The crescent moon shook off the rain clouds, hanging high in the sky and illuminating half of the surging, turbid Blackwater Rush.
Matthew stood on the riverbank, watching the group nearly finished boarding the ship. He took a deep breath, hugged a piece of driftwood, and jumped into the water.
He sank at first, but the wood quickly buoyed him back to the surface.
Like a small skiff, he bobbed up and down with the current.
Matthew spat out a mouthful of water.
Fighting the current was exhausting, mostly due to the discomfort of anxiety and panic.
But drifting downstream took almost no effort at all.
"Maybe I really am better suited to be a fisherman," Matthew thought to himself, feeling a little smug.
Not everyone dared to play around in the Blackwater Rush when it was this angry.
Drifting for a stretch, he felt the current shift and adjusted his angle slightly. The driftwood, constantly slapped by the murky yellow water, carried him toward the torch-lit pier.
However, his aim was slightly off.
The wood crashed into the pier base about ten meters away from Stannis's warship.
Matthew tried to kick off, but it was useless. The wood was jammed tight against the pilings.
Just then, shouting came from the nearby pier.
"Board quickly! We need to leave now!"
Hearing this, Matthew felt a surge of urgency.
He tried three times to dislodge the wood. Failing, he took a decisive breath, let go, and plunged back into the Blackwater Rush, pulling himself hand-over-hand along the pier pilings downstream.
It was grueling work, but safe and steady.
Minutes later, Matthew successfully reached the warship and grabbed onto the grooves in its hull.
The Onion Knight's ship wasn't huge—a medium-sized vessel at best—so the hull wasn't too high above the water.
Matthew looked up at the gunwale, kicked his cold legs, scrambled up the hull, pressed himself flat against the side, and leaped upward with all his might.
Grabbing the stern rail, he hauled himself over.
Thud!
The noise was loud, instantly attracting the attention of the ship's guards.
Stannis heard it from his cabin too. He threw open the curtain and walked out, followed by the Onion Knight.
Looking at the knights surrounding the stern, he asked in a deep voice:
"What is going on?"
Matthew immediately raised his hands and shouted:
"Lord Stannis! I am Matthew. I came to find you because I need to ask a favor!"
Hearing the plea for help, Stannis pushed aside a knight who was about to speak and squeezed through.
Seeing Matthew soaked to the bone, shock appeared on his rigid, grim face.
"You? How did you know I was leaving?"
After firing off two questions, Stannis turned to Davos Seaworth, looking rather angry.
The Onion Knight quickly lowered his head, then turned to glare at Matthew.
Matthew scratched his head and said bluntly:
"That's not important, my Lord. I need you to give me a hand. If you agree, I will tell you a secret and give you a piece of advice."
Davos had met many people and seen many things. He could tell at a glance that Matthew was serious.
He tugged gently on Stannis's sleeve. When Stannis looked over, Davos gave a slight nod.
Stannis narrowed his eyes and said stiffly:
"In that case, let's talk in the cabin."
Matthew looked at the knights crowding the stern and shook his head decisively.
"Let's talk right here on the stern. But please dismiss anyone unrelated."
Stannis lifted his chin, intending to refuse. But seeing Matthew's unflinching gaze and his shock of black hair, he relented.
"You all withdraw for now. Davos, keep watch for me."
The other knights were unhappy and wanted to argue, but the Onion Knight pushed them away.
Stannis watched the grumbling knights, his expression sour.
But he composed himself, turned back to Matthew, and asked:
"What trouble have you run into?"
Matthew held nothing back.
"Lord Jon Arryn is dead. Cersei's men are hunting bastards, and the Spider wants me dead too. I had no choice but to come to you."
Stannis stared at Matthew, his lip twitching as he asked coolly:
"You want me to take you with me?"
"No."
Matthew denied it.
"I need you to leave me some men. Specifically, Ser Davos."
Stannis's eyes went wide instantly. He grabbed Matthew by the collar and growled:
"Boy, what are you planning?"
Matthew revealed a wild, confident smile and replied firmly:
"I'm going to avenge Lord Jon. I know who killed him."
Stannis glanced behind him, then shoved Matthew down, cursing:
"Meddlesome brat. Tell me, who was it?"
He was starting to dislike this kid more and more. Not only did he look like Robert in his youth, but he also had the same rotten temper.
Matthew scrambled up, patted his butt, and kept smiling.
"If I tell you, what can you do? If you agree to help me, I promise to tell you and give you a piece of advice. The choice is yours."
Stannis was furious. It was the first time a child had dared speak to him like this.
But he had to admit, if Matthew were his son, he'd wake up laughing from his dreams.
Knowing gratitude was a precious virtue.
"Speak."
Stannis turned sideways, resting his hands on the gunwale, looking up at the moon.
But Matthew looked at him, confirming once more:
"My Lord, are you sure you will help me?"
Stannis shouted irritably:
"One more word of nonsense, and I definitely won't."
He respected Jon Arryn.
When they suspected Cersei's children were bastards born of incest, they had investigated together.
He hadn't expected his comrade-in-arms to die just like that.
It pained him deeply.
Just a little more, and he could have been the heir.
Matthew grinned, leaned against the stern rail, and said slowly:
"Lord Jon was poisoned by Littlefinger."
Stannis's heart sank, and a curse nearly jumped out of his throat.
He didn't believe Littlefinger had the ability to kill Jon Arryn inside the Tower of the Hand.
But a second later, he choked on his words.
"Lady Lysa grew up with Littlefinger. He was the one who took her maidenhead. I suspect Lord Jon's child is Littlefinger's seed too. After all, the boy looks nothing like Lord Jon."
Matthew said it lightly.
But the words sent a shiver of horror down Stannis's spine. His fingers contracted, gripping the wood until it creaked.
If true, what was Littlefinger planning?
He looked at Matthew, demanding an answer.
Matthew obliged.
"Littlefinger believes 'chaos is a ladder.' What better way to spark chaos than revealing the Prince and Princess aren't the King's own children?"
Watching the bewildered Stannis, he showed an expression of hatred.
"Whether for the Vale or to climb higher in the future, he had every reason to kill Lord Jon."
Stannis felt like he'd been struck by lightning. He wanted to jump off the ship right then and find his drunken brother, the King.
But seeing the murky, deep water below...
He didn't dare.
Stannis took several deep breaths, glanced at Matthew, and asked:
"Where did you get this information?"
Matthew spread his hands.
"I am still a Little Bird, actually. Lord Jon died, and the Spider hates Littlefinger to the bone. He also wants me to disappear."
The stern fell silent.
After a long while, Stannis spoke awkwardly:
"How many men do you need?"
Matthew flashed a genuine smile.
"Leave Ser Davos. And I need you to assign him eight fully armed helpers."
"Done."
Stannis slapped the gunwale, gritting his teeth as he agreed.
But then he lowered his gaze, asking scrutinizingly:
"But are you sure you can succeed?"
Matthew spread his hands decisively, replying with absolute confidence:
" The word 'no' isn't in my dictionary."
If you want investment, you have to show unparalleled confidence.
Stannis cracked a smile. He didn't trust Matthew, but he liked his attitude.
And a man like Littlefinger—to prevent him from growing too powerful and conspiring with more people—really should be eliminated as soon as possible.
However, the person in control of the situation should be entirely his man.
The sudden wind made hearts itch with anticipation.
Matthew's smile grew even more sincere.
He knew there was a probability Stannis would agree.
Now that the first step of the plan had truly succeeded, his next step would have to change.