The Wizard of Fury Chapter 32

Staring out of the grand windows of the Red Keep, Stannis watched as hundreds of knights, squires, and their retainers rushed out into the woods beyond the tourney grounds that were still being finished. It was an obscene show of force, the type that was meant to reassure the worried smallfolk than to actually solve a problem. The bandits within the woods were either dead or fleeing, and they couldn’t number in more than a few dozen at most.

It was right to push out these violent elements from the king’s lands, but there was no need for this. It would be better to send out the excess knights to scour the surrounding lands and the various hills and forests that filled the crownlands. But his brother didn’t ask his opinion on the matter.

“Wine!” King Robert Baratheon boomed, filling the small council chambers with an echoing roar that left all of his advisers cringing at the noise. That poor Lannister squire of his rushed forward to refill his cup as Eddard Stark looked on with his northern-style disapproval.

“Your Grace,” Eddard began slowly. “You must pace yourself.”

“I should’ve been out there, Ned,” Robert scowled at the window. “I can still fight as good as any of them.”

Stannis sincerely doubted that. Even during the Greyjoy Rebellion, where his dear boy was scarred for life, Robert had already been growing in weight and losing that intense strength that he’d once held. No one could doubt that he could still hit hard, but he hadn’t been anywhere near his prime then after years of drinking. Things had gotten even worse since then, and now Stannis didn’t know if Robert could take down a nimble knight in single combat.

Yet, he refused to say as much aloud. His concerns were valid enough, but they would do little good in this situation. Even if he could somehow convince his brother to listen to them, the other councillors would see Robert as weak and vulnerable. Perhaps they already did.

Varys and Littlefinger were lingering around the edges of the room. They’d had little to offer in the discussions of battle and managing forces, but Stannis had seen their watching eyes and perky ears taking in everything. He didn’t trust either of them.

Grand Maester Pycelle remained the fool that he always was. And Renly… Renly. What else was there to say about him other than the fact that his time was better spent organising a feast or a grand ball. His presence here during the discussions of a battle was unnecessary.

“We should deal with the fallout of this matter,” Stannis spoke up.

Robert rounded with a fury on his face that was almost always saved for his enemies. “The fallout?” He raged. “We’re still dealing with the bastards who caused this whole mess.”

“The smart bandits have already fled,” Stannis retorted coldly. “Those that remain won’t have any useful information. The smallfolk are terrified that the bandits were so close to the capital as they were, and the lords and ladies of the Realm are just as concerned even if they don’t show it. This ridiculous show of force may assuage some temporary fears, but it doesn’t deal with the threat that is still lingering.”

Robert’s flagon of wine found his lips in an instant. He drowned so much of it that Stannis wasn’t sure if he’d finished the entire thing in just a few quick gulps.

There was little chance of reaching Robert’s ear when he was like this. Luckily, he’d employed a good Hand of the King. Eddard Stark was a fine man, one who’d once protected Stannis’ own son. While he may have once upon a time been bitter over his close ties to Robert, Stannis no longer felt such anger.

“What are you suggesting, Lord Stannis?” Eddard asked.

“We must plan for our knights and soldiers to go out and scout the lands immediately surrounding Kings Landing,” Stannis insisted. He planted his hands down upon the long table that spanned the small council’s chambers. “They must act as a deterrent for any force who dares to interfere with this tourney. And if anyone does so, we must have an early warning about such things. Sending these knights into a narrow section of the forests will do little to aid our ultimate goals and will merely add undue pressure upon the smallfolk who live in such areas. We must recall most of them and send the rest out elsewhere.”

“A wise council, Lord Stannis,” Littlefinger spoke up. “But would it not be better to first search the lands that we know these bandits have been using? The smallfolk there may have prudent information.”

“It would send them there if I believed it had any true value,” Stannis replied curtly. “In my time upon the throne, I led the search for these bandits, and I became well aware of their tactics to appear in an area briefly before quickly moving to another within days. This search will be fruitless, but being proactive—”

“They deserve punishment!” Robert snapped loudly. “We will continue sending out our knights until they find the perpetrators and hang them as their crime deserves!”

“As I’ve been saying,” Renly commented as he sipped upon his wine.

Stannis’ body froze in place as he held his anger in check. Being disregarded like this was frustrating beyond belief, but his brother was the king. It was his prerogative to act as he did. That, however, did little to tend to Stannis’ rising fury.

“I’m the king, and I say that these outlaws will be punished in the full accordance of the law!” Robert shouted. “We will find them and we will stop any more of these attacks from happening. I knew that I shouldn’t have left you in charge but you and your bloody pride demanded it! There are too many of these fuckers lying about, and they need to be stopped right now!”

Stannis’ nostrils flared as he stared down his brother. Naturally, Robert’s eyes were already turning towards his next source of wine. His goblet and the flagon that filled it were both practically empty, and he was looking to that Lannister lad for more. He didn’t see the anger in Stannis’ face, but everyone else did.

“We will be certain to send out more knights as the first come back to rest,” Varys said with his soft voice. “Rest assured that your will will be done, your Grace.”

The other councillors all made sounds of agreement. All except for Stannis and Eddard.

The fact that Robert was here at all was due to Eddard’s influence. The man had a way with Robert that neither Stannis nor Renly had ever been able to cultivate. It both infuriated and pleased Stannis that another had to deal with his brother’s idiocy, but the fact that they both found themselves opposing the king’s actions left him worried.

“Stannis has the right mind of it,” Eddard spoke up.

“As you’ve been saying,” Robert grumbled. It was clear that he didn’t believe in Stannis, and even Eddard’s words barely swayed him from his course. “The woods surrounding King’s Landing are our first priority. Only then can you send our knights beyond.”

And by then it will be too late, Stannis noted morosely in his mind.

“As Your Grace commands,” Varys, Grand Maester Pycelle, Renly, and Littlefinger all bowed. It was only Stannis and Eddard who remained resolute.

Stannis stared down Robert as he finished another goblet of wine, proudly poured by his squire, and stumbled to his feet. No one dared move to steady him.

Robert was followed closely by his attendants out of the small council chambers. The man was barely sober enough to even realise that before he tried to close the grand doors behind himself. Once he was gone, a pair of white cloaks followed him down the corridor as the doors to the chamber were closed firmly shut by those who remained.

Infuriated, Stannis fought hard to not slump in his seat. He would not allow these potential enemies of his to see him weak in any capacity. Even being shut down by his own brother, who also happened to be the king, would not be enough to alter his emotions. He would remain steadfast and strong, utterly devoted to his duty until he’d served out his ultimate goal of aiding the realm until his dying breath.

The minutes passed slowly, and Stannis struggled to avoid his mind drifting off. And yet, it did regardless of his efforts. The dowry to secure his son’s marriage to Margaery Tyrell, the daughter of that bastard Mace, had been confirmed by Maester Pylos, the aid to Maester Cressen back at Dragonstone. It was only thanks to luck that she’d yet to become pregnant with his son’s child.

Despite the frigidness in his own private chambers with his lady wife back on Dragonstone, Stannis did not fail to notice the intense relations between his son and Margaery. The moments that they believed themselves to be sneaky as she slipped into his son’s private chambers only reaffirmed the fact that Harry was absolutely love-struck. He even heard them on occasion, despite their attempts to remain silent. And although his anger always rose up within him and deemed that he should chastise his son for engaging with an enemy of their house, he always held back.

It was a rare thing to find true love in this world, and each passing day proved to Stannis more and more that his son had found such happiness.

So, he chose to ignore any obnoxious noise and whatever sweet embraces his son made with Margaery. The looks from Olenna Tyrell, Margaery’s grandmother, could be done without, but that old woman wouldn’t kowtow to anyone. She’d merely smirk at Stannis with that look that expressed that she knew everything that was going on and that she was pleased that it was. Honestly, it was that sort of self-satisfaction that made Stannis want to call off the impending marriage entirely.

And yet, he didn’t.

His son’s happiness was worth more than could be put into words. Even if it did cut into duty… well, Stannis himself wouldn’t have made any such sacrifices, but for his son…

Such things were worth more than duty.

He’d need to inform his son soon of the fact that the dowry from Highgarden was prepared. It was a substantial sum, even for a Tyrell. Stannis suspected that it was their family’s way of making amends for what had occurred during Robert’s Rebellion, but he didn’t know that for certain.

Regardless, the matter needed to be addressed sooner rather than later. He expected his son to be pleased with the results, but the ultimate decision would rest with Stannis himself.

In the end, he would not deny his son his choice.

Stannis’ mind lingered upon the topic of his son’s impending wedding even as the small council broke apart for a fast. There was to be yet another feast served within the Great Hall, but Stannis did not move from his seat.

Renly was the first to leave, then Littlefinger. Grand Maester Pycelle came trailing after them slowly while Varys murmured whisperings into Eddard’s ear before he too departed. But when only Stannis and Eddard remained, neither man made a move to leave.

It was Eddard who closed the doors to the chambers, sealing the two of them within.

“You spoke of Jon Arryn’s death to me,” Eddard began slowly, as though testing his words. He seemed far less sure of himself now than he did when dealing with the king. “I understand that you and your family are facing danger, but I still don’t see the connections that you’re trying to make.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Stannis replied bitterly, holding back a snort. A northman wouldn’t see such things. They didn’t understand politics the way any southerner did. “You haven’t been forced to play this game for years on end. Coincidences aren’t coincidences here. Do you truly believe that Jon Arryn’s death was as Pycelle says it is?”

Eddard stared down Stannis intently. “I believe that you don’t believe it is.”

Stannis growled in frustration. “Don’t be a fool, Stark. Pycelle is both more and less incompetent than he appears to be. Had you arrived in the capital a few months earlier, you would’ve made the same connections that I have. Pycelle’s excuse does not align with the facts. He claims that it was a sudden sickness that swept through the tower, but why then did his wife and young son not take ill? Why is it that he’s completely stopped investigating this mysterious sickness? The truth is that there never was a sickness to begin with. Jon Arryn was poisoned.

“Do you think it a mere coincidence that there was an attack on my life after I began asking questions? That the attackers somehow made it into the castle undetected? That suddenly outlaws and bandits begin cropping up in the countryside around King’s Landing just as the king leaves, making me look like a fool who can’t manage the security of a kingdom? These things have not happened in isolation.”

“I will agree with you that the evidence is quite tricky, but you’ve yet to show me any verifiable links between these incidents,” Eddard replied calmly. “And what’s more is that you still haven’t been able to explain why these things have been happening. Why would anyone want to kill Jon Arryn?”

Stannis turned away in frustration. Eddard had just posed the exact question that’d been plaguing his mind for months now. The culprit behind it all was elusive and slippery as an eel. None of Stannis or his son’s enquiries had yielded any fruit. They were stuck with countless questions and no answers.

But even still, Stannis could speculate.

“He may have opposed someone or their will,” Stannis suggested. “Or he knew something that he shouldn’t have.”

“I need more than guesses if I am to act,” Eddard said.

“You can act regardless!” Stannis insisted. “Work with me to uncover the truth! And if you don’t believe me, then speak with my son on the matter. He’s made his own investigations into the subject as well. Maybe you’ll take his word seriously. Your bastard seems quite convinced of his intelligence and cunning after that mess by the tourney grounds.”

At the mention of the word “bastard,” Eddard froze. Stannis felt a tiny spike of pleasure at seeing the man who was proving to be so difficult being reminded of his past mistakes. He won’t have to make another one in the future if he just listened.

“And what would you have me do if I believed you?” Eddard asked after several moments. “What can I do that you have not already done?”

“Examine the situation with different eyes,” Stannis pointed out. “You may find something that my son or I missed.”

He hoped that Eddard would take his words to heart. Ultimately, Stannis knew that allies were an absolute necessity in a place like this. They couldn’t be trusted fully, of course, but Eddard might be one of the few exceptions to that.

If Eddard joined his cause and Harry brought the Tyrells into the fold, then matters were looking far less dire than before.