Littlefinger dared not imagine how deep the Black Cells were, located beneath The Red Keep.
Littlefinger only knew that the walls were pale red, revealing patches of saltpeter, and there was a grey door made of splintered wood, a full four feet thick.
Littlefinger felt himself sinking into a deep darkness, a darkness akin to his state in Riverrun back then, wailing in bed after being severely wounded by Brandon.
But Littlefinger still maintained his composure, even in the darkness; as long as Eddard didn't leave King's Landing, and as long as the situation in King's Landing changed, he still had a chance.
"The environment here is really terrible," Littlefinger heard a clear voice, but it wasn't the Jailer guarding him, but a woman's voice.
"Your..." The torchlight brightened Littlefinger's eyes, and he clearly saw the face beneath the cloak.
"I apologize for entertaining you here," Littlefinger still had a smile on his face; the environment here was indeed poor, the straw on the floor reeked of urine, and the entire Black Cells had no windows, no bed. There was no light here; without this single blossoming torch, Littlefinger would be no different from a blind man.
"You look well, Lord Petyr." The Queen saw that mischievous face again. Without this man, the Small Council would surely lack much laughter. "Lord Renly is truly heartless, considering you two used to be the best of friends."
"In the face of a storm, how many friends can one have? I don't blame Lord Renly," Littlefinger replied.
"The Brothel the Old Wolf went to, if I'm not mistaken, you're very familiar with that place."
"Frankly, I'm very familiar with the madam. I wanted to buy and operate it, but the madam didn't agree."
"Oh, then you're also very clear about the Old Wolf's purpose there," the Queen asked.
"I'm not sure about that, but Lord Eddard is said to be searching all over King's Landing for the King's bastard. He's truly a persistent man. What exactly he wants to find, who knows?"
"Anyway, your clue caused a lot of trouble. Jaime attacked Stark, and both of my brothers have now left King's Landing."
"The Seven Gods above, that's quite a commotion!"
"Very good, it seems there's nothing seriously wrong with your head." The Queen looked at Littlefinger. "I can't stay here too long, but you won't be staying here too long either."
"I'd be happy to offer you my wisdom, if, and I mean if, Your Grace is willing to lend a hand."
"Hmph, you are indeed a wise man, but counting coppers is truly something only you are best suited for. Stark underestimated me; I'll let him know that I am actually a man in a skirt."
"Your words move me deeply, Your Grace. So, as a repayment to Stark, I have something to tell you."
"What?" Cersei asked Littlefinger.
"Keep an eye on the docks. The Old Wolf might be looking for a ship back to Winterfell."
"Stark letting you live is his biggest mistake." The Queen looked at Littlefinger, a cruel smile on her face.
"I must live well; after all, I still want to see Lord Stark's long face again."
The Queen turned and left, leaving Littlefinger in an even deeper darkness.
"Perhaps I need a little time," the Queen thought, only then could she make proper arrangements. How much that Stark knew no longer mattered; what mattered was that Stark had already touched upon the truth, and it had to be resolved quickly... "King's Landing does not welcome us, Jon. I have to consider the safety of you all. My Captain of the Guard is dead. What is the King doing? The King is taking me hunting in The Kingswood." Eddard said to Jon, his face etched with fatigue.
"Then, Your Grace, do we still need to find the fastest ship?" Jon asked in a low voice.
"Yes, I hope the ship takes the three of you first. You take Sansa and Arya."
"What about you, Your Grace?" Jon looked at Eddard's face; he had never seen Eddard so weary.
"I will stay here. My mission is not yet complete."
"With all due respect, Your Grace. Arya will accept your decision, but Sansa probably won't. Sansa still dreams of becoming the King's Queen. All those colorful things in King's Landing, the magnificent and luxurious court, the various nobles, the Tourney, the bards, the clowns. I'm afraid Sansa might not be willing to go back."
"Damn it, look what I've forgotten," Eddard replied in a low voice. "But what can I do? She is my Child. It's only my fault that I protected her too well before. King's Landing has already started to bleed, and I feel it's far from enough."
"This matter, this matter cannot be separated from Sansa; I must take her away."
"I'll go quietly ask Arya first, Your Grace. If it comes to that, some drastic measures might be needed. You must not tell Sansa."
"Alright, Child," Eddard looked at Jon, but he had to admit that Jon's concerns had some merit.
"Joffrey is not the prince of legend. Sansa absolutely cannot stay in King's Landing any longer."
"Indeed, I don't see him as a King at all; he looks more like a lion."
Eddard looked at Jon with a strange expression, as if his mind had been struck by an electric current. The question, the answer to all questions.
Eddard was trembling slightly, but he tried his best to remain calm. This was the answer to all the questions.
"Your Grace, I don't want to leave King's Landing. I want to stay with you."
"You are a good Child, Jon." Eddard looked at Jon, wanting to speak but hesitating. Never mind, those absurd things, it's best not to mention them for now.
"I can only trust you with this matter. Now that Littlefinger is in The Red Keep, we might still find suitable ships at the docks. I need to send you all away quickly."
"Your Grace. I..." Jon wanted to continue, but Eddard stopped him. "I have a guest. Please wait a moment."
A moment later, a strange guest was led in by Eddard's steward, a mysterious visitor from the Riverlands.
"Lord Darry." Eddard looked at the travel-worn man before him, the lord of Darry Town.
Eddard had never expected this person to arrive first. Darry Town had historically been a staunch supporter of The King's party.
"Your Grace, this matter is very important. I hope you will inform the King to handle it properly." Ser Raymund Darry quietly said to Eddard. "Tywin's men have ravaged the Riverlands, Shear Village, Bitch's Pool, and other places, killing, burning; they committed every evil imaginable."
Eddard listened carefully to every word Raymund said. These things filled him with rage.
"Are you sure they were Tywin's men?" Eddard asked.
"There's no mistake. You know Lord Tywin is always cruel and ruthless, so his bandit knights are naturally to be expected." Ser Raymund Darry said contemptuously. "The big, savage and cruel leader must be the Mountain."
"Damn it," Eddard cursed under his breath. Ever since Catelyn's rash action, the Westerlands had been like a pile of kindling. Riverrun and Casterly Rock were each rallying their vassals, intending a major war. He wanted to quell the war and the flames, but it seemed too difficult.
"I will report to His Majesty, and His Majesty will send people to deal with it impartially." Eddard mused. "If the Mountain is to be sentenced to death, I must act personally."
"Your Grace, I'm afraid this matter is a bit difficult," Ser Raymund sighed. "Everyone knows the King is Lord Tywin's son-in-law, and the Mountain is Tywin's mad dog."
"Even so, I still believe he must be severely punished." Eddard said earnestly, but Eddard felt a little guilty. Robert had changed; he didn't seem like his old self.
"What is the situation in the Riverlands now?" Eddard asked Ser Raymund.
"Ser Edmure is, on one hand, gathering troops in Riverrun, and on the other, sending Lord Clement Piper and Lord Vance to garrison outside Gold Tooth. But after news of the massacre, Lord Edmure sent a small detachment of men to bring them to the King. I was camped outside Riverrun at the time. By the time I rushed back to my fief, the Mountain and his cronies had already crossed the Red Fork and returned to the Lannister hills."
"Then how is Edmure handling things now?"
"Ser Edmure is stationing troops in all manors and villages within a day's ride of the border," Ser Raymund replied.
Eddard felt something was seriously wrong. While Edmure loved his people and defended his lands, this indeed depleted his mobile forces.
"Your Grace, I must warn you, King's Landing is not a good place," Ser Raymund suddenly said mysteriously.
"What do you mean by that, Lord Raymon?" Eddard looked at Raymon. Raymon had always disliked House Lannister; three of his brothers had died for Prince Rhaegar in the Battle of the Trident River.
"I presume you've seen those Red Cloaks, haven't you?" Raymon asked Eddard. "The gold of House Lannister corrupts everyone's mind; few people in the world don't love gold. Isn't that right, Lord Eddard? If you stay here, I'm afraid you'll have little chance of winning."
"You and I both once swore allegiance to the King and the law, Lord Raymon." Eddard looked at Raymon.
"You are right, Eddard's man. The Three Rivers region all awaits the King's justice, and I hope this justice does not fall short." Raymon looked at Eddard.
Eddard saw the hope in his eyes, and also doubt. If the King did not care for his subjects, then the subjects would fall into the embrace of others. A great division was inevitable.
"Are you still dreaming of peace, Lord Eddard? You know better than I what kind of man Lord Tywin is; he is cruel and vicious, never treating common folk as people. You want to compromise for peace, but is that possible? Give up the illusion, I think you'd best stay far away from King's Landing." Ser Raymund said sincerely. "You have no friends, and no soldiers, Lord Eddard."
"I will remember your words," Eddard said. He began to suspect that Ser Raymund's words had a deeper meaning.
"You'd best remember them, Lord Eddard. If you ever find yourself at your wits' end, never forget the advice of this Lord of The Three Rivers: either return to your Winterfell, or decide on your allies."
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