King's Landing, the Red Keep, Varys's bedchamber.
Varys, the once-powerful Spider, sat awkwardly beside his desk. On the desk lay many paper-wrapped special candies, all of them hidden well by Varys, only to be found again by the soldiers.
Varys blinked, his eyes wet and glistening. He no longer knew how many times he had wept. His hands were a ruin of bloody wounds. His palms bore the punctures left by Gendry's arrows, and after the hammer blows, the bones in his fingertips were nearly shattered. That was not to mention his broken legs, or the torture his entire body had suffered from scabbards, whips, and hammers.
The bell had already been rung, and the candies had been set out. The little birds would arrive soon. Varys knew the tolling was not only for the little birds, but also for himself. His usefulness was shrinking bit by bit. Once he lost all value, he would lose his life.
Hidden in the darkness, Lothor Brune heard the soft scrape of slippers against the stone floor. A child emerged from the shadows, a pale-faced boy in tattered robes, no more than nine or ten. The boy took the candy from the stairway, then ran skillfully to Varys.
Then came the second, and the third. These children all had pale faces and black eyes. Long years underground without sunlight had left them bloodless, and their eyesight was not especially good either. Varys had stored food below, but the little birds only seemed to feel at ease after seeing him. They had been trained for too long by Varys and the fat Magister Illyrio, turned into cold machines for gathering secrets, with little trace of living warmth left in them.
"One... two." Lothor Brune crouched behind the curtain and counted slowly. The men sent in were all the quickest and most nimble soldiers. When the last child stepped into the bedchamber, one of the little birds helpfully closed the door at the stairway.
One little bird pulled a piece of paper from his breast, with the information he had found written on it.
The first little bird did so, and the others all took out the clues they had gathered recently, as if hoping to win Varys's praise. The little birds had no tongues, but they could see and hear. They were starving, and had long gone without the candies they wanted.
Wrapped in his moth-eaten robe, Varys's hands trembled, but he no longer had the strength to grasp the letter. The little birds immediately saw the wounds on his palms. They were horrifying. Yet because of Varys's strict discipline, they did not dare look at the body beneath his robe. They only saw him sitting motionless, completely unlike his usual self, who would hand out candy so freely.
Smack. Smack.
The sharp sound of clapping hands rang out, breaking the little birds' confusion.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Crossbowmen in golden robes appeared inside Varys's little room, loosing already-drawn crossbows. Bolts shot out with a powerful whistle.
The bolts struck the little birds in the chest and belly, and bright red blood slowly soaked into their ragged robes. Each bolt hit like a heavy punch crushing the throat, leaving the birds unable to breathe. The tongueless little birds let out a few muffled whimpers, then collapsed to the floor.
"Kill them! Leave none alive!" Lothor ordered. The other soldiers rushed out from behind the curtains, from beneath the bed, and from behind the shelves, holding sharp greatswords. The door to the little room was kicked open, and more soldiers charged in.
Varys heard the dull sound of blades entering flesh. Blood sprayed out in bursts, and the limbs and heads of the little birds flew in all directions. But Varys could not move. His legs had long since been broken. He could only watch the bloody scene unfold, a complete slaughter.
The soldiers, who had been waiting for this moment, let loose their anger. Greatswords whirled and hacked, each man fierce as a wolf or tiger. Birds were only birds, after all. How could birds dragged into the light be a match for knights? The little birds wore cloth robes, and their only weapons were daggers.
The slaughter ended quickly. Spears, greatswords, and crossbows worked together to raise a storm of killing. These pitiful tools had no chance of escape. The little birds, Varys's pride, all died inside Varys's own bedchamber.
Lothor crouched down, ignoring the blood staining him. He pried open one little bird's mouth. As expected, there was no tongue inside.
"Prince Storm was right. You really did cut out their tongues, you beast." Lothor looked at the dead little birds scattered across the room in a grisly mess. "These people died because of you, Varys."
"What exactly is in your candy?" Lothor looked at Varys and sniffed one of the candies. It carried the scent of a potion.
"Pain... relief..." Only when Lothor leaned close to Varys did he hear the faint murmur.
Lothor understood the general idea. The birds had to be literate, young, and tongueless. But children too young were indeed difficult to train, and the demand was large. So Varys and his patron had cultivated a special kind of bird: older in age, yet still small in body, though prone to early death. The little birds here were actually already adults. For their work, however, they were ideal. Those candies could also dull the birds' pain.
"How should I reward you, Lord Varys?" Lothor asked.
"Pain... release..."
"A fine thought, my lord." Lothor's riding boots stepped across the blood-soaked stone floor as he looked at Varys. "For the people you killed, for the righteous men and women who died by your hand, you still want a quick death?"
Thud!
Two soldiers drove their scabbards savagely into Varys's stomach. Varys felt as if he could not breathe, his insides churning violently.
No one liked Varys. Many in the Seven Kingdoms still remembered the old stories. Whether the Mad King's madness or King Robert's tragedy, Varys had been tied to it all. And now Varys had even tried to burn part of the Flea Pit and murder the beloved future king.
"Take him away. I will report the good news to Prince."
At Lothor's command, two wolfish soldiers dragged Varys off.
...
The Red Keep had grown especially military in spirit lately, though it had been that way before as well. Guard soldiers, straight-backed as spears, moved through every corner, every chamber, and every tower. Sometimes, golden knights could be seen sparring in the yard. Everyone in the court understood that these were the strongest soldiers of "Storm" Gendry, belonging to the Guard Legion, warriors who had earned a mighty name on battlefields on both sides of the Narrow Sea.
The Red Keep had become orderly once more. For the courtiers, servants, kitchen boys, and septons, work was work, no matter whom they served. It was only a question of whom they were loyal to. From King Robert to King Joffrey, and now they had begun cheering Gendry's name.
"Good riddance to Varys, wicked Varys."
Most people in the Red Keep knew something of Varys. After all, that kindly Master of Whisperers was always smiling and willing to spend coin on even the smallest scrap of news. Yet it turned out that Varys was a villain who had plotted to murder members of the royal family. If he had killed another king, who knew what chaos King's Landing would have fallen into? Without Varys, they could still sell information to the new minister, Selwyn. Without a king, King's Landing would become far more chaotic.
Besides, with Varys and his spies dead, many positions had opened up for others to climb into. Chaos was a ladder.
The golden battle standard rose once more above the Red Keep. Its design was no longer one emblem alone, but divided into four. Joffrey's hastily made half-stag, half-golden-lion banner now seemed like a joke, often mocked as the banner of a usurper and his short-lived dynasty.
Inside and outside the Red Keep, and even throughout all of King's Landing, there was no shortage of people praising Gendry. The people of King's Landing had rarely dealt with their new master before, since Gendry had never entered court or taken part in tournaments. Yet his lowly birth in King's Landing, legendary fate, handsome face, overwhelming charisma, and glory in a hundred victories had won the city's heart for this favored child of the Seven Kingdoms and the gods. People called Gendry the "Triumphant Storm," the "Breaker of Swords," and the "New Conqueror."
"Across the Narrow Sea, Storm killed the Brave Companions and the Bloody Mummers, broke Myr and Tyrosh, slew Khal Drogo and Khal Zekko, and seized the Disputed Lands and the Stepstones. In Westeros, he defeated the Kingslayer, saved the Three Rivers, broke The Twins to link up with the Winter Wolves, then crossed the Bloody Gate, won the Vale's submission, crushed the slave whelps of the Lord Governor of Volantis, and won the Battle of the Blackwater Rush. Count through the history of Westeros. Has there ever been a knight as great as Storm?"
So the knights boasted of Gendry's deeds. Those from the Crownlands, Crackclaw Point, and the Stormlands were especially enthusiastic, to say nothing of the freedmen.
In the council chamber, Gendry sat in the chief seat, while all the senior ministers and Small Council advisors were gathered there.
The White Knight Balon guarded the doorway, along with Guard knights in gold cloaks and black armor.
The most elite Guard knights wore black-gray plate over black leather, with forked, curved great helms fastened tight at the throat. Their visors left only breathing holes at the mouth and nose, with narrow slits by the eyes for sight, and a long golden tassel at the crown. They wore golden cloaks, and on the gold, small designs swayed: stag and dragon, wolf pack and freed slave. Even the dullest person in King's Landing could understand the difference between the Guard and the King's Landing garrison.
Inside the room, Gendry was dressed much more simply. He wore a three-colored tunic, black-dyed wool riding breeches, and the slimmer Orphan-Maker at his waist.
A large map hung in the council chamber, with every kingdom and city of Westeros drawn vividly upon it. Great Lord Stannis spoke first, beginning with the west.
"Prince, my lords," Stannis Baratheon said, the Hand of the King's chain around his neck. "The Battle of King's Landing has now come to an end. Though we failed to intercept Cersei and failed to capture Tywin alive, Joffrey was killed by the mob, Tyrion was taken alive, and with the capture of King's Landing and the defeat of Volantis and the others, we have secured an overall victory. According to reports from Ser Edmure and Robb Stark at Riverrun, the remnants of the Westerlands launched another night raid somewhere along the Red Fork. This time, the Kingslayer met them, and they still have Tommen in their hands. So... the Lannisters will continue resisting us in the west."
"Tywin is a defeated general with defeated troops. I do not think he can hold out for long," Mace Tyrell said. "But with only beaten remnants, the Riverlands still failed to hold them?"
"They held firm the first time, but the lords of the Riverlands returned to repair their castles and homes and prepare for winter because their own seats had been burned. Along the long Red Fork, there will always be gaps," Great Lord Stannis explained. "Still, Tywin fled in madness, and that elite army of his is nearly broken. After this, the Lannisters will likely have to rely on newly recruited rabble."
"But there has been no dissent in the Westerlands so far. The Westerlands will still serve the Lannisters," Eddard Stark said cautiously.
"These lords are truly strange. They still refuse to serve the rightful king," Mace said, puzzled. "The Kingslayer lost more than ten thousand men, and Tywin lost about the same..."
"It seems they still think we have not struck hard enough," Gendry said. "Let us discuss a more reliable plan. I must return to Dragonstone first."
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