Littlefinger had intended to enter the white, beautiful Myr, but the customs envoy who received him informed him that the Regent wanted to see him at Wolf's Den, the new city erected by the Regent in the Disputed Lands.
"Wolf's Den, Wolf Pack!" Littlefinger recalled these words and felt a psychological unease. Was the shadow of House Stark still haunting him? The wound left decades ago seemed to reappear from memory, continuing to sting him.
Littlefinger traveled through many checkpoints and interrogations, finally arriving at Wolf's Den, the core of the new kingdom, which looked more like a large military camp.
"It's good to see you, Lord Petyr!" A middle-aged man with distinct Northern features greeted Petyr first. Jorah had changed into grey-white leather armor, but on his chest was the symbol of the Great Bear.
Jorah welcomed Littlefinger into the military camp outside Wolf's Den. "The Regent is waiting for you, good envoy of the iron throne!"
"If I'm not mistaken, you are Lord Jorah, aren't you? I still remember your heroic deeds from back then!" Littlefinger said.
"That's all in the past. Now I am merely Jorah, the loyal servant of the Magistrate!" The Great Bear glanced at Littlefinger. He had heard of this man's various deeds, which were greatly despised by Northerners, including his overconfident challenge to Wild Wolf Brandon and his rise to power through Lady Lysa.
Littlefinger, however, remained all smiles. These damned Northerners were always so stubborn, yet lacked subtlety. If the King's Bastard also grew up surrounded by such people, he would inevitably have the same temperament as Wild Wolf Brandon, making him easier to persuade.
In the military camp, Littlefinger saw military banners like paintings, heard the clang of steel, saw spears moving, and watched soldiers drilling together, seemingly preparing for a new war.
Those with taut muscles, robust physiques, and wearing grey-white Wolf Pack insignias were the elite Wolfpack Army. Those in lighter chainmail, leather armor, or scale mail, with slightly less imposing physiques, and faces from all corners of the world, were likely the Free Army, reformed from slaves.
But no matter what, these tens of thousands of troops, coupled with the wealth of Myr and the fleet on the Narrow Sea, were indeed enough to make the iron throne panic for a while. Especially since the Free Cities were generally wealthy, their organized armies, combined with the guidance of a strong leader, truly made them a formidable enemy to the iron throne.
"This game was already chaotic enough! Wolves, eagles, fish, lions, deer! I originally only wanted to involve the Direwolf, but I didn't expect the wild deer Across the Narrow Sea to suddenly rise and also get involved in the game of power! I must win, to gain more for myself!" Littlefinger thought... The Regent's tent, though large, was not luxurious. Littlefinger saw a cold warhammer and a large steel shield, on which was painted a crude iron mask.
"From this perspective, this Bastard truly is the King's own!" Littlefinger thought. The Unsullied Attendants pulled back the curtain, allowing Littlefinger to enter the tent.
Petyr was short and ordinary in build, but had a handsome face. He had grey-green eyes, a small tuft of beard on his chin, and some grey mixed in his dark hair.
"I, Petyr Baelish, master of coin of the Small Council, and humble envoy of the iron throne, am honored to meet Lord Gendry, Regent of the Disputed Lands, Myr, the Stepstones, and the Narrow Sea!" Littlefinger said in a sweet voice, then bowed subserviently. Littlefinger wore a heavy cloak, fastened with a silver mockingbird.
Littlefinger noticed the tall young man opposite him. He almost thought Renly had appeared here. But on closer inspection, there were still some differences; the young man, though handsome, had a broader jaw and thicker eyebrows.
The short-haired, capable young man before him was lean and strong, unlike Renly's slender elegance. Gendry had thick shoulders and the strong arms characteristic of a blacksmith; it was said he had once worked as a blacksmith, which made sense. Gendry was not like a noble scion; he was a warrior.
"What can I do for you?" Gendry didn't speak; a white-haired old man beside Gendry spoke first.
"I bring gold, fine wine, and a father's affection." Littlefinger raised his voice. "The King will bestow upon you a fiefdom near the Blackwater Rush in the Crownlands and grant you a title!"
Laughter erupted in the tent. Such a paltry reward would be considered an insult.
"So, what are the conditions?" Gendry stopped some of the laughter, allowing Littlefinger to continue.
"It would indeed be difficult for the Commander-in-Chief to hand over Viserys and Daenerys, but if you choose only one, it will not harm your reputation and will also change the iron throne's view of you. I hear Tyrosh and Myr are gathering Mercenaries, and the Commander-in-Chief still needs more friends!"
"The iron throne's conditions are so generous, I have no choice but to refuse!"
Littlefinger wasn't surprised; it was as he expected. Negotiations require capital, and Littlefinger simply brought too few cards to the table to bargain.
It doesn't matter, Littlefinger thought. As soon as the scandals in King's Landing are exposed, the Mercenary King Across the Narrow Sea will also be dragged into it.
"Why didn't Jon Arryn come?" Gendry asked Littlefinger again.
"Lord Hand bears the heavy burden of the Seven Kingdoms, and is also old and frail, so I, as Lord Hand's loyal servant, have taken on this responsibility!" Littlefinger paused, unsure why this was brought up.
"Truly Littlefinger, silver-tongued and charming! Why don't you stay here for a few more days? I lack a master of coin, and I hear you are a master at making gold produce more gold!"
"Commander-in-Chief, this!"
"Are you refusing my kind offer, Lord Petyr!" Gendry stood up and looked at Littlefinger.
Littlefinger felt a chill. The strong officers, the cold Unsullied Guards, were all looking at him. If he stayed Across the Narrow Sea, his power and influence were in the Vale and King's Landing. If he were truly kidnapped here, that would be a disaster.
"Your Highness, thank you for your kindness! But your good father, King Robert, still needs my enthusiasm and loyalty; I am still the master of coin!"
"I see, you truly are a good subject of King Robert!"
"Jorah, present Lord Petyr with a gift, will you?"
Jorah strode over roughly and seized Littlefinger. Littlefinger's guards, who were from The Red Keep or the City Watch of King's Landing, were simultaneously subdued outside the tent.
Littlefinger was led to three massive trebuchets. These trebuchets hadn't been used to bombard Myr; they were likely being saved for Tyrosh.
"In the past, these were called the Three Whores of Myr!" Jorah introduced.
"What are you doing? I came to negotiate peace!" Littlefinger cried out, then was tied up by Wolf Pack soldiers and placed on one side of a trebuchet.
The giant trebuchet began to rumble, a sound like cold steel.
"Don't make such a joke, Commander-in-Chief!!" Littlefinger screamed hoarsely, but the trebuchet continued to operate, reaching a certain height without showing any sign of stopping.
Tears fell from Littlefinger's face. He felt the despair of death, just as he had been wounded by the Wild Wolf many years ago. He felt himself soaring into the clouds, knowing that in an instant, he would be reduced to a pile of minced flesh. When a scholar meets soldiers, all schemes are ultimately unreliable in the face of absolute force. This was not King's Landing; there were not so many court intrigues here.
"Respect your opponents!" Littlefinger thought. "This is a new player who wants to overturn everything, not like those in King's Landing who are too well understood!"
"King's Landing, King's Landing recently had terrible news. Jon Arryn is going to die! Commander-in-Chief, I beg your forgiveness; this information is enough to compensate for my arrogance!" Littlefinger, trembling all over, was brought back into the tent, where only Unsullied and Gendry remained.
"I had guessed this news, but you are very loyal in front of me!" Gendry looked at Littlefinger, his voice like the whisper of a demon.
"Poor Jon!" With Littlefinger and Lady Lysa, two villains, by Jon's side, he was beyond saving. The death of the Hand, it seemed King's Landing was about to explode.
Hand Jon was a loyal subject to Robert, but not to him. If not for his own good fortune, if the bastard had been killed by Cersei, Jon would not have reacted. Everything was for the greater good, for Hand Jon's greater good.
"Your machinations in King's Landing, I didn't care to interfere! But this is the Wolf Pack!"
"Yes! Yes!"
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