Varys moved through the crowded hall, a plump woman singing lewd songs, while slender younger girls sat on guests' shoulders.
Varys went straight up to the third floor; he already knew Petyr was waiting for him in the room. Today, Varys was dressed like a Mercenaries from Tyrosh, his grey leather clothes covering him completely, and he wore Mercenaries-like leather boots.
"My old friend, the place you've chosen is an insult to me," the Spider said upon entering the room, looking at Littlefinger, who always had a mischievous smile on his face.
Varys took off his leather disguise, revealing the purple silk robe he usually wore, his bald head like an egg.
"Please forgive me, after all, you know I run these establishments, and I'd rather play the host here," Littlefinger replied, then poured Varys a glass of beautiful Summer Red.
"The master of coin's fine wine, that's quite an honor," Varys said with exaggeration. Unfortunately, there was no longer the rich scent of perfume on Varys, but a smell of sweat, which made Littlefinger feel a little uncomfortable.
"My old friend, when it comes to opportunities to meet women, you have the most in all of King's Landing. But our master of coin isn't bound by marriage, which is truly rare."
"Perhaps no one pities me. I'll go pray to the Mother a few more times..." Littlefinger said with exaggeration.
"I don't think so. As long as our master of coin extends his hand, the wealthy merchants and impoverished minor nobles of King's Landing would be eager to send their daughters to your room. Alas, our master of coin might be a man of deep affection; you don't have the bad habits of our good Renly. Which woman has captured your heart?"
"Alright, let's stop this topic, my old friend. Our good days are about to end. When our good Robert returns, he'll ask me to raise money for him," Littlefinger spread his hands.
"Can the royal treasury afford the war expenses? Assuming the King truly intends to prepare a fleet to take a large army Across the Narrow Sea," Varys looked at Littlefinger.
"My old friend, don't pretend to be confused. You're not as old as Grand Maester Pycelle. You and I both know the treasury has been empty for many years, and now it's a debt of six million gold dragons. We'll have to borrow money, but I think House Lannister will be happy to help, after all, our good Robert is raising an army for Lord Tywin's grandson," Littlefinger said with exaggeration.
"Then you'll have your work cut out for you. Everyone knows our good King hates counting coppers and only enjoys tournaments and delicacies," Varys said.
"The King only spends money, I only find money."
"Will we win, my Lord Spider?" Littlefinger deliberately asked a sharp question. "The iron throne and the Alliance of the Twin Cities, our good King, and Across the Narrow Sea are Baratheon's traitors and the remnants of House Targaryen."
"You ask me? That question has stumped me. After all, everyone knows I am just a frail person who relies on Little Birds," Varys giggled like a woman.
"However, over a hundred years ago, the Three Daughters fought a great battle with Westeros in the Gullet. Back then, there were still dragons, but the victory came at a heavy cost. Now there are no dragons, so I think the outcome is unpredictable; the flip of this coin will be decided by the Gods above," Varys answered softly.
"I still pray that our good King will achieve victory, for Across the Narrow Sea, the King's bastard Child is both cruel and decisive. If he wins, small figures like us will be dragged out and impaled on the walls of King's Landing."
"Who would dare harm our master of coin? Are the many generals and warships the state maintains just for show?" Varys consoled him.
"If that Child wins, our lives won't be easy," Littlefinger said. "A bastard's heart can be sensitive and delicate, perhaps even full of anger."
"You've seen him, what do you think?" Varys stared at Littlefinger.
"What else can I think?" Littlefinger fiddled with his mockingbird badge. "A soldier, a warrior, a handsome Child, an ambitious person. If not for that, he wouldn't have the means to stir up a storm."
"I think you're scared. The iron throne has a fleet, Ser Barristan, and loyal and brave ministers like Lord Eddard and Lord Tywin," Varys said dismissively.
"You've missed someone. If the King is to bring out all the warships, it seems Lord Stannis will still return to King's Landing with honor," Littlefinger brought up another name. Stannis may be unpopular, but he is indispensable as the fleet commander.
"I don't think Lord Stannis will return so easily; many people don't want to see his sour face," Varys shook his head.
"Have another drink. A great war is a very complicated undertaking, requiring gold dragons, provisions, intelligence, a fleet commander, and an army. We can't have our army sailing across the sea in fishing boats. It will take at least a year and a half to prepare," Littlefinger rose and poured Varys another glass of wine.
Varys picked up the wine glass with exaggerated grace, then drank it all.
"To think that our good King will fight his poor Child, who has been wandering abroad, is truly lamentable," Varys said, worried. "Perhaps I should pray for them, pray that the merciless Gods will reconcile this father and son."
"Isn't this power?" Littlefinger also drank the fine wine in his cup, red as blood. "Power is so wonderful; it can make insignificant people shine brightly, and it can also make siblings kill each other."
"What do you think power is?" Varys asked Littlefinger.
"It's you, it's me. Power is something invisible and intangible, yet it determines your fate and mine, and the fate of millions," Littlefinger replied. "The sweet wine of power, everyone wants a taste, even if it means harming their own kin."
"Indeed. Let me think, how many civil wars has it been? Those stories of kinslaying are truly terrifying," Varys stood up and then recounted to Littlefinger.
"The most famous are the House Targaryen of the previous dynasty. The Dance of the Dragons was one, and the Blackfyre Rebellion was another," Varys looked at Littlefinger's face. "Oh, and the Blackfyre Rebellion wasn't just once, it happened many times. Our King's grandfather, Maekar, died on the battlefield of the last Blackfyre Rebellion. Truly, the ways of the world are unpredictable."
"But it's not just that, my old friend. Have you forgotten another time, those stories that happened in the far North? The civil war in Winterfell, that was the turmoil of House Stark," Littlefinger reminded him with a smile.
Varys watched Littlefinger's face; his expression remained the same mischievous smile when he spoke of House Stark.
"That was truly a brutal and bloody past that House Stark today is unwilling to mention," Varys said. "I'm afraid that mentioning House Stark might hurt a certain poor old friend of mine. After all, in King's Landing, only the two of us small figures rely on each other in the Small Council."
"It was indeed very pitiful, the many years of civil war in House Stark. Cregan, the 'Old Man of the North's' heir, Rickon, died with the Young Dragon on the way to conquer Dorne. His several half-brothers fought for the succession, bringing years of chaos and disaster," Littlefinger agreed.
"It was truly epic. Lord Rickon's two half-brothers, in order to contend for the succession, each married one of his two daughters. Lord Jonnel's single eye, it is said, was also the handiwork of one of his own brothers."
"So you see, how terrifying power is, even House Stark, who loves to talk about wolves gathering, turned on itself."
"My old friend, I admire you more and more now. When speaking of House Stark, you remain completely unfazed," Varys applauded.
"Who hasn't been young? For the fidelity of a certain woman, I wouldn't mind being stabbed by a wolf," Littlefinger laughed heartily. "But now, you see, I'm still alive, and the wolf has been dead for over ten years, its bones turned to ash."
Varys tried to decipher Littlefinger's expression but found no clue. Gods above, who could understand the game Littlefinger was playing? He was just as profound, disguising himself as completely harmless.
"Soon, Lord Eddard will also arrive here to join this dangerous game."
"I couldn't ask for more. I also want to see this new player," Littlefinger, however, was not afraid.
"The game of power is so dangerous; you and I must be careful," Varys also poured Littlefinger a glass of wine, which Littlefinger dutifully drank.
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