Chapter 112 — Everyone Assembled!
When Addam Marbrand stepped into the hall of the House of Order, the chatter inside immediately softened.
Most of the people here were merchants trying to survive in King's Landing—
and deep down, they all carried an instinctive fear of the City Watch.
Especially when their commander hadn't come dressed for celebration.
He wore dark red armor, a brilliant golden cloak draped across his shoulders.
No ornaments.
No unnecessary decoration.
Only a finely crafted longsword hanging at his waist.
His steps were steady and unhurried.
Behind him followed seven officers.
Petyr Baelish glanced at them quickly.
As a former Master of Coin, he recognized five of them instantly—
all captains responsible for different districts and gates of the city.
Damn it…
This wasn't just a courtesy visit.
Addam Marbrand had brought half the command structure of the City Watch with him.
---
"Ser Odin."
Addam stopped at the center of the hall.
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly to every corner.
"Congratulations."
"I, too, was knighted personally by Lord Tywin."
"From now on, we share the same honor."
"Of course, Ser Addam."
Odin stepped forward with a smile.
"The improvement of order in Flea Bottom is thanks to your support—and the City Watch."
"In the future, the Black Hand will fully cooperate with the Gold Cloaks."
"Mutual support," Addam replied with a nod.
His gaze swept across the hall.
It lingered briefly on Lord Lake and Lady Falis—then finally settled on Baelish.
That look—
made Baelish's heart skip a beat.
…No way.
He glanced at the others, unease creeping into his chest.
He had offended plenty of people—
but not Addam Marbrand.
The man had only risen after the Battle of the Blackwater.
They had barely interacted at all.
---
"Perfect timing. Lord Baelish is here."
Addam spoke casually.
"That saves me a trip to your residence tomorrow."
Baelish forced a composed smile, though tension crept into his voice.
"Is there something I can assist you with, Ser Addam?"
Addam didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he pulled out a black-covered ledger, flipped it open, and ran his finger across the page.
He stopped.
"Last month, several moneylenders submitted loan applications through the City Watch's logistics office."
"They used collateral from your properties—seven brothels, three gambling houses, and two warehouses on Silk Street."
"The total loan amount…"
He paused briefly—
"…four thousand five hundred gold dragons."
Baelish cleared his throat quickly.
"That loan was entirely legitimate. The collateral far exceeds the value of the loan. There were no irregularities."
"Correct."
Addam nodded, flipping to another page.
"But we later discovered that you used those same properties as collateral… multiple times."
He pretended to search the page.
Letting the room lean in.
Then—
he tapped a line and announced loudly:
"The total borrowed amount…"
"…thirty-two thousand gold dragons."
---
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Even the sound of pouring wine stopped.
Thirty-two thousand gold dragons.
That sum could buy half of Silk Street.
So this was Baelish's game—
using the same assets repeatedly as collateral.
Planning to disappear.
The looks in the room changed instantly.
Disdain.
Suspicion.
Contempt.
Baelish felt cold sweat bead down his back.
"This… I can explain—"
"The repayment deadline was ten days ago."
Addam cut him off coldly.
According to the contract, if the debt is unpaid, ownership of the collateral transfers to the creditors."
"Of course," he added flatly,
"your assets aren't even worth that much."
"So I suggest you think carefully about how to repay this debt… Lord Baelish."
He closed the ledger and tucked it away.
---
Baelish opened his mouth—
but no words came out.
His mind raced.
Those properties…
were exactly the ones he had just "gifted" to Odin.
His plan had been perfect.
Dump the soon-to-be-seized assets onto Odin.
Gain goodwill.
Transfer the crisis.
When creditors came knocking—
it would be Odin's problem.
Meanwhile, Baelish would already be gone to the Vale, marrying Lysa Arryn.
And in the Eyrie—
no one would be able to collect anything from him.
But now—
Addam Marbrand stood here.
In public.
Exposing everything.
Too perfect.
Too perfect to be coincidence.
Slowly—
Baelish turned his head and looked at Odin.
Odin was already looking at him.
Calm.
Unreadable.
No anger.
No surprise.
No mockery.
Just quiet—
as if everything had been expected.
…He knew.
The thought struck like lightning.
Odin had known all along.
Known about the debts.
Known Addam would come.
That was why he accepted the deal so easily.
Baelish felt his fingers trembling.
He quickly clasped his hands behind his back, digging his nails into his palm.
---
"Ser Addam…"
He forced his voice steady.
"That loan… I was delayed by certain matters. But rest assured, I will arrange—"
"Arrange what?"
A tall, thin officer stepped forward from behind Addam.
Humfrey Waters, commander of the Dragon Gate.
Baelish knew him.
Sharp.
Vindictive.
And loyal to Addam.
"You'll arrange to delay again?" Humfrey sneered.
"You're no longer Master of Coin, Lord Baelish."
"Everyone in King's Landing knows you're about to leave for Harrenhal."
"When you're gone… do you expect your creditors to chase you there?"
Baelish's face hardened.
He was about to respond—
when a voice cut in.
---
"I believe him."
All heads turned.
Odin stepped forward, placing himself between Baelish and Addam.
A perfect mediator's stance.
Inside—
he was already laughing.
Because truthfully—
he hadn't known.
Not at all.
But even if he had—
he would have accepted the deal anyway.
Because the debt belonged to Baelish.
Not to him.
And with the Black Hand growing stronger—
who in King's Landing would dare force him to pay it?
"I believe Lord Baelish is an honorable man."
Odin spoke loudly, clearly, for all to hear.
"He has just generously gifted me a number of properties."
"Coincidentally… the very same ones Ser Addam mentioned."
"I'm sure Lord Baelish intends to settle all his debts before leaving King's Landing."
"That must be why he transferred them to me."
He turned to Baelish.
Eyes narrowing slightly.
"After all…"
"If there were any problems with those properties—"
"why would Lord Baelish give them to me?"
"That would be…"
"…a betrayal of honor."
"…and a trap set against a knight."
The words were light.
But the weight behind them—
crushing.
Betrayal of honor.
Harming a knight.
To nobles—
those were deadly accusations.
Odin had just placed Baelish over an open flame.
Now—
Baelish had only two choices:
Admit he intended to deceive Odin—
and destroy his reputation completely.
Or—
swallow the loss.
And pay the price.
At that point, it practically meant that from now on, no one would ever believe a single word spoken by Petyr Baelish again.
So Baelish didn't hesitate.
"Ah—yes, yes, of course!"
He nodded quickly, forcing his smile back into place—though it looked somewhat strained.
"Ser Odin is absolutely right!"
"I… I meant exactly that! Those properties are indeed mortgaged, but I was planning to—uh—repay everything after tonight's banquet. Truly!"
He agreed far too readily, showing no sign of resistance, as if he had no intention of defaulting at all.
Addam Marbrand stared at him for three full seconds before slowly nodding.
"Very good."
Then he turned to another man.
"Captain Humfrey."
"At your command, my lord!"
"Starting tonight, you will lead a squad and station yourselves outside Lord Baelish's residence."
"You are not to leave until every last coin of his debt—thirty-two thousand gold dragons—has been repaid."
He paused, his tone turning colder.
"Remember—every coin must be accounted for. Not a single copper short."
"We cannot allow honest merchants in King's Landing to lose faith."
Humfrey grinned.
It was not a pleasant smile.
It was filled with naked malice.
"Yes, my lord!"
His eyes locked onto Baelish as he spoke, the grin widening.
"I'll make sure to… keep a very close watch."
---
Seeing that expression, Baelish felt the corner of his mouth twitch uncontrollably.
He knew Humfrey Waters all too well.
Back when Baelish had thrown one of his subordinates into prison, Humfrey had privately come begging for leniency.
But at the time, Baelish had been busy with a lucrative deal. He brushed him off with a few casual words and sent him away.
And now—
that very man would be stationed outside his house with a squad of Gold Cloaks.
Officially, to "supervise repayment."
But in reality…
Baelish didn't even want to imagine it.
Then another memory surfaced.
During his years as Master of Coin, he had frequently delayed the salaries of the Gold Cloaks.
Sometimes a month.
Sometimes two.
Once—even an entire quarter.
But what choice had he had?
Robert Baratheon spent money like water.
One tournament could cost over a hundred thousand gold dragons!
No matter how skilled Baelish was at making money, he couldn't keep up with that kind of reckless spending.
If he didn't skim a little from the Gold Cloaks, how was he supposed to profit?
And if he didn't profit—
how could the king profit?
And if the king didn't profit—
how could he remain Master of Coin?
But thinking about that now was meaningless.
Under the gaze of the entire hall, Baelish could only force a smile uglier than a grimace.
"Rest assured, Ser Addam… I will repay everything as soon as possible."
"It would be best if you do."
Addam nodded, no longer sparing him another glance.
Instead, he turned to Odin, his tone noticeably warmer.
"Ser Odin, I've heard your drinks here are quite… unique."
"We've made a few innovations," Odin replied with a polite smile. "What would you like to try?"
"Something strong. It's a bit cold tonight."
The two of them walked toward the bar, chatting casually—
as if nothing had happened.
But everyone present knew exactly what had just occurred.
---
Petyr Baelish—
the most cunning and profit-driven man in King's Landing—
had just been publicly forced to:
Pay out thirty-two thousand gold dragons,
And endure constant surveillance by men who hated him.
And all of this happened—
right after he had "gifted" part of his business to Odin.
A coincidence?
No one believed that.
A certain Lord swirled his wine, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
A noble lady covered her mouth with a handkerchief, but her eyes gleamed with undisguised amusement.
Merchants and shopkeepers exchanged glances, whispering among themselves.
---
Baelish stood there, feeling every gaze like needles piercing his skin.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.
It's fine, he told himself.
Just thirty thousand gold dragons.
He had made plenty of money over the years.
Even losing a few tens of thousands wouldn't cripple him.
He still had wealth.
Still had his plans for the Vale.
Still had Lysa Tully waiting for him.
Once he reached the Eyrie—
none of this would matter.
He just needed to leave.
Immediately.
Before anything else went wrong.
But just as he turned toward the exit—
the doors burst open again.
That damned, ugly, noseless man—
Rorge—
came rushing in.
He was panting heavily, his dark, hairy face flushed red with excitement.
He shoved through the crowd, nearly knocking over two servants, and bellowed at the top of his lungs:
"Ser!"
"The Master of Coin, Tyrion Lannister, Lady Margaery Tyrell, and the Queen Regent have all arrived!"
The hall fell completely silent.
Everyone stared at him in disbelief.
But Rorge wasn't finished.
"And also—the Hand of the King, Tywin Lannister—"
"—and Lady Olenna Tyrell have arrived as well!"