Varys sat alone in his small room.
Perhaps for secrecy, perhaps to keep out of the way of the nobles, this lonely little room, nestled against the Red Keep's walls, had become the exclusive domain of the Master of Whisperers throughout the ages.
But Varys knew its secrets, knew the Red Keep's secrets.
The vast underground tunnels, the "Little Birds" listening in the wall cavities of the nobles' rooms, the secret passages connecting the various rooms of the Tower of the Hand to the outside, the climbing path from the Red Keep down to the cliffs by the sea...
As long as he pulled the lever in his bedroom and went down the stairs under the flagstones, all of this became The Spider's most powerful weapon.
He only saw Petyr as a formidable opponent.
The hasty demise of the Targaryen dynasty had buried these secrets of the Red Keep with it, leaving only him, the Master of Whisperers, as a confidant.
But Petyr was different. This cunning fellow didn't value honor and face as much as other noble courtiers. As soon as he arrived in King's Landing, he began cultivating minor nobles, small merchants, and even the servants of the Red Keep, desperately gathering all sorts of information.
Using his position as Master of Coin, he established brothels and taverns throughout King's Landing and bestowed favors upon the humble servants in the Red Keep, ultimately becoming the second beneficiary of the Red Keep's secrets.
Varys often felt uneasy about this.
Solely for himself, Petyr, the power-hungry Petyr, if this fellow were to discover his true secret, would he choose to make it public?
Varys didn't know the answer, but he had always thought it was an impossible hypothesis.
Who could know his true identity?
But three days ago, he received news: Khal Drogo was dead, Illyrio was dead, the Arakh had destroyed Pentos, and the Dragon House siblings were missing.
The Dothraki had broken their contract?! Who did it?
The message mentioned the attendant Elin and Jorah Mormont, but were these two the masterminds?
Joffrey?
Varys didn't believe it. All the intelligence indicated that Joffrey was still arrogant, willful, and ignorant.
Exchanging the lives of elite soldiers for a Giant Lion, forcing singers to compose songs, openly holding so-called "King's Games" before even becoming King, venturing into the crypts with the Stark child without permission, and stubbornly leaving the group to head north to The Wall.
Only the sudden enlightenment and learning swordsmanship with the Kingslayer could be considered wise, no, only normal.
How could such a person be the culprit behind the fall of Pentos?
Varys quickly thought of the envoy who had gone to Pentos with Elin to purchase Dragon Eggs, a subordinate of Petyr.
What did Petyr know?! What good would destroying Pentos do him?
Varys had asked himself this for two full days.
Until now, the hazy mist had finally dissipated somewhat.
He didn't know how many times he had repeated it, but Varys read the note in his hand word by word, as if he were seeing it for the first time.
This was the latest intelligence, delivered early this morning: The Clown and The Beauty had boarded a ship heading west with the attendant and Bear Paw.
The Clown referred to Viserion.
The Beauty was Daenerys. She was supposed to marry Khal Drogo and, at the appropriate time, bring tens of thousands of cavalry to trample the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, making the lords and common people once again yearn for the salvation of the True Dragon.
The attendant was a new code name, but Varys knew it referred to Elin.
Bear Paw was Jorah Mormont, once an important informant, but Varys had now removed him from the list and placed him on the assassination list.
The content was only this one sentence, but Varys understood a lot.
Viserion and Daenerys, these two were the true targets of the mastermind behind the scenes. The disaster in Pentos was merely an additional cost.
Varys knew that Petyr had always been resentful of his lineage.
Petyr's territory was a rocky wasteland on the smallest of the Fingers in The Vale, almost uninhabited, and he was thus nicknamed "Littlefinger."
Because of his low birth, the Tully sisters he loved or who loved him were married to others, becoming Duchesses;
Because of his family's decline, his path to promotion was not smooth, and he was often subjected to difficulties and ridicule. Only after he showed his ability and became Master of Coin did the cold words reluctantly retreat into the shadows.
Could he be the culprit? Because he wanted a high-born Targaryen wife? To create chaos? To curry favor with the King?
Varys sorted out the logic, but always felt that something wasn't quite right.
In any case, he had finally found the whereabouts of the Targaryen siblings. Even if he guessed wrong, he could get the correct answer by seeing where these two ultimately went.
It was time.
Varys destroyed the note, gathered his sleeves, and walked out of the gloomy little room.
...
A Small Council Meeting was being held in the small hall behind the Iron Throne, although there was neither a King nor a Hand of the King.
Several ministers with different expressions looked at Varys, who had just entered.
"The Spider's news isn't very timely, is it? I knew about this two days ago," Petyr teased.
Renly's expression was displeased. "Varys, you've been a bit negligent, haven't you? The matter in Pentos was so big, and you're only informing everyone today."
Varys slowly sat down on his dark seat.
"Forgive me, my lords. The bloody massacre in Pentos is no secret. I just didn't want to waste your valuable energy. Today, I have more to say than just that."
Everyone's eyes flickered for a moment.
Grand Maester Pycelle coughed a few times, "Varys, cough, Earl, the weather is too hot, please be considerate, cough, I am an old man, hurry up and speak."
Varys and his three colleagues exchanged glances, then smiled sweetly at Petyr.
"There's good news, the Targaryen siblings are neither dead nor have they escaped."
He handed over a handwritten detailed report.
"Ser Jorah Mormont, who yearns to return home, and Elin, the former attendant of the Crown Prince, have secured them and are sailing towards us."
Renly and Pycelle read it in turn, and the parchment finally fell into Petyr's hands.
Varys's gaze followed the paper, "I wonder which lord's work this is, speak up, everyone can congratulate you."
Petyr maintained his expression well.
"Lord Varys, is what you said true?" Renly couldn't help but exclaim, "My good elder brother will probably be happy about this for a whole year."
Grand Maester Pycelle stroked his long white beard.
"If it is truly so, it is a great joy for the entire Seven Kingdoms. The common people will no longer have to worry about the Targaryens' revenge."
Varys gently clapped his hands, "Indeed. According to the itinerary, perhaps we will see the dragon spawn within a week. It is truly cause for celebration. By then, the King will surely heavily reward those who have rendered meritorious service."
Petyr smiled but did not speak.
Varys made a suggestion, "My lords, why don't we send out a fleet in advance to meet them, to avoid any regrettable accidents."
Petyr called for a glass of red wine, "I couldn't agree more, my lords, what do you think?"
Varys's proposal was unanimously approved.
A seemingly gentle fat man presented the Grand Maester with iced honey milk.
"Thank you, good apprentice." Pycelle took a small sip, "My lords, if there are no other matters, today's meeting will conclude here."
Varys silently watched Petyr's receding back.
With a fleet to meet them, it would be difficult for the Targaryens to stay out of the court's sight. What else could Petyr do? What else could he gain?
Could it really not be him?
The Crown Prince, Joffrey Baratheon.
Varys remained alone in the small hall, contemplating for a long time, without moving.
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