A Falcons Fall

A Falcons Fall 

“May the smith bless your hands, so that you can keep doing his work my child and may the crone bless you with her wisdom. Think long and hard whether this is the path you want to follow. Whether this will bring you satisfaction. ”  

The man looked up from his place on his knees. Tears in his eyes. “Thank you, my lord. I have thought about it and I'm sure. This is what I'm meant to do. I will work twice as hard. Make twice as many swords. The Seven will see those heretics burn for their crimes. I will make sure plenty of my steel is used in this holy mission.” 

“Of course. Justice comes to all. The Father will see the scales balanced. Just make sure to live in the meantime. ” 

The man bowed again before walking hurriedly back down the stairs of the sept and moving past the crowd that had formed to watch him preach. All of them were either bowing their heads in prayer or calling out to him in reverence. 

He clasped his hands together and raised his voice. “I'm sorry my fellow faithful but I have other duties I need to see to. As much as I would like to spend more time with my flock, the Seven have burdens that we all must carry. Some more enjoyable than others.” 

With that, he turned around and made his way back into the sept, walking through the halls, past septons and septas who bowed their heads to him as he passed. It wasn't long before he finally made it to the comfort of his quarters. 

Now that he finally had some privacy, he allowed a sneer to come upon his face. 

‘Sheep.’ He thought derisively.  

The smallfolk were so easily manipulated that even he found it sightly sad. Just say a few words, give an out of context quote of the Seven Pointed Star and he had them eating out of the palm of his hand. When that wasn't enough all he had to do is manufacture something to make them angry and direct that anger towards a goal of his choosing. Not even the Septons had the intelligence to question him for long. 

That man earlier was an example of how stupid these people are. Marik, a smith from a small village a good distance away from Gulltown had his town raided by what he believes was mountain clansmen while he was visiting family in another village. There were no survivors left. So he swore vengeance and came to Gulltown because he heard that's were others who survived other raids were gathering. Now Petyr has another loyal smith who will make steel for his followers as fast as he can and sell it as cheaply as he can with no thought of profit in his mind.  

What the man couldn't have known was that he had been responsible for the attack himself. He hired a man to hire another man who in turn hired a small but deadly mercenary company to raid several of the villages in the Vale over a year ago. Thanks to this over half a dozen villages were burnt to the ground and made to look like attacks from the mountain clansmen.  Of course he had those men killed soon after the mercenaries got back onto the ship and left, so that no trail led back towards him. Then he hired pirates of the Three Sisters through a similar method to kill the mercenary company once they were at sea. Leaving almost no evidence of his deeds that could lead back to him. 

These massacres caused a lot of rage within the Vale. Both among the smallfolk and some of the Lords. 

The best part for Petyr was that they had no idea it was the coin that they were donating that was used to fund their own hatred. There were hundreds of people who were not only willing but eager to give the Faith everything they own in order to get some sort of absolution from the Gods and thousands more who were willing to give regular donations of coin, including some wealthy lords. Petyr used a small portion of this wealth to open up some soup kitchens to show the illusion he was helping while using the rest to either make more coin or to fund his other ventures such as the sellswords. 

Petyr was good at using this rage to his advantage. He would use other septons to preach against the Old Gods and their followers while making sure that his sermons were more calm. Calling for nothing but justice. Making himself look like more of a moderating factor who was trying to decrease tensions from both sides. Getting more and more influence among the masses and even among some lords. Either directly from those who would like him to try and decrease tensions or though his proxies who had the ear of the fanatics.  Still, he had to be careful not to push too hard too fast. He needed to build up his support before any really major moves were made. There were plenty of Lords who wouldn't tolerate another Faith Militant. Luckily there were plenty who would also support him. Either through genuine worship of The Seven or because they saw an opportunity to use the Faith for their own ends.  

It took years of work and careful scheming. Balancing fanatics with those who were too hesitant to go along with his schemes. He had to be careful and occasionally there were great setbacks. Such as the thousands of fanatics he so easily lost in the North.  

Alas, he had to appease the fanatics who wanted a war right away somehow. Sending some of them North where they could harass those savages seemed like a good idea at the time. Not only would they do some damage, but they would also be out of mind where they could no longer bother him with their incessant nagging.  Unfortunately, Hadrian Stark wiped them out before they could truly do any damage. 

Luckily for Baelish, the Stark child miscalculated. He executed the Septons and fed their blood to the Weirwood tree in Winterfell. No doubt in an attempt to sow fear into the heart of the faithful and prevent future attacks by showing he would use them as fuel for foreign gods. Unfortunately for the Stark whelp and fortunately for Baelish, this news only brought fury to those who were undecided about where they stood regarding the Faith. Bringing in a swell of recruits who were enraged at Hadrian Stark. He took advantage of this to feed the realm with his own rumors. Claiming Hadrian Stark sacrificed their souls in dark rituals. That he wants to destroy the faith. He had dozens of rumors spread. Each retelling more dark than the last. 

He had his numbers grow by the day. Easily replacing those lost with thousands more. Until he was reaching a point where it was difficult to hold back some of the most fanatic again.  

Such as what happened in Kingslanding where a bunch of fools attacked Lord Manderly.  

Petyr didn't care about the Lord at all. But having him killed in Kingslanding would greatly anger the King and might even have him call the banners on the Faith. 

Which is not something he wanted. 

Unfortunately, he was finding it difficult to control what he had built.  

No, Petyr knew he was fast running out of time before one of his followers did something foolish. Unfortunately, when he came up with this scheme, he failed to take into account that most of his followers would be fanatics that could be hard to predict. Now, he is too invested to leave. 

He needed to buy himself some breathing room. The best way to do that would be to cause chaos. 

All that he was looking for now was a way to ignite a spark that would lead to a war. One that wouldn't lead to the King calling his banners on him. One that might even have come with some support from that fool. 

Luckily for Petyr such an opportunity just happened to fall into his lap. 

Knock Knock 

Plastering his face with the most kindly look he could muster he answered the knock at the door. “Enter.” 

One of the higher ranking septons opened it. “Your Holiness, Lord Arryn has arrived to speak to you.” 

Petyr stood gracefully and followed the man to the meeting room where Lord Arryn was waiting.  

The old man was sitting, admiring a mural that depicted The Warrior standing between a you girl and a shape blotted out by darkness. His sword raised in defense. 

“Lord Arryn. It's a pleasant surprise to see you. Apologies for not coming to greet you earlier. I didn't know you were back in the Vale.” This was a lie of course. Petyr knew when Lord Arryn first decided he would leave kingslanding. The spy network he managed to make out of a few dozen loyal septons had more than once proven its worth. 

Who could have guessed that there were so many servants from noble houses who were so eager to confess their sins and the sins of their Lords for absolution from those same sins? 

The Lord of the Vale turned his gaze to Petyr and offered a slight smile. “Thats alright my boy. I travelled here quickly. I didn't expect you to have prepared to welcome me.” 

Petyr bowed his head as humbly as he could. “What can I do for you, my Lord? A man as busy as you must have a reason for your presence.” 

An eyebrow was raised. “Hoh? What if I just wanted to see what you have done with this new sept you were building? Excellent work, by the way. It truly is a marvelous building. While lacking the grandeur of some of the other well-known Septs, it is more comforting and warmer for that humbleness.” 

Petyr did truly have to stop himself from grinning at his words. Truthfully, the Sept was one of his schemes that took the most finesse to accomplish. He had to keep it cheap, build it quickly and make it popular enough to bring smallfolk from all over the Vale for a visit. 

He did this by mostly using volunteers for the labor as well as having the septons in his pocket travel around the Seven Kingdoms collecting donations for his efforts. He also managed to make Lord Grafton, Lord Arryn and even the High Septon donate a large amount for the Sept themselves. Of which the majority of the gold went into his other schemes. The building is humble because Petyr didn't want to waste coin on it and so built it as cheaply as possible. Using decorations tactically displayed to make the inside look better than it really was while making it seem that the sept was meant to look homely instead of grand. 

“Thank you for you for your kindness my lord. I had hoped that the Sept would be larger in the end, but unfortunately we started running out of gold. “ 

Jon leant back into the chair with a hum. “Thats a shame. I will look into sending some more your way when I get back to the Eyrie. My family has always greatly supported the Faith.” 

Petyr resisted the urge to smirk. It always somehow manages to surprise him how little the Lords of Westeros really knew about how to spend gold.  

Still he manages to keep himself looking humble. “That would be greatly appreciated my lord. May the Seven bless you and your newborn son.” 

Petyr was greatly surprised when Lysa finally managed to give birth to a healthy child. He was less surprised when he discovered that the boy was his.  

Jon smiled slightly. “Thank you. It seems the seven decided to finally bless me.”  

More like Lisa finally managed to trick Petyr into getting her pregnant and decided she would keep the babe, unlike all the other times Arryn got her pregnant. 

Really, she wasn't as smart as she thought she was. Luckily nobody had noticed. 

The Hand of the King finally straightened up. “Now as much as I would like to keep the conversation light. I'm afraid I'm here on business Petyr.” 

He nodded. “Of course. I would be happy to help in any way I can My Lord.” 

He only got a nod out of the Old Falcon for that. “I need you to calm down the Faith and get rid of the Faith Militant. “ 

Petyr opened his mouth but was interrupted by a raised hand. “I'm aware you have doing what you can and I have given you as much time as possible. But recently a Lord was attacked in Kingslanding. We can't have peasants getting it into their heads they can attack Lords. The King has decided that either this situation comes under control or he will call the banners and march. I don't want that. So what can be done?” 

Petyr winced. “It isn't that simple my lord. People are angry. No, they are furious about all the attacks from the Mountain Clans.  I have recently started preaching about having them brought to justice as you know, so that I can try and moderate all the other voices calling for a new holy war but I'm afraid the voices keep getting louder.” 

Lord Arryn looked like he aged ten years. “I see.” 

“But...”  

Jon perked up. “But?” 

He put a small frown on his face. “I had an idea recently. It might work but I'm not sure of its feasibility.” 

Lord Arryn frowned. “Go on.” 

“Many of the smallfolk feel as if the Lords aren't doing anything to protect them. There have been no reprisals against the Mountain Clans. They are feeling angry and betrayed. So, I thought, well, what if we really let the more fanatical one's march against those clans? Either they will succeed, in which case the Mountain Clans will no longer be a problem, or they will fail but will at least have had an opportunity to release some of their bloodlust?” 

Jon Arryns frown was much deeper now. “You truly think this will work?” 

Petyr put on the saddest face he could muster. “I truly think there is no other choice. I have recently started hearing talk from some Septons about going into the Riverlands and killing followers of the Old Gods there. I have tried my best to stop talk about a new Holy War, but I'm afraid if something isn't done about the Mountain Clans and they keep attacking settlements, people will start lashing out at any target they can get to. All I have hope of doing right now is directing that rage at a more deserving target. Once the clans are beaten, then hopefully most will have realized the cost of war and will be too tired of fighting to continue their vendetta against those who follow the Old Gods.” 

Lord Arryn drummed his fingers on his armrest. “It does have potential. Most of these people have never fought in a war, they will quickly get tired of it. Despite that I can't go through with this. If the Faith is allowed to conduct one war, it won't be long before they decide to conduct another.” 

Petyr shook his head. “Of course not my lord. That wasn't what I was suggesting. I meant that you call for a war against the clans, with a loyal lord like Lord Royce leading the effort and use the men who are calling for war in place of levies. That way it is still a Lord conducting wars and not the Faith. While the fanatics either die or have their bloodlust satisfied.” 

The drumming stopped and Lord Arryn grimaced. ”I don't like it. There will be a lot of death in such a war.”  

Petyr smiled sadly. “I know. I don't like it either my lord. But my voice is being drowned out. If something doesn't change soon, I fear someone will do something that will cause the King to call his banners. Such a war would cause immeasurably more harm. I have tried everything I could think of to keep things peaceful. It isn't working. Directing their anger at a target that won't cause too much damage is my last idea.” 

“That...has potential. But still, the Vale has been fighting against the clans for millennia. Defeating them isn't so simple.” 

Petyr shrugged. “I wouldn't expect it to be my lord. Nor do I expect them to be wiped out. Even just culling them a bit will hopefully give results. Even if it doesn't work, and there are still calls for a Holy War after this, at least the numbers calling for such will be culled for when the king needs to wipe them out.  ” 

Jon Arryn looked horrified. “You would sacrifice your brothers so easily?” 

Petyr frowned deeply. “Not easily my lord. But my it is my duty to keep the loss of life as low as possible. I fear that if this isn't taken care of, it has the potential to ignite a conflict all over Westeros if not carefully managed. As can be seen by what happened in Kingslanding, this problem isn't just here. It has the potential to erupt in the rest of the Kingdoms as well. So while it would greatly sadden me for so many of my brothers and sisters to die, if the alternative is having tens of thousands more die in the next few years then I feel as if I have no choice.” 

The look Jon Arryan gave him was a mixture between sadness and respect. 

Jon Arryn was quiet for a long time before he eventually stood and made his way out of the room. “Very well. I will make the arrangements. I ride for the Eyrie.” 

He paused at the door. “I'm sorry for the burden that has been placed on you Petyr and thank you for at least trying to help.” 

With that he left. 

Petyr Baelish felt a smirk come across his face.  

All according to plan. 

Line Break-------------------------- 

Its a moon and a half later that he finally gets the raven from Lysa telling him that Jon Arryn has charged Lord Royce to go and cull the Mountain Clans a bit. That he was now leaving the Eyrie and was on his way back to Gulltown so that he could take a ship to Kingslanding. 

Petyr is quick to make an excuse to the rest of the Septons and Septas that he was going on another short pilgrimage to one of the nearby villages. It was something he made sure to do every few moons so that no one would be suspicious when he takes long absences. 

He quickly climbs onto his horse and rides along the road for a while before abruptly turning off of it and riding for half a day through the wild. This trip always makes him nervous. It makes him feel as if he had no control. He could be attacked at any moment and there was nothing he could do about it. 

Alas, needs must.  

Petyr figured out years ago that he would need some men who were only too happy to follow his every order and most importantly keep everything they saw a secret. His reputation as a godly man was one of his greatest tools and he would be loath to lose it easily. 

When he came upon the building next to a small river he let loose a small sigh of relief.  

The three men outside wearing basic rags and standing guard quickly kneeled when they saw him. “Master.” They spoke in unison. 

Their voices brought another ten men outside in short order and they were also quick to kneel. 

Petyr felt a surge of satisfaction. It was truly a burden to get the unsullied without anyone finding out. But in moments like this, it seemed worth every coin and headache. 

He didn't allow himself the opportunity to stop for rest though. He was on a time limit, after all.  

“Come. Prepare to travel. We have work to do.” 

Three days later he stood behind a rock near a narrow pathway on a hill overlooking a small camp filled with a dozen people in the middle of the night. 

He nodded to the unsullied who were lined up in front of him. “Its time.” 

The unsullied wasted no time in sprinting forwards the enemy camp and throwing themselves at the soldiers there. Petyr watched as most men were easily cut down both due to suprise and the skill of the slave soldiers. Even when one of his unsullied was speared through with a sword he still managed to kill his opponent. 

In the end it was a short battle in which he only lost three more of his slaves for over a dozen knights. He knew the battle would have been a lot more difficult if the knights were properly armored or if they were in greater numbers. Or if he didn't know the exact route that Jon Arryn would take to his destination and the place that he always camps when using this route. Luckily for Petyr, Lysa was a wealth of information. She also originally joined Jon on this trip. Faking an illness a few days ago when they were almost to Gulltown. From there it should have been a simple matter to convince the Old Falcon to send her to the nearest holdfast with most of the guards. The old man would have felt honor bound to do so. Making sure that his wife and son had the best protection possible. Leaving himself woefully unprotected. The lord wouldn't think about getting more guards for himself. Not when this road hasn't had an attack in years and he was already in a rush to get back to Kingslanding. 

People who loved their honor were so easy to manipulate. 

When he walked into the camp there was only one enemy left alive. He was forced onto his knees by two of his slaves while a third held a sword to his throat. 

The old mans eyes widened when they saw Baelish. “Petyr...” 

He sounded so confused. “Why?” 

This time when the urge to grin came Petyr held nothing back. “Because chaos is a ladder old man and your death is set to cause a lot of it.” 

There was realization followed by a hint of defiance burning in his eyes. “You won't get away with this!” 

He laughed. “But I already have. You were killed by savages from the clans. There will be outrage of course. When Royce calls the banners there will be a large number of fanatics who will join his army thinking it will be for a glorious purpose. When Royce dies and the the clans inevitably disappear into their holes and there are no enemies to be found, that army will be even angrier. Turning on every Old God worshipper they can find. ” 

Jon grits his teeth. “Robert will march and he will destroy the Faith Militant. I'm the only thing holding him back.” 

Baelish tutted. “Perhaps. But not soon, i think he will be content to watch as the clans who killed his foster father are taught a lesson first. He might even decide to join in. Either way, Robert will have to be careful. Without you there to hold them at bay, the sharks will soon start circling. If he does decide to march anyway, sneaking a dozen fanatics who aren't afraid to die for the cause into his camp will be no difficulty at all. He isn't a very careful man. An assassin can kill him easily, either by poisoning his alcohol or shooting him when hes hunting.” 

There was a look of pure hatred on the old man's face.  

He unsheathed a rusty dagger. “Oh by the way, Lysa sends her regards. She promised to take care of our son.”  

He relished the look on the fools face as he drove his dagger into his chest. Leaving it there with his body to find. Jon Arryn always acted as if he was so much better than Petyr. So much nobler. Well, look where that got him. 

Without sparing Jon a further glance he turned to the unsullied. “Cut off the ears of all the corpses. Loot all the weapons, armor and food. Leave the gold. The clans don't use it. And butcher the horses. They don't know how to ride.” 

Three days later Petyr was back in the Sept preaching to a new group of people. Three days after that, Lysa Arryn sent a raven to every Lord in the Seven Kingdoms. Jon Arryn was dead, killed by the Mountain Clans.