messages anymore. Varys could not begin to understand exactly how Rhaenys was accomplishing this absolute purge.
The political machinery and the people working under her were simply not that elaborate. Yet, no matter how deeply he pondered the puzzle, he remained utterly unable to find an answer.
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