Tower of the Hand

Tyrion rubbed his large face with his small hands, bracing himself. "Jaime, it's like this..."

Tyrion had always been eloquent, and he concisely explained the ins and outs of the situation to Jaime.

Jaime listened and immediately recalled the conspiracy against Cersei that Gryn had analyzed for him earlier. His heart skipped a beat. "Tyrion, you're smarter than me. Can you guess why Littlefinger would want to manufacture a conflict between Cersei and Jon?"

Jaime asked the question quite naturally. He had taken Gryn's advice to heart—or perhaps he was simply a man who kept his word—and had no intention of revealing the plot against Cersei to anyone else.

He would not disclose the conspiracy against Cersei; he would investigate it secretly on his own.

Tyrion slapped his thigh, suddenly energized. "At first, even I couldn't figure out why Petyr would do this, but Gryn helped me realize it. That young man is truly brilliant; if I weren't so short, I'd want to give him a passionate kiss right on the spot."

Jaime looked at his brother, who couldn't stay serious for more than three seconds, and offered a helpless smile. "I suggest you refrain. From what I know of him, that kind of behavior would absolutely ruin your friendship."

Tyrion grinned broadly.

Jaime patted Tyrion on the back. "What did little Gryn say?"

Tyrion coughed, composing himself. "Littlefinger's target must be Lord Jon, who values him most. Everyone knows the old Lord's health is very poor."

Jaime's eyes showed confusion.

Tyrion continued, "You know our sister's temperament. She has long loathed Lord Jon, and with King Robert away from the Red Keep, who could stop her from making a scene?"

Cersei was a bit headstrong; Jaime had to agree.

"Our sister won't show the slightest mercy just because the old Lord is aged. The result will be that Lord Jon's health deteriorates further under Cersei's provocation."

Hearing this, Jaime more or less guessed Petyr's goal. "Is Petyr eyeing Jon's power?"

Tyrion nodded. "Lord Jon trusts Petyr, who also hails from the Vale, above all others. His health doesn't allow him to handle state affairs as he once did, and the less he can manage things himself, the more he must rely on that Lord Sheep-Shit who appears so loyal and reliable."

Jaime's gaze was indifferent. "A laughable conspiracy, yet he has harmed Cersei."

Tyrion said in a low voice, "Yes, a Lannister always pays his debts, so I didn't hesitate to provide Gryn with Petyr's location. Given Petyr's shrewdness, he will certainly guess that it was me."

Jaime patted Tyrion's small shoulder. "Well done, Tyrion."

Tyrion leaned in toward Jaime. "Gryn is meeting with Lord Jon this morning. We still need to find a way to keep this from Cersei, lest she and Lord Jon clash and the matter blows up, making it impossible to hide from King Robert."

Jaime pondered for a moment. "Don't you think it would be better to have Gryn lie low for a while?"

Tyrion shrugged. "Gryn is, at his core, a knight just like you. He told me that the best defense is a good offense. Language is truly marvelous; he convinced me in an instant."

Tyrion continued with a smirk, "I think Littlefinger and Gryn's late-night talk must have been very pleasant. You can trust him."

A knight never fears. Jaime certainly agreed with Gryn's point of view.

"Jaime, you'll have to handle sister Cersei."

Jaime thought for a moment. "Yes, there's a way. Princess Myrcella has been wanting to learn some braiding styles from Cersei. Cersei is in a good mood lately and has plenty of patience. Today is the perfect time."

Tyrion chuckled. "My poor niece. Usually, her mother lacks the patience for such things. Myrcella will be excited all day."

Jaime shook his head with a smile. "Cersei won't have a spare moment all morning. Rest assured, I will keep an eye on her."

Jaime, who had intended to leave, suddenly stopped. "Tyrion, what are you planning to do later?"

Tyrion looked puzzled. "Go back to sleep, of course. They are still in bed; I intend to continue our intimacy."

Dream on. Jaime's eyes flickered, and his tone turned serious. "I'm still a bit uneasy. Crackclaw Point holds a deep grudge against Lord Jon."

Jaime's expression was grave, and Tyrion nodded blankly in agreement.

"I'll assign a squad of Red Cloaks to you, just in case. No matter what happens, protect Gryn's safety first, and wait for me to arrive."

The Red Keep, Tower of the Hand.

Gryn handed Lord Jon's invitation to the guards at the Tower of the Hand.

The guard carefully inspected the invitation, informed Gryn to head to the study on the second floor, and stepped aside.

Gryn left Mutton and Anguy outside and stepped into the Tower of the Hand himself.

"Good day, Lord Gryn Crabb."

By now, Gryn had crossed the spacious hall of the Tower of the Hand and reached the stairs.

A strange voice with a subtle lilt made Gryn pause.

A bald, stout figure wearing loose robes with his hands tucked into his sleeves appeared in Gryn's line of sight from the side of the stairs.

Varys? Gryn raised an eyebrow and touched his chest. "Good day, my lord."

Varys walked over slowly. "The wisdom shining in your eyes tells me that you have recognized who I am."

Gryn nodded slightly. "Forgive my intrusion, but I made a point to inquire about the important figures within the Red Keep, Lord Varys."

Varys nodded with a beaming smile. "Being willing to familiarize yourself with a strange place in advance is a very good habit."

Varys's gaze was very friendly. "Although I am honored that you, my lord, would categorize me as an important figure, I must defend myself. Here, I am merely a humble little man. People only spare me a glance when they need me; otherwise, they maintain a polite distance."

Gryn smiled. "I think I know the reason why."

"Oh?"

Varys wore a look of timely confusion, as if he were deeply curious about the answer Gryn was about to give.

Gryn lowered his voice deliberately. "They are feeling guilty. Do not forget your duties, Master of Whisperers."

Varis laughed heartily. "That is truly a curious answer."

Gryn smiled and remained silent.

Varis examined Gryn with polite interest. "Lord Gryn, I have just come from Lord Jon's study, where I was discussing you with him."

Before Gryn could reply, Varys continued, "Lord Petyr, in his capacity as Master of Coin, does not always have the full picture. I have merely fulfilled my duty as Master of Whisperers to provide Lord Jon with the missing intelligence."

Gryn's heart stirred, and he spoke up, "My thanks to you. Because of Lord Varys's diligence, perhaps my meeting with the Hand of the King will be much easier?"

Varys nodded. "It should be a pleasant meeting indeed, Lord Gryn."

"I feel great pity for the grievances suffered by Lady Lyanna Crabb. If you have the opportunity, please convey my best wishes to her."

Having said this, Varys turned slightly and gestured toward the stairs with one hand. "Go on, my lord. Do not keep Lord Jon waiting too long. We shall meet again."