The Mountain of Ice and Fire

"Who else shares the northerner's view?" Robert asked, enraged.

Ser Barristan Selmy, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, looked directly at the King with his pale blue eyes. He was the only member of the small council who could voice any opinion without fear of reprisal. "Your Grace, murdering an unborn child and charging into battle are two different things. Forgive me, but I stand with Lord Eddard on this matter."

Grand Maester Pycelle coughed, then cleared his throat repeatedly, making everyone nauseous. Even the King forgot his anger and frowned.

"The Citadel in Oldtown aims to benefit all the people of the realm, not just His Grace the King. I faithfully served King Aerys of the previous dynasty, and I now faithfully serve King Robert. As a neutral and impartial maester, I hold no ill will towards Daenerys, Viserys, or anyone else. But I ask Ser Barristan—if Daenerys and her son were to attack Westeros with an army in the future, how many soldiers, knights, generals, women, children, the elderly, and infants would die? If killing Daenerys alone could save countless lives in Westeros, which course of action would be wiser and more merciful?"

Varys said, "Oh, Grand Maester, so well said, absolutely correct. If killing one person could save the kingdom from bloodshed, even the most foolish person would know what to choose."

King Robert said, "Enough with the nagging. Ned is gone, and Barristan's dissenting vote is invalid. So, who else opposes this?"

Littlefinger, Lord Petyr Baelish, was about to yawn when he saw the King glaring at him. He immediately stated, "Your Grace, my lords, if you were to pay at my brothel and discover that the woman you end up with is not the beauty you desired but a disgusting hag, what would be the best course of action? Would you close your eyes and proceed, wait for the hag to magically become beautiful, or storm out and draw your sword demanding a replacement? I believe the answer is obvious. Draw your swords, my lords, and only then will you get the beauty you desire to serve you!"

Robert suppressed his disgust at Littlefinger's oily words. "Murdering Daenerys and Viserys: Duke Renly agrees, Lord Petyr agrees, Lord Varys agrees, Grand Maester Pycelle agrees, the King himself agrees, Ser Barristan dissents. Therefore, the assassination plan is approved and officially in effect. Now, we must discuss how to carry out the killings."

"I've heard that there's a 'Faceless Men' organization in Braavos across the Narrow Sea, and they never fail in their assassinations," Grand Maester Pycelle said.

"The Faceless Men?" Littlefinger exclaimed as if a cat had been stepped on. "Grand Maester, do you know how much it would cost to hire a Faceless Man to kill an ordinary merchant? That sum could fund a mercenary company of two thousand men. So how much would it cost to kill a princess? Even if we gathered all the money in the royal treasury, it wouldn't be enough for even half the fee for a Faceless Man."

"We don't need to hire a Faceless Man. All we need is a brave man and a sharp blade. Jorah Mormont would be perfect. I'll grant him a pardon on the condition that he kills Daenerys and Viserys," the King declared.

"A blade and a man? My esteemed King, that won't do now," Varys thought, feeling a sense of relief. What Julie had told him last night had been too shocking, but today's small council meeting made it clear that Julie hadn't told the other nobles everything, or the King wouldn't have had the patience to sit here and listen to his sweet talk.

"Daenerys has already arrived in Vaes Dothrak, the sacred city of the Dothraki. No one is allowed to carry swords in the sacred city, let alone draw blood. Anyone who dares to break the rules will become the enemy of all the Dothraki. I dare not say what would happen to any fool who dared to use blades or guns against a Khaleesi in the sacred city..." He lightly patted his powdered cheeks. "In the Dothraki's sacred city, even the bravest man wouldn't dare carry a weapon, let alone use a sword to kill someone. But using poison wouldn't violate the prohibition... Perhaps we could use the Tears of Lys, so Daenerys's death would seem natural and wouldn't arouse any suspicion from Drogo Khaleesi."

"Tears of Lys? A colorless, odorless, high-grade poison from the city of Lys, but it's also quite expensive!" Littlefinger said, his lips trembling, as if the expenditure from the royal treasury was coming out of his own pocket.

"Then use the Tears of Lys. It's decided," King Robert said, hearing his own voice. Damn it, had he really fallen so low as to use poison against a fourteen-year-old girl? This was too insane. But she was a Targaryen, so there was nothing to feel guilty about. All Targaryens deserved to die!

"Very well, Your Grace, please leave this matter to me," Varys said with a smile on his plump face. "Your Grace, may I speak of something lighthearted and beneficial to the realm?"

"Speak!" The King was losing patience. He was a man with no patience for small council meetings, and if it weren't for the need to discuss that pregnant whore across the Narrow Sea, the King would never have attended the meeting.

"We're all ears!" Littlefinger said, the corners of his mouth upturned in what seemed like mockery. This fellow had taken Varys's blood last night and immediately told the Mountain what Varys had said. But thinking about it, it was also pathetic. Last night, Littlefinger had come to take his blood on the Mountain's orders, and today, he was speaking on the Mountain's behalf. The two brothers seemed to be equally matched, neither one more superior than the other!

Duke Renly's charming smile appeared on his face, and he watched Varys with interest.

Grand Maester Pycelle, on the other hand, had lost interest and looked half-asleep. The old lecher had been carousing in Littlefinger's brothel all night, to the point where even the girls couldn't take it anymore.

Ser Barristan Selmy wore a solemn expression.

Varys said, "I received news that Lady Janei has gained the wisdom of the Crone. Of course, I know that no one here believes in the Crone, and neither do I. It's just a deceptive excuse used by the monks. She has found a way to turn diseased milk into healthy milk."

The King, Duke Renly, the Grand Maester, Barristan, and the others all went from expectant to contemptuously bored. They absolutely did not believe Varys's news. Their expressions showed it, except for Littlefinger, who showed great interest.

Varys suddenly understood that even if he didn't bring up this matter at the small council meeting, Littlefinger would.

The Mountain had taken out double insurance!

What would happen if he didn't say it?

Would the Mountain send a thug or a drunk to stab him in a dark alley? It was entirely possible.

Varys's back broke out in a cold sweat.

What was the relationship between Littlefinger and the Mountain? What was the relationship between Littlefinger and the Lannisters?

"I've also heard about this," Littlefinger said, as expected. "I heard that yesterday, Lady Janei bought a lot of milk that was about to spoil on the streets, and then she sent it to the orphanages in Flea Bottom."

"Oh! Lady Janei is truly kind-hearted," Renly laughed. "So, how many children died after drinking the milk, and how many children were poisoned and needed a doctor?"

"None were poisoned or became sick!" Littlefinger said, completely serious.

Everyone laughed, finding Littlefinger's humor not humorous at all. But gradually, the smiles of the King, the Grand Maester, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and Duke Renly froze. They realized that Littlefinger's words were not a joke, but the truth.

"I've also heard that what Lord Petyr said is true," Varys said.

"Seven hells, the Mountain actually married such a remarkable noble lady. Damn it, what does the Mountain have that deserves Lady Janei's beauty and wisdom?" the King said indignantly.

Grand Maester Pycelle became excited. "Your Grace, my lords, if Lady Janei has truly found a way to solve the problem of diseased milk, this is a sign of great prosperity for our kingdom. Think about it, this year, all the milk in the country won't have to be poured down the drain, which will recover enormous losses for the people of the realm. And we can all drink fresh milk at our tables again. This is a major event that benefits the people of the realm and is also a blessing for His Grace the King! I dare to bet that this must be a sign of national revival."

"Lord Varys, do you know where Lady Janei is? If what you say is true, I think the kingdom needs her to contribute her method for the benefit of the people," the King said.

"Oh, if I'm not mistaken, Lady Janei should be at the orphanage in Flea Bottom today," Littlefinger said, glancing casually at Varys. "Lady Janei is also an enthusiastic supporter of the orphanage's work. Yesterday, she donated a large amount of food, clothing, cloth, and milk to the children of the orphanage, as well as several hundred gold dragons."

"Lord Petyr knows so much. Were you with Lady Janei yesterday?" Varys asked with a smile.

"I also make regular small donations to the orphanage, so I'm familiar with the people there," Littlefinger said.

The King said, "Forget it, Littlefinger. All your attention is on running your brothel. Varys, invite Lady Janei to the Red Keep. We've heard so many reports of milk being diseased that we don't dare drink the milk in the Red Keep anymore and are preparing to throw it away. Invite her to the Red Keep, and both the Queen and I will thank her."

"Yes, Your Grace, I'll do it right away!" Varys said, tasting bitterness in his mouth. He realized that without leaving a trace, he was actually working for the Mountain. With the King's habit of spending money like water, the Mountain wouldn't lose out on benefits from this matter, besides the fame!