Chapter 160: War Is Coming, Winter Is Coming
Barristan Selmy stood outside the king's solar.
His eyes moved over Artos as the Hand approached, lingering briefly on the weariness in his face.
"Lord Artos."
"Ser Barristan. Is he drinking?"
"Aye."
"Then at least one thing is going as expected."
Barristan opened the door.
Robert sat beside a table covered in food he had scarcely touched. The wine, on the other hand, was disappearing at a respectable pace.
"Artos! My Hand." He raised his cup. "Come. Drink with me."
"Aye. I have a great deal to discuss."
Robert's smile weakened.
"I thought we were finished with work."
"Never finished in this wretched city."
"Too bloody true."
Artos poured himself a cup and sat opposite him. For a moment, he simply enjoyed sitting somewhere without a pile of reports waiting beneath his elbow.
Then Robert ruined it.
"Well?"
"I assume you've heard what happened."
"Heard?" Robert grinned. "My son finally grew a pair and stepped out from beneath his mother's skirts. The queen is furious, the lions are unhappy, and the boy has learned what a sword is for. What more could a man want?"
Artos laughed.
"Don't become too happy. We aren't finished."
"I know. You told me already. Every fucking trouble, Essos, Lions and whatever still wants my throne and neck." Robert drank. "Whatever comes next, I'm ready."
Artos looked pointedly at the cup.
"Drinking and Then more drinking. A fine way to prepare."
Robert frowned.
"I've fought wars before."
"And now you sit while I deal with the men preparing the next one."
The king put his cup down.
"You told me there was trouble in Essos. Now I hear there are more bloody dragons to kill. Blackfyres, after all these years."
"Men claiming the name. We haven't established what blood they possess. They are pretending to be dragons."
"Dragon blood is dragon blood."
Robert stared at him.
Artos leaned forward.
"They are across the sea, moving through places where even my reach is limited. We don't know enough to send assassins, and we cannot afford to send an army."
Robert's face darkened.
"I thought Braavos supported us."
"Braavos does."
"Then—"
"Braavos supports trade, stable ports and agreements that make its merchants richer. That does not mean its people will pay to fight your war."
"Valen is the Sealord."
"One of the longest-serving they have had. Even he cannot make the city follow a war they had no business especially with Targaryen blood."
Robert grunted.
Artos continued before he could interrupt.
"We have only begun repairing the treasury. Our debts have not vanished because Littlefinger is gone. A war in Essos means ships, horses, provisions and thousands of men being paid while they cross the sea."
"We have ships."
"Not enough to move an army and keep it fed once it lands. And if we go, we need the Reach."
"The Tyrells bent the knee."
"Aye. I can speak to Olenna. I can convince her. But even with her support, we cannot empty our ports and march our strongest armies abroad."
"Why not?"
"Because Tywin Lannister would still be behind us."
Robert leaned back.
"Tywin will stay quiet. He has for years."
"No, he hasn't."
The answer came sharply.
Robert looked at him.
Artos lowered his cup.
"He was content while he believed his blood would inherit your throne. A grandson raised by Cersei, listening to Cersei, surrounded by men who understood which family paid them."
"He still has a grandson."
"Now that grandson is under my instruction. Your queen is furious because Joffrey occasionally listens when someone other than her speaks. Tywin is furious because I have removed his men and broken arrangements he expected to last forever."
Robert's mouth twisted.
"Good."
"Aye. I enjoy it too. That doesn't make it harmless."
Artos rubbed his jaw.
"He hates my guts. The feeling is mutual. If we sail east, he will not spend the next two years patiently guarding our backs."
"Then we deal with him first."
"That means making Casterly Rock bloody before we ever reach Essos. We cannot take that step now."
"Why not?" Robert demanded. "Give the Rock to Tommen when we're done. Let the boy have it."
Artos stared at him, then laughed.
Robert did not appreciate it.
"What?"
"As simple as that?"
"I am the king."
"And Tywin commands the Westerlands. If he receives the slightest warning, he shuts his passes, fills his stores and prepares for a siege. You could spend years trying to drag him out."
"I've broken stronger men."
"Not while paying for another war across the sea."
Robert reached for the wine.
"And what reason do we give the realm?" Artos continued. "That we dislike him? That his daughter shouts at us? We start a war without proof, and every lord who fears losing his own seat begins wondering whether he is next."
The king drank deeply.
Then he looked at Artos over the rim.
"You haven't told me everything."
Artos said nothing.
"You have something. Out with it."
After a moment, Artos set his cup aside.
"I have a man among Tywin's people. A spy."
Robert went still.
"What has he told you?"
"That Tywin wants me removed. Preferably dead. And that money has been sent through hands connected to the men who armed the Sparrows."
Robert's cup struck the table.
"You know?"
"I have a report."
"You just said—"
"I said I have a report. I trust the man. That does not mean every word reaching him is true, or that I can put him before a court without getting him killed."
Robert stood.
"Tywin funds men to raise steel in my capital, and we sit here discussing how politely to approach him?"
"We are doing something."
"What?"
"Following the money. Identifying the men carrying his orders. Finding out which lords he believes will stand with him."
"And while you count his coins?"
"I have already contacted Randyll Tarly."
Robert's expression changed.
"Tarly?"
"Aye. We may need him."
"He fought against us."
"And fought well. You remember that more clearly than most."
The king glared.
Artos stood, slower than he intended, and approached the table.
"Robert. If we begin this badly, we could be at war for years. We need men who can command, roads we can use, stores that will feed an army and lords who understand why they are being summoned."
"Then summon them."
"And tell Tywin exactly what we are doing?"
Robert looked away.
"Give me a year," Artos said. "A proper year to prepare, not a fortnight because you've become angry over supper."
"A year."
"Perhaps less, if he becomes foolish. Better that he makes the first open move."
"You expect him to?"
"I intend to give him reason."
Robert turned back.
Artos's expression had hardened.
"He is desperate to be rid of me. I have damaged his pride more times than either of us cares to count. Every time I dismiss another bought official or Joffrey ignores his mother, he sees his hold slipping. No even before that, remember the Rebellion years, Our Glorious years but it wasn't for Tywin. First time somebody tried to shatter his pride and he couldn't do anything about it."
"So you provoke him."
"I let him discover that he cannot quietly put everything back."
"And if he moves against you?"
"He already is."
For several moments, neither spoke.
Then Robert sat.
"What is your plan?"
Artos returned to his own chair but did not sit immediately.
"I am doing what I can. When I return, I will finish the preparations."
Robert frowned.
"Return?"
"That is the other matter."
The king's eyes narrowed.
"I need to leave."
"For where?"
"I will be occupied for a month. Perhaps two."
Robert stared at him.
"Two months?"
"At most."
"You spend half the evening telling me that the realm is surrounded by enemies, then announce you're leaving?"
"Aye."
"To prepare something against Tywin?"
"No. To deal with another problem."
"What problem?" Robert roared.
"A personal one."
Robert's face reddened.
"Personal."
"It cannot wait."
"You are my Hand."
"I know."
"I have seven bloody kingdoms to govern."
"You have seven bloody kingdoms you prefer me to govern."
"That is what the Hand is for!"
"And I will have someone ready to manage the work."
Robert gave a harsh laugh.
"Who? Another lord who arrives with fifty cousins and no idea what he's doing? You just told me how delicate all this is. Especially now."
"It will be someone I trained. Someone who knows the work."
The king watched him.
"Who?"
"Ethan."
Silence.
Then Robert shook his head.
"No."
"Listen before you begin shouting."
"Your commander?"
"Aye."
"You want me to put a soldier in your chair?"
"I was a soldier when you put me in it."
"You are a Stark."
"And that taught me a great deal about how to Kingdoms who doesn't like me or my faith."
"Don't be clever with me."
"Then don't give me a foolish objection."
Robert rose again.
"He has no great house. No lands worth speaking of. Half the council will refuse to listen."
"Then you will tell them to listen."
"You make it sound easy."
"No. I make it sound like your responsibility."
The king glared at him.
Artos held his gaze.
"Ethan is my man, I trained for my lands to be second.Ethan has been beside me through every stage of this. He knows which reports matter, which officers can be trusted and what still needs doing. He has watched the city, trained the Watch and helped carry out decisions the council only heard about afterward."
"He is not you."
"No. He is the man I trust to keep my work intact until I return."
"What about Tyrion?"
"He will handle the treasury and continue following the gold. Tyrion is smart but too naive and he isn't a soldier like you and me . And we need one right now for what we have to deal with it. Tyrion can be a hand in peace but right now is anything but peace.The council does not disappear because I leave the city."
"And when they disagree?"
"They bring it to Ethan."
"And when I disagree?"
Artos gave him a tired look.
"You usually shout until someone explains it again."
Robert opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
"This is temporary," Artos said. "I am not surrendering the office. Ethan carries out my instructions under your authority. Two months, Robert. You will survive two months without me sitting outside your door while you fuck and drink."
"You haven't even told me where the fuck you're going."
Artos's hand tightened against the back of his chair.
"I know."
"Then tell me."
"And I know what I am doing."
"Do you?"
The question struck harder than the shouting.
Artos looked down briefly.
He was tired in a way that wine and sleep had stopped curing.
When he looked up again, Robert was watching him.
"I will get the work done," Artos said. "Tywin. The treasury. The men across the sea. But first I have to deal with this."
"What could possibly matter more?"
Artos had no answer he was willing to give.
That seemed to anger Robert most of all.
"If you walk out now and the realm begins burning behind you—"
"Then it burns."
Robert fell silent.
Artos's voice was low, but it no longer shook with frustration.
"I have put this off for one problem after another. I cannot do it again. Not for Tywin. Not for Essos. Not even if the whole bloody realm burns to the ground."
"You would leave anyway?"
Artos held his king's gaze.
"Aye."