Ser Brynden enunciated each word: "Petyr Baelish."
Petyr's eye twitched slightly. He wasn't surprised by Ser Brynden's reaction at this moment; he just suddenly missed the Small Council and the Red Keep.
Petyr cleared his throat and said, "My apologies, in your presence, I always mistakenly believe myself to still be that little boy from Riverrun."
After hearing this, Ser Brynden's tense expression softened slightly.
Petyr spread his hands and said, "Uncle Brynden, I didn't deceive you. Lady Catelyn is well, but..."
With a sigh, he continued, "Lady Lysa's condition isn't very good. Lady Catelyn is very worried about her sister."
Ser Brynden frowned and pondered for a moment, then said, "Last time we met, I thought Lysa seemed quite well..."
Petyr's expression became solemn. He nodded and said, "When I first arrived at the Eyrie, I had a similar opinion to yours. I thought with a little more time, Lady Lysa's grief could be healed. Until..."
He shook his head slightly and sighed, "Until Lady Catelyn arrived at the Eyrie... Seeing her sister, Lysa seemed to have become a different person. Lady Lysa trusts no one but her sister..."
He shrugged: "That includes me."
After a pause, Petyr forced a smile and continued, "Ser Brynden, perhaps... every woman is born to perform. I am quite sure that what you and I saw was Lady Lysa's performance of strength for us."
Ser Brynden murmured, "My little Lysa..."
The atmosphere in the room was heavy. After a long silence, Ser Brynden spoke with a weary expression: "Lysa is afraid... isn't she?"
Brynden Tully stated the answer he had guessed, the reason Lysa, in the name of the Duke of Eyrie, had him leave Blood Gate.
Petyr spread his hands, his voice tinged with weariness: "Uncle Brynden, Cat's companionship has helped Lysa recover a lot, but she still needs a little more time."
....
Ser Brynden walked to the window and stood still, his deep eyes gazing at the weathered grey stone arch bridge of the Blood Gate fortress.
Why was Lysa so eager to banish her uncle? Thinking of this... Ser Brynden couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
Given Ned's character, would he convict someone without evidence? Especially when that person was his wife's sister.
Since receiving the Direwolf's letter, Brynden Tully had been trying to convince himself every day that perhaps... it might be possible... How could a Tully girl poison her own husband?!
Ser Brynden took a deep breath. His little Lysa was suspecting him, her uncle... would he open the gates of the Blood Gate fortress to her enemies for the sake of justice?
This only proved that Ned had not lied; it was the truth. Ser Brynden could no longer find a reason to deceive himself.
Family... Duty... Honor... Ser Brynden seemed to age a great deal in an instant.
....
"I understand."
Having said that, Ser Brynden turned around and continued, "Petyr, I will obey the Duke of Eyrie's command, resign as Blood Gate Knight, and leave Blood Gate immediately."
Petyr's face showed reluctance, and he nodded silently.
Ser Brynden's tall figure walked in front of Petyr. Though his hair was gray, he was still strong.
"Petyr, Lysa's sworn knights (referring to Lysa's sworn knight, Chapter 178) are not reliable. Help Lysa choose a trustworthy Blood Gate Knight."
"I will."
"Look after little Robert."
"It is my honor."
Ser Brynden's large hand patted Petyr's not-so-strong shoulder and said, "Little boy from Riverrun, take good care of your two sisters."
Petyr's eyes flickered. He bowed slightly and said solemnly, "My uncle, this is my duty."
Brynden gazed at Petyr's gray-green eyes for a moment. He patted Petyr's shoulder again, then turned directly and walked away, his cloak gently swaying as he moved, the black Trout embroidered on it seemingly swimming on the red and blue striped background.
....
The former Blood Gate Knight, Brynden Tully, left the Blood Gate fortress without looking back. He left his heavy Blood Gate Knight armor behind, taking only the chainmail and leather armor on his body, along with a sword and a horse.
More than ten years ago, Ser Brynden was dressed similarly when he accompanied his niece to the Vale. Today... his attire as he left the Vale was like a re-enactment of those days.
Time had stolen Ser Brynden's brown hair, leaving only a full head of gray, yet his waist remained straight.
Family, Duty, Honor.
....
Flap flap ~~ Not long after Ser Brynden left, a raven from Winterfell flew into the Blood Gate fortress.
Duke Eddard's handwritten letter to Brynden Tully fell into Petyr's hands.
Petyr gazed at the burning brazier, the words and patterns on the letter gradually disappearing in the flames.
The Direwolf's handwritten letter turned into black fragments and floated down, and Petyr slowly curved his lips.
Petyr recalled something Count Green had once said: sometimes good luck is also a person's strength.
....
....
Hook Alley, King's Landing.
Clip-clop, clip-clop, the crisp sound of hooves on cobblestones. Tyrion Lannister and Varys sat on their respective horses, moving towards the Red Keep.
Tyrion's voice held a hint of complaint: "Lord Varys, my sleep has been very poor lately. Lying on that large bed in the Prime Ministers Tower always makes me uneasy."
Varys chuckled: "I would be the same as you. I might not even dare to close my eyes, my Prime Minister."
Tyrion shrugged and said, "Compared to the Lioness's roar, I'm more afraid of my sister's gentleness. She's been smiling at me too much lately. If this continues... I'll wet my pants in front of my sister sooner or later."
He sighed, raising his head: "Old Man of the Seven Gods, please bless me!"
Varys smiled faintly and said, "Prime Minister Tyrion, perhaps... when you encounter danger, I have a way to get you out of the Red Keep without anyone knowing."
His eyes gleamed as he continued, "Shataya Brothel isn't the only place with secret doors."
Tyrion's eyes moved. He remembered the incident with Prime Minister Jon Arryn. At that time... Green had discovered a hidden compartment for eavesdropping in the Hand of the King's study (Chapter 43).
He exclaimed in surprise, "Secret door? The Prime Ministers Tower's secret door? Where is the door? In the bedroom? In the kitchen?"
Varys said with a smile, "My friend, you wouldn't have the heart to ask me to reveal all my little secrets, would you?"
Tyrion grinned mischievously, "From now on, let's treat them as our little secrets, if you stand on my side, my friend."
Varys's face showed a hint of doubt: "Prime Minister Tyrion, you seem to have some suspicion of me?"
Tyrion grinned: "Lord Varys, I trust you as if you were my own flesh and blood."
Varys looked at Tyrion and smiled without speaking.
Tyrion shrugged: "Alright, tell me, how did Renly Baratheon die?"
After a pause, Varys retorted, "My Prime Minister, is your heart... uneasy?"
Tyrion's smile faded, and he said in a deep voice, "I am also Stannis's enemy. I don't want to die mysteriously one day."
After a pause, he was all smiles again: "If Stannis targets my sister... well, that would be terrible too."
Varys smiled and shook his head, saying, "Prime Minister Tyrion, perhaps your worries are justified."
Tyrion's gaze narrowed slightly: "Lord Varys, tell me the information you've found."
Clip-clop, clip-clop, the sound of hooves.
After a long silence, Varys turned to look at Tyrion and said, "Prime Minister Tyrion, do you believe in ancient powers?"
"Are you referring to magic?"
Tyrion's expression was as if he had heard a joke: "Blood magic, curses, skinchanging... things like that?"
He snorted and continued, "Varys, are you implying that Renly died from magic?"
Varys's voice was calm: "Prime Minister Tyrion, have you ever been curious about how I was castrated?"
Tyrion hesitated for a moment, then nodded and said, "I'm quite curious. Are you going to talk to me about this?"
Varys seemed to be recalling something. After a pause, he said, "Although I don't like to talk about it, I must let you know now because it's related to Renly's death."
Tyrion gestured to Bronn, who was following behind, and the guards behind them slowed their horses, gradually increasing the distance between themselves and the two of them.
Seeing this, Varys first nodded slightly to Tyrion, then slowly began to speak: "I was an orphan, an apprentice in a traveling theatrical troupe since childhood. We sailed on a small merchant ship, performing in various Free Trade Cities, and sometimes went to Oldtown (located in the southwestern corner of the Riverlands, built by the First Men long before the Andal invasion, it is the largest and oldest city in Westeros) and King's Landing."
"One day, when we were performing in Myr, a stranger came. After the performance, he offered to buy me from my troupe... The price he offered was too tempting for anyone to refuse. I had heard how men would enjoy little boys, and I was afraid that man had such intentions, so I was terrified... Who knew that the only thing he wanted from my whole body was my * *."
"He made me drink a potion, and although I couldn't move or speak afterward, all my senses were perfectly clear. Then, he used a long, curved knife to cut off my * * at the root, all while mumbling incantations. I watched him place my * * into a brazier to burn, and the flames turned blue. I heard a voice respond to his summons, though I didn't understand the language."
"The scene of that night still haunts my dreams... Prime Minister Tyrion, what I dream of is not that sorcerer, not his knife, not even the sight of my * * shriveling in the flames, but that voice... the voice in the fire... Was it a god? A demon? Or a magician's trick?"
"I later learned about all kinds of tricks, but this kind of 'trick' that I personally experienced was unknown to anyone. The only thing I can be sure of is... he used my * * to summon 'it', and 'it' responded... From that day on, I hated magic and all who practiced it."
Finally, Varys said in a deep voice, "If Stannis is a practitioner of magic, I want him dead."
After Varys finished speaking, the two rode in silence for a while before Tyrion spoke: "Lord Varys, I am very sorry."
Tyrion was referring to his frequent teasing of Varys about his castration.
Varys shook his head slightly and said, "My Prime Minister, there's no need to apologize for that. I had taken a potion and was in great pain at the time, but that was a very, very long time ago. I've told myself a thousand times that the voice was just a hallucination in a nightmare."
Tyrion pulled on the reins, adjusting his horse's direction, and said, "Varys, I am deeply regretful."
Varys glanced at Tyrion and sighed, "Prime Minister Tyrion, you are regretful, but... clearly, you don't believe."
Tyrion grinned: "I believe in swords, I believe in gold, I believe in human wisdom."
After a pause, he continued, "Varys, I also believe that dragons once existed, after all, I've seen their skulls with my own eyes in the Red Keep."
Varys showed a slight smile and said, "Prime Minister Tyrion, I hope that is the worst thing you see in your life."
Tyrion's eyebrows raised slightly: "On that, we are in complete agreement."
....
Tyrion and Varys and the others continued riding. When they turned onto another road, they quickly spotted dozens of Gold Cloaks lined up on both sides of the road.
As they drew closer, Tyrion scanned them briefly and said with a laugh, "Ha, so it's the masked Gold Cloaks. Are they going to arrest criminals? Our King's Landing is truly not peaceful... But Green's idea is really good, having the Gold Cloaks cover their faces with black cloth when arresting vicious criminals... It really is effective."
While Tyrion was speaking, Varys's attention was drawn to a Gold Cloak standing on the right side of the road. More precisely, he noticed a pair of brown eyes staring at him.
Their gazes met, and those eyes flashed with a smile familiar to Varys.
The two of them first subtly nodded their chins, then shifted their gazes.
....
As Tyrion's words fell, Varys chuckled softly: "Evil people have accomplices, and Gold Cloaks have families. Though it's a small piece of black cloth, it can make them let go of many concerns..."
Tyrion interjected, "One less concern naturally increases courage... Hmm, I have to admit, Green has a clever mind, second only to mine."
Varys smiled meaningfully: "Of course, the Prime Minister's wisdom is unparalleled."
Tyrion let out a hearty laugh, his smile somewhat lewd: "It's truly a shame, just like a tourney, most people only remember the champion's name in the end."
Varys cleared his throat, reminding him, "Prime Minister Tyrion, the runner-up of the last King's Landing tourney was Ser Jaime."
Tyrion's triumphant smile froze for a moment. He touched his golden nose and said, "My magnificent older brother made me lose a lot... a lot... of gold dragons."
....
After parting ways with Varys, Tyrion, who had just stepped into the Prime Ministers Tower, received shocking news: his older brother had become a Stark prisoner!
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