In the dim cellar, the grease on the torch burned with a crackling sound. The shifting light cast wavering shadows over the skull of the Black Dread, as though something were hiding in the darkness.
After a moment, Varys shook his head, his tone filled with complexities.
"Too fast. We are not yet prepared—"
"I do not know whether I should be grateful the war is over, or complain that it ended too quickly."
Left speechless for a long time, Varys could only make this bitter conclusion.
Hearing his words, Illyrio also sighed in turn.
"Yes. In this war, the lion and the wolf and the stag fought each other, heads broken and blood flowing. It looked like an opportunity, but who can say?"
"Just like now—"
With those words, in the empty and chilly cellar, the two of them once again fell silently into contemplation.
After a moment, Illyrio finally lifted his head again to look at Varys, gathering his spirits once more.
"But at least for now everything appears to be good news for us. Westeros has returned to calm."
"Although this war makes it seem as if the Baratheons have grown stronger again, in my view that is not so. In truth, this is the moment when they are at their weakest."
Illyrio's eyes showed contemplation as he unconsciously played with the rings on his fingers.
Yet his tone when speaking was extremely firm.
Hearing this, Varys also nodded slightly.
"Robert will not allow his bastard son to become the heir to the Iron Throne. If he were to do so, no one would be willing to support him any longer."
"Even his two brothers would turn against him because of this."
"And now the Westerlands as a whole have been broken and plundered. Perhaps this is also an opportunity the gods have granted us."
Amid all their helplessness, Varys finally brought one piece of good news.
But Illyrio, upon hearing it, furrowed his brows slightly. "You mean we still need to continue waiting?" Illyrio asked.
"What else can we do besides this?" Varys gave a bitter smile. "Let things stay calm awhile longer; we need time."
Yet Illyrio had a different opinion.
"You say—do you think it might be possible for us to find a way to make the Baratheons even weaker than they are now?"
Varys snapped his head toward him, his gaze suddenly turning sharp. "What do you intend to do?"
Faced with the question, Illyrio turned the rings on his hand.
"Ever since I arrived in King's Landing, I have actually had an idea. I think if we do this, it may be the course most beneficial to us."
"This could shorten the time we must wait—we would no longer need to endure ten years, or even twenty."
"But it will require some preparation."
Illyrio's tone was heavy, yet he could not suppress the tremor of excitement beneath it.
Noticing his expression, Varys raised an eyebrow. "What do you want to do? Kill Eddard Stark?"
"You want Robert to lose a second Hand?"
"The first died because of a conspiracy too shameful to bring into the open—so what would the second die for?"
Varys felt a faint resistance rising; he did not think this was a good plan.
"This is not impossible either. Since one Hand has died already, why cannot a second die as well?"
"But what I truly mean is that perhaps we can kill Robert Baratheon ahead of time and plunge the Seven Kingdoms into greater chaos, which might be even more advantageous for us."
Illyrio had clearly lost some of his patience; perhaps the pressure of these months in Pentos had simply grown too great.
Hearing Illyrio's impulsive thought, Varys could not help thinking inwardly.
"No, Illyrio. Robert's death would bring disorder only for a short while. Once a new king sits upon the Iron Throne again, that would be far more harmful than beneficial to us."
"Only Robert—and only Robert—is our best choice."
"And as for Eddard Stark, we cannot let him die either. Think about it: only when the two of them work together can we gain what we want with greater ease."
Varys's mind worked quickly, and in just a few moments he had thoroughly analyzed the pros and cons of the matter.
Hearing this, Illyrio Mopatis could not help falling silent.
After a moment, he raised his head to look at Varys. "You are right. It seems you already have enough ideas and confidence."
"I am no sorcerer," Varys shook his head.
To this, Illyrio chuckled. "But your abilities certainly do not fall short of a sorcerer's."
Varys did not wish to dwell on this issue any longer. He exhaled deeply and turned to look at the enormous skeleton before him.
"Thanks to some of Kal El's current plans for stimulating King's Landing's economy, Pentos has also reached certain agreements with King's Landing. This will help with the next stage of our plans."
What Varys said was something Illyrio, acting as Pentos's representative in recent days, had discussed with Kal El, the Master of Coin, so of course he understood.
Thus he set aside the earlier plan and nodded. "Good. Perhaps we should be grateful—for now, at least, it looks that way."
"Princess Daenerys is already with child, but before her son is born, Khal Drogo will absolutely not go to war. You know these savages and what they are like."
"I thought this was an opportunity, which was why I was forced to use certain methods to make him stay for several months, but Pentos is nearly frightened to death by him."
Speaking of Pentos again, Illyrio felt only pain in his heart.
He had spent so much and put in so much effort. He had believed this would be an opportunity, forcing him to use certain methods ahead of time.
Yet with Kal El suddenly descending like divine soldiers from the heavens to resolve King's Landing's crisis, he brought this war to an abrupt end in an instant.
And facing Tywin Lannister, who had cast aside everything only to gain nothing but an empty illusion, he was left with no choice but to surrender, losing everything he had pushed all-in upon, and being utterly forced out of the game.
"The opportunity was not secured, and now is not a very good time."
"Everything happened far too hastily. We originally thought that this time we could achieve our goal, but no one expected a bastard to appear midway."
Having been brothers for so many years, Varys naturally understood Illyrio's thoughts.
But all he could do was offer comfort.
"For Kevan Lannister to seize King's Landing this time, that old man Pycelle alone could never have accomplished it."
"I found a way to force Renly Baratheon back to Storm's End to restrain the armies of Dorne, and I found an excuse to transfer Barristan Selmy to the battlefield in the Riverlands, and I even made sure he took a large portion of soldiers with him."
"Did Tywin Lannister truly believe that the army he smuggled upriver along the Blackwater was hidden so well?"
"If I had not helped him, this war would only have become far more brutal."
In the dark cellar, in a chamber unknown to anyone, Varys spoke in an offhand tone as he revealed the real reason King's Landing fell.
Illyrio Mopatis naturally understood all of this. After all, he had been coordinating with his old friend across the Narrow Sea.
"Not only that—we restrained the Vale, and we also ensured that Dorne was prepared."
"But after spending so much gold and so much effort, just as results and opportunity appeared, just as everything was progressing according to plan…"
Returning to this subject, Illyrio could not hold back and slammed his fist onto Balerion's pitch-black, razor-sharp teeth.
"Damn it—how did he manage to do it?!"
Seeing the frustration on Illyrio's face, Varys could only show helplessness.
"That day, I saw him break the city with my own eyes. And when I saw there was no hope left, I had no choice but to step forward."
"Fortunately, he is not a Baratheon, and fortunately he did not become suspicious of me."
"You did not see him in the throne room up above. He decisively killed two councilors on the spot without the slightest hesitation, simply because he suspected them."
"After he killed Pycelle and Littlefinger, he even had an excuse prepared. To this day the king still does not know how his Grand Maester and Master of Coin died, because he used a dead man to take the blame."
"At that moment I was terrified. If he wished it, he could have cut me into four pieces."
"And I could feel that he truly had killing intent toward me. But why he did not kill me—in truth, even now I have no idea why I am still alive."
Speaking of that day, Varys wore a look of lingering fear.
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