Chapter 80 Candor
A golden twilight washed over the sea, its surface shimmering with a hazy, mesmerizing light.
The Free Cities. Within the lavish manse of Magister Illyrio.
Within the manse's ivy garden, Viserys Targaryen and the Magister of Pentos, Illyrio Mopatis, sat across from one another.
Viserys Targaryen was tall and slender, with the long, silver hair and violet eyes of his Targaryen ancestors. He was handsome, but his gaunt face was etched with a weariness he could not hide.
The Magister of Pentos, Illyrio Mopatis, was a corpulent man with a greasy, yellow, forked beard and a mouthful of crooked, yellow teeth.
An emotion bordering on fury danced in Viserys Targaryen's eyes. "Magister Illyrio, my future Master of Coin, I am King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm! I am Viserys of House Targaryen, the Third of His Name, the one true king to sit the Iron Throne!"
Facing Viserys's near-shout, Illyrio Mopatis simply replied in a calm tone, "Your Grace, no one doubts your rightful claim to the Iron Throne."
Illyrio's words calmed Viserys Targaryen considerably. "She is my choice for a future Queen, so do not attempt to awaken the dragon's wrath again."
A choice for a queen... Illyrio Mopatis's pupils quivered slightly. "She is far too timid, Your Grace. You need an army to reclaim the Iron Throne."
Initially, Illyrio Mopatis had been stunned by Daenerys Targaryen's beauty, even entertaining the thought of eliminating Viserys Targaryen and taking her as his wife.
However, in his subsequent interactions with her, Illyrio Mopatis found Daenerys Targaryen far too timid and shy, constantly worried and frightened.
Illyrio Mopatis felt a union with Daenerys Targaryen would be exceedingly dull and bring no pleasure to his life.
Having abandoned his clandestine scheme, Illyrio Mopatis thought of another value Daenerys Targaryen possessed.
...
Viserys Targaryen's violet eyes wavered. "Are you certain? Can my sister bring me an army?"
Illyrio Mopatis replied, "Yes. The value of Her Highness, the Princess, is worth the thousands of soldiers needed to reclaim the Iron Throne."
Viserys Targaryen could not suppress the joyous smile on his face. "Magister Illyrio, my most dependable Illyrio, I shall entrust this matter to you."
After speaking, Viserys Targaryen could not help but add, "Under my rule, the weak will forever be treated differently."
Illyrio Mopatis bowed his head and prepared to take his leave.
At that moment, his voice laced with resentment, Viserys Targaryen suddenly added, "For the sake of the kingdom, I have lost a potential queen. But I can at least have her, can't I?"
Illyrio Mopatis's mouth opened and closed, his lips trembling.
*Truly the Mad King's son,* he thought.
Viserys Targaryen was shallow and greedy. Illyrio Mopatis realized that the first person he needed to be wary of was the Mad King's son. Otherwise, even the most meticulous of plans would be ruined by his unpredictable actions.
...
...
The Red Keep. Inky clouds pressed down upon the sky.
Varys finished reading the newly arrived slip of paper and tossed it into a brazier.
His face was devoid of expression as he watched it burn completely to ash. Only then did he turn to leave.
Nearing noon, a servant reported to Varys that the Master of Coin, Lord Petyr Baelish, had come to call.
Varys paused, glancing out the window.
A storm had been raging since morning, and the weather outside was thoroughly unpleasant.
...
The downpour could not mar Petyr's elegance. His dark grey robes were perfectly immaculate.
Petyr's lips curled into a smile, his husky voice full of charm. "Good day, Lord Varys. Forgive my sudden intrusion."
Varys clasped his hands together and bowed his head, his face wreathed in smiles. "Good day, Lord Petyr. It is a welcome sight and a great honor to receive one who bears such heavy burdens for the realm!"
One could say Varys's words were sweet, yet Petyr felt a sense of unease upon hearing them, his instincts putting him on guard.
Petyr's expression remained unchanged, his smile reserved and elegant. "Lord Varys, it is not a matter of great importance, but the Hand of the King has taken an interest, so I had no choice but to brave the rain."
Varys invited Petyr to sit and asked in a serious tone, "Lord Petyr, what instructions does the Lord Hand have?"
Petyr leaned back casually in his seat, crossing his legs. His smile carried a hint of helplessness. "Lord Varys, it is truly not a great matter. You've made me tense."
Varys bowed his head apologetically. "Lord Petyr, that was not my intention. I merely feel that where the Hand of the King's affairs are concerned, there is no distinction between large and small."
Upon hearing Varys's response, the corner of Petyr's smiling mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.
Petyr shrugged and began, "It is about the Queen's chief steward. The Lord Hand made a one-month pact with him, and there are not many days left until the appointed time..."
Petyr spread his hands and continued, "Perhaps it was the incident with the hidden compartment in the study that left such a deep impression on the Lord Hand. He suddenly asked me of the man's whereabouts. My own information is limited, so I could only come and trouble the Master of Whisperers."
Varys nodded. After a brief pause, he said, "Lord Glyn should still be in Highgarden."
Petyr's eyes flickered. "Is he there on business for Her Grace, the Queen? I wonder if he can make it back in time..."
Varys maintained the faint smile on his face. "Lord Glyn currently enjoys the deep trust of Her Grace, the Queen. He went to The Reach to purchase grain."
"Purchase grain?"
"He is currently Queen Cersei's favorite. Lord Glyn traveled to Highgarden in the name of Her Grace, the Queen. As everyone knows, the Golden Rose is fond of currying favor with the crown."
Petyr could not help but break into a wide smile. "Thank you for your candor, Lord Varys."
Petyr collected his smile somewhat and asked again, "Purchasing grain is no great matter. According to his itinerary, if all went smoothly, he should be in the Crownlands by now."
Varys nodded. "Wise as you are, it seems you have already guessed that things have not gone smoothly for Lord Glyn."
Petyr's smile remained fixed. "They are the noble Golden Rose, after all. And Lord Glyn is not the Queen herself. I imagine he is not one to be easily sent away."
Varys seemed taken aback for a moment, then smiled and shook his head. "Lord Petyr, your insight is truly sharp."
His tone was casual, as if chatting with an old friend. "Near the fortress of Highgarden, Lord Glyn has erected a dueling stage. According to my latest intelligence, he has already defeated over a hundred of the most outstanding knights from The Reach. The entire region has been stirred into a frenzy by him."
Though Petyr's smile remained reserved, he was inwardly gloating. *How very Glyn.*
One of my eyes is infected, so I wrote this chapter with one eye closed.
I need to rest early today, so don't wait up. I will continue tomorrow.
(end of chapter)