Those who made promises never liked someone else making promises.
Gryn didn't want to take the bait.
Lord Jon was determined to make Gryn leave King's Landing.
It was now mid-September, 297 on the Westerosi Calendar. According to the story, Lord Jon still had about six months before his exit.
Could Gryn delay things long enough to make it to then?
Gryn's perfectly good plan had been ruined by Littlefinger, Petyr.
Gryn had two important reasons for keeping Petyr around.
The first was that Gryn needed Petyr to join forces with Lady Lysa Arryn and deal with Lord Jon.
The second was that Petyr's little schemes had forced Gryn to face Lord Jon ahead of schedule. Gryn had suppressed his murderous urges so Petyr could deal with the mess he'd caused—that had been the least costly option. It was precisely why Gryn had gone to "visit" Petyr that very night.
Petyr was shrewd enough to know what would serve him best from here on.
Would Petyr secretly plot to get back at Gryn afterward? Gryn wasn't going to sit around passively, waiting for Petyr to make a move, then countering it and striking back, over and over again.
That wasn't Gryn's nature. Whether Petyr had done it intentionally or not, the moment he'd kicked this "iron wall," he'd landed on Gryn's list of people who had to be eliminated.
After Lord Jon's exit, barring any major changes, Gryn wouldn't be foolish enough to keep Petyr around until the next year.
The reason he'd set a condition was that Gryn had already stepped into the Game of Thrones. In the Game of Thrones, there were no eternal enemies; players of power always had to stay flexible.
Being named Warden of the Peninsula would certainly be wonderful, but Gryn and Lord Jon were not equals. A deal between people of unequal standing could never be fair.
Gryn didn't even want to hear what Lord Jon was offering.
Gryn shook his head and said sincerely, "I'm grateful for your esteem, Your Grace, but to claim the position, one must first bear its burdens. I'm not yet worthy of the title of Warden."
Lord Jon suddenly remembered a slippery, hard-to-catch fish from the Stormlands that Robert Baratheon had told him about when they were young. What was it called again...
Lord Jon pulled himself out of his reverie and said, "Perhaps once you've completed my task, you'll be worthy of the title."
The helplessness Gryn felt under Lord Jon's pressure made him uneasy.
Gryn forcibly suppressed the murderous impulse that had flared up inside him.
Gryn thought that compared to Lord Jon, who seemed kind on the surface, Queen Cersei, who was openly domineering, was actually rather endearing.
At that moment, Gryn particularly missed Boss Cersei.
Gryn deliberately put on a conflicted expression and replied weakly, "Your Grace, as long as it doesn't go against Crabb honor, I'll hear you out first."
Lord Jon didn't like Gryn. The task he had in mind for Gryn was certainly not something everyone would be happy about, so Gryn left himself some wiggle room in his reply.
And you have the nerve to talk to me about noble honor? In Lord Jon's view, Gryn, who refused to admit his crimes, was no paragon of honor.
After a pause, Lord Jon spoke. "You know that two Young Dragons of the Targaryen line survived, don't you?"
As he spoke, Lord Jon stared intently at Gryn.
Gryn first shook his head instinctively, then his pupils widened and contracted.
After a moment of silence, Gryn sighed. "Lord Jon, the war ended long ago. The victor has already been decided."
Lord Jon clung to his old man's stubbornness. "As long as the Dragon House's bloodline..."
The perceptive Gryn suddenly sensed a third party watching them.
Gryn abruptly rose from his chair. "Pardon me, Your Grace, but is there a third person in the study?"
Lord Jon, who had been about to rebuke Gryn for interrupting him, noticed his sudden movement. His eyes narrowed slightly as he shook his head.
Gryn nodded, walked a few steps to the corner of the study's back wall, and knocked several times with the back of his hand.
Although he heard no strange sound, Gryn said with certainty, "It's probably around here. I suddenly sensed someone else's presence."
Gryn had no reason to joke with him about something like this. Lord Jon shakily rose and called out, "Guards!"
As soon as Lord Jon spoke, the study door burst open, and four Gold Cloaks hurried in one after another.
Once inside, the Gold Cloaks drew their swords and prepared to approach Gryn.
Lord Jon waved a hand. "Check the wall on the Little Baron's side. Search it carefully."
Gryn stepped aside as the four Gold Cloaks knocked and tapped on the wall.
After a long search, just as Lord Jon was about to lose patience, one sharp-eyed Gold Cloak pointed to a barely noticeable spot. "Your Grace, there's something wrong with the gap here."
Lord Jon glanced at Gryn, whose expression remained calm, then gave his order without hesitation. "Fetch some hammers. Break it open and take a look."
One of the Gold Cloaks left the study and returned with two large hammers.
The Gold Cloaks took the hammers and swung them at the wall.
Bang, bang, bang! The blows sent dust flying everywhere.
With a crash, a large section of wall toppled away on the other side.
As the dust cleared, a narrow space came into view.
After coughing for a while, Lord Jon's expression turned icy. "No wonder the Red Keep has no secrets."
Gryn figured it was time to leave. "Your Grace, I'll take my leave."
Lord Jon didn't look away from the space they'd broken open. He merely nodded.
When Gryn was almost at the study door, Lord Jon called after him. "Little Baron, I'll give you the reward you deserve for what happened today."
Gryn had no choice but to stop and turn around to bow.
"And one more thing. You're clever enough to understand what I meant. I'll give you a month. When the time comes, I want a clear answer."
Outside the Tower of the Hand.
As soon as Gryn stepped out of the Tower of the Hand, the first person he saw was Tyrion, looking exhausted.
Behind Tyrion stood around twenty Lannister Red Cloaks, all fully armed.
Monton and Anguy immediately came over to Gryn.
"Sir, they arrived just after you went in," Anguy whispered.
Gryn nodded slightly and walked over to Tyrion. "Good day, Ser Tyrion."
Tyrion blinked blearily. First, he gestured for the Lannister Red Cloaks to leave, then he said, "You came out too soon. What a shame. If you'd taken a little longer, you could've seen Ser Tyrion's ferocity and heard the Lion roar."
Gryn smiled and lightly patted Tyrion's arm in thanks.
Tyrion grinned. "You should be thanking Jaime. I can't give orders to the Red Cloaks. This was Jaime's arrangement."
Gryn smiled. "I should thank you both. If I'd known the Lion was waiting outside, I should've given the old duke a couple of punches."
Tyrion laughed. "I like your comparison. So, was your meeting more or less smooth?"
Gryn shrugged. "There's still some time."
Tyrion reached out and patted Gryn on the thigh. "That's good news, at least. We'll think of something, slowly. The two sharpest minds in King's Landing are right here, so relax."
Tyrion added with a grin, "My dear sister actually invited us to lunch together. I'm deeply honored. It's all thanks to you. You're very good with your hands—you made her feel wonderful, heh."
Gryn didn't know how to respond. "..."
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