(Thanks to RBai Ruide for the monthly ticket.)
Lord Baelish had thoroughly enjoyed the prostitutes' performance that evening.
But Lord Baelish was very unhappy about being woken from his sleep with a dagger.
Indeed, after sending out his letter, the Master of Coin had thought everything was settled. He planned to negotiate with the Imp tomorrow and ask for a few more days.
He had even been in the mood to watch a splendid performance by the actresses in his employ before bed.
But somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, he felt a dagger pressed against his throat. Its icy touch jolted him awake.
"Easy, my friend."
As expected of a man who had climbed from an insignificant minor house to the pinnacle of power, Baelish remained composed even in the face of death.
Inwardly, however, he cursed the guards and eighteen generations of their ancestors.
"If it's money you need."
Baelish's expression remained unchanged, as though he were welcoming a guest from afar:
"There's a chest inside the wall. It holds no fewer than five thousand Gold Dragons."
"That money would be enough for you to live as a wealthy man elsewhere, in comfort for several lifetimes!"
"Heh heh..."
Baelish had assumed the intruder wanted money, but all he heard was a rasping laugh, as grating as death itself:
"Money is of no use to me, Lord Baelish."
"Please come with me. My master wishes to see you."
The cold dagger eased away a little, finally allowing Baelish to move his stiff neck.
He looked toward the intruder in the faint moonlight, but no matter how he tried, he could not make out the face hidden beneath the hood.
"Don't waste your effort."
As though fully aware of Baelish's thoughts, the hoarse voice spoke again in warning:
"If I don't wish it, you'll never see my face clearly."
The dagger pressed against his back again. Its sharp point left Baelish afraid to move, and he could only obey, putting on his shoes and leaving his bedroom.
It was the dead of night, and not a soul could be seen on the deserted streets.
Held captive by the intruder, Baelish slowly headed toward the Red Keep under cover of darkness.
His mind raced as he tried to find some clues, but the dagger remained pressed against his waist.
Whenever he thought of speaking, a hole would instantly be sliced through his clothes. He could only remain silent along the way, at his captor's mercy.
After walking for an unknown length of time, Baelish could clearly hear the waves.
He looked up and saw a figure holding a light, quietly awaiting their arrival by the sea.
"I've brought him as you instructed, master."
As they approached the figure, the sharp pressure behind him vanished at once, as though his captor had no fear of him escaping.
Or rather, he could not escape at all!
"Well done, Pike."
At the familiar voice, Baelish took two incredulous steps forward. Only when the light illuminated the other's face did he cry out:
"Arthas, it was you!"
"Shh."
Arthas raised a finger to his lips and hushed him softly. As he lifted the light higher, Baelish finally noticed that four or five locks of his golden hair had turned pure white, as though streaked with dye.
"Lord Baelish, you'd better keep your voice down."
The once amiable, gentle, kind boy now wore a savage smile:
"Otherwise, I can't guarantee the sea won't swallow you!"
"L-Lord Arthas."
For some reason, the sight of Arthas now sent a shudder through the depths of Baelish's soul.
It came neither from cowardice nor fear, but from facing death itself!
"I'll be able to gather enough money in a few days. There was really no need to have someone bring me here so late."
His teeth seemed to chatter as Baelish shakily forced out those words, hoping only that the other party had come for money.
But Arthas was destined to disappoint him.
Thud!
A human-shaped object was tossed in front of him. At Arthas's gesture, Baelish timidly edged closer.
The familiar face of Yarn, who was utterly dead, made Baelish's scalp prickle.
"This fellow betrayed you, Lord Baelish."
Arthas's icy voice rang out as though he had done him a favor:
"He tried to bribe my brother with thirty thousand Gold Dragons to expose your corruption and abuses before the king."
"But he forgot that House Lannister has no shortage of money."
"What a fool, wouldn't you say?"
With that example before him, Baelish could only grit his teeth and nod frantically at Arthas's mocking question:
"Thank you so very much, Lord Arthas."
"Traitors deserve to be punished!"
"If not for your righteous intervention, that fellow would still have me completely fooled."
Then he hastily thumped his chest and pledged:
"Please rest assured, I've already written to the Vale. I'll certainly be able to repay everything I owe Lord Tyrion!"
"Please, you must believe me!"
Faced with the threat of death, even someone as cunning as Baelish was like a mouse beneath a cat's paw, exhausting every means at his disposal simply to survive.
"As I said, House Lannister has no shortage of money."
"Your memory seems rather poor."
A chill swept through him from head to toe. Baelish stood frozen as though plunged into an icy cavern, unable to move even a finger.
"That's all right, Lord Arthas."
Baelish was on the verge of tears. Never since his birth had he experienced this feeling, as though even his soul were held in another's grasp:
"Just say the word. Anything I possess, you may take it all."
"Only spare my miserable life..."
"Oh, Baelish."
"Baelish!"
Like the god of death calling to him, Arthas kept repeating Baelish's name:
"You said it yourself just now. Traitors deserve to be punished."
"Then..."
"What punishment should someone who betrayed the kingdom suffer?"
Baelish's pupils contracted slightly, as though something had occurred to him. Then he shrugged in feigned innocence:
"Lord Arthas, I don't understand what you're saying."
"Heh heh heh..."
Setting down the light, Arthas walked slowly toward Baelish. The Death Knight's footsteps were clearly audible amid the crashing surf:
"Tears of Lys."
A devil's whisper sounded softly beside Baelish's ear, striking straight into his heart.
His taut nerves finally snapped. Knowing he could no longer deny it, Baelish spread his hands as though accepting his fate:
"That damned Yarn. I knew he couldn't be relied on."
"Yes, I did cause Jon Arryn's death."
Having readily confessed his crime, Baelish now felt a sense of relief, as though a burden had been lifted:
"However, Lord Arthas."
"House Lannister isn't free of involvement in this matter either."
He had indeed acted dishonorably by writing to Catelyn and laying all the blame on Cersei.
But Baelish still firmly believed that, in this matter, he and House Lannister were in the same boat.
Should Joffrey's parentage be exposed, the Seven Kingdoms would likely be plunged into war once more.
At Robert's call, all the ducal houses would denounce House Lannister in the name of justice.
Even with House Lannister at the height of its power under Tywin's leadership, it could not survive an assault by all of Westeros.
"I know what you want to say, Baelish."
To his surprise, Arthas knew all about the matter, yet still seemed utterly unconcerned:
"Don't imagine your clumsy tricks can threaten me."
A powerful hand landed on his shoulder. Baelish felt as though half his body had frozen solid.
"I can guarantee that before Robert learns of Joffrey's parentage, your corpse-and your soul-will vanish from Westeros forever!"
"Lord Arthas!"
The other's uncanny methods chilled Baelish. He had never heard of even the warlocks far across the Narrow Sea possessing such abilities.
"What exactly do you want?"
"It's simple."
A sheet of parchment was tossed before Baelish:
"Sign this, board the boat, and leave King's Landing."
"You can survive tonight."
Only then did Baelish notice that a small boat had long since been moored at the shore, waiting for him.
"Dear Your Majesty."
The Master of Coin picked up the parchment with trembling hands and slowly read its contents aloud:
"Betting at the tournament was a terribly mistaken decision."
"After losing one million one hundred and sixty thousand Gold Dragons to Lord Tyrion, I am bankrupt."
"A bankrupt man can no longer fulfill the duties of the kingdom's Master of Coin."
"Lord Tyrion comes from the wealthy House Lannister and is also a very wise man. I believe he will be better able to manage Your Majesty's wealth."
Baelish slowly lowered his hands. Unable to maintain his composure any longer, he roared hysterically in defiance:
"So this was your goal!"
"The position of Master of Coin?"
"That's all right. You don't have to sign."
Arthas's tone had clearly grown somewhat impatient:
"Pike, send Lord Baelish on his way."
The moment he finished speaking, the whistle of a dagger cutting through the air came from behind.
Baelish hurriedly ducked. A few strands of hair drifted down from his head, leaving him drenched in cold sweat:
"Wait, I'll sign!"
Seeing that Pike had no intention of stopping, Baelish hurriedly shouted for him to stop. Though he hated to abandon his years of arrangements in King's Landing, he was faced with death.
Under Arthas's and Pike's icy gazes, the former Master of Coin promptly picked up the pen and signed his name.
"Lord Arthas, congratulations."
"King's Landing is now almost entirely in House Lannister's hands."
"But I must still remind you of one thing."
Boarding the boat with an air of forced nonchalance, Baelish turned toward King's Landing and cast a reluctant glance at the place where his dream had begun:
"Even with my handwritten letter, Robert won't simply hand the position of Master of Coin to the Imp."
"After all, there are far too many Lannisters in King's Landing."
"When the time comes, you may have to come invite me back yourself!"
"No need to trouble yourself over that, Lord Baelish."
Watching the boat gradually leave the shore, Arthas spoke as though bidding farewell to an old friend:
"Goodbye."
The little boat slowly sailed out to sea, soon becoming nothing more than a blurred outline in the darkness.
"Follow him, Pike."
Pure energy carrying the aura of death washed over Pike as the Death Knight delivered his final ultimatum on Baelish's life:
"I only promised he'd live through tonight."
"Heh heh heh..."
"As you command, master."
Amid Pike's hoarse, sinister laughter, his body gradually faded into nothingness and drifted through the moonlight toward the nearby boat.
Before you continue