Chapter 80: The Rumors Take Hold (Part 2)
"Spread all over the city already?" Egger raised his eyebrows, struggling to keep his tone from sounding too unusual. He realized he might have underestimated the destructive power of high-level gossip involving a secret affair between the Master of Coin and the widow of the former Hand. However, since his goal in spreading the rumors wasn't just to spite someone, he urgently needed to know if his actions had already—or could eventually—cause enough damage to disrupt Littlefinger's plans. "Mhm... and how have the involved parties responded?"
"What's it to me?" Tyrion gave a dismissive snort. "That Ser Hugh was merely a minor squire; those notes were almost certainly not his true last words. But whoever wrote them was clever—the content is either impossible to disprove or consists of twisted, exaggerated facts with no detectable loopholes. Still, Baelish is the Master of Coin, a 'pillar of the realm.' How could a mere rumor kill him? Well... I haven't actually seen him for a few days, though I know his brothels are still open and doing fine."
"Is that so." Egger masked his frustration. Intelligent people aren't usually given to idle gossip, and Tyrion's lack of interest perfectly matched his character. Fortunately, now that the rumor had spread, he didn't have to worry that inquiring about it would attract unwanted attention. But who should he turn to next to find out if his goal had been achieved?
...
After a moment's thought, he decided to find a moment to chat with the Stark guard who escorted Arya to her lessons every day. After all, his direct objective was to prevent Littlefinger from gaining Eddard Stark's trust—and who better to provide information on that front than the man's own subordinate?
He quickly discovered there was an even better source right in front of him.
"That rumor..." Arya sniffled again. The two adults were finally discussing something she actually knew about, and she didn't miss the chance to chip in, showing off her knowledge like a prized treasure. "My father said the King has already written a letter demanding Lady Arryn return to King's Landing to explain the rumors and prove her innocence."
Egger snapped back to reality. Right, I'm being an idiot. Ned's precious daughter was standing right in front of him; why go out of his way to find the guard at the door? He had habitually treated Arya like a child who knew nothing, but in truth, a smart ten-year-old understands almost everything—they just lack the experience to analyze the significance of what they hear. Arya was Ned's daughter and his own apprentice. She saw Ned every day, and her simple heart trusted Egger. If used correctly, wouldn't she be his best ears?
He felt a surge of secret joy as he realized the key. The benefits of being linked to a Stark were far greater than he had initially imagined.
But he couldn't get carried away. Arya might tell him everything, but she would just as easily tell her father, Eddard Stark, everything. He could get crucial first-hand intelligence from her, but if Ned ever found out he was prying all day and grew suspicious, Egger would be shooting himself in the foot.
...
Tyrion winked at Arya. "Lady Arryn? If I recall correctly, that's your aunt."
"Right, she is my aunt." Arya winked back at Tyrion, looking a bit sheepish. "I don't even know what she looks like... I never thought she was that kind of person!"
"It's just a rumor. Believing everything you hear is the hallmark of the mindless rabble," Tyrion said in a tutoring tone. "As for the King's letter, it's a waste of ink... she'll never come to King's Landing. If the rumors are true, Lysa won't leave her nest to walk into a trap; and if the rumors are false, it means someone is out to get her, which means she's even less likely to leave the safety of the Eyrie to come to this gods-forsaken place."
"True... In the Eyrie of the Vale, Lady Arryn is a queen. If she came to King's Landing, she'd be nothing but the widow of a former Hand. I wouldn't come either." Egger nodded in agreement with Tyrion's analysis, then feigned nonchalance as he asked casually, "So—Arya, the Lord Hand... what has your father been doing these past few days? What does he think of the rumors? Is he still running around everywhere with Lord Baelish?"
Without a second thought, Arya spilled everything she knew. "I don't think so. I heard Jory say that Littlefinger has been ordered not to leave the Red Keep, and my father... it seems he's investigating the source of the rumors."
Ordered not to leave the Red Keep? That was the Westerosi version of "house arrest pending an official investigation!" As for investigating the source... Egger subconsciously reviewed his process of creating and distributing the slips: the ink was common, the paper was high-quality parchment found everywhere on the market, and the items had been purchased by Tyrion's servant for legitimate purposes. No second person had participated or known of the process. Unless Ned could deduce it was him through fingerprints left on the slips, there was no way the trail would lead back to him.
Gah, I should have worn gloves! But it didn't matter; Westeros clearly didn't have that kind of forensic technology.
He breathed a sigh of relief, suddenly struck by a strong sense of unreality. Could it be? Has Littlefinger—the grandmaster of the game of thrones and the biggest boss in King's Landing—really been defeated by a single minor rumor of mine?
Nothing was impossible. This was a real world. Littlefinger's power stemmed from conspiracies and the trust of those in power; it had no tangible foundation. When no one paid him any mind, he was at his strongest; but once a well-hidden opponent who knew everything targeted him from the shadows and forced him into the spotlight, his power would vanish in minutes, like spring snow under the sun.
Having lost the trust of Ned and the King while becoming a suspect in the murder of a Hand, Petyr Baelish's ambitions were finished. Granted, Eddard Stark might suspect these rumors were a smokescreen spread by the Lannisters to stop his investigation, and Petyr could still find other ways for Ned to discover Cersei and Jaime's secret as usual. But with Egger's interference, even if the plot continued by its own momentum, the ending would deviate drastically from the original!
At the very least, the situation couldn't possibly get worse than it did in the original story.
...
Egger didn't dwell long on the joy of toppling a major villain with a mere flick of his wrist. Littlefinger was finished, but he wasn't dead. And even if he were, it wouldn't mean Egger had won. His true opponent wasn't a single conspirator, but war itself. After the death of the last Targaryen dragon, the realistic foundation for a unified Westeros had vanished; the realm was barely held together by the massive momentum of history... The Seven Kingdoms were simply too large and sat at a dangerous historical juncture where unity must eventually lead to division. Both the rulers of Highgarden and the Westerlands were no longer satisfied with the status quo and were consciously or unconsciously sharpening their blades... War was inevitable; the only differences would be "when and why it breaks out," "how large it gets," and "who wins and who loses."
Littlefinger's ambition was done for, but there was still a Varys lurking in the shadows. He had bought precious time for his and Tyrion's money game. Next, it would be up to him to see if he could take down the other shit-stirrer before the inevitable war erupted, while growing strong enough to protect himself and decide his own fate.
"Arya, you've done well today. It was my fault for getting delayed and missing our swordplay lesson." Egger was in high spirits and reached out to pat her head—a move he'd noticed worked wonders on her. This little she-wolf had helped him immensely today; she deserved some sweetness. "As compensation and a reward, I'll spend the whole day with you tomorrow. Whether it's sword practice, adventure stories, or going to the paper mill to play—whatever makes you happy, alright?"
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