Ser Brynden said word by word, "Petyr Baelish.69んひﾒ.ᄃのﾶ"
Petyr's eye twitched slightly. He wasn't surprised by Brynden's reaction; he was just suddenly missing the Small Council and the court at the Red Keep.
Petyr cleared his throat and said, "I'm sorry, but in your presence I always mistake myself for that little boy from Riverrun."
After listening, Sir Brynden's tense expression relaxed slightly.
Petyr shrugged and said, "Uncle Brynden, I didn't lie to you, Lady Catelyn is very well, but..."
He sighed softly and continued, " Lady Lysa isn't doing well, Lady Catelyn is very worried about her sister."
Sir Brynden frowned and pondered for a moment, then said, "The last time we met, Lysa seemed to be doing quite well..."
Petyr's expression turned serious. He nodded and said, "When I first arrived at the Eyrie, I shared similar views with you. I thought that with a little more time, I could heal Lady Lysa's grief. Until..."
He shook his head slightly and sighed, "Until Lady Catelyn arrived at the Eyrie... and saw that her sister's younger sister seemed to have become a different person. Lady Lysa trusted no one but her own sister..."
He shrugged. "That includes me."
After a pause, Petyr forced a smile and continued, "Sir Brynden, perhaps... every woman is born an actress, and I'm quite certain that what you and I saw was Lady Lysa's act of strength."
Sir Brynden murmured, "My little Lysa..."
The atmosphere in the room was heavy. After a long silence, Sir Brynden spoke wearily, " Lysa is afraid... isn't she?"
Brynden Tully revealed the answer he had guessed: Lysa had asked him to leave the Bloody Gate in the name of the Duke of the Eyrie.
Petyr spread his hands, his voice tinged with weariness. "Uncle Brynden, Cat's company has helped Lysa recover quite a bit, but she still needs a little more time."
Sir Brynden walked to the window and stood there, his deep eyes gazing at the weathered, enclosed gray stone archway of Bloody Gate Fortress.
Why was Lysa so eager to expel her uncle? Thinking of this... Sir Brynden couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
Given Ned's character, would he convict someone without evidence, especially when that person is his wife's sister?
From the moment he received the letter from the Direwolf, Brynden Tully tried to convince himself every day that... maybe... it's possible... how could Tully girl possibly poison her own husband?!
Ser Brynden took a deep breath. His little Lysa was doubting whether her uncle... would open the gates of Bloody Gate Fortress Keep to her enemies in the name of justice.
This only proves that Ned wasn't lying; it's a fact, and Sir Brynden has found no reason to continue deceiving himself. 🐼♡ ❻9şĤǗX.ⓒόⓂ 🍮♪
Family... responsibility... honor... Sir Brynden seemed to age instantly.
"I understand."
Having said that, Ser Brandon Tully turned around and continued, " Petyr, I will obey the Duke of the Eyrie's orders, resign from my position Knight of the Bloody Gate, and leave the Bloody Gate immediately."
Petyr looked reluctant and nodded silently.
Sir Brynden's tall figure walked up to Petyr; his hair was gray, but he was still strong.
" Petyr, Lysa's trusted knight (referring to Lysa's Oath Knight, Chapter 178) is unreliable. Help Lysa choose a reliable Knight of the Bloody Gate."
"I will."
"Keep a close eye on Little Robert."
"This is my glory."
Sir Brynden patted Petyr's not-so-strong shoulder with his large hand and said, "Little boy from Riverrun, take good care of your two older sisters."
Petyr's eyes flickered, and he bowed slightly, saying solemnly, "My uncle, this is my responsibility."
Brynden stared at Petyr's grey-green eyes for a moment, then patted Petyr on the shoulder again before turning and walking away. As he walked, his cloak swayed gently, the black Trout embroidered on it appearing to swim against a backdrop of red and blue stripes.
Brynden Tully, the former Knight of the Bloody Gate, left Bloody Gate Fortress without looking back. He left the Knight of the Bloody Gate ' heavy armor behind at Bloody Gate, taking only his chainmail and leather armor, a sword, and a horse with him.
More than a decade ago, Sir Brynden accompanied his niece to the Vale in similar attire, and today... his outfit as he left the Vale was a repeat of that day.
Time has stolen Sir Brynden's brown hair, leaving him with a full head of gray, but his back remains straight.
Family, responsibility, honor.
Flutter, flutter—not long after Sir Brynden left, a raven that had flown from Winterfell flew into Bloody Gate Fortress.
The Lord Eddard's handwritten letter to Brynden Tully fell into Petyr's hands.
Petyr stared at the burning brazier, the words and images on the letter gradually disappearing in the flames.
The Direwolf's handwritten letter turned into black fragments and fell to the ground. Petyr slowly curled the corners of his lips into a smile.
Petyr recalled something Lord Gryn once said: sometimes good luck is also a matter of one's ability.
King's Landing Hook Alley. 🎉✌ 👻💲
Clack-clack, clack-clack, the horses' hooves clattered on the cobblestones as Tyrion Lannister and Varys rode towards the Red Keep.
Tyrion's voice carried a hint of complaint. "Lord Varys, I haven't been sleeping well lately. Lying on that big bed in the Tower of the Hand always makes me uneasy."
Varys chuckled, "If I were in your shoes, I would be just like you. I might not even dare to close my eyes, my Lord Hand."
Tyrion shrugged and said, "I'm more afraid of my older sister's gentleness than the Lioness's roar. She's been smiling at me way too much lately. If this continues... I'll wet my pants in front of her sooner or later."
He raised his head and sighed, " Seven, please bless me!"
Varys smiled faintly and said, " Tyrion Hand of the King, perhaps... when you encounter danger, I have a way to get you out of the Red Keep unnoticed."
His eyes flickered, and he continued, " The Shataya's Brothel isn't the only one with secret doors."
Tyrion's eyes flickered; he remembered the incident Hand of the King Jon Arryn, when... Gryn discovered the eavesdropping device in the Hand of the King's study (Chapter 43).
He exclaimed in surprise, "A secret door? A secret door to the Tower of the Hand? Where is it? In the bedroom? In the kitchen?"
Varys smiled and said, "My friend, you wouldn't have the heart to ask me to reveal all my little secrets, would you?"
Tyrion chuckled, "From now on, let's keep these as our little secret, if you're on my side, my friend."
Varys's face showed a hint of doubt. " Hand of the King Tyrion, you seem to have some suspicions about me?"
Tyrion grinned. "Lord Varys, I trust you as if you were my own flesh and blood."
Varys looked at Tyrion and smiled without saying a word.
Tyrion shrugged. "Alright, tell me, how did Renly Baratheon die?"
After a pause, Varys countered, "My Lord Hand, are you... somewhat uneasy?"
Tyrion's smile faded, and he said in a deep voice, "I am also Stannis's enemy. I don't want to suddenly die without knowing why."
He paused, then smiled broadly again, "If Stannis were targeting my older sister... well, that would be terrible too."
Varys smiled and shook his head, saying, " Hand of the King Tyrion, perhaps your concerns are valid."
Tyrion's gaze sharpened slightly. "Lord Varys, tell me the information you've gathered."
Clatter, clatter, clatter, the sound of horses' hooves.
After a long silence, Varys turned to Tyrion and asked, " Hand of the King Tyrion, do you believe in ancient powers?"
You mean magic?
Tyrion looked as if he'd heard a joke, " Blood Magic, curses, Skinchanging... things like that?"
He snorted and continued, " Varys, are you implying that Renly died from magic?"
Varys's voice was calm. " Hand of the King Tyrion, have you ever wondered how I was castrated?"
Tyrion hesitated for a moment, then nodded and said, "I'm quite curious. Are you planning to talk to me about this?"
Varys paused, as if recalling something, and then said, "Although I'm reluctant to talk about this, I have to let you know now, because it's related to Renly's death."
Tyrion gestured to Bronn, who was following behind, and the guards behind them slowed their horses, gradually putting some distance between them.
Seeing this, Varys first nodded slightly to Tyrion before slowly speaking, "I am an orphan. I grew up as an apprentice in a traveling theater troupe. We traveled on a small cargo ship, performing in various Free Cities, sometimes to Oldtown (located in the southwest corner of the Reach, built by the First Men long before the Andal Invasion; it is the largest and oldest city in Westeros ) and King's Landing."
"One day, during our performance in Myr, a strange man came along. After the performance, he offered to buy me from my troupe... His price was so tempting that no one could refuse. I had heard stories about how men would enjoy young boys, and I was afraid that man had the same idea, so I was very scared... Little did I know that all he wanted from my body was my penis."
"He made me drink a dose of medicine, and although I was unable to move or speak, all my senses were clear. Then, with a long, curved knife, he cut my penis off by the roots, all the while chanting. I watched as he put my penis into a brazier to burn, the flames turning blue, and I heard a voice responding to his call, though I didn't understand what language it was."
"The scene from that night still haunts my dreams... Hand of the King Tyrion, I didn't dream of the wizard, his sword, or even my own body withering in the flames, but of that voice... the voice in the flames... Was it a god? A demon? Or a magician's trick?"
"I later learned about all the tricks, but the one I experienced firsthand was unknown to anyone. The only thing I'm certain of is... he summoned 'it' with my **, and 'it' responded... From that day on, I hated magic and all those who practice it."
Finally, Varys said in a deep voice, "If Stannis is a practitioner of magic, then I will kill him."
After Varys finished speaking, the two rode in silence for a while before Tyrion finally spoke, "Lord Varys, I'm sorry."
Tyrion is referring to his habit of teasing Varys about trivial matters.
Varys shook his head slightly and said, "My Lord Hand, there's no need to apologize for this. I was under the influence of medicine and in great pain at the time, but that happened a very, very long time ago. I've told myself a thousand times that the voice was just a hallucination from a nightmare."
Tyrion pulled on the reins, adjusted the horse's direction, and said, " Varys, I'm sorry."
Varys glanced at Tyrion and sighed, " Hand of the King Tyrion, I'm sorry, but... it's clear you don't believe me."
Tyrion grinned. "I believe in the sword, I believe in money, I believe in human wisdom."
He paused, then continued, " Varys, I still believe that dragons once existed; after all, I saw their skulls with my own eyes in the Red Keep."
Varys smiled slightly and said, " Hand of the King Tyrion, I hope that's the worst thing you've ever seen."
Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "On this, we are in complete agreement."
Tyrion and Varys continued riding, and as they turned onto another road, they soon spotted dozens of men in Gold Cloaks standing in rows on either side of the road.
As they drew closer, Tyrion glanced at them and chuckled, "Ah, so it's the masked Gold Cloaks. Are they here to apprehend criminals? King's King's Landing is certainly not peaceful... But Gryn's idea is quite good, having the Gold Cloaks cover their faces with black cloth when apprehending vicious criminals... It's certainly effective."
As Tyrion spoke, Varys' attention was drawn to a man in a Gold Cloaks standing on the right side of the road, or more precisely, to a pair of brown eyes staring at him.
Their eyes met, and Varys familiar smile flashed in those eyes.
They both nodded almost imperceptibly before looking away.
As Tyrion finished speaking, Varys chuckled, "Evil men have allies, and the Gold Cloaks have family. Though it's just a small piece of black cloth, it can make them set aside many concerns..."
Tyrion chimed in, "Less of a concern naturally leads to more courage... Well, I must admit, Gryn has a brain that's second only to mine."
Varys smiled meaningfully, "Of course, the Lord Hand's wisdom is unparalleled."
Tyrion chuckled, his smile somewhat lewd, "What a shame, like Tournament, most people only remember the champion's name in the end."
Varys cleared his throat and reminded him, " Hand of the King Tyrion, Ser Jaime was the runner-up in the last Tournament of Champions in King's Landing's Landing."
Tyrion's smug smile froze for a moment. He touched his Golden Nose and said, "My magnificent older brother made me lose so many... so many... Gold Dragon."
After parting ways with Varys, Tyrion, who had just stepped into the Tower of the Hand, received shocking news: his brother had been captured by the Stark!