chapter 171 part 1
Chapter 171 A War That Cannot Be Lost
Red Keep, Throne Room.
Grand Maester Pycelle rose unsteadily, the links of his Maester's chain clinking softly.
He whispered, "Your Grace, the Queen Regent, the Realm's finances are in a terrible state. Representatives from the Faith and the Iron Bank have both expressed their concerns. We need to find a capable Master of Coin as soon as possible."
Jaime Lannister's sudden departure, leaving behind only a letter, had put Cersei Lannister in a foul mood. She was easily angered, and the others were treading carefully as they dealt with her.
She frowned and said, "When will Garlan Tyrell of the Golden Rose arrive?"
Varys clasped his hands together. "Queen Regent Cersei, my little birds tell me that he has not moved since arriving at Bitterbridge."
Pycelle glanced at Varys and said, "Your Grace, I believe... his inaction speaks to Highgarden's attitude. The Golden Rose must be waiting and watching."
"Cowardly Golden Rose."
After saying this, Queen Cersei snorted coldly and continued, "Varys, is there any news of Petyr Baelish?"
Varys shook his head slightly. "Littlefinger is a master at buying people. None of us can know who he has bought. It could be a groom, or it could be a gaoler... In short, anyone could have been bought by him... a small person, or a great one... allowing him to vanish from the heavily guarded dungeons like a ghost..."
Maester Pycelle interjected, "Your Grace, do you intend to..."
"Pour me wine."
At her command, Lancel Lannister, who stood behind the Queen Regent, immediately picked up a flagon and poured for her.
Queen Regent Cersei swirled the wine in her cup. She took a sip of Dornish Red and said, "He can be reinstated as Master of Coin."
Varys exclaimed in shock, "Your Grace, most people already know that Littlefinger helped Lady Lysa poison Jon Arryn..."
For once, Pycelle seconded Varys, advising, "Your Grace, that is the crime of murdering the Hand of the King. Even as an accomplice, Littlefinger could not be pardoned. How could he possibly be appointed as a Royal Councilor?"
Queen Regent Cersei cut off their suggestions. "Enough. Recommend a candidate for Master of Coin before the next council meeting. I don't want to hear any more nonsense."
After a moment of silence, Pycelle suddenly said, "Your Grace, perhaps we could ask Lord Tywin, the Hand of the King."
With a clatter, Queen Regent Cersei set her wine cup down on the table.
"Pycelle, my father is at Casterly Rock, and I am the one sitting here. Have you gone senile?"
Pycelle's body trembled, and he bowed his head hastily.
"Before the next council meeting, you will recommend suitable candidates to me. Next topic."
...
Cersei's voice was tinged with fury, "What is Glyn doing?!"
Varys sighed, "Queen Regent Cersei, my little birds tell me that as soon as the rumors surfaced, the Goldcloaks began arresting the people spreading them, but the effect has been poor..."
Maester Pycelle's eyes shifted slightly. He looked at the enraged Queen Regent and said, "Your Grace, there are hundreds of thousands of people in King's Landing, and only a few thousand Goldcloaks. Arrests alone cannot extinguish the deliberate efforts of those with ill intent. I even heard..."
Queen Regent Cersei's voice was cold. "Heard what?"
Maester Pycelle hesitated for a moment before saying, "That it was you, Your Grace, who poisoned King Robert..."
A flash went through Varys's eyes. "Oh my, have my little birds grown lazy? Such an unfamiliar rumor. These people are too vicious..."
As he spoke, he looked at Maester Pycelle and continued, "Grand Maester, where did you hear this from?"
Maester Pycelle looked back at Varys and said, "Lord Varys, you could have your men inquire around the Mud Gate. It is said the rumors started there."
Varys smiled and bowed in thanks.
Maester Pycelle said slowly, "Your Grace, this kind of rumor questioning the royal bloodline is something nearly every new king encounters. Lord Glyn's arrests were quite timely. This baseless slander will dissipate soon enough."
After hearing Maester Pycelle's analysis, Queen Regent Cersei's eyes quivered.
Queen Regent Cersei rose from her chair and said, "I will make these slanderers of Joffrey weep and sing to the Stranger, begging for the kiss of death!"
With that, Queen Regent Cersei left the Throne Room, her face filled with malice.
Once the Queen Regent's figure had disappeared, Varys looked at the ancient, doddering Maester Pycelle with a smile.
"Maester Pycelle, you frightened me to death just now. The roar of the lioness is truly terrifying... Lord crabbe really ought to thank you. If not for you... he would surely have been the target of her wrath today."
Pycelle paused in his task of organizing the documents.
As he rolled up a parchment scroll, he said, "It would have been better if Janos Slynt were not dead, Lord Varys."
Varys looked puzzled. "Grand Maester, what do you mean?"
Maester Pycelle sighed. "There is only one person who can keep the Goldcloaks stable now. We have no other choice."
Varys's eyes shifted slightly as he said with a grin, "Maester Pycelle, are you worried that Her Grace, in a fit of rage, would dismiss Glyn crabbe from his post?"
Pycelle's tired, sleepy eyes glanced at the Spider. He shook his head slightly.
"Lord Varys, I am worried that the mob will storm the Red Keep. Some issues need to be handled slowly, at least until our new Hand of the King arrives in King's Landing."
Varys showed a look of admiration. "Maester Pycelle, you are worthy of being the Grand Maester of the Royal Council. Your foresight is indeed profound."
Pycelle's drowsy eyes widened slightly. "Lord Varys, I am just a doddering old man who has grown long in years. I only wish to live out my remaining few years in peace..."
He paused, then suddenly said, "Why would these rumor-mongers target the royal bloodline? Lord Varys, no one would truly believe such baseless speculation. The common folk will, at most, treat it as idle amusement."
Varys leaned closer to Maester Pycelle, the smile on his plump face carrying a deep meaning. "But what if there is some basis to it?"
The rolled-up parchment fell from Pycelle's hand onto the table.
His hands, covered in age spots, were trembling. "Varys, what are you trying to say?"
Varys clasped his hands together. He gave Pycelle a slight bow but did not answer, leaving with a smile on his face.
...
Outside the Throne Room.
"Queen Regent, entrust this matter to me!"