chapter 101 part 2
The two separated. Glynn chuckled and reached out to stroke Carlaia's ink-black hair.
Glynn glanced at Maester Al and said, "Maester Al, it pleases me greatly to see you still in good health. You seem a few years younger than when I left."
Maester Al placed a hand on his chest. "Lord Glynn, thank you for your concern. I handle the territory's correspondence every day, so I get to read reports of victory every day. My body and mind have been consistently joyful."
Glynn smiled and nodded. "Come, Samwell!"
Hearing Glynn's voice, Samwell Tarly came forward from behind, bowing awkwardly to Maester Al. "Good day, Maester Al."
"He is Samwell Tarly, from The Reach. He will be serving as your steward."
Maester Al said kindly, "Samwell, you have the eyes of a Maester. Welcome."
Samwell hurriedly bowed his thanks, then awkwardly scratched the back of his head.
Just then, Carlaia's eyes were fixed on Glynn as she said, "Lord Glynn, I've already prepared hot water for you."
Glynn raised an eyebrow and said to the others, "Let's go inside."
...
...
Three days later, at the Cleber manor outside King's Landing.
The blue sky was as clear as if it had been washed, without a single wisp of a cloud. The stuffy air made it hard to breathe.
Dik gripped the dagger in his hand, moving stealthily towards a robust rooster.
Just as he was nearly in range and his arm was about to move, the rooster flapped its wings and flew away, leaving only a few feathers behind.
Dik gritted his teeth and was about to give chase when Joffrey's voice stopped him.
"Dik, you only get one chance. Failing to strike on the first try already puts you in danger. Your enemy won't be a chicken waiting to be slaughtered."
Hearing this, Dik plopped down on the ground, somewhat dejected.
In the first stage of dagger training, the chickens had one leg tied down. As long as he was fast enough, he could always succeed in one strike.
Recently, the Cleber manor had been eating roast chicken every day, all of them killed by Dik.
For whatever reason, Dik showed good perseverance, and Joffrey's evaluation of him had risen considerably.
"Wrist strength, speed—they still need work. Rest for a while, then we'll continue."
Dik stood up and dusted off his clothes, straightening his back. "Yes, Master Joffrey. I think I'm starting to get a feel for it. I'll use this time to ponder it!"
As Dik's words fell, Joffrey frowned imperceptibly.
Joffrey thought for a moment but said nothing, only nodding.
Some personalities can't be changed. As long as the goal is achieved, it's fine.
Joffrey paused his steps and said, "You have one week to master this. If you meet the requirement within a week, I will take you and your sister to The Whispers to see Lord Glynn."
After a pause, Joffrey stared at Dik. "If you cannot complete it, I can only have you and your sister remain here. Dik, this is an order from Lord Glynn."
Dik's pupils contracted. "Re... remain here? Master Joffrey, I don't quite understand what that means!"
Joffrey shook his head. "No, Dik, you understand perfectly well. I'm an illiterate hunter. I'm just repeating Lord Glynn's exact words. Do not question Lord Glynn. Do you understand?"
Joffrey's gaze turned sharp, making Dik feel a sense of danger.
Dik's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. He forced a relaxed tone. "You can rest assured, I don't think I'll have any problem. Please help me inform Lord Glynn that I will absolutely not disappoint him!"
Joffrey nodded silently and resumed walking away.
Only after Joffrey's figure disappeared did Dik wipe the cold sweat from his forehead.
It was like this again... Dik was subjected to various threats almost every day. The heavy pressure left him unable to breathe.
Dik gazed for a moment in the direction of his sister's room and forced himself to rally his spirits.
At least now he ate well, dressed well, and lived well.
This bit of hardship... Dik wanted to cry. It was so hard. He really wanted to go back... no, he didn't want to go back to his old life at all. He didn't want to go back to that filthy, stinking place. He liked seeing his sister looking like a noble young lady.
He was the older brother. For Yuria, and for himself, he had to be strong!
Dik suddenly felt his body fill with strength. He stared for a moment at the energetic rooster, and then his shoulders slumped again. How could this little thing be so nimble? If only it didn't have wings.
...
...
The Red Keep, the Hand's Chamber.
Jon Arryn was alone in the room. With a grave expression and a trembling hand, he tossed a strip of paper into the brazier. Flames instantly shot up.
The paper Jon, the Hand, had just burned was a secret message sent by Lord Stannis Baratheon. After seeing its contents, he had completely lost any desire to lie in bed and recuperate.
Stannis suspected that King Robert's three children by his marriage to Cersei Lannister were not of the King's blood. Stannis pointed out that all of Robert's known bastards had black hair, while the three children Cersei had borne (Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen) all had golden hair.
Although Lord Jon and Lord Stannis disagreed on many policies, Lord Jon trusted Lord Stannis deeply.
The Hand believed that if one were to pick the most honest man in the Seven Kingdoms, it would have to be Stannis Baratheon.
Jon's expression was pained. If this was true, it would cause a great upheaval throughout the Realm.
If not handled properly, it could easily erupt into war, a war on a scale no less than the great war over a decade ago.
This matter was too great to be entrusted to anyone. He dared not trust anyone. He had to investigate it himself.
Lord Jon's first thought was of the book in Grand Maester Pycelle's possession, *The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms*. This book recorded descriptions of the appearances of past generations of House Baratheon.
Second, King Robert's bastards were readily available evidence. Every one of them needed to be investigated and recorded.
If it were true... The Hand closed his eyes in anguish. This was not only a disgrace to the royal family, but a disgrace to the Hand of the King.
Lord Jon, despite his illness, began to secretly mobilize the men he had brought from the Vale.
...
That evening, Petyr Baelish learned from Lysa Tully that Lord Jon had suddenly mobilized his confidants from the Vale.
Lord Jon had hidden it from everyone, but he could not hide it from his wife—Lysa.
Petyr's grey-green eyes flickered. He sensed that something major was about to happen in the Red Keep.
What could it be?
Petyr fell into deep thought, which made Lysa Tully feel that his attitude was dismissive.
"Petyr, we haven't seen each other for days, and I can't feel your love. It hurts me deeply."
Petyr seamlessly changed his expression, lowering his head and saying with a hint of surprise, "My Lysa, I was just suddenly thinking of our youth. I already have white hairs, yet you are still as captivating as ever."
Petyr's eyes held only deep affection.
Lysa hugged Petyr tightly, her own eyes growing moist. "Littlefinger, you are still that handsome boy from Riverrun who loved only me."
Petyr lifted Lysa's chin and lowered his head, leaving a gentle kiss on her forehead.
"My Lysa, I will love you forever."
The corner of Petyr's lips curled up, his eyes flashing... The rising ladder of chaos might be close at hand.
(end of chapter)