The Wizard of Fury Chapter 17

Behind closed doors in his residence, Harry found Stannis frowning as he stared out the window and into the yard below where Lannister soldiers were training. It wasn’t the first time that Harry had caught his father doing this. Ever since their first night here, his father had been troubled and utterly reluctant to share any details with Harry. Now, with a scroll of parchment curled in his hands, he seemed caught up in a war within his mind.

Setting down his spoon next to his half-eaten bowl of porridge, Harry cleared his throat gently. “Is everything alright, father?”

To Harry’s surprise, he finally received a clear answer.

“No,” Stannis said.

Suddenly, he stood up and tossed the scroll of parchment into the flames of the fireplace. He lingered there a moment, watching as the parchment smoldered and burnt to a crisp before finally returning to his seat.

“We are in more danger here than I realised,” Stannis admitted to Harry.

“I don’t know how much more in danger we could be after all of the warnings you’ve given me,” Harry joked.

Naturally, his father’s face didn’t change at all. Not even a hint of a smile or a frown.

“Your jests undermine the gravity of the situation,” Stannis chided him. “I believe that Lord Arryn was murdered.”

The thought sobered Harry’s mind. “Why do you think that?”

“I scoured the man’s chambers the day we arrived in this city,” Stannis said. “His chamber had been tampered with and cleaned since his death, and there was the matter of the man’s corpse too. A poison ate away at him from the inside, and Maester Cressen confirmed it for me.”

That must’ve been what was in the letter then. “What poison was it?”

“The tears of Lys, he believes,” Stannis told him. “It’s a rare and costly poison, utterly tasteless, odourless, and clear. It leaves the same symptoms of a disease having eaten away at one’s body.”

“Then how do you know it was poison that did it?” Harry pressed him, wanting absolute certainty. He didn’t doubt his father’s deduction however. “The sickness that ran through the tower—”

“Exactly,” Stannis said emphatically. “A sickness, not a disease. A disease would’ve shown signs long before this. Even if it had been lingering inside of him and it was the sickness that had taken him, Maester Cressen assured me that if my description of his body was accurate, his disease should not have appeared to be so developed. I believe that others have covered up Jon Arryn’s murder.”

The logic seemed sound enough to Harry. He wished that he knew of enough healing magic to be able to confirm it for himself, but without a wand yet, he was limited in what he could do.

His mind quickly processed who could be behind this. There was no obvious motive for Lord Arryn’s murder, but it did seem quite clear as to who would have the ability of covering it up.

“Grand Maester Pycelle helped to cover it up, didn’t he?” Harry asked his father.

“I believe so,” Stannis answered candidly. “Or he’s too incompetent to recognise the tears of Lys. Given the state of things here and his advanced age, it could be either.”

Harry had gotten better at picking up on his father’s dry sense of humour.

“So, assuming he knew it was a murder, do you think that there’s any indication that he was behind it?”

“That remains unknown for now,” Stannis said. “Until we have a better idea as to what’s going on here in King’s Landing, you need to be on your guard at all times. I don’t want you to ever be alone in this place. Keep at least four of our men with you, and double that if you go into the city.”

“Won’t that look suspicious?” Harry asked. “It’s not like Lord Baelish or Lady Stokeworth walk around the Red Keep with guards at their backs.”

“They aren’t the ones looking into something that could get them killed,” Stannis argued back. “Better to look suspicious and remain alive than go off on your own and die in some back alley. If the perpetrators behind this discover what we are up to, then we could be targeted next.”

“What we are up to?” Harry repeated his father’s words, a bubble of excitement forming in his belly. “You want me to help you with this then?”

“Of course,” Stannis said like it was obvious. “You’re a man now, and you need to be prepared for these types of situations when you’re Lord of Dragonstone. I trust you to do what’s right for our house.”

“I will,” Harry promised him. “So, what do you want me to do then?”

Stannis glanced back out the window at the Lannister men, and Harry followed his gaze. They were close to the Tower of the Hand, which still remained guarded and closed off to everyone. Although, the barracks used by the City Watch beneath the tower still remained in use—the gold cloaks simply used another exit.

“I need to know how close the gold cloaks are to the Lannister soldiers,” Stannis told Harry. “I’ve seen their commander, Janos Slynt, regularly frequenting high-end brothels beyond what he should be able to afford and acting quite close to several of the Lannister soldiers. Given the fact that both forces patrol around the Red Keep simultaneously, I need to know what relationship Slynt has with the Lannisters, and the Baratheon men here if you can find that out. Additionally, I need to find out what he knows about the Tower of the Hand. If the gold cloaks were in on the plot to see Jon Arryn murdered, then things are even graver than I fear.”

Harry’s mind was already whirring with the possibilities of how to see this through. Janos Slynt was a name Harry had heard spoken a few times, and he may have even seen the man in passing once. Apparently, he’d been brought up on charges of corruption some years before, but King Robert had pardoned him.

Easy enough then. If the man lusted over gold and finery, then what better than to have a little lordling satisfy his cravings?

“I’ll see it done,” Harry told his father.

“Good,” Stannis nodded. There was no approval in his face. No, Stannis merely expected Harry to follow his duty. “I have a letter here for you to hand over to Slynt. It’s an inquiry into the City Watch’s defences of the docks and the Blackwater Rush. Use this as an excuse to get close to him without anyone suspecting of you of anything more than following my orders.”

“I’ll be careful,” Harry said as he took the letter from his father.

“Good,” Stannis said. “That will be all.”

Harry stood up from the table, his breakfast long forgotten as he hurried to his room to put on some finer clothes. A plan was forming in his mind as to how to trick Janos Slynt into giving Harry what he wanted, and for that to succeed, Harry needed to look the part.

The drab clothes that Stannis preferred were a bit more spartan than Harry’s own tastes, but the two men did prefer darker, subdued tones. Harry found a nice black outfit with golden stitching, making it stand out a bit more and honouring House Baratheon’s colours. He changed into it quickly and readied himself to go out.

Even though he only had a wand for four years of his life, he still felt naked going outside without it. It had sparked a magical connection within his core, and he still hoped to one day be able to craft a new wand for himself.

He whittled away at the new blocks of wood he’d gotten in the evenings when no one was around to disturb him. It was strange how he could feel a subconscious guide helping him to know how to shape each block of wood to its exact need. So far, he’d only just started on the lemon tree wood and ironwood, but they were already shaping up to be quite distinct in size and shape. He was hoping that the same subconscious guide would help him to figure out which wand was best for him and the phoenix feather core, but he’d yet to feel anything in that regard. Perhaps once he had the wands ready to be completed he’d get a sign.

If he didn’t, then Harry resolved to wait until he got one. Magic was magic, and he knew that he’d get a special feeling when the time was right. He didn’t want to risk damaging his phoenix feather by putting it into a wand that wasn’t fit for him and causing the wand to accidentally explode when Harry tried a bit of magic with it.

A mild sense of paranoia filled him, and he quickly checked to ensure that his wood and feather were still hidden away with his things. He found them there, laying as peaceful as ever.

Harry smiled down at them. “One day, I’ll have my full powers back to me,” he murmured to himself.

Apparently, Stannis didn’t trust Harry enough to not go off into King’s Landing alone, which was fair enough he supposed. Six of their household knights sat atop horses while a seventh was waiting for Harry. He wasted no time in setting off into the busy streets of King’s Landing.

They eventually found Janos Slynt in the East Barracks by the Dragon Gate. It sat on the far side of the Hill of Rhaenys and the Dragonpit, past the Street of Silk where many of the brothels and taverns sat. It was a relatively wealthy area of King’s Landing, and it showed from the number of traders that came rolling in on wagons and carts from the countryside of the Crownlands.

The gold cloaks stationed outside the barracks, just off of the main road that allowed a steady flow of travellers in and out of the city, immediately stood up a bit straighter upon noticing Harry’s fine clothes. Evidently, they were keen on making a good impression for any visiting highborn.

“I’m Harry Baratheon. I need to see Janos Slynt,” Harry said in a bored drawl. He’d done his best to imitate Draco and Snape’s voices to truly maximise the effect, and it seemed to work well enough because he was swiftly seen inside. All of his knights stayed outside with the horses, save for Ser Gerald Gower who stayed by Harry’s side to ensure his safety.

The barracks smelt of sweat, leather, and smoke. The building, despite its size, had a terribly cramped interior. Suits of chainmail sat atop stands with golden cloaks draped down their backs, wooden mounts upon the walls held swords and bows, and there seemed to be a never-ending supply of chests holding all manner of random objects and foodstuffs that the gold cloaks had rounded up from the smallfolk around here.

Harry was led to the back of the second floor of the barracks where a private room sat. The guard who guided him and Ser Gerald gave a rather tentative knock before a second, louder one when the first wasn’t answered.

“There’d better be a fire!” A man snapped from inside of the room. “Well, what is it?”

The guard opened the door, revealing a stout, bald man sitting behind a desk with nothing more than a flagon of wine and a silver goblet upon its surface.

“Commander, Lord Harry Baratheon is here to see you,” the guard said quickly before stepping aside.

Instantly, Janos’ expression of annoyance shifted. It was practically a work of transfiguration that led to him seeming so much more pleasant and, surprisingly, charming despite his inelegant face. “My lord, yes, please, do come in. Can I offer you some wine?”

So eager to please.

“Fine,” Harry sighed tiredly as he slumped into the seat opposite Janos. Janos stood up as he brought out another goblet and poured it for Harry. He didn’t rush—he had some pride in his position to maintain after all—and he attempted to do so in what Harry could only interpret as an attempt at a dignified manner.

Once his cup was full, Janos refilled his own and sat back down behind his desk. No offer of wine was made to Ser Gerald.

“I must say that I’m surprised by your visit, my lord,” Janos told Harry. “Your father, Lord Stannis—”

“Yes, that’s why I’m here,” Harry cut him off with another sigh. “My father wishes for me to deliver this letter to you. Apparently, it’s too important to leave to someone more befitting of being a messenger.”

Janos took the letter that Harry offered him and cracked open the seal before scanning its contents. “Ah, yes, the docks’ security is an important matter. Please do let your father know that he can send someone else from his household to us the next time he has a request for a report like this. I can promise their utmost safety upon returning back to the Red Keep; I’d even send along a few of my guards to ensure it.”

“If only he’d listen,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Some men just like causing trouble for others.”

Janos let out a slight chuckle that he quickly masked as a cough. Clearly, he didn’t want to accidentally insult Lord Stannis in front of the man’s son. “As you say,” he smiled in agreement.

“How long will the report take?” Harry asked, glancing out the nearby window.

“An hour or two,” Janos answered. “I’ll have my men get on it at once. We have a few who are keen readers who can go over our records and prepare a full report on our security measures for the Master of Ships.”

“Excellent,” Harry clapped his hands together. He grabbed the cup of wine off of the table and downed it in a single swig. Although Stannis rarely allowed Harry much wine back at Dragonstone, Harry had an understanding with several of the smallfolk in the kitchen that they’d set a few wineskins aside for him whenever he came to visit them. “Then why don’t we get out of here and find somewhere proper to drink. These barracks are too musty.”

“Would that I could, my lord, but I have a number of important duties to maintain here,” Janos replied, but Harry saw the man’s greed in his eyes already tempting him away.

“I’m sure,” Harry smiled sarcastically back at him. “But I was hoping you could also show me to a fine tavern around these parts. Being new to King’s Landing, I’ve had little chance to see the city’s many pleasures. I’d heard from the Lannister Soldiers at the Red Keep that you had a sharp eye for finding the perfect tavern.”

“Did they now?” Janos chuckled pleasantly. “I’d be hard pressed to call them liars.”

“Then why not show me around?” Harry suggested. “My father’s gold has been begging to make a splash in this city.”

“If you insist,” Janos grinned.

Janos practically rushed out of the room to hand off the assignment from Stannis to one of his guard captains to oversee before returning to bring Harry back out into the streets. Harry chose to walk alongside the man rather than ride with his guards if only to help integrate himself into Janos’ circle of confidants. As they travelled up the Hill of Rhaenys, Janos pointed out countless inns, taverns, and brothels that he suggested might suit Harry’s fancy in the future, but he insisted that he had a special one in mind for him today.

The Red River, a tavern halfway up the hill and nestled between a pair of fine-looking brothels, was a welcoming experience. Even though it was midday, there were a good number of patrons within the establishment. Many looked to be wealthy traders or otherwise well-off men and women who were eagerly enjoying their beer, wine, liquors, and ciders alongside delicious-smelling meals.

Janos led Harry right over to an open table and eagerly flagged down the serving wench. She made their way over to them, and Janos looked at Harry with that same greedy grin as before.

“May I order for you, my lord? I know of a number of special beverages that this tavern has in stock that you won’t find in many others.”

“Of course,” Harry smiled back at him, losing more and more of his bored expression as the minutes wore on.

“Bring over some Myrish fire wine and one of the sour reds from the Hills of Andalos,” Janos instructed the wench. “And some gammon while you’re at it.”

“Right away, commander,” the woman said as she scurried off.

Harry let out a long sigh and stretched his limbs. “Taking care of a city of this size must be taxing.”

“It has its challenges, and its benefits as well,” Janos replied, gesturing around him. “It's hard to find wonderful places like this to relax in other towns in Westeros.”

“Did you work elsewhere before your post here?” Harry asked.

“I once worked as a guardsman out at Castle Rosby as a younger man,” Janos said. “It was a rare thing to get traders coming in with goods from outside of the crownlands for a reasonable fee. They’d try and charge a man five or six times the cost of a simple vintage from the Arbor. But here, they only charge you thrice as much.”

Harry laughed along with Janos, forcing himself to maintain the charade of enjoying this man’s company. It was clear that he cared for little more than his own advancement and whatever status symbols he could acquire. Evidently, he’d had a long history of enjoying fine wines.

“Must be a challenge then to scrape together the gold to pay for days out like this,” Harry said. “Given that the wench seemed to know your name, I take it you frequent this establishment?”

“Only with my close friends,” Janos winked at Harry. “Or on special occasions.”

The woman placed two flagons of wine on the table for them along with four cups. She returned a moment later with a large wooden bowl filled with a roasted gammon glazed in honey and sprinkled with thyme, ginger, and cloves. Onions and potatoes soaked with the juices of the gammon sat below it, soaking up all of the delicious flavour.

“Try this one first, my lord,” Janos said as the woman filled up their cups. He pushed over the one filled with the fire wine to Harry.

Raising it to his nose, Harry caught spices dancing up from the glass. He took a sip and sighed in delight as warm rivulets of wine tickled his throat.

“Now the sour red,” Janos insisted.

Harry took a sip of it next and was surprised at how quickly the sourness overtook the spices. It was tasty and urged him to find something to compliment its profile.

“You see,” Janos grinned. “Each one makes you want to drink the other, and there’s nothing like roasted meat to help wash it down.”

“You weren’t lying when you said you knew the best taverns in King’s Landing.”

“Anyone who says I am clearly hasn’t spent much time out with me.”

“How do you afford it all?” Harry asked. “From the state of the barracks I visited, it doesn’t seem like the king doesn’t outfit you all as well as he should. I can’t imagine that your wages are much better either.”

Janos took a sip of his own fire wine. “There are many tricks to the trade that help one get what one wants,” he replied slyly.

Evidently, he assumed that Harry, being new to the city, didn’t know about his corruption from years before. It didn’t take a clever man to recognise that Janos was likely still up to his old tricks.

“Anything fun?” Harry chuckled amiably. “I’ve seen some gold cloaks gambling with the Lannister soldiers for some extra coppers.”

He truly had, and given Janos’ reaction, he already knew and didn’t seem bothered about it in the slightest.

“Gambling is plenty common around the Red Keep, and Lannisters have plenty of coppers and silvers that they’re willing to lose to us.”

Harry smirked. “Bet you like taking those Lannister cunts down a peg or two.”

Janos laughed in agreement. “They’re not all bad, but they are freer with their money than most.”

“From what I’ve seen, they’ve spent too long sniffing the gold that comes out of Tywin Lannister’s arse to be anything but incorrigible,” Harry retorted.

“Vylarr, the captain of the guard, can be amenable to mutually-beneficial transactions,” Janos replied as he finished off his first cup of wine. He greedily refilled his cup of sour red and took a sip before continuing. “And Osfryd Kettleblack isn’t so high and mighty to ignore an entertaining evening in a brothel or two.”

So, Janos was close with the captain of the Lannister guard and at least a few other members of it. Unsurprising, and it still didn’t tell Harry how close the two groups were.

“If you say so,” Harry chuckled again. “But I bet that they still try to boss you around.”

“They know that there are sweeter means of achieving their goals,” Janos grinned.

Ah, so they buy him off. And if the corruption charges that Harry had heard were true and the many captains of the gold cloaks owed their positions to Janos, it was clear that the gold cloaks were for hire.

“What about the Baratheon men?” Harry asked, genuinely curious. “Do my cousins’ men treat the gold cloaks well?”

Janos hesitated with his cup at his lips. “The king and Lord Renly’s men have their own way of going about things.”

So, they weren’t willing to pay Janos off. Or, at least, their relationship was tenuous at best. Things were looking graver by the moment.

Perhaps his father was right and things were worse than either of them knew. Someone could have paid off the gold cloaks to help cover up Jon Arryn’s murder. There were no limits on who the suspect could be. It had to be from a wealthy family who could afford the poison used to kill the man, or someone who had access to a maester’s stores.

The Lannisters were but one of many possibilities, but the fact that Janos had a close relationship with their soldiers didn’t bode well.

“I’m sure that they’ll see your value one day,” Harry replied. “After all, you’ve been quite helpful to me so far. An afternoon out drinking rather than wasting away in an old barracks waiting on parchment to be filled out is a much better way to spend one’s day. I’ll put in a good word with my cousins’ men.”

“I would be most grateful to be honoured with that, my lord,” Janos said, raising his cup in salute to Harry.

Harry raised his own and took a long sip of his fire wine again.

“I hope that the mess with the late Hand of the King isn’t giving you much trouble,” Harry said as casually as he could. “I’ve seen a lot of Lannister men guarding the tower but few gold cloaks.”

“They have the matter well in hand,” Janos replied. “The Qu—”

His breathing hitched a touch as though he were about to reveal something that he ought not. Instantly, Janos’ body language closed himself off from Harry and he belched to try to disguise the words he’d just said.

“Pardon,” Janos continued. “The King and his councillors suggested that the Lannisters maintain the watch there given their proximity to the tower.”

Even though the City Watch had a barracks right beneath the tower? A lie. He’d meant to say that the Queen had ordered it, hadn’t he?

“Do your men ever patrol with the Lannisters?” Harry pressed. “I’d seen them mingling around a bit in the yard and had wondered…”

“Perhaps you could tell me a tale of what Dragonstone is like instead, my lord,” Janos suggested with a weak smile. “I fear that I’ve been remiss in not offering you the same hospitality that you’ve shown me. It would be rude to only speak about myself here. I’ve always wondered if the gargoyles are as massive and fearsome as they say.”

Harry had to return a smile of his own to not break his cover, but in his mind, he was cursing himself, wondering if he’d pushed the man too far.

So, for the next hour, Harry relied on more casual conversation, talking to Janos about life on Dragonstone and about the Greyjoy Rebellion. He kept the conversation light and easy with no further deep, probing questions for the man about the City Watch, the Lannisters, or Jon Arryn’s death. Alienating Janos at this point would serve him no purpose. As grubby as the man was, he’d work just as hard as Harry to get into his good graces, if only to further advance himself.

When Janos’ gold cloaks found them in the tavern, they’d gone through an additional flagon of ale, half a loaf of bread, and several slivers of cheese, nuts, and dried meat. Harry tripped slightly as he got to his feet; it was rare that he ever drank as much as he had today.

“Here is the report, my lord,” one gold cloak said, offering the bound scroll of parchment to Harry.

“Thank you,” Harry replied as he took it. He looked back at Janos. “And thank you for the interesting afternoon, but I fear I must be getting back lest my father finds more to complain about than me merely spending his gold.”

“Of course,” Janos replied, standing up himself. “Please do call upon me or my men should you or Lord Stannis require anything within the city.”

Harry could do little more than nod as he stumbled out of the tavern towards his knights who were waiting for him outside. They helped him mount his steed and then they took off through the city streets back towards the Red Keep.

Upon his return, Harry thanked the men for accompanying him and returned towards his and his father’s chambers. Ser Gerald accompanied him again, ensuring his safety as Stannis had requested.

As he rounded the last corner that led to the doors into their chambers, Harry paused mid-stride when he saw Ser Barristan Selmy, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, the only one remaining in King’s Landing while the rest joined the king on his trip up to Winterfell, standing guard outside their doors.

Countless tales of Ser Barristan had reached Harry’s ears. For years, he’d been known to be one of the greatest knights in all of the Seven Kingdoms, even in his old age. His white hair, tall stature, and striking features made him look esteemed and wise while still retaining that strength that had made him into who he was today.

“My lord,” Ser Barristan acknowledged Harry with a grim look on his face. “I sent out men searching for you not an hour past.”

“I was in the city on business for my lord father,” Harry replied, a touch of concern tinging his voice. Ser Gerald placed his hand on the pommel of his sword, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Ser Barristan. “May I ask why you sent men after me?”

“It’s because of your father,” Ser Barristan said. “He was attacked.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Is he—”

“No,” Ser Barristan shook his head. “But his injuries are grievous. A pair of cutthroats somehow snuck their way into his chambers and attacked him. Lord Stannis fought them off and killed them both, but not before nearly falling himself. Grand Maester Pycelle is overseeing his care at this very moment.”

“Inside?” Harry said, storming up towards the doors to his chambers.

“Yes,” Ser Barristan. “But he wishes to be undisturbed as he—”

Harry ignored the man’s words and headed straight towards the doors. At the last moment, Ser Barristan stepped aside and allowed Harry and Ser Gerald entry.

Grand Maester Pycelle sat up in surprise at Harry’s sudden entrance. Stannis was laid out in his bed, unconscious. A thick blanket covered him up to his midsection, but his torso laid bare barring the bandages and yellow-coloured poultices underneath.

“My lord, I—”

“Is my father alright?” Harry asked quickly.

“Yes, I believe so,” Pycelle replied slowly. “I’ve finished cleaning and stitching his wounds, and I’ve given him milk of the poppy to take away his pain. He’ll rest for some time now, but I’ll stay and keep a close watch on his progress and change his bandages when it is time to do so.”

“I’ll stay too,” Harry said as he dropped down into a nearby chair.

“That won’t be necessary,” Pycelle said as he stroked his long, white beard that reminded Harry of an inferior version of Dumbledore’s. “There’s nothing to be done for now except to wait. I’m sure that you’d find it more comfortable elsewhere.”

“I said I’ll be staying here.”

There was no way that Harry was going to leave his father out of his sight until the moment that he awoke. The threat was even more real than Harry could’ve ever imagined, and it’d nearly taken the life of his father.

Something was afoot here in King’s Landing, and Harry needed to put a stop to it.