Chapter 73 CHAPTER 73
King's Landing.
The weather was humid and unbearably muggy.
As Ned Stark walked through the outer courtyard of the Red Keep, he felt as though the entire city had been wrapped beneath a damp wool blanket.
By the time he reached the Maester's Tower, his silk outer robe was already soaked through with sweat, clinging tightly against his chest.
Grand Maester Pycelle, hunched and leaning upon his cane, stood waiting beneath the cool shade before the tower with an expectant expression.
Ned let out a quiet breath and quickly walked over.
Looking at Pycelle, he greeted him politely.
"Grand Maester, the weather in King's Landing is truly unbearable."
Pycelle nodded in agreement.
"Yes, but one eventually grows accustomed to it after staying here long enough."
He stepped aside, making way toward the entrance.
"Lord Hand, please come in."
Ned nodded and followed Pycelle into the tower.
The moment he entered, he immediately felt a noticeable drop in temperature.
Guided by Pycelle, Ned followed him upward toward a shaded observation platform on the second floor.
He quietly surveyed the platform.
Apart from a round table and several chairs placed beneath an open parasol, there were few decorations.
Standing there, Ned could even see the distant blue waters of Blackwater Bay toward the southeast.
A cool sea breeze drifted past, causing him to let out a comfortable sigh.
At that moment, a slender serving girl approached carrying two glasses of iced milk upon a wooden tray.
Pycelle glanced toward her and instructed gently,
"Good child, place them upon the table."
The serving girl obediently set down the drinks before quietly withdrawing.
"Lord Hand, please sit."
Ned did not stand on ceremony. He followed Pycelle beneath the parasol, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
He picked up the iced milk before him and took a small sip.
Instantly, an icy sweetness spread across his tongue.
Ned frowned slightly.
He did not particularly enjoy the taste.
Pycelle, however, appeared extremely fond of it. He likewise took a sip, his old eyes narrowing comfortably.
A moment later, the Grand Maester set down his cup and finally spoke directly.
"Lord Hand, I originally believed it would take several more days before you sought me out. Preparing for a tourney is no simple matter, after all."
Ned nodded deeply.
"Indeed. The King is far too willful."
Ever since the previous Small Council meeting, Ned had repeatedly attempted to persuade Robert to abandon the idea of holding a grand tourney.
But to his frustration, Robert had already publicly announced it.
From the Crownlands to Dorne and even the Riverlands, knights were continuously flooding into King's Landing.
During these past few days, Ned had nearly exhausted himself simply trying to arrange accommodations and maintain order among the troublesome arrivals.
Not to mention the issue of raising the enormous prize money for the tourney.
Fortunately, Petyr Baelish was clever enough to squeeze a considerable amount of gold dragons from the High Septon, barely allowing preparations to continue.
At the same time, due to the Crown's enormous financial deficit, Ned had no choice but to grit his teeth and follow Littlefinger's suggestion to once again borrow money from House Lannister.
The threat of the wildlings beyond the Wall remained urgent, and he needed to quickly gather supplies and reinforcements for Castle Black.
Originally, Ned believed Tywin Lannister would refuse outright.
Yet unexpectedly, Tywin replied and agreed to lend the Iron Throne more gold.
However, Lord Tywin attached a condition.
Robert Baratheon, as King, must pardon Ser Jaime and release him from the Kingsguard.
"A mere million gold dragons, and he expects the Kingslayer returned to House Lannister?"
"Where in the world is there such a bargain!"
After learning of Tywin's condition, Robert rejected it without hesitation.
Instead, he tossed the problem directly to Ned while privately telling him that unless Tywin forgave all debts owed by the Crown to House Lannister, Ser Jaime would never leave the Kingsguard.
Otherwise, there was not the slightest chance.
This outcome also suited Ned perfectly.
Ever since Catelyn informed him that Joffrey had likely been involved in Bran's attempted murder, Ned had already become convinced that Jaime and Cersei stood behind the entire conspiracy.
If Jaime left the Kingsguard, he would once again become heir to Casterly Rock.
To Ned Stark, that would be no different from releasing a tiger back into the mountains.
Pycelle naturally knew none of this.
But he had his own calculations.
He had served in King's Landing for decades, yet no one realized he had always quietly prioritized Tywin Lannister's interests above all else.
Thus, the old man looked toward Ned and carefully probed.
"Actually, allowing Ser Jaime to leave the Kingsguard may not necessarily be impossible."
"After all, the royal debts are already overwhelming."
"If Ser Jaime alone could reduce part of the Crown's burdens, it would certainly aid Lord Hand in governing the realm."
A faint glint flashed through Ned's eyes as he responded with equal subtlety.
"Grand Maester, did Lord Tywin perhaps write to you?"
"Asking you to persuade the King to permit Ser Jaime's return to House Lannister?"
Pycelle's heart skipped for a moment, but his aged face remained calm and composed.
"Heh heh, of course not."
"It is simply that rumors have recently spread through the city that Lord Hand intends to reorganize the City Watch, and such matters all require gold."
"That is why I mentioned it."
Ned sighed softly.
"King's Landing truly is a city without secrets."
"I have not even begun the reorganization, yet rumors are already everywhere."
Pycelle chuckled in agreement.
Seeing this, Ned no longer continued probing.
His purpose today was not to test Pycelle's loyalties.
Instead, he directly shifted the topic.
"Grand Maester, I wish to ask you something."
"What illness exactly killed Jon Arryn?"
Pycelle took another sip of milk before recalling carefully.
"It is strange, truly."
"One day he came to me asking for a particular book, and at the time his body seemed as strong as ever."
"But I could tell something deeply troubled him."
"Then, the very next day, he suddenly complained of pain throughout his body and could no longer rise from bed."
While carefully observing Ned's expression, Pycelle continued.
"Maester Colemon originally believed it to be no more than a stomach chill."
"However, his condition worsened steadily over the following days."
"So I personally attended Lord Arryn myself, though sadly, even the gods did not grant me the power to save him."
After speaking, Pycelle let out a heavy sigh.
Seeing that Pycelle's account matched what he had already learned, Ned continued asking.
"I heard that during that time you dismissed Maester Colemon?"
Pycelle nodded slowly and solemnly.
"Yes. I fear Lady Lysa will never forgive me for it."
"I respect Maester Colemon's abilities greatly, but he is still a young man and does not fully understand how fragile the bodies of old men like Jon Arryn and myself can become."
"He administered a purgative, intending for Lord Arryn to expel the poison through vomiting."
"Unfortunately, I fear his good intentions only worsened the situation."
Ned listened carefully but found nothing obviously suspicious within Pycelle's words.
He continued.
"Did Jon Arryn say anything unusual during his final illness?"
Pycelle frowned deeply while recalling the details.
"When his fever worsened, he repeatedly called out the name Robert."
"I do not know whether he meant his son or the King."
"The King also visited him after I administered milk of the poppy."
"At one point, Lord Arryn told His Grace, 'the seed is strong.'"
"Shortly afterward, he passed away."
Ned's brows knitted tightly together.
"The seed is strong?"
He looked toward Pycelle, hoping for an explanation.
But Pycelle merely shook his head, equally unable to understand the meaning behind Jon Arryn's final words.
Ned picked up the overly sweet milk once more and took another sip before asking his final question.
"I am curious about the book Jon Arryn borrowed from you before he fell ill."
"Would it be possible for me to borrow it for several days?"
Pycelle appeared unsurprised by the request, as though he had already anticipated it beforehand.
He instructed a servant to retrieve the book.
Soon afterward, Ned held in his hands the volume recording the lineages and genealogies of the great noble houses.
After receiving it, he bid farewell to Pycelle and departed.
Only after Ned had completely left did Pycelle slowly rise from his chair and gaze toward the distant sea beyond the city.
"The winds are beginning to rise once again…"