The door to the Hand of the King’s office was kicked open without warning, yet the guards stationed outside made no attempt to stop the intruder. Was it a lapse in vigilance, or had they abandoned their sense of duty?

Before Eddard could feel confusion or anger, he merely looked up and stood from his chair in shock. “Your Grace, why… why are you back? I heard this morning that you wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow at the earliest.”

“Don’t mention it. I rode all day. With everything falling apart at home, how could I have the energy to lounge around on the Kingsroad, hunting and chasing skirts?” Robert walked to the other side of the Hand’s desk, pulled out a chair, and sat down with a dark expression. “To get back this quickly, I didn’t even bother dealing with that lunatic Lysa. I just sent her back to Riverrun and set off.”

“Your Grace, Lysa may have been involved in Jon Arryn’s death. Isn’t that… rather hasty?”

“Gods, Barristan’s been nagging me to death. Can you give me a break?” Robert slammed his hand on the table in frustration. “It’s one thing if it were someone else, but she’s your sister-in-law. What do you expect me to do? Hang her? Lop off her head and stick it on a spike outside the Red Keep? Why don’t you even have a bottle of wine here?”

“When I’m thirsty, I usually drink water. Wine dulls the mind,” Eddard sighed, pulling a kettle from under the table. He poured a cup and handed it to Robert before sitting back down. “It’s not that Lysa must be punished. The issue is the message it sends. You just sent her back to her family without any consequence. That’s—”

“Seven hells… I haven’t drunk water in over ten years!” Robert downed the cup in one go. His throat still felt parched, but he had no desire to drink any more tasteless liquid. He set the cup down. “The three children bearing my name are all about to be married off. Do you think I have the energy to argue with you about what to do with Lysa? Stop with the nonsense and tell me, what’s this rumor spreading in the city?”

“The ones spreading the rumor were a few pimps and doormen from the brothel formerly owned by Littlefinger. The instigator was none other than Petyr Baelish, the brothel’s owner and former Master of Coin who has now turned traitor…”

“Don’t repeat what was already in the letters. I want the results of the investigation!”

“Results of the investigation?” Eddard Stark looked up, staring solemnly at the king in front of him, his brother in all but blood, someone he had known for nearly thirty years. Then he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Robert, what kind of results are you expecting?”

“What kind of results?” Robert’s face flushed as he glared at Eddard. “I want to know whether the rumors are true. Whether Cersei and Jaime have done something unforgivable. Whether Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen are my children. Is that clear enough?”

“Clear enough. Unfortunately, my answer is no.” Eddard’s face turned grim. “I hate the Kingslayer, and I’ve never hidden that. You know it. I advised you to send him to the Wall when we first discussed it. But even so, I won’t lie against my conscience. All I can do now is tell you what I’ve found. What’s to be done next… is up to you. What do you say?”

Robert pressed his lips together, his chest heaving. As a man, few things could be more humiliating than asking another to investigate whether he’d been cuckolded and if his children were truly his. But as king, he had no choice but to handle it with care. This was a royal scandal—he couldn’t dump it all on the shoulders of the Hand.

Suppressing his anger, Robert said, “Go on. I’m listening.”

Eddard looked up at his old friend and saw that—for once—Robert was clear-headed and composed. That was a good thing. If he were always like this, perhaps the Seven Kingdoms wouldn’t be in such chaos.

“The ones spreading the rumor were indeed captured. To prevent the accused parties from using their power and influence to silence witnesses, I conducted a thorough investigation of the arrested individuals and the entire process, from the incident to the arrests. In the end, I determined they weren’t framed. However… their arrest was influenced by the intervention of Tyrion Lannister.” Eddard pulled a booklet from the drawer, flipping to a marked page to ensure he didn’t miss anything. “Of course, that doesn’t necessarily prove anything. If Tyrion feared that trouble involving his siblings would affect him, it makes perfect sense that he’d take initiative in quelling the rumors. I won’t speculate—I’ll stick to the facts. You, Your Grace, can draw your own conclusions.”

“Fine. Continue.”

“There’s something I must confess to Your Grace. When you traveled north to Winterfell and asked me to return to King’s Landing as Hand, Catelyn and I received a secret letter from Lysa. She claimed Jon Arryn was murdered by the Lannisters. Looking back, that was likely orchestrated by Littlefinger… which means Petyr has been moving against the Lannisters behind the scenes for some time.” Eddard paused. “With that in mind, it stands to reason he instructed his men to spread the rumors before he fled. All in all, based on everything I’ve uncovered, I believe, though I cannot say why Littlefinger did fabricate and spread this rumor. That much is certain.”

That was at least some good news. Robert nodded, his expression softening. “But catching the one who spread the rumor doesn’t mean the rumor itself is false. There’s no direct connection there. I need facts—proof that it’s either true or untrue!”

How long had it been since Robert had spoken with such reason? Eddard couldn’t recall. Only when something threatened the realm and his future did Robert finally sober up. Eddard didn’t know whether to feel relief or sorrow. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and continued, “I thought the same. So, I continued the investigation. And during it… I uncovered the real problem.”

Robert’s eyes widened. “What problem?”

“There are too many Lannisters in King’s Landing,” Eddard said gravely. “Leaving out the City Watch, the Lannisters have more armed men in the capital than House Stark and House Baratheon combined.”

“The City Watch still counts as part of the Baratheon forces, Ned,” Robert said with a frown. “It’s just that those not wearing gold cloaks are loyal to the Baratheons of Storm’s End, while those in gold cloaks are loyal to the Baratheons of King’s Landing. Now that the line has been drawn, they may gradually become two separate forces, but for now, they are still one and the same.”

“Is that so? I doubt it. From what I know, the commander of the Watch, Janos Slynt, is a man who’s greedy for coin and will do anything for a golden dragon…”

“I know what kind of man he is better than you do, Ned,” Robert interrupted, shaking his head. “He’s a bastard, yes—but he’s absolutely loyal to me. Everything he has, I gave him. As long as I live, he won’t turn to the Lannisters. Believe me. Yes, I drink, and I bed women every day, but when it comes to matters of life and death, my mind is clear!”

“Fine.” Eddard raised a hand to end the discussion. “Let’s drop this subject. Let’s assume, worst case, that if something unexpected happens in King’s Landing, we’ll still be able to control the situation by force. Now, let’s turn to the truth. The question is, how do we uncover it?”

(To be continued.)

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep