Attributes Easily Overlooked

Martier spoke up, "Jefferies has been begging me for a chance to see you."

Gryn stopped pacing, his brown eyes shifting. "Do you know his purpose?"

Martier shook his head, then nodded. "My lord, I suspect it is for his son. Jefferies had him late in life; he has only a five-year-old boy. The fate of a merchant's son with no one to protect him after his father's death is easy to imagine. That is my guess."

Gryn said nothing. Jefferies' leather trade with The Whispers had become increasingly frequent, but it was always the steward Herschel who handled the dealings. Gryn had only exchanged a few words with Jefferies when he came to pay his respects on the ship last time; they were hardly familiar.

Lack of familiarity meant a lack of trust.

If Martier's guess was correct, would a dying father really entrust his child to a stranger?

Suddenly, Gryn shook his head in self-mockery. Dealing with so many treacherous people lately had made him prone to suspicion.

Matters must be weighed by their importance. Without further intelligence, one should not habitually view everything through the lens of conspiracy. Excessive suspicion was a symptom of anxiety.

Gryn asked, "Where is he?"

Martier scratched his head with his index finger and lowered his gaze. "His carriage is nearby. Jefferies kept emphasizing the friendship built through trade with The Whispers and his admiration for you. I couldn't shake him off, and he is so severely wounded that I didn't have the heart to cut him down."

As he spoke, Martier stole a glance at Gryn's expression.

Everything has its pros and cons. Because of family rules, Martier had been kept too sheltered to produce an heir.

Martier only looked mature on the outside; he lacked the accumulation of experience.

Merchants dealt with all sorts of people every day, and their rich experience gave them a sharp eye. Martier's inner thoughts had long been seen through by Jefferies; otherwise, he wouldn't have dared to pester him.

But Martier was a descendant of a Crabb House Knight, and Gryn could only train him slowly.

Gryn kept a straight face. "Go bring him in."

Martier, feeling he had handled the matter poorly, went to fetch the man with his head hanging low.

The afternoon sun was a bit blinding. Gryn ordered Mutton to bring a chair and sat down in a shaded spot.

The discovery of the eavesdropping crawlspace in the Hand's Study today suggested that Lord Jon Arryn had not been unaffected. He certainly wasn't as calm on the inside as he appeared; no one could face such a thing with true composure.

The subsequent impact of the Hand's Study incident had become unpredictable.

Gryn thought of Lord Stannis Baratheon, the second brother who was not favored by King Robert.

If not for Martier mentioning pirates and the Royal Fleet today, Gryn might have overlooked that excessively incorruptible Lord of Dragonstone.

Hmm, Stannis Baratheon seemed to possess the trait of being easily ignored.

What would happen if the news reached the ears of the meticulous Stannis Baratheon—that the respected Hand of the King, Lord Jon Arryn, had intended to convict a baron based solely on a song, without any direct evidence?

Furthermore, according to Gryn's memory, Lord Stannis Baratheon was very dissatisfied with only serving as Master of Ships.

He was also deeply resentful that King Robert had bypassed him to let his favored third brother, Renly Baratheon, inherit Storm's End and serve as Master of Laws.

During the War of the Usurper, Stannis Baratheon had clearly rendered great service, yet he was enfeoffed at Dragonstone, a place of only black stones, while the ancestral keep of House Baratheon was given to Renly, who had contributed nothing.

Given Stannis Baratheon's character, such circumstances had turned his dissatisfaction into a flame of hatred.

Gryn calculated in his mind the possibility of driving the frail Lord Jon Arryn to his death without having to step in directly.

Even if it didn't kill him, it should at least keep him bedridden. Lord Jon Arryn was extremely stubborn and would not let Gryn off easily.

In the Game of Thrones, there are no permanent enemies, only permanent interests. In this matter, Gryn thought of a natural ally.

The clatter of hooves, mixed with the creaking of wheels, echoed as the carriage passed through the gate and slowly drove into the courtyard where Gryn sat.

The carriage stopped before Gryn. Martier scratched his head with a grimace. "My lord, Jefferies cannot get out of the carriage."

Gryn waved his hand impatiently. "If he can't, he can't. Open the door."

Before Martier could act, a thin, dark-skinned middle-aged man who had been sitting next to the driver and bowing to Gryn from afar stepped down and opened the door.

As the door opened, Gryn, standing not far away, caught a whiff of rot.

Jefferies, who had been full of vigor not long ago, leaned against the carriage seat, his face deathly pale.

After struggling to focus on Gryn's appearance, Jefferies finally spoke. "Noble Ser, please forgive my presumptuous arrival."

Jefferies' voice was very weak. "After being struck by the arrow, I knew I would not escape this. All men must die; I do not fear death, but I cannot rest easy regarding my young son."

After a pause, Jefferies gathered his strength and continued, "In the torment of my pain, I thought of all my friends and relatives, and I despaired to find no one to entrust him to. Thanks to the grace of the Seven, I, a humble man, have had the fortune to know you."

Jefferies looked at Gryn with hopeful eyes. "Your reputation for being loved by your smallfolk is widespread. Though our contact was brief, I could feel that you harbor mercy for the weak. I can only beg you to forgive a dying father for doing anything for his young son."

Ignoring his injuries, Jefferies struggled to slide off the seat.

Half-prostrate, he lifted his face, which was covered in cold sweat. "I am willing to offer all my family property; I only beg you to protect my son."

Gryn sighed inwardly and asked, "Where is your son?"

The thin, dark-skinned man who had opened the carriage door earlier walked out from behind the carriage, holding the hand of a small boy.

The chubby little boy had clearly just finished crying; his small eyes were red and swollen.

Gryn reached out and patted the chubby little boy on the head. "What is your name?"

The chubby little boy was too timid to speak.

The thin, dark-skinned man who had been holding the boy's hand the entire time hurriedly spoke up, "Noble lord, his name is Darius."

Gryn patted Darius on the head once more and turned to Jefferies. "Jefferies, your steadfast fatherly love has moved me. Your son, Darius, shall become the foster son of the Crabb House Knight, Mason Baker."

Thanks to: Yulejiuhao, Wangchensuhui, Book Friend 2021030110400251684, Hyrule Loafer, and Wangchensuhui for the tips! Thank you to all you lords for your support with votes!!