Petyr took a sip of summer red, put down his cup, and said, "Count Kleber, when Duke Jon entrusted me with the Master of Coin, I was full of ambition, but when I truly joined the Small Council, I realized that I could only choose to protect myself."
After a pause, Petyr said, "His Majesty's brother, Master of Laws Duke Renly, is enthusiastic about dressing up. The golden dragons he spends on clothes are probably more than Queen Cersei can match.
Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Barristan loves his honor, Grand Maester Pycelle only cares about cherishing his hard-won position, Master of Whisperers Varys… only the gods know what he is thinking. And…"
Petyr almost forgot the low-key Stannis Baratheon again.
"Master of Ships Duke Stannis will only return to the Small Council unless someone sends all the prostitutes in King's Landing into the sea."
Greene smiled and shook his head: "It sounds a bit bad, but the Small Council has a fascinating charm, and many people are eager for a seat on the Small Council."
The Small Council is the highest authority for kingdom affairs, assisting the King in handling kingdom affairs as advisory ministers, responsible for providing advice and consultation to the King from their respective professional perspectives.
The appointment and removal of Small Council members are determined by the King himself. The Small Council directly obeys the King. When the King is absent, the King's Hand acts on his behalf, and when the King is underage, the regent exercises royal power.
Due to the worship of the number seven brought by the Faith of the Seven of the Andals, the council usually consists of seven members, whose powers are: King's Hand, Grand Maester, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Master of Laws, Master of Coin, Master of Ships, and Master of Whisperers.
...
Petyr shrugged and said, "Family interests are above kingdom interests."
Greene was touched by Petyr's frankness on the surface, but in his heart, he only took his words as reference material.
Greene's brown eyes trembled slightly: "Now I understand why Prime Minister Jon hasn't gotten better; he collapsed from exhaustion."
Petyr leaned back against the chair, first sighing softly, then said, "Duke Jon has long silently borne the heavy responsibilities of the kingdom. His broad shoulders are almost crushed by the kingdom's affairs and other worries.
Especially his son, Robert Arryn, whose body has always been small and weak. Lady Arryn worries about this all day long, barely daring to let him out of her sight.
With such internal and external pressure, I think even a strong and healthy person would find it difficult to bear, let alone Duke Jon, who is no longer young. It's not surprising that he is physically and mentally exhausted from this."
Duke Jon was indeed a person worthy of admiration, but for Greene, he couldn't bring himself to like him, especially after being constantly watched by him.
It wasn't about right or wrong; it was a matter of opposing stances.
The position represented by Jon Arryn was the Kingdom and the Vale, while the position represented by Greene Kleber was the Claw Isle.
After the War of the Usurper, the suppression of Claw Isle by the Vale Noble led by Duke Jon for more than ten years, the accumulated grievances between the two regions have become unsolvable without bloodshed.
The Vale and Claw Isle are also geographical neighbors.
It would be fine if Claw Isle remained weak, but Duke Jon is already old and frail, and the power of Claw Isle is being integrated step by step by Greene's Kleber Family. As time goes on, it would not be surprising if a war suddenly broke out one day.
...
Greene's smile was complex, and he raised his cup and said, "To the health of the Old Duke."
Petyr's grey-green eyes flickered, he took a sip of summer red, and with a smirk, he said, "Ha, I really wish Duke Jon were here; he would be moved by you."
Greene spread his hands helplessly: "I just hope the Old Duke stops paying attention to me. His love for me is too deep, and I have no way to repay it."
Petyr's eyes sparkled: "It's difficult for now. I used to be a tax collector in Seagull Town, and someone told me that a song from Claw Isle became forbidden there."
Between the two, Petyr naturally shifted the conversation from the Small Council to Seagull Town in the Vale.
Greene chuckled and said, "It's innocent, actually that song is good."
Petyr shrugged: "I understand them; they always think the Vale is the safest place in all of Westeros, and they've developed a habit of making a mountain out of a molehill."
Upon hearing this, Greene's hand holding the wine glass stiffened for a moment, which made Petyr's elegant smile deepen.
Petyr had confirmed Greene's attitude towards the Vale.
Through the information on paper, Petyr had long been aware of the hatred in Claw Isle, and tonight was just a further confirmation.
This was Petyr's way; he liked or was accustomed to being foolproof.
...
"Contradictions will be resolved sooner or later."
After saying that, Petyr elegantly raised his glass, gestured towards Greene, and continued: "In the vast sea, the most dangerous thing is not storms, but the wickedness of human hearts. The Royal Fleet appearing in the Free Trade Cities of Essos would be considered an invasion, Count Kleber, you now need a reliable Sellsword company."
Greene's eyes flickered: "Lord Petyr, only by truly interacting with you can one realize that you are favored by wisdom. This is one of my biggest concerns."
"One of them?"
Petyr smiled and said, "It seems you are worried about Queen Cersei… Count Kleber, although we are pawns in the eyes of the powerful, when you have value, you can sell yourself at a good price. Whether on the surface or in reality, you are currently entrusted with important tasks by King Robert and Prime Minister Jon, so you should not be the one most anxious."
Greene was slightly stunned for a moment, then sighed with emotion: "Lord Petyr, your foresight is like a torch. Please accept my sincere gratitude."
With that, Greene earnestly touched his chest in thanks to Petyr.
Petyr shook his head slightly and said, "Count Kleber, we are friends, and good advice between friends needs no thanks, and it's too early to thank me now."
Seeing Greene's puzzled look, Petyr's lips curved into a smile, and he continued, "There's a small Sellsword company. They own a seagoing ship and support themselves by escorting Vale merchant ships traveling between Westeros and Essos.
I heard about them a long time ago. Their reputation has always been good, but most of their members are from the North and have always been ostracized by their counterparts in the Vale, barely making a living.
Perhaps they couldn't make ends meet, or perhaps these straightforward men believed something, but the northerners, unafraid of the heat, even planned to try their luck in Dorne. Coincidentally, I learned about this…"
He paused, then Petyr spread his hand and continued, "I think Claw Isle doesn't lack warriors, but it lacks sailors. So I helped them get two more ships. Of course, I contacted them in your name, Count Kleber."
A timely Petyr?
Greene suppressed his excitement on his face, while inwardly marveling at Petyr's methods of winning people over.
Flexible bottom line, outstanding mind, sufficient ambition… Greene quietly raised Petyr's danger level by one notch in his heart.
[That summer, Greene, with his hands in his pockets, looked around… and met an opponent.]
Greene had to stand up, open his arms towards Petyr, and said with gratitude in his voice: "Lord Petyr, thank you for your generosity. Kleber will remember it."
"You're welcome, consider it a gift to celebrate your promotion to nobility."
Petyr also opened his arms and embraced Greene, patting Greene's back a few times.
After sitting down again, Petyr crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair: "Soon, you'll see them in your Mermaid Port. Those straightforward northerners are traveling day and night, rushing to pledge their loyalty to you."
In the game of power, there is no kindness without reason, especially from someone as shrewd as Petyr.
What could Petyr Baelish's goal be?
Vale… A slight smile appeared on Greene's face, and he said, "Lord Petyr, thank you again. Now, I have no worries."
Knock, knock, knock. After the knock, two girls entered the room.
One had red hair and blue eyes, the other blonde hair and green eyes.
Their milky skin and enchanting figures were even more captivating in the candlelight.
Petyr winked one eye, pointed at the blonde, green-eyed girl, and said to Greene, "Count Kleber, you still need the encouragement of beauty. Tonight is a night without return."
So Petyr liked this; Greene instantly understood Petyr.
Greene smiled up… Well, this could also be considered a kind of victory.
...
...
King's Landing at night, Kleber's new residence.
"Only here is there light."
The study door was pushed open, and Tyrion Lannister stepped inside.
Samwell, immersed in his books, heard the movement and looked up from his book towards the doorway.
The door opened, and he seemed to hear voices… but he saw no one.
Samwell shivered, and a look of fear appeared on his face.
"Fat boy, look down, you are offending me."
Samwell came to his senses and quickly looked in the direction of the voice.
Samwell and Tyrion's gazes met.
Samwell jolted, quickly stood up, and clumsily bowed his head in apology: "Good evening, Lord Tyrion, I... I meant no offense."
Tyrion ignored Samwell, climbed onto a chair, sat down, and glanced at the open book, saying, "What are you reading?"
Samwell replied stiffly, "It's a book about Dragons."
Tyrion said with interest, "Samwell, you like Dragons too? And also, sit down, I don't like the dark, your body is blocking the candlelight."
"Sorry, my Lord."
With a thud, Samwell hastily sat down.
"Kleber Territory focuses on archery, I'm researching... The book says Dragon bones are black because of their high iron content, making them as hard as iron. But they are also extremely light and flexible, and bows made from Dragon bone can easily surpass the range of wooden bows."
Tyrion listened patiently, then said, "It seems you've found your own path, the eldest son of the renowned General Randyll?"
Samwell's lips moved, and he silently lowered his head.
"My question seems to have affected your mood, I apologize, Dwarfs have always been poor at reading expressions. My Dwarf predecessors who performed acrobatics and sold their skills were always casually dressed and spoke without restraint, so I'm not an anomaly."
Tyrion's words brought a shy smile to Samwell's face.
Tyrion nodded with satisfaction: "You're very good, you understand my humor. In all of King's Landing, besides Greene, there's now you."
Samwell awkwardly scratched the back of his head.
Tyrion grinned and chuckled, saying, "The eldest son of Lord Randyll Tarly?"
A hint of sadness appeared on Samwell's face: "Lord Tyrion, I am the son of Lord Randyll Tarly, he... he doesn't like me, I have already left there."
Tyrion shrugged and said, "Another poor soul who can't get paternal love."
Samwell understood the meaning in Tyrion's words and asked with confusion, "I'm sorry, I can't imagine you being sad."
Tyrion laughed heartily: "Sam, you have a clever mind, I like you."
Samwell smiled shyly.
Tyrion propped himself up with one hand, leaning most of his body out of the chair, and with the other hand pulled the open book closer: "Dragons are an interesting subject. When I was your age, I often dreamed of having my own Dragon someday... What does that look in your eyes mean? Haven't you ever had such a dream?"
Samwell honestly admitted, "I have, but there are no Dragons left in the world."
"Have you realized the cruel truth so early? I at least deceived myself for many years."
"You probably like Dragons more."
"Aha, so you don't want your fantasy to be shattered?"
Tyrion shook his head and said, "I like Dragons because as long as I can ride on a Dragon's back, even an underdeveloped, deformed, ugly little boy can look down on the whole world. A terrible childhood..."
Tyrion seemed to be reminiscing, his tone cold and emotionless: "When I was little, I often hid in the deep tunnels of Casterly Rock, lighting fires. Looking at the raging flames, I imagined they were the fiery breath of a Dragon, gazing for a long time. Occasionally, I would imagine... I'm still not sure if my father, who was burned to death by a Dragon, was my biological father, or sometimes it was my elder sister."
Tyrion, with his head slightly lowered, quietly glanced at the frightened Samwell, and couldn't help but burst into laughter.
"If Greene heard this, he would seriously advise me to act on my impulses, haha."
Tyrion's humor startled him... Samwell wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
Tyrion laughed for a while, then sobered, his tone becoming serious: "For me, all of that is in the past, it can't hurt me anymore, so now I can just use it as a joke. Sam, please remember, daring to face the past, daring to choose the future, these are all aids in your life."
After speaking, Tyrion nimbly jumped off the chair, reached out and patted Samwell's... knee, humming a popular warm-toned tune from King's Landing, then turned and walked away.
Tyrion's kind words before leaving seemed to strike the deepest part of Samwell's heart, greatly moving him.
Samwell watched Tyrion's small figure, the candlelight stretching his shadow long.
Samwell's vision blurred for a moment, and he seemed to see a giant.
...
...
Free Trade Cities, Pentos, Governor's Mansion.
Daenerys Targaryen's handmaiden still died.
Governor Illyrio's physician told Daenerys that her handmaiden's internal organs were too damaged to be healed.
Overcome with grief, Daenerys had nightmares all night.
"You have awakened the sleeping Dragon's rage!"
In the dream, Daenerys had no clothes on, and Viserys struck her again, twisting his face as he punched and kicked her.
Daenerys was so scared she was helpless, she wanted to run away from Viserys, but her body wouldn't obey her.
Daenerys's thighs were covered in blood, and she was groaning with her eyes closed, when she heard a ferocious tearing sound, followed by a powerful crackle of fire, as if someone was responding to her.
Daenerys opened her eyes, and Viserys was gone, huge pillars of fire rose around her, and in the middle of the fire pillars was a Dragon.
The Dragon slowly turned its head, and the moment its lava-like eyes met Daenerys's gaze, she woke up.
When she woke, Daenerys was trembling all over, cold sweat pouring down her.
...
Daenerys's cheeks, reddened by Viserys's blows, along with her dishevelled appearance, forced Governor Illyrio to postpone her marriage plans.
Governor Illyrio was a merchant, dealing in spices, gems, and Dragon bones, as well as other unsavory dealings.
He had extensive connections, not only throughout the nine Free Trade Cities but also as far as Vaes Dothrak in the east, and the legendary lands along the Jade Sea.
Rumor had it that he was willing to betray any friend, as long as the price was right.
Governor Illyrio advised: "King Viserys, your sister should at least look like a Princess."
Viserys loudly declared: "She is, of course, a Princess, she is the Dragonstone Princess, a genuine Princess."
Governor Illyrio patiently explained: "Your Majesty, you need an army. What you need now is Princess Daenerys, not a pathetic little girl, the world is accustomed to judging the value of things with their eyes."
Viserys finally listened.
...
Although Viserys could not leave scars on Daenerys, he had other ways.
"Get rid of that hunchback habit, lift your head and chest."
Viserys reached out and pulled Daenerys's shoulders back, his fingers slowly brushing over various parts of Daenerys's body.
"My sister, you are not allowed to embarrass me in the future. If you make a mistake... you wouldn't want to awaken the sleeping Dragon's rage, would you?"
Viserys's slightly twisted smile made Daenerys involuntarily shiver.
Viserys's fingers squeezed tighter and tighter, and even through her outer clothes, Daenerys felt unbearable pain.
"Do you understand?"
"Mm, I... I understand..."
Only then did Viserys show a satisfied expression, lovingly stroking Daenerys's silver hair: "One day when I reclaim the Iron Throne, I will not forget your contribution."
The Iron Throne... that land across the Narrow Sea, in Westeros, which her brother always claimed was theirs, but which she had never seen.
The names he spoke: Casterly Rock, Eyrie, Highgarden, Vale of Arryn, Dorne, etc., were just jumbled words to Daenerys.
Because of the War of the Usurper, they were forced to flee King's Landing when Viserys was an eight-year-old boy, and Daenerys was still comfortably in her mother's womb.
Daenerys only vaguely remembered Ser Willem Darry, he was a burly, grey-bearded man, who even when half-blind later, could still roar and give orders loudly from his sickbed.
The servants were afraid of Ser Willem Darry, but he was always kind and gentle to Daenerys, his hands were as soft as leather, and he called her his little Princess.
At that time, they lived in a house with a red door in Braavos, Daenerys had her own room, and there was a lemon tree outside her bedroom window.
After Ser Willem, tormented day and night by illness, died, the servants stole all the money they had left, and not long after, they were driven out of that spacious red house.
When the red door closed on them forever, Daenerys could no longer hold back her tears.
Daenerys felt that was her home.