The meeting ended, and everyone dispersed. Aegor left the room with a furrowed brow, feeling quite dejected.

He now understood why “independence” had always found fertile ground throughout history, from ancient times to the present, from north to south. On a personal level, the saying “better to be the head of a chicken than the tail of an ox” truly had its merit. Being an official or important minister in a large kingdom wasn’t necessarily more comfortable than holding a poor, remote territory and acting as a local tyrant or warlord. Setting aside other matters, at least when he was simply the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and Lord of the Gift, his goals had been clear and his thoughts sharp each day. Not only did he know what he wanted to do, but once an idea struck, he could immediately act on it and push forward without hesitation.

He had been the elder brother for many years. How could he so quickly adapt to this new environment, where even trivial matters needed to be discussed with several others, and a belly full of plans had to be submitted for approval, only to be rejected or delayed by his superiors?

A sense of frustration arose spontaneously. Aegor’s gaze shifted, and he narrowed his eyes, beginning to consider a way out of his current predicament.

“Lord Commander.” As Aegor’s thoughts drifted, a voice suddenly sounded behind him, deliberately lowered but clear. “May I walk with you for a bit, if you’re free?”

The speaker was Petyr Baelish, who had left the council chamber earlier. Unexpectedly, after exiting, he had waited behind a pillar in the hall, only speaking once Aegor passed by.

In the world of adults, “walking together” naturally didn’t refer to a casual stroll. Aegor immediately stopped thinking and put on a faint smile. “Lord Petyr. I am certainly free. In fact, I have a pile of questions I’ve been hoping to ask you. Nothing could please me more.”

…

One was the Queen’s Hand who had served Daenerys for many years. The other was the newly appointed Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. This was the first time they had the chance to interact as colleagues, and a brief walk together wouldn’t draw much attention or suspicion. Making light conversation, they spoke of various things as they walked side by side from the hall to the outdoors.

Outside, it was late, and a fine snow continued to fall. The whistling cold wind made the flames in the fire pits flicker unsteadily. The Unsullied and Gift soldiers coming and going were far fewer than during the day. Aegor motioned for his guards to follow at a distance. The two of them walked a few steps toward the Sept that Eddard Stark had built specifically for his wife within Winterfell. When the surroundings were quiet and there was no longer any fear of being overheard, Littlefinger changed the subject, getting straight to the point.

“You were also present at the meeting just now. Have you ever wondered, how could the Eight-legged Spider, such a shrewd man, act as if he couldn’t understand simple truths that even a child could grasp? Giving foolish advice and convincing Her Grace to make such a terrible decision, wasting time in the North?”

Of course, he had wondered. Aegor had even formed a basic theory. But Littlefinger had deliberately approached him with this question. Clearly, he wasn’t looking to hear Aegor’s clever deduction. Aegor cooperated and shook his head. “I truly do not know. Please enlighten me, Lord Hand?”

“To be honest, Lord Commander, ever since Varys defected to the Queen, bringing with him a wealth of intelligence as a gift, there has always been discord and disagreement between him and me. We argue and debate every few days. At first, I believed our so-called ‘political differences’ were due to differing perspectives. Deep down, I thought we were all serving the same monarch in our own way, trying our best to advise Her Grace.” Petyr shook his head solemnly. “It was with this belief that, like you, I was caught off guard when that eunuch suddenly jumped in at the meeting and offered ridiculous advice under the banner of righteousness. I couldn’t find a response in time.”

That was indeed the case. Aegor nodded but didn’t speak.

“This isn’t meant as criticism, but the Queen has a somewhat unusual temperament. I believe you’ve noticed it as well. Before Her Grace makes up her mind, if one can figure out what she’s thinking and what she wants, it’s quite easy to influence her and have her adopt one’s suggestions. But at the same time, once she’s made a decision, no matter how foolish or absurd, no one can persuade her to change her mind until reality itself proves her wrong.” Petyr continued. Having been exiled overseas for many years and now returned to Westeros, he no longer wore his usual sly smile as easily. His words and demeanor had become more restrained, befitting his status as Hand of the Queen. “Now Varys has made the first move and caught us off guard. We’ve already lost the first round. At this moment, rather than trying in vain to talk the Queen out of wasting time in the North, what I am more concerned about—and what I should be thinking about—is this: What is that eunuch’s purpose in making such foolish advice so suddenly, and how should we respond?”

Why does he keep saying “we”? Who is “we” with you?

Aegor sneered inwardly, but considering they were indeed on the same side for now, he endured it and didn’t expose the subtle trick of drawing him in with subconscious suggestions. “Oh? I’d like to hear more.”

“My first thought was that Varys was using this to suppress Stark and support Bolton.” Littlefinger didn’t keep him guessing, instead stating his judgment plainly. “You and I are both friends of Stark. A friend of a friend is also a friend… Since we’re on the same side, let’s speak frankly. No one is blind. You, I, and Her Grace all know that Stark only swore loyalty after the Night’s Watch captured Winterfell and you persuaded him with ‘truth’. And Robb’s submission can hardly be called voluntary. Even if it were, it would still be extremely difficult for him to rally the entire North and get everyone to offer their wealth to support the daughter of the so-called Mad King.”

The two of them gradually approached the Sept. Petyr glanced at the Seven-Pointed Star, rare in the North, then looked at the deepening night sky before continuing. “It’s not hard to imagine that once the Queen realizes the Duke of Winterfell’s public allegiance doesn’t bring the full support of the North, her appreciation for Stark will diminish greatly. In contrast, her favor toward Bolton, who controls elite troops and pledged loyalty first, will increase. And since Lord Bolton was introduced to Her Grace by Varys, if Bolton gains her trust, it’s the same as Varys gaining greater influence. The Eight-legged Spider has won a small victory in the political game, and I’ve suffered a quiet setback.”

That was exactly Aegor’s theory. This time, he nodded in true agreement. He was also increasingly curious why Littlefinger still seemed to have more to say. Based on experience, there was certainly a “but” coming.

“But after thinking it over again, I realized it’s not that simple.” As expected, after a pause, Petyr’s tone became more serious. “With Varys’s knowledge, experience, and intelligence, he would never fail to recognize the dangers of the Queen being delayed in the North, lost military opportunities, weak command, and potential risks to her goal of conquering the Seven Kingdoms. I know this eunuch. He is an extremely rational power broker, focused entirely on maintaining his own position. He would never do something so harmful and gain nothing in return, just out of petty spite. If he only wanted to support his allies in the North and suppress Stark, you, and me in the Queen’s eyes, there are countless ways he could go about it. He wouldn’t give Her Grace a plan so flawed it might threaten her entire campaign and his own status as Master of Whisperers.”

“Varys only disrupts others when he’s certain he stands to gain.” Petyr withdrew his gaze, which had been scanning their surroundings, and turned to stare at Aegor, who was still feigning ignorance, his eyes sharp in the cold Winterfell wind. “After thinking long and hard, I came to a conclusion. Either the eunuch has grown senile and made a foolish mistake—which is unlikely—or… he has placed the interests of someone, or some other force, above those of the Queen.”

“So the question is, who benefits from the Queen wasting time in the North?”

Who benefits? Many… Stannis, the Riverlands, the Vale, the Stormlands, even the Riverlands again… and. The Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch suddenly felt a chill. Triggered by Petyr’s words, he instantly realized he had failed to consider things deeply enough earlier.

Could it be…

“Before the Queen flew north on her dragon, one of the matters I was clashing with Varys over was how to respond to the greetings of ‘Aegon’ and how to handle this ‘other Targaryen’. My view was that the Queen must maintain her supremacy. This so-called Aegon, whose identity is dubious, should either submit unconditionally or be regarded as a pretender and an enemy. Varys, on the other hand, suggested forming an alliance with Aegon, perhaps arranging a marriage, or at least naming him as heir, in order to win the support of the Golden Company he commands.” Petyr continued. “Although we argued back and forth, Varys’s suggestion was a common and understandable political move. While it didn’t suit my preferences or interests, it was a valid solution. So even though I opposed him, I never questioned his loyalty to Her Grace. But now, combining today’s absurd proposal—completely below his usual standards—I suddenly remembered a detail I’d overlooked. That man has been a bit too enthusiastic about marrying the Queen to Aegon.”

It was almost a direct accusation. Aegor knew exactly what Petyr would say next. He was struck with sudden clarity and displayed a genuinely shocked expression. First, because even as a transmigrator with knowledge of the world’s background, he hadn’t worked it out as quickly as this native Westerosi. Second, because the situation he now faced seemed far more dangerous and complicated than he had previously thought.

“Could it be that the one he truly serves is…”

“Exactly.” Although Aegor only said half a sentence, Petyr affirmed it decisively. He was even a little surprised that the Lord Commander could follow his train of thought so quickly. Subconsciously, he gave him a look filled with both admiration and caution. “Looking back over the past year, I suddenly realized. While I was busy running around helping the Queen with her campaign to reclaim the Seven Kingdoms, Varys was either persuading the Queen to marry Aegon or trying to introduce Jon Connington’s envoys to her. Connecting the dots, I formed a bold theory. This man’s true allegiance lies with that Prince Aegon, whose origins are questionable. He came to Her Grace’s side not to serve her but to plant an agent close to her, paving the way for his real master to usurp the Queen’s legitimacy and claim her victories as his own.”

“The Golden Company already holds considerable strength, enough to be worth winning over. With an inside man whispering in Her Grace’s ear, the chances of success are truly high. Originally, focusing on Aegon and assisting the Queen were not contradictory. Varys was happy to act as a loyal servant. But now, with you, Lord Commander, suddenly entering the picture, everything has changed. The Queen, who already had the Unsullied, the Free Folk army, and her dragons, now also has the support of the Night’s Watch and the North. Her Grace has acquired the power to unify the Seven Kingdoms on her own. The option of courting Aegon and his Golden Company has become unnecessary. This is what forced him to stage today’s performance in the council.”

Petyr had only put forth a bold theory, but Aegor, with his understanding of the deeper background, instantly knew this was the truth. A simple model from the game “Three Kingdoms Kill” was enough to summarize the current state of Winterfell. Varys, playing the spy, suddenly discovered that the Lord and the loyal ministers had drawn a hand full of powerful cards. To win, he had no choice but to strike quickly, contain and wear down the loyal faction, and rebalance the board.

But that was only a metaphor. Aegor’s thoughts quickly moved past that and extended toward something far more terrifying. Westeros was not a game. There were no rules like “eliminate all loyalists before dealing with the Lord.” Varys could strike directly at anyone, without pretense.

And that meant…

“Thinking optimistically, perhaps Varys only wants to buy time, so that as the Queen’s advantage from winning over the North fades and military opportunities slip away, the importance of Aegon and the Golden Company becomes relevant again.” Petyr spoke solemnly. “But the real fear is that the Spider’s schemes and determination go far beyond that. It’s entirely possible that while we’re trapped here, he intends to deal with Stark, with you and me, and perhaps even Her Grace herself. To prevent her from becoming an obstacle to Aegon’s rise, even after she marches south and secures victory after victory.”

(To be continued.)

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep