The Grand Maester squinted, yawning heavily, his body swaying so much he nearly stumbled to his knees.
Baelish's lips twitched before he answered, raising his head with a look of earnestness. "No one knows the Spider's footsteps. Perhaps he is the most mysterious man in the Seven Kingdoms."
Seeing Pycelle feign confusion and Baelish evade, Kevan was unsurprised that neither would give him anything useful.
He gave a slight nod once more.
"In that case, I fear I must trouble the two of you to keep us company so late at night. I imagine you are not yet aware of what has happened."
"King's Landing is no longer safe. Mercenaries from the Free Cities have infiltrated the city. For your security, we have had no choice but to take charge of the capital's defenses. I trust you will not take offense."
"And, for your safety, I must insist that men remain by your side."
Kevan Lannister showed little patience, hardly bothering to come up with a convincing excuse before dismissing the two men.
As he spoke, his gaze shifted to the eight Lannister soldiers who had brought them. He closed his eyes and gave a slight nod.
Taking the signal, one soldier pressed down on Petyr Baelish, cutting short whatever words he had been about to speak, and shoved him roughly out of the hall.
The aged Pycelle, now fully aware of his surroundings, instinctively shuffled forward.
But at that moment, Kevan, watching their retreating backs, seemed to think of something.
"Wait. Grand Maester Pycelle will stay. I suddenly recalled there are matters I must discuss with you."
Seeing Pycelle detained, Baelish's eyes flickered with the look of someone who had expected as much, but he lowered his head and left in silence, feigning ignorance.
Only once Baelish had gone did Kevan Lannister turn his gaze upon the Grand Maester.
"You truly don't know where Varys is?"
For the first time his brows furrowed, and some change came to his expression.
Pycelle was wide awake now. He shook his head. "I truly do not. Everyone knows that eunuch has talents beyond ordinary men."
"Very well. It matters little. King's Landing is in our hands—he will not escape. And as Master of Whisperers, he can stir no great waves."
Realizing there was no clue to the eunuch's whereabouts, Kevan could only set the matter aside for now, though not without a trace of frustration.
Instead, he asked of something else—something that concerned not only himself, but Tywin Lannister as well.
"Barristan Selmy—are you certain he knows nothing of our plan?"
"Even if he did, he could do nothing," Pycelle replied, shrugging as though unsettled by the absence of the heavy chain that usually weighed upon his neck.
He rubbed sleep from the corner of his eye and glanced toward the bright moon outside the window.
"As Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, his duty is to guard the king. Without white cloaks at the king's side, there is no safety."
"Ser Preston Greenfield, Ser Arys Oakheart, and Ser Mandon Moore have all gone with him. Oh, and Ser Loras Tyrell as well—they all joined in. With them marched six thousand Gold Cloaks."
"By now, I imagine they should be nearing Harrenhal."
Only after confirming that King's Landing's military strength had indeed been emptied did Kevan feel some assurance.
The dreamlike nature of the night's events finally began to feel real.
Had Barristan Selmy remained in the city, Kevan could not have guaranteed such an easy conquest.
"At present, in the Riverlands battlefield, only the forces of King's Landing can reinforce Robert. In both duty and command, Barristan had no choice but to march."
"This is good."
Kevan's shoulders relaxed, and then he turned to the matter most pressing.
"But how should we now hold King's Landing? Grand Maester, do you have any counsel?"
He fixed his gaze on Pycelle, hoping to hear some useful advice.
But Pycelle only looked troubled.
"Forgive me, Lord Kevan. I am only a maester. If you ask me about knowledge, perhaps I can offer you something."
"And persuading a few Gold Cloaks to drink and visit brothels, so that they neglected their duty to guard the gates—that is already the limit of my skill. Please pardon an old man's uselessness. I know nothing of how to govern a city of half a million souls."
"If Lord Jon Arryn were still alive, perhaps you should have asked him. He was a Hand of the King worthy of respect."
"But… did Lord Tywin Lannister not tell you what should be done?"
Faced with this fatal question, Pycelle not only wore a look of deep distress, but also shook his head quickly, declaring his helplessness. With great sighs, he even lamented how useful it would have been had Jon Arryn still lived—before smoothly kicking the matter back into Kevan's lap.
Seeing the old man's slyness, Kevan could only stare, speechless.
At last he waved his hand.
"Very well. I've disturbed your rest long enough. I'll have you escorted back to your chambers."
Since the man would say no more, Kevan had no choice but to let it drop.
As for the burden kicked back to him, Kevan already knew what had to be done.
Though Tywin Lannister had not given him any explicit instruction on the matter, the fact that he had entrusted Kevan with Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch was answer enough.
For the family's survival, its future glory—and even the dynasty—
Kevan Lannister knew what he must do.
...
Military orders are as immovable as mountains, and swiftness is the soul of war.
Once Kal understood the gravity of the current situation, he swiftly gathered the clansmen he had brought with him.
After resting only a single night, the very next day they left Saltpans at the fastest pace, boarding ships and sailing downstream toward Maidenpool.
When Kal saw the warships anchored at the outer harbor of Maidenpool, he let out a breath of relief.
It seemed reinforcements from the Vale had already arrived—this was indeed good news.
With the arrival of these Vale forces, Maidenpool had now become a military stronghold.
The harbor was no longer used for daily trade, and common folk no longer ventured near it.
Lifting his gaze, Kal saw the town encircled by walls, with the Mooton family's seat perched upon a relatively high hill to the east.
Compared with Saltpans—merely the holding of a landed knight—this noble house of the Riverlands was clearly on an entirely different level.
After all, Maidenpool was one of the main ports and trade centers of Crab Bay.
Yet ever since House Mooton had chosen the Targaryens over the Tullys during Robert's Rebellion, their family and their town had declined sharply.
Thus, faced with the Vale host's domineering requisition of his lands and castle, Lord William Mooton, master of this place, dared not utter a word of protest.
When Kal saw the Vale lords who had come to the harbor to greet him in person upon hearing of his arrival, he noticed among them a fat man he did not recognize.
Instinctively, Kal glanced back at Samwell Tarly, who stood at his side.
Given that soft, trembling bulk of flesh, the pale complexion, and the timid demeanor, Kal suspected that Sam was this fat man's son—certainly not the heir of House Tarly.
"From now on, you'll train together with Jon Snow," Kal said flatly, his mind wandering with such idle thoughts.
Samwell had been standing quietly, wide-eyed, staring curiously at everything around him. Out of nowhere, this sudden training regimen was dropped on his head.
His round face shrank back at once, but he dared not say a word—only muttering a faint "yes" under his breath.
On the other side, Jon, seeing his knight had just assigned him a duty, turned his head to glance at Sam.
Looking him up and down, Jon gave a small nod. "I'll take care of him, my lord. You can rest easy."
Kal was awaited not only by several great lords of the Vale but also by William Mooton himself—the very fat man he had just been muttering about in his mind.
Before the ship even drew alongside, Kal leapt ashore in a single bound, landing on the dock.
At once, Yohn Royce strode up quickly. Gesturing to the obsequious, fawning fat man beside him, he said, "Lord Kal, this is Lord William Mooton, master of Maidenpool."
Despite his busy air, Lord Yohn Royce remained perfectly courteous, making sure to introduce the host of the town without delay.
"Lord William Mooton, may you be in good health. Forgive me for troubling your house."
Kal gave a nod to William Mooton.
"Warden of the East, may you be in good health. Your presence is an honor to our house."
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