Chapter 37 – The Price of Being Seen
The next morning began with silence.
Not the kind born of peace, but the kind that follows attention.
The corridors of the Treasury stretched before me — longer, narrower, and somehow louder in their stillness. Every pair of eyes that met mine seemed to linger too long, searching for what had changed. They didn't need to know. They could already feel it.
News traveled fast in King's Landing, faster still when it carried the scent of Tywin Lannister's interest. By the time I reached my desk, three letters had arrived — one sealed in green wax, one in gold, and one with none at all.
Baelish's, Tywin's, and Varys's silence.
I broke the green seal first.
> "Efficiency pleases me, Holt. Continue your work as before. The numbers tell stories few can read — but you, it seems, have the gift.
— P. Baelish"
It wasn't praise. It was a leash.
The gold seal remained unbroken. Tywin didn't write letters; he issued commands. Whatever message it carried, I would read it when I was ready to bear its weight.
The last letter — unsealed, unsigned — was what drew my attention most. No crest, no mark, only a faint smell of lavender and parchment.
> "The walls have begun to whisper your name. The question is, who do you wish to hear it first?"
No signature. But I knew the hand. Varys liked to taste his threats before serving them.
I burned the note in the candle flame and watched the words curl into smoke.
---
That afternoon, Rourke brought word from the streets.
"Two of our men were followed," he said quietly. "Smallfolk, maybe spies. One wore the colors of the Gold Cloaks, but the other… wore none at all."
"None at all," I repeated. "Varys's kind."
He nodded. "Orders?"
"Nothing," I said. "Let them watch. It's better to be seen than to vanish."
Rourke frowned. "Since when?"
"Since invisibility stopped being protection."
The truth was simpler. Once Tywin had spoken my name, I no longer belonged to the shadows. I was being weighed, measured, and judged — and every movement now had a witness.
---
At dusk, the sky over King's Landing turned the color of rusted bronze. I climbed the tower steps that overlooked the port — a place I often used when I needed to think without listening. From here, the city looked almost peaceful. From here, the Game almost made sense.
> "Observation pattern increasing," the Ledger murmured from its corner on the desk. "Do you wish me to counter?"
"No," I said. "Let them record. Let them guess."
> "Visibility risk: high."
"So is opportunity."
The whisper fell silent again. It had learned that much, at least — when to obey, and when to listen.
---
Baelish summoned me at nightfall.
His chamber smelled of wine and ambition. He didn't offer me either.
"Tywin spoke to you," he said without looking up from his papers.
"He asked questions."
"He always does. But you answered."
I waited.
Baelish finally lifted his gaze, that same thin smile curling at the edge of his mouth. "You're climbing too quickly, Holt. And the higher a man climbs, the better view others have when he falls."
"Then I'll make sure the fall costs more than the climb," I said.
He laughed — softly, almost kindly. "You think like me."
"No," I said. "I think near you. There's a difference."
That silenced him for a moment. The smile never vanished, but it stopped meaning anything. "Keep your books clean," he said finally. "Tywin respects order. But if he ever asks for loyalty…"
"I'll give him the same I give you."
Baelish's smile returned — sharper now. "That's what worries me."
---
When I left his chambers, the hall outside was quiet except for the faint echo of footsteps that weren't mine. I let them follow. The pattern of their movement was deliberate — not a thief's, not a soldier's. A watcher.
Halfway down the stairwell, I stopped. The steps behind me hesitated.
"Tell Varys," I said without turning, "that next time he sends one of his little birds, he should choose one that knows how to breathe quietly."
A faint chuckle came from the dark. "He already knows," a voice replied. Then the footsteps faded away.
---
By midnight, I was back in my chamber. The Ledger lay open, its pages untouched, its words faintly glowing with ink that shouldn't have shimmered.
> "You are adapting," it said softly.
"To what?"
> "Attention. Power. Fear."
"Fear?" I asked. "I don't feel it."
> "Not yet. But they do. And that is enough."
The candle beside me flickered. Somewhere beyond the walls, the bells of the Sept tolled the last hour of the day.
The city was watching me now — its lords, its spies, its ghosts of coin and whispers. I had wanted to be seen. I had earned it.
But in King's Landing, visibility wasn't recognition. It was invitation.
And every invitation came with a price.