Chapter 51 — To Whom Does One Owe a Debt?
But in response to Tyrion's command, Varys merely curved his lips into a sly smile.
"My dear lord… then you'd better set aside a very, very long time. There is quite a lot I know."
"Oh really?"
Tyrion replied without committing to belief, watching him carefully. His fingers rubbed absently against each other — until suddenly his brow lifted.
"Then tell me, Lord Varys… how much do you know about the death of Lord Eddard Stark?"
Varys hadn't expected Tyrion to bring up the beheaded Lord of Winterfell again.
His smile froze, then faded into helplessness.
"Beyond being frightened half to death myself… I know nothing."
"You're the Spider. You told me just now you know many things. And now suddenly you know nothing about this?"
Tyrion's tone carried a hint of mockery — but his face was deadly serious.
Varys understood exactly what was being asked. He raised a hand as if in surrender and grew serious as well.
"My lord, you already know the answer. Why force a poor eunuch to say it aloud? The King and the Queen Regent are among the most powerful people in Westeros."
Tyrion narrowed his eyes. After a few seconds of silence, he nodded slowly.
"So my dear sister was telling the truth. Stark's death was entirely my nephew's idiotic idea?"
At this, Varys sighed deeply.
"It was I who persuaded the Queen to spare Lord Stark — to send him to the Wall with black cloak and dignity."
"But what no one realized was that when King Joffrey gave the order, Janos Slynt and Ser Ilyn Payne executed it without hesitation… as if they had been prepared."
"Yes. We've discussed that possibility before. And we still have no proof. But in any case — the whole affair was madness."
Regret filled Varys's voice.
If Eddard Stark were still alive, the Seven Kingdoms would almost certainly be at peace.
House Tyrell and Renly Baratheon might have debated alliances, Stannis might have protested or schemed… but nothing would have escalated into open war.
Whatever came afterward could have been managed later.
But now the board was overturned, the pieces scattered, and the realm was paying the price.
Tyrion did not reply.
He sat in silence — because no one understood the consequences more personally than he did.
Yes, Lord Tywin marched to war because of Catelyn Tully's reckless decision…
but the truth was, many unseen hands nudged the pieces into disaster.
For example — that infamous dragonbone-handled dagger.
And that innocent little boy, pushed from a tower — surviving by miracle or curse, only to live his life crippled, because the gods had some cruel sense of humor.
And then Robert — dying in a way no one expected… because Cersei had been mad enough to make it so.
And yet Cersei's madness had its roots in Stark's unyielding pursuit of truth — cornering her until she flipped the table.
All of it was intertwined.
All of it led to war.
And now here they sat, in a city full of corpses and smoke, discussing debts — both of gold and of blood.
And then there was his own part in all this — which, whether he liked it or not, was also tied to Eddard Stark and his wife.
If they hadn't grabbed him without cause, if they hadn't dragged him to the Eyrie and nearly killed him there…
So, if one traces everything backward… is all of this, in the end, the result of Stark stubbornness and foolishness?
Sorrow clouded Tyrion's thoughts — until a sudden realization hit him.
So many events, so many tragedies… as though every sip and every bite had been decided long before.
"Well… our King Joffrey is only thirteen."
Tyrion exhaled, defeated.
"Yes," Varys replied, "but he is still the king — ruler of the Seven Kingdoms."
Pod topped off both their cups.
The eunuch and the dwarf shared a pained smile and drank.
Then — something flickered in Pod's eyes.
He looked up and suddenly asked:
"Lord Varys… just now, when you said you all… did that include Master of Coin Petyr Baelish as well?"
The question froze the room.
Both Tyrion and Varys stared at him — then at each other.
What Varys was thinking was unclear.
But Tyrion suddenly remembered everything from the past year — and the dragonbone-handled dagger — and how every thread seemed to loop back to Littlefinger.
And now, with Pod's single reminder, both men began to think further.
Too far.
The study fell silent again.
Ten long seconds passed before Varys smiled — too quickly — and spoke in that syrupy voice:
"Perhaps… Lord Baelish had nothing to do with it."
He said the words, but his eyes told another story.
He looked at Pod — deeply — then shifted his gaze to Tyrion.
Tyrion held his eyes for a moment… and nodded once.
A silent agreement to leave that topic untouched — for now.
Varys moved the conversation along smoothly.
"Now that you command the City Watch, Lord Tyrion, you can prevent His Grace from… acting impulsively, yes?"
"Of course, the Queen's sworn guards must be considered as well."
The eunuch's warning was subtle — but Tyrion understood perfectly.
"Oh, you mean the Red Cloaks?" he said, smirking.
He rolled his shoulders as if unconcerned.
"Relax. Ser Vylarr is a smart man. He knows his loyalty belongs to Casterly Rock. And I am here because Father wills it, so Cersei won't dare use them against me."
"…Besides, there are only a hundred Red Cloaks. I have twice that many of my own men already. And once a reliable officer takes command of the City Watch, I'll have six thousand Gold Cloaks as well."
He paused mid-sentence.
Then looked straight at Varys.
"So Lord Varys truly won't recommend a few trustworthy candidates?"
The eunuch knew the question could not be dodged any longer.
He smiled — and dropped the pretense.
After all, this was the real reason he had come.
"My dear lord, is your squire Podrick Payne not the finest candidate?"
The exaggerated theatrics in his tone were enough to make a man's stomach turn.
Tyrion forced himself not to grimace and lifted his chin for Varys to continue.
"But if you insist on more options… Ser Jacelyn Bywater is a brave, honest, obedient, and… grateful man."
"He has been Captain of Mud Gate for three years, and during the war against Balon Greyjoy he showed great valor. King Robert knighted him personally on Pyke."
"Still, my lord," Varys added sweetly, "I maintain that Podrick is your best choice."
Finally — the tail of the fox was visible.
Tyrion nodded, pretending to listen intently.
Inside, though, he was very aware that Varys had brought up Pod repeatedly — far too repeatedly.
He did not show it.
Instead, he looked as though the other name — Ser Jacelyn Bywater — had captured his interest.
"Ser Jacelyn Bywater…" Tyrion murmured. "Yes, I recall him. His right hand was cut off clean at the wrist, and he was knighted for it. Then he fitted himself with an iron prosthetic."
He lifted his eyes — expression mild, but voice razor-sharp:
"But tell me, Lord Varys — to whom does he show his gratitude?"
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