"So, I have one more thing to trouble you with. Tell our big mouths in the Beggars Guild and the brothels that Rosby and Stokeworth are being attacked, and the wildlings have burned granaries and fields."
"Yes. But should we send some people to act?" Lothor asked.
"No need at all. As soon as they see the smoke, the flames will ignite in the hearts of the mob. All it takes is a little push, a little effort from someone. But the timing must be just right, right after I have already taken my leave from King's Landing, so that we appear to have no connection to these events," Petyr said.
"Then King's Landing will fall into chaos."
"Clever, but what does that have to do with us? Anyway, this city is full of big-mouthed people, just like someone leaked that Young Lord Tyggett was getting married, and the king was preparing a feast for his cousin, feasting in the fortress. Think about it, our good king is about to receive another round of petitions."
"That's none of our business."
"Indeed, we need to switch battlefields. Get some thick clothes, The Eyrie is a cold place, the temperature there is very low, and falcons fly in the sky. And there's a large group of people with tempers as stubborn as mules, these are the Lords of the Vale."
"Good, I've also heard that The Eyrie is an impregnable castle," Lothor complimented.
"Naturally impregnable, much better than the stinking King's Landing. Moreover, I have a surprise for you. In the future, I will promote you to Captain of the Guard of The Eyrie."
"How can I deserve such a thing? I am but a Mercenaries, and a bastard at that." Lothor immediately knelt on the ground, looking tearfully grateful.
"You deserve it." Littlefinger laughed heartily. "In the future, I will have the king grant you a knighthood. What's wrong with a Captain of the Guard of The Eyrie? I have always seen your enthusiasm and loyalty, Lothor."
"If I return to the Vale, a Duke of Harrenhal might even be obtainable. That's merely an honorary title, an empty promise from the Iron Throne. But the troops and grain of the Vale are genuine, and I can have Lysa make small gestures of goodwill. At that time, even a ducal title would be possible, let alone a knighthood." Petyr thought, very satisfied with his calculations.
"Thank you, My Lord." Lothor nodded, overwhelmed with gratitude. "But Oswell and the others always… there hasn't been any unusual activity recently."
"It's fine, I trust you the most," Petyr acknowledged. Although he had two groups of people watching each other.
"I'll send a letter to Earl Morko Grafson," Petyr said. "Everything is under control. Lysa is absorbed in her own games, but as soon as I return, this game will end."
"Are you worried about the storm?" Petyr asked Lothor, who had also noticed the map on the table.
Lothor nodded.
"No need to worry. Let him enjoy himself, preparing a decisive battle army at Harrenhal, or perhaps a surprise attack to harass the Crownlands." Petyr snorted, "It was a wild boar and the Lannister who killed the king. It was Cersei who killed those Bastard brothers and sisters of the storm. What does that have to do with us? Instead of resenting the Vale, he should worry about those more immediate enemies."
"Go about your business, my Captain of the Guard. I originally intended for you to shine in the defense of King's Landing, but now in the Vale is also good."
"Yes, My Lord." Lothor nodded, turned, and walked out the door.
"Let me give you a little gift before I leave, The Imp. Anyway, you can also raise your guard, just in case those two places really are set on fire," Petyr thought happily. "And I am going to take a ship and become a good groom."
"Fight for the Vale and The Eyrie, fight for Winterfell, and me? I fight for myself." Petyr poured himself a glass of wine and outlined his plan. He would talk to the ship's owner. First, he would pretend to take a ship to Gulltown, then wait near King's Landing for the riots to occur. In the chaos, Ser Dontos might be able to take Sansa out of King's Landing and deliver her into his hands. Then he would kill Thorys, conceal the evidence, and head to the Fingers Peninsula.
As for those Lords of the Vale who favored Bronze Yohn, they were old and poor, and that was their weakness.
Bronze Yohn's disobedience to The Eyrie's orders was a death wish. Redfort and Waynwood were old, and old people naturally die easily. As for Earl Hunter, Young Harland had long wanted to act, and he also had intentions of harming old Ser Eon and his brother. As for Belmore, he lived a corrupt life and was easy to bribe; Templeton was easy to befriend. As for the Corbray brothers, that was even simpler: the older brother lacked women, the younger brother lacked boys, and they were always short on money.
"You're next, Lysa." A glint flashed in Littlefinger's eyes. He also had a plan to eliminate Lysa, but he had to consider the time and opportunity. He needed to become the Defender of the Vale, slowly reduce Bronze Yohn's supporters, secure a marriage for himself, and then Lysa could appropriately be lost. A foolish woman, mad and controlling, was a particularly dangerous ally.
"Let me strike once more." Petyr's greatest skill was backstabbing. Tully was his benefactor, but he intended to harm Eddard and Catelyn. Lord Jon promoted him, but he in turn poisoned the Lord. Lysa was obsessed with him, but Petyr already had the expectation of killing or controlling Lysa in his heart.
The history of House Baelish was a history of upward mobility. Petyr's grandfather was merely a landless hedge knight, and his father was among the lowest-ranked of the kingdom's nobility, but his father, by virtue of saving Lord Hoster, became a foster son of Riverrun. When he presumptuously coveted Lord Hoster's daughter, he was promptly and roughly expelled.
The inheritance Petyr received was merely a windswept rocky coast on the Fingers Peninsula. The Imp thought Harrenhal would satisfy him, but Petyr's most venomous trait was his foresight, just like his ancestors. Although Harrenhal was one of the most fertile and abundant lordships in the Seven Kingdoms, vast in area, with rich soil, and a magnificent main castle that was impregnable, second to none among any fortress in the country... Compared to it, even Riverrun seemed insignificant. But that was merely a castle in the air, not his true power, and Petyr was never tempted.
"That sword strike from Brynden at Riverrun, Petyr was already dead. This world toys with me, and I will turn the world into a sum of chaos. I will go step by step, I will achieve the highest glory, and I will watch the Tully, Stark, and Arryn families being toyed with in the palm of my hand."
That was in the lower courtyard of Riverrun. Everyone had given up on him. Catelyn gave her handkerchief to Brandon as a token, Edmure became Brandon's squire, and he himself bravely faced Brandon's longsword. That was the end of his life, and the beginning of a new one.
A person obsessed with backstabbing never forgets the world's hatred for him.
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