King's Landing — The Red Keep, Varys's Chambers
The once-renowned Varys, the Master of Whisperers, sat awkwardly behind his desk.
The table before him was still piled high with neatly wrapped candies—the special sweets he had hidden so carefully. Despite his efforts, the soldiers had found them all once again.
His eyes were swollen and bloodshot from endless tears.
His hands were in a horrifying state.
Blood seeped from countless wounds. Gendry's arrows had pierced both palms, and a hammer had nearly crushed every bone in his fingertips. His legs had been broken long ago, and his entire body bore the marks of brutal torture inflicted by sword scabbards, whips, and heavy hammers.
The bells had already rung.
The candies were prepared.
The Little Birds would soon arrive.
Varys knew those bells were not only tolling for his network of spies...
They were tolling for him as well.
His value was disappearing bit by bit.
And once he ceased to be useful...
Death would inevitably follow.
---
Hidden within the shadows, Lothor Brune quietly listened as soft slippers scraped across the stone floor.
A child emerged from the darkness.
He was no more than nine or ten years old, wearing ragged robes. His pale face and hollow eyes made him look almost ghostly.
He collected the candy from the stairwell before skillfully making his way to Varys.
Soon...
A second child arrived.
Then a third.
Then another.
Their faces were all equally pale, their eyes unnaturally dark.
Years spent living beneath the earth had robbed them of sunlight, leaving their skin almost white and their eyesight permanently weakened.
Although Varys had always kept enough grain stored underground...
The children never truly felt safe unless they were by his side.
Years of training under Varys and Magister Illyrio had transformed them into emotionless intelligence-gathering machines.
Very little humanity remained.
---
"One..."
"Two..."
Lothor crouched behind a curtain, quietly counting.
The soldiers lying in ambush were all elite veterans.
When the final child entered the room...
One of the Little Birds thoughtfully closed the hidden stairwell door behind him.
One child removed a folded note from inside his robe.
It contained intelligence he had gathered.
Immediately afterward...
Every other Little Bird did the same.
Unable to speak...
They silently held out their reports, eagerly hoping to earn Varys's approval.
They had no tongues.
But they could still see.
Still hear.
Still obey.
Hungry from days without proper food, none of them had yet touched the candies they had come to receive.
---
Wrapped tightly inside his tattered robes, Varys trembled.
His ruined hands could no longer even grasp the notes they offered.
The Little Birds immediately noticed the horrifying wounds covering his palms.
None of them dared look beneath his robes.
Years of discipline prevented such disrespect.
Still...
Something felt terribly wrong.
Varys remained motionless.
Unlike every previous gathering...
He showed no eagerness to reward them.
---
Clap!
Clap!
The sharp sound of applause shattered the silence.
Instantly—
Golden-cloaked crossbowmen burst into the room.
Their weapons had already been loaded.
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
Bolts flew through the air.
One struck a Little Bird directly in the chest.
Another pierced a child's abdomen.
Blood rapidly soaked through their worn robes.
Unable to scream...
The tongueless children could only let out muffled cries before collapsing onto the stone floor.
"Kill them!"
"Leave no survivors!"
Lothor gave the order.
Soldiers emerged from behind curtains...
From beneath the bed...
From behind bookshelves.
Greatswords flashed.
The chamber door exploded inward as more guards rushed inside.
---
Varys listened helplessly.
The dull sounds of steel entering flesh echoed around him.
Blood splattered across the room.
Limbs and severed heads flew through the air.
His broken legs left him completely unable to move.
He could only watch...
As the massacre unfolded before his eyes.
The waiting soldiers unleashed all their hatred.
Their greatswords rose and fell like wolves tearing through helpless prey.
The Little Birds were only children—or at least they appeared to be.
Against trained knights...
They stood no chance.
They wore nothing but thin cloth robes.
Their only weapons were small daggers.
The slaughter ended almost as quickly as it began.
Crossbows.
Longspears.
Greatswords.
Together they created a merciless storm of death.
Soon...
Every one of Varys's cherished Little Birds lay dead upon the floor.
---
Lothor crouched beside one of the bodies.
Ignoring the blood staining his boots, he forced open the child's mouth.
There was no tongue.
Just as Gendry had predicted.
He looked coldly toward Varys.
"His Highness was right."
"You really did cut out their tongues."
"You monster."
Looking around the room filled with tiny corpses, he continued,
"These children died because of you."
He picked up one of the candies and sniffed it.
"There are medicinal ingredients inside."
Varys barely managed to whisper,
"...Pain..."
"...Relief..."
Lothor leaned closer before finally understanding.
The Little Birds had to meet three requirements.
They had to be literate.
Young.
And tongueless.
Finding enough suitable children wasn't easy.
So Varys and Magister Illyrio had resorted to another method.
Some of the "children" were actually adults.
Drugs had stunted their growth while slowly destroying their bodies.
The candies eased the unbearable pain caused by those medicines.
Lothor's expression darkened.
"So..."
"How should I reward you, Lord Varys?"
Varys answered weakly.
"...Release..."
"...End my suffering..."
Lothor smiled without warmth.
"That's a pleasant thought."
"But after everything you've done..."
"After all the innocent people who died because of your schemes..."
"You still hope for a quick death?"
Without another word...
Two soldiers slammed the ends of their sword scabbards into Varys's stomach.
Bang!
Bang!
The impact knocked the air from his lungs.
He doubled over, unable to breathe.
---
No one pitied Varys.
Throughout the Seven Kingdoms...
Too many still remembered the disasters tied to his name.
The Mad King's reign.
Robert Baratheon's downfall.
Countless political murders.
Everywhere...
Varys's shadow could be found.
He had even conspired to destroy entire districts of Flea Bottom in his pursuit of political gain.
Now...
His reckoning had finally arrived.
Lothor turned away.
"Take him."
"I'll report the good news to His Highness."
Two heavily armored soldiers dragged the broken spymaster from the room.
---
Recently, the Red Keep had taken on an even stronger military presence than before.
Kingsguard soldiers patrolled every hallway, tower, and courtyard.
Golden-armored knights sparred daily within the training grounds.
Everyone understood.
These elite warriors were Gendry Storm's personal Kingsguard.
They had earned fearsome reputations during campaigns across the Narrow Sea.
Order had returned to the Red Keep.
For servants...
Officials...
Kitchen boys...
And septons...
Serving one ruler instead of another made little difference.
They had once cheered for King Robert.
Then Joffrey.
Now...
They proudly shouted Gendry's name instead.
---
"Good riddance to Varys!"
That sentiment echoed throughout King's Landing.
Almost everyone knew the smiling Master of Whisperers.
He had always seemed kind.
Always willing to pay for even the smallest scraps of information.
Yet now everyone knew the truth.
He had secretly plotted against the royal family for years.
Had another king fallen because of him...
King's Landing might have descended into complete chaos.
Fortunately...
A new Master of Whisperers—Selwyn—would take his place.
Information could still be bought.
A kingdom without a king...
Could not.
Many ambitious officials also welcomed Varys's downfall.
His death left numerous positions vacant.
After all...
Chaos was a ladder.
---
Above the Red Keep...
A new golden battle banner flew proudly.
Unlike Joffrey's crude banner—half stag, half lion—which many mocked as the symbol of a short-lived usurper...
This standard represented something entirely different.
Throughout King's Landing...
Supporters of Gendry were everywhere.
Though he had rarely appeared at court or tournaments before...
His story had already become legendary.
Born in Flea Bottom.
Raised as a commoner.
Blessed with extraordinary talent.
Handsome.
Charismatic.
Undefeated in battle.
To many...
He was the chosen son of both Westeros and the Seven Gods.
People gave him countless titles.
The Triumphant Storm.
The Swordbreaker.
The New Conqueror.
Stories of his victories spread from tavern to tavern.
"Across the Narrow Sea..."
"He defeated the Brave Companions."
"Slayed Bloodbeard."
"Captured Myr and Tyrosh."
"Defeated Khal Drogo and Khal Jhaqo."
"Conquered the Disputed Lands and the Stepstones."
"In Westeros..."
"He defeated the Kingslayer."
"Saved the Riverlands."
"Captured Riverrun."
"Passed through the Bloody Gate."
"Subdued the Vale."
"Destroyed the Volantene armies."
"And won the Battle of the Blackwater."
"Can anyone in Westerosi history rival such achievements?"
The Crownlands.
The Stormlands.
Crackclaw Point.
Even the Free Folk praised his name.
---
Inside the Small Council chamber...
Gendry sat at the head of the table.
Around him gathered the kingdom's most powerful lords and ministers.
Outside the doors...
Ser Balon and the Kingsguard stood watch.
The elite Kingsguard wore black-gray plate armor over black leather.
Their helmets featured twin-crested visors with only narrow slits for their eyes.
Golden cloaks flowed behind them.
Embroidered upon those cloaks were symbols of stags...
Dragons...
Direwolves...
And the Free Folk.
Even the dullest citizen could distinguish them from the ordinary City Watch.
---
Compared to his guards...
Gendry dressed simply.
He wore a tricolored tunic...
Dark wool trousers...
And the slender sword Orphan-Maker rested at his waist.
A massive map of Westeros hung upon the council chamber wall.
Every kingdom...
Every city...
Every major road...
Was carefully marked.
Stannis Baratheon, now wearing the Hand of the King's chain, spoke first.
"Your Highness."
"My lords."
"The Battle of King's Landing has concluded."
"Although Cersei escaped..."
"And Tywin avoided capture..."
"Joffrey is dead."
"Tyrion has been captured."
"King's Landing has fallen."
"Our victories against Volantis and its allies have secured our overall success."
He continued,
"According to reports from Ser Edmure Tully and Robb Stark..."
"During the night..."
"The remaining Lannister forces launched another surprise attack near the Red Fork."
"Jaime Lannister personally led the assault."
"They still possess Tommen."
"So..."
"The Lannisters will continue resisting us in the Westerlands."
Mace Tyrell stroked his beard thoughtfully.
"Tywin has lost nearly everything."
"I doubt he can hold out much longer."
"But if they're reduced to scattered remnants..."
"Why couldn't the Riverlords stop them?"
Stannis answered calmly.
"The Riverlords returned home to rebuild their castles before winter."
"The Red Fork is too long to defend completely."
"Even so..."
"Tywin's elite army has effectively been destroyed."
"From now on..."
"He'll have little choice but to rely on newly raised levies."
Eddard Stark spoke next.
"Even so..."
"The Westerlands remain loyal to House Lannister."
"They've shown no sign of surrender."
Mace frowned.
"I don't understand them."
"The Kingslayer has already lost over ten thousand men."
"Tywin has suffered similar losses."
"Why continue fighting?"
Gendry answered quietly,
"They simply don't think we've beaten them hard enough."
The room fell silent.
Then Gendry continued,
"We've already discussed our next strategy."
"But first..."
"I must return to Dragonstone."
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