The Mountain of Ice and Fire

“What are the King's instructions?” Varys pursed his lips, as if to even out the lipstick on them.

“This is utter nonsense!” Eddard cursed, then realized the members of the Small Council were watching him with scrutinizing eyes. Eddard remembered that he was in King's Landing, in the Red Keep, the heart of the Seven Kingdoms' power, not Winterfell in the North.

This wasn't the North, not Winterfell. The people here were equal to him in status. They sat as equals in the council. He was merely their head, appointed by the King, but they were not his vassals, nor his subordinates.

“The King wants to hold a national tournament in my name,” Eddard said, suppressing his displeasure and the anger in his voice. “God knows how much I hate such things.”

“Lord Eddard means,” Duke Renly said with a light laugh, “that His Majesty has instructed us to hold a grand tournament to celebrate the appointment of the new Hand.”

“How much will it cost?” Master of Coin, Petyr Baelish, relaxed his rigid posture. He had thought it was a matter of utmost urgency, but it turned out to be such trivial nonsense. He spoke in a tone of complete disinterest.

Eddard read the answer from the letter, his voice filled with uncontrollable helplessness and resistance: “Forty thousand gold dragons for the champion, twenty thousand for the runner-up. Twenty thousand for the winning team in the melee, and ten thousand for the archery champion.”

Renly laughed mockingly, “My brother is certainly generous! The Mountain risked his life to capture Riverrun, and Duke Hoster's ransom was only ten thousand gold dragons. So, his champion's prize of forty thousand gold dragons is like giving the winner four Riverruns in one go? Tsk, tsk, I must admire my brother's generosity.”

“Riverrun is priceless, Duke Renly, just like Storm's End. There's no comparison,” Duke Eddard said displeased. Riverrun was the home castle of Eddard's father-in-law, and Renly's mockery of House Tully's incompetence in front of Eddard was rather excessive.

“A total of ninety thousand gold coins in prize money,” Littlefinger chuckled. “And that's before other expenses. Knowing Robert, he'll definitely want to host a grand feast. Which means we'll need cooks, carpenters, serving girls, singers, actors, and jesters… and all sorts of ingredients and beer… Heavens, all the lords and knights in the country will come to King's Landing. Imagine, a lord with three knights, a knight with five squires, that's the smallest team size… And when they come, we have to provide them with meat and drink during the tournament… Tsk, tsk!”

“That would be lively. My brother loves crowds and excitement, and with a tournament, he'll be happy for a long time,” Duke Renly said with a smile. He seemed very interested.

Eddard felt a strong aversion to Renly!

Grand Maester Pycelle looked at Littlefinger and asked, “Can the treasury afford it?”

“The treasury? Where is there a treasury now?” Littlefinger's lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Grand Maester, don't pretend. You and I both know the treasury has been empty for years. Now, we have to borrow money for everything. I think House Lannister in the Westerlands would be happy to help. Anyway, we already owe Lord Tywin over three million gold dragons, what's a few hundred thousand more?”

Eddard's eyes widened, and his mouth gaped open. He was utterly shocked. “Lord Petyr, are you saying the royal debt is as high as ‘over three million’ gold coins?”

“Lord Stark, the current total royal debt exceeds six million gold dragons. House Lannister is the largest creditor, with Lord Tywin accounting for half of the royal debt. In addition, we've borrowed from House Tyrell in the Reach, the Iron Bank of Braavos across the Narrow Sea, and several Tyroshi merchant houses. Later, I had to find other sources of income and turned to the Faith of the Seven at the Great Sept of Baelor. The High Septon's bargaining skills were better than even a Dornish fishmonger. We now owe the Faith over a million gold dragons, and as for the interest, you wouldn't want to know. Even I feel disgusted thinking about it.”

Ned was incredulous.

He even heard the shock in his own voice: “Aerys Targaryen left behind mountains of gold and silver. How could you let it be depleted to this extent?”

Littlefinger shrugged and sneered, “The Master of Coin is only responsible for finding money. It's the King and the Hand who spend it. Even if I had magic and could turn one gold coin into two with a rub, the King spends three, four, or even more at a time. I don't have time to eat or sleep, just rubbing gold coins. What else can I do but borrow?”

“Hand Jon Arryn would never have allowed Robert to squander like this,” Ned said indignantly.

Grand Maester Pycelle shook his head, the chain around his neck jingling, a pleasant sound that reminded one of gold coins clinking together. “Lord Arryn was a rare and good Hand. He worked hard for the country and was frugal, but His Majesty did not always heed the wise advice of the Hand.”

“My royal brother is extremely fond of tournaments and delicacies, and of course, the wine he never leaves behind,” Renly Baratheon chuckled. “My brother hates the so-called ‘counting pennies’ game. If anyone says too much about it in front of him, he might just make you drink the wine with your face.”

“Drink wine with my face?” Eddard asked, puzzled.

“Pour wine all over your face!” Littlefinger curled his lip with a mocking smile.

Eddard was embarrassed, and Renly laughed heartily.

Master of Whisperers Varys smiled, and flakes of powder fell from his heavily powdered fat face!

Eddard stood up. He felt no goodwill towards any of the four members of the Small Council present. This so-called urgent meeting was not urgent at all. Robert was no longer the Robert he once knew, fond of grand gestures and inexplicably foolish. “I'm tired. I just got off my horse. I'll have a good talk with His Majesty and hope to cancel this tournament.”

“We won't stop you from persuading my brother to withdraw his order, but based on my years of understanding my brother, Lord Hand, you'd better sit down and let's work out how to hold the national tournament.”

“Yes, yes, I have to think about who to borrow these hundreds of thousands of gold coins from. My God, it really is His Majesty. The prize money for the winners alone is ninety thousand gold dragons, tsk, tsk. Nine Riverruns! If the Mountain knew about this tournament, would he regret breaking Riverrun? He risked his life and offended people for a mere ten thousand gold dragons. If he came to the tournament, he would most likely be the champion, or at least a winner, and get two Riverruns!”

“Then we'll discuss it after the King returns,” Eddard really wanted to smash Littlefinger's mouth with a punch and knock out all his teeth. “Forgive me, gentlemen, I must take my leave.”

The four members of the Small Council looked at Eddard in disbelief. The Hand's first emergency meeting ended without any substantial progress?

This was truly unprecedented!

The Northerners' reputation for being difficult was indeed well-deserved!

Eddard led his three subordinates out of the throne room and headed back to the Hand's Tower.

At the gates of the Red Keep, a constant stream of carriages, oxcarts, guards, and followers poured in, with people shouting, horses neighing, oxen bellowing, dust filling the air, and the scene as noisy as a marketplace.

These were the subordinates of Duke Renly's good courtiers returning, while the King was still out enjoying himself somewhere.

“Lord Eddard, you seem to be going the wrong way,” a voice said softly.

Eddard turned around and saw Littlefinger standing with his arms crossed.

“Come with me, your wife is waiting for you,” Littlefinger turned and walked away. “Don't hesitate. Hasn't Catelyn mentioned me to you? I'm her long-lost brother.”

“What exactly do you mean?” Eddard followed.

“Tell your followers not to come, it will attract attention. We have to avoid prying eyes. Lord Eddard, you are now in King's Landing, a place filled with liars, villains, schemers, spies, and all the wickedness, cunning, betrayal, traps, humiliation, and everything else you know of. Hurry up, don't you want to see your wife?”

“I can't trust you. My wife is in Winterfell.”

“Oh, yes, you're absolutely right, your wife is in Winterfell, but I have dark magic and have already transformed her into my brothel. If you don't come, I'll take her. I mean it, don't regret it! You also know how I got the sword wound on my chest. It was from a duel with your brother for Catelyn back then. To be honest, I still long for Catelyn, she is the love of my life!”