~~~Year 298 AC ~~~
~~~ Small council,Kings Landing, ~~~
Varys POV
Today the Small Council assembled as usual in the morning after breakfast.
And as always, the main seat was empty.
King Robert had gone to the pleasure houses again. That is what my birds tell me.
"Lord Arryn, the Queen wishes to host a grand tournament at Harrenhal," a voice spoke as soon as we had all taken our seats.
The room fell silent. Even Grand Maester Pycelle looked up from his notes.
"A tournament?" Renly asked. "What number is this — the seventh this year?"
"There is no nameday, no royal wedding, no victory worth celebrating," Jon Arryn said. "Why would the Crown sponsor another?"
"The Crown will not be funding it," Littlefinger replied smoothly. "House Lannister is covering all expenses."
That silenced the room for a different reason entirely.
Stannis was the first to break it.
"Why Harrenhal? Why not here in King's Landing?"
"The Queen believes it appropriate," Littlefinger replied.
"That is not an answer," Stannis said coldly.
"Should we not first ask the reason for the tournament before we debate where it's held?" Renly asked, smiling pleasantly at his brother.
"A wise course," Littlefinger agreed, passing his smooth smile to Renly, who nodded along.
"Oh, Lord Baelish, you know me — I have always been the sensible one between my brother and me," Renly said cheerfully, and winked at Stannis.
Stannis returned the look with all the warmth of a closed door.
"The Queen wishes to formally present Prince Joffrey before the realm," Littlefinger continued. "Lords from Dorne to the Wall will be summoned to attend. A celebration of the future king."
Renly laughed outright. "A celebration? The boy is fifteen. He is not king yet."
"One day he will be, my lord," Pycelle offered, in the stammering tone he reserved for stating the obvious.
"And one day I will be dead," Renly said. "Neither requires a tournament."
Jon Arryn rubbed his temple.
"How much debt does the Crown carry now?"
"My lord Hand, as I mentioned, House Lannister is funding the tournament—"
"I am asking how much the debt is," Lord Arryn cut him off, sharp as a blade.
Littlefinger sighed and opened his ledger.
"A little over seven million gold dragons."
The Hand's eyes closed briefly.
Seven million.
Even I had to admit the number sounded uglier each time it was spoken aloud.
"Seven million?" Stannis said. "Gods. What in the Seven Hells are we spending it on?"
"Seven whores from seven kingdoms for the king, every day, I'd wager," Renly said, rubbing his temple.
"The fleet would account for much of the spike," I said before Littlefinger could steer the conversation elsewhere.
The Master of Coin nodded.
"Partly. His Grace wished for ships to rival the Vale fleet."
"The Arryn fleet," Renly said.
"Much the same thing," Petyr replied.
A shadow crossed Lord Arryn's face.
Interesting.
"The Crown owes House Arryn over a million and a half dragons, out of which seven hundred thousand are for the ships," Littlefinger went on. "Half a million more to the Merchant Guild of the Vale. Three million to House Lannister. Seven hundred thousand to the Iron Bank. Smaller debts to the Faith, the Tyrells, the Hightowers, and a handful of Tyroshi houses."
"Seven save us," Jon Arryn muttered.
"I doubt they can, Lord Arryn," Stannis said.
"Most of it is owed to friends," Littlefinger said lightly, as if that made the sum smaller. "House Lannister. House Arryn. The Faith. The Tyrells. All are close allies of the Crown."
"Until those friends decide they would rather be paid than be friends," Stannis replied.
A rare moment — the room actually agreed with him.
Littlefinger, wisely, did not argue. He simply turned a page. "There is one further matter."
Jon Arryn looked up.
"The Queen requests that your son return from Essos for the tourney," Littlefinger said.
That was interesting.
The room went very quiet. Even Renly's smile faded.
"My son." Jon Arryn's voice had gone flat and cold.
"Ser Artys."
"I know my son's name. I am asking why she wants him here."
Littlefinger offered a small shrug.
"The tournament is not solely to present Prince Joffrey. It is also an occasion for the lords and their heirs to swear fealty to their future king."
A lie. A neat one. But a lie all the same.
"But why a tournament at all, let alone at Harrenhal?" Stannis pressed. "It is a cursed seat by most accounts."
"I cannot speak to Her Grace's reasoning beyond what was given to me," Littlefinger said. "Only that all lords and their heirs are to be called for the swearing, and that Harrenhal is large enough to house every banner in the realm at once — which the Red Keep cannot."
"None of this makes the smallest sense," Renly said.
"Because the Queen wishes to remind the realm why House Targaryen no longer sits the Iron Throne," Littlefinger explained.
"So she means to recreate the very tournament that set my brother's rebellion in motion?" Stannis said. "What manner of madness is this?"
"Come now, brother — it's Cersei Lannister we're discussing," Renly said.
"Harrenhal is a cursed place, my lords," Pycelle said hesitantly. "Terrible things have happened within those walls."
"Cursed or not, it is the only castle large enough for such a gathering," I offered.
"What does the King say of all this?" Jon Arryn asked.
"No word yet. He was last seen at a brothel. The Queen has gone to make her case to him — though given His Grace's nature, I doubt he refuses a tournament," Littlefinger said with a faint smile.
"That much I would wager coin on," Renly said, raising his cup.
"We shall see what the King decides," Jon Arryn said. He turned to me. "Lord Varys. Any word from the East? My son's letter has not come for six months. He was in Elyria then."
"Elyria?" Renly asked. "Where in the world is that?"
"You have not heard of the champion of the common people, have you?" Littlefinger said with a small smirk. "Perhaps Lord Renly should spend less time with his squires and more with the news of the realm."
The barb landed, but Renly only laughed it off.
"My lord," I said, steering the conversation back, "Elyria and Tolos are cities north of Old Valyria — former slave cities west of Slaver's Bay, smaller than the Free Cities."
"And why should any of us care about slave cities across the Narrow Sea?" Renly asked.
Because the boy has spent four years building himself an army there, and none of my birds can confirm it directly. But the pieces fit.
"Four years ago, both cities suffered slave uprisings," I said. "Every slaver lord and master was put to the sword. The slaves somehow obtained weapons — enough to fight and win in a single night."
"Go on," Jon Arryn said.
"Oh, the young falcon had nothing to do with it, of course," I said smoothly. "He was merely passing through on a trading voyage inspired by Corlys Velaryon."
I continued, "He sold weapons forged in the Vale to local buyers. Those weapons were later found near slave quarters the night the uprising began."
I looked around the table. My eyes met Littlefinger's.
We both knew the truth.
"Why are we discussing Essos at all?" Stannis asked.
"Because the young falcon was present during the uprising," I said. "And afterward helped establish councils and governance. Since then, Yunkai and Meereen have attempted to retake Elyria and Tolos. Ser Artys has helped defend them more than once."
"So he has been changing the world and waging wars then," Renly concluded.
POV Ends