"Ser Neo, allow me to escort you out of the Red Keep. We can talk about this latest matter on the way."
They hadn't gone far when Varys made the offer.
Leo wasn't about to refuse. The two men fell into step and, as if by silent agreement, drifted toward the quieter paths of the Red Keep.
"By the way, congratulations again, Ser Neo. Not only have you earned knighthood in the Seven Kingdoms, but you've won the king's personal favor. Your performance at the tourney will have your name ringing across the realm."
"Lord Varys, we don't need the formal dance. Just say what's on your mind."
Varys smiled but stayed quiet. They had reached a secluded garden, open ground with no one else in sight.
Only then did he speak. "I forgot to mention—last time, when certain people questioned your background, I took a considerable risk and cleared your name with the king."
"So when you sail for Essos, it would help if you could bring back a little… evidence. Something to support the story I gave His Grace."
So this is him cashing in the favor.
Still, Varys was useful to have around. In the original story he'd even helped Tyrion when the dwarf was in trouble. Of course, nothing the Spider did was ever free.
Leo put on a grateful face. "I owe you one, Varys. You really are a good friend I can count on."
"Friends help friends. No need to thank me…" Varys looked pleased, then smoothly changed direction. "Actually, the investigation into your poisoning wasn't quite what we told you in the Small Council."
Called it.
Leo kept his expression neutral while Varys laid out the real findings.
His "little birds" in King's Landing had traced every thread straight to a highborn lord of the Crownlands—someone powerful, well-connected, and already on bad terms with Leo.
Gyles Rosby.
"The Lord of Rosby himself?" Leo muttered, equal parts pissed off and baffled.
He'd never done a damn thing to the man. Why had Gyles hated him from the first second they met? Was it really just because the old traditionalist prick couldn't stomach Leo "bribing" Robert with gold?
And if Varys already knew the truth, why the hell had Robert and Jon Arryn fed him that story about some random minor noble?
Varys read the question on Leo's face. "Simple. Lord Gyles was the one pulling the strings. The minor noble was just the one who carried it out."
"Gyles Rosby is an old-blood lord of the Crownlands. He holds sizable lands and commands real respect among the local nobility. Punishing him publicly over something like this would stir up every lord in the region. The king and the Hand decided it was better to keep the peace. They stopped the investigation at the hired hand and swept the rest under the rug."
"That's why His Grace gave you the extra farm and fields—to make up for the injustice. A quiet apology, if you will."
Now it all clicks.
"So you're telling me this on your own?" Leo asked. "Not on the king's orders?"
"No. This is strictly between friends." Varys shook his head, the picture of sincerity. "His Grace had no intention of revealing the truth. But I felt you deserved to know."
Leo stared at him, thinking, Varys, you magnificent bastard. If he didn't already know exactly what kind of man the Spider was, he might have actually bought the "true friend" act.
Still, he played along. "Thank you. I'm lucky to have a friend like you."
"Of course, you mustn't blame the king or the Hand," Varys added, looking every bit the concerned servant of the realm. "They must think first of the stability of the Seven Kingdoms. A king who puts the people and the peace above all else is a good king, wouldn't you agree?"
"You're right. I understand completely. I won't hold it against anyone."
Leo kept nodding along, but inside he was ice-cold.
Everyone could talk about the "greater good." When the knife was in your back, how many people actually swallowed it?
Robert's decision left a sour taste. The king had smiled, clapped him on the shoulder, and called him a friend—then couldn't even deliver basic justice because it might upset the wrong nobles.
If Leo never wanted to be in this position again, there was only one answer: keep climbing. Higher and higher until no one could brush him aside.
Real justice would be something he held in his own hands.
Varys seemed satisfied that Leo was being "reasonable." The two men chatted easily after that—about the distant "Great Tang Empire," about the rise and fall of the Targaryen dynasty, about what made a truly worthy ruler.
Varys kept circling back to the same quiet theme: only a wise and just king could bring lasting peace and prosperity to the smallfolk.
By the time they were about to part ways, Varys suddenly added one last offhand remark, as if it had just popped into his head.
"Oh, one more thing I forgot to mention. That minor noble really did borrow a fortune from a moneylender. The shop is only a short walk from the Sapphire Inn where you're staying."
Leo blinked, confused.
Back at the inn he had Varyn quietly check it out. The answer came back exactly as he expected.
The moneylender behind that shop was none other than the Master of Coin—Littlefinger.
So that's what you were really saying.
What is truth? Heh.
Varys had just pointed the finger straight at Littlefinger.
But was that the actual truth?
Leo wasn't so sure.