I hoped that Oberyn would calm down for a while. But Varys was still here. And I considered him an extremely malicious figure. But my fears were only my own. For everyone else, the Master of Whisperers was an unpleasant—but very useful—figure. And if I were to remove him from his position without clear cause, or imprison him outright, it would reflect very badly on the king's authority.
What would I say to the Hand and the members of the Small Council? How would I justify such actions? Mere suspicions?
Perhaps I was overthinking things and behaving foolishly, but in my understanding, this was how a king should act—unless, of course, he wished to be remembered as a tyrant or a madman, like some of the Targaryens.
And so, a reason to remove Varys was found.
True, it required death to pass very close to Margaery and me.
Varys's calmness during the questioning troubled me. It also unsettled me how difficult it was to keep such a large fish in hand. But to cut off Varys's head—which would have been the most desirable outcome—it was necessary, at the very least, to maintain the appearance of a proper investigation. That would take a day or two.
The only thing I could do openly was rely on Jaime and the Gold Cloaks. They were supposed to guard Varys until tomorrow morning. Beyond that… I had ideas of my own about how to ensure matters unfolded safely.
***
The morning brought no joy.
Varys had escaped from his cell.
Ser Boros Blount, who had been guarding him, along with two Gold Cloaks, were found dead.
Just like that—he escaped and killed a Kingsguard knight and two guardsmen. For many, it came as a genuine shock. But deep down, I had known that Varys was far too serious a player to be caught so easily.
The search yielded nothing. And who would doubt that the Spider could slip through any net? However, all this is just a story for everyone else.
Only I, Harald, and one other man knew the truth…
Orm came to me and reported what had really happened to the Spider—and how the matter had ended. But the people would never know. And that was how it should be. That, after all, was what The Crown Guard created for!
And that morning, the first truly critical operation had been carried out.
Be that as it may, we were suddenly faced with a new problem—not only how to search for Varys (and I continued to pretend that Varis needed to be found), but also who should replace him. That question unleashed a new wave of quiet maneuvering, veiled hints, and attempts to sway the king one way or another.
Mace Tyrell sought royal gratitude for forgiving his debts and proposed appointing his mother, Lady Olenna, to Varys's former position. Both he and Margaery spoke to me at length, urging me to consider her candidacy. Frankly, the idea was terrifying—handing such power to so dangerous an old woman was clearly unwise.
Cersei, for her part, declared she had the perfect candidate: Orton Merryweather, the husband of Lady Taena. His connections in Westeros and Essos, she claimed, would benefit the entire realm. I knew next to nothing about the man.
Tywin and Kevan saw no obvious choice at all.
I had two candidates in reserve, and both were unsuitable—for very different reasons.
The first was Tyrion. My uncle would quickly unravel the threads of any conspiracy and would make an excellent Master of Whisperers. His intellect and sharp mind suited the role perfectly. But he was currently Master of Coin, and his investigation into Littlefinger's schemes was still ongoing. More importantly, he was doing his job exceptionally well in his current position. And even if I moved him—who could possibly replace him?
The second candidate was Qyburn. Strictly speaking, I knew that canonically he would eventually excel in such a role. Yes, he could likely become an effective Master of Whisperers. At present, he was not close to Cersei and had not become her creature—and she had not suggested him at all. That, in itself, made the idea tempting.
And yet, despite our seemingly good relationship, I did not fully trust him. And how could I hand one of the key positions in the realm to a man I scarcely knew? Besides, he was occupied now. After the duel with Oberyn, I had granted his request and entrusted him with Gregor Clegane's body for his experiments.
I did not consider the option with Harald at all. Orm had to build an entirely separate service—one directly subordinate to the king—whose purpose, among other things, would be to ensure that no Master of Whisperers ever again held a monopoly on information.
Honestly, this appointment—and everything connected to it—was the true Game of Thrones. It was infuriating how few genuinely loyal people I had at such a opportune moment.
In the end, Tywin and I found a solution: a temporary compromise that more or less satisfied everyone—except Cersei.
Kevan Lannister was appointed Master of Whisperers. Mace Tyrell was moved into Kevan's former seat as Master of Laws. The vacant position of Master of Ships was loosely promised to House Tyrell's bannerman, Paxter Redwyne—Lord of the Arbor, a man practically born for such a role.
Mace was pleased. Tyrell influence on the Small Council had grown.
Tywin and I were satisfied as well—a competent, loyal man had taken up a vital position and was already beginning to learn its workings. And the sooner he did, the better.
Kevan accepted the appointment with philosophical calm. If it had to be done, then so be it.
Only Cersei looked openly displeased.
(End of Chapter)
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