Chapter 12

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***

Jon Arryn was tired. Tired of reading endless reports every day from different people in the realm - whether they were lords, or petty letters from his spies.

The Guardian of the East had a noble reputation. Everyone thought him a man of honesty, kindness and wisdom. They were right - partly right of course, but right. Jon was a wise and noble man, but even he had to use dirty methods.

There was no room for nobility in the Game of Thrones, and Jon Arryn considered himself one of the players in that game. More and more often, the Lord of the Eagle's Nest wondered what honour was.

Sitting on the Iron Throne overlooking the royal hall, he watched everyone bow before the throne, whether commoner, rich merchant, or powerful lord. They all asked for something - favour, patronage, or justice.

'Putting Robert on the throne was a huge mistake,' the Hand thought regretfully. - 'All day long he drinks like a bottomless cask and fucks a dozen whores every day. Is that what I taught you, Robert?'

Arryn had long since given up trying to change his mind or convince him of anything. He is tired, and if Baratheon wants to end up like Aegon the Unworthy, that is his right.

Jon now rules the Seven Kingdoms, but it's an illusion that everything is under his control. Not at all, lately influence and power has begun to slip through his fingers like sand.

Lannister influence is beginning to grow exponentially. The Old Lion has suddenly stepped up, using his relatives as a tool to increase his influence. It's very useful to have his daughter as queen.

Arryn has recently learnt from his spies that a whole village of miners has been burnt down near Casterly Rock. He was unable to find out more - his network of spies was discovered, and the Lord of Casterly Cliff immediately cut off all of Arren's communications in the West.

The High Lord of the Vale had a feeling that the Old Lion was losing his grip on his lands, as whole villages were being slaughtered. Well, a Lannister wouldn't slaughter his own subjects, would he?

By weakening the influence of the Baratheons, he made a big mistake, because the lions now have a huge influence in the royal court.

'He should have put Stannis at Storm's End and tamed the lions. Renly's not much of a man, he's only interested in colourful feasts and feasts like Robert.'

A couple of meaningless words, innuendos, and Robert, in a supposed grudge, puts Stannis instead of Renly on the lordship of Dragonstone. And Jon, already using his power, persuades him to put the king's brother as Master of the Ships.

Stannis doesn't know that it was Arryn who caused his humiliation, but he's been told who persuaded Robert to put him on the Small OWLs. And now the average Baratheon considers him an ally.

The thought of the Small Council made Jon Arryn wince. A tangle of snakes. Almost every member pursuing his own interests. Only the Master of the Whisperers remained a mystery to Arryn-he couldn't even guess what the bald eunuch was thinking.

How Varys could persuade him to let him live, Arryn still does not understand. But he has proven his usefulness.

Recently, the lion house wanted to increase its influence by putting its obvious protégé, Tywin's younger brother, Kivan, in charge. But the Guardian of the East hustled in time and now the post of Master over Coin is held by Petyr Baelish, formerly chief of customs in the Gull City. His man he has a certain amount of dirt on and if anything, Baelish will quickly feel the lash around his neck.

The fact that he was stealing a little from the treasury didn't bother Jon, he wasn't the only one doing it.

Taking a book from Pycelle on the genealogies of the noble houses of Westeros, Arryn returned to his private chambers in the Tower of the Hand and began to read. He was beginning to wonder about one, very interesting thing about the royal children.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''"'

A boiling, vibrant life was simmering in the expanse of the Roina River. One of the largest rivers in Essos, it was quite wide - four galleys could safely pass in an even row down the river without colliding with each other.

The constant pirate wars that took place on the river kept the riverside lands of the Roina at peace - and there was always a particular Free City behind a pirate gang that wanted to weaken its enemy's influence in the region.

John Connington has been living near the Roina River for several years now. During his time in exile he had begun to shave his beard and dye his hair blue. Everyone called him by the name 'Griff.' Few knew his real name.

He smiled at a similarly blue-haired boy who was currently learning to write and read under the supervision of Heldon Halfmaster. He looked so much like his father, especially if he took the dye off his hair....

Early in his exile from Westeros by King Aerys, Grif joined the Golden Sword mercenary unit and within a few years managed to become the right-hand man of Miles Toyne, the captain of the unit. He developed quite a friendly relationship with him. And sometimes more than friendly.

But soon he received one very interesting letter from the master of whisperers, the eunuch Varis. He didn't believe at first that Rhaegar's son was alive, but once he took one look at the little boy, Jon disappeared into bottomless violet eyes. So much like his prince....

He talked his friend Miles into a gamble that could get their house back. Using a fake reason, he was banished from the squad and the former Lord of Gryphon Nasest faked his death.

He still blames himself for not being able to win the Battle of the Bells. If the villagers hadn't started hiding Robert. If Stark hadn't stepped up in time to help his friend. There are too many ifs.

But Robert doesn't last forever. In time, he will die. The lords will squabble among themselves, Varys assured him, and then Aegon will be able to ascend the throne with the support of the Golden Swords and some of the houses that hold grudges against the Baratheons and Lannisters.

And when the Iron Throne is once again in the hands of its rightful owners, be they stag or lion and wolf, they will all be sorry they dared to rebel against its prince.

The true king awaits his time.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''"'

-Come on John, catch up! - shouted a tall, red-haired boy of 14. -Or else you'll have to swallow other people's dust! - Robb pulled on the reins, steered, turned his horse forward, and galloped away.

There were a dozen House Stark guards beside him, saddled on their horses as well. Theon was among them, carrying his new charwood bow. They all followed the heir to Winterfell.

Jon Snow rode behind them, catching up quickly with the main group.

Ten minutes later they entered a dense forest called Wolfwood by the Northerners. Snow quickly caught up with them and rode up to Robb. He didn't say anything - just frowned a little at Robb and looked round.

Theon pulled his bow from behind his back and pulled an arrow from the quiver hanging on his back just in case. He had a bad feeling about this.

It had been quite a few years since Greyjoy had been brought to Winterfell by Lord Stark. Theon had had time to strengthen his body and grow in stature. He was already nineteen years old.

He had learnt the North and its people well from the inside. He had travelled to many places, often accompanying Lord Stark or walking near Winterfell. Stark trusted him, and Theon took advantage of it.

But the Greyjoy's thoughts were weighing on him... his father was clearly not going to die anytime soon, and Theon had no desire to spend half his life as a hostage at Winterfell. He wanted freedom, and now he had much to gain and money to support himself.

He had a plan, but he needed to prepare some details and wait for the right moment to escape.

They entered deep enough into the forest that they had to dismount and tie up their horses. Leaving a couple of guards around the horses, Robb took his spear and went hunting. Jon and Theon walked beside him.

Greyjoy noticed a multicoloured mare in the distance, lost in the dense tree crowns. The parrot stood out strongly in the North with its colouring and was easy to identify. The parrot followed Greyjoy relentlessly, always flying close to him... and the son of Baelon wondered more and more what name to give the feathery impertinence.

-I see the trail, my lord. There's a wounded stag running round here somewhere. - one of the guardsmen told Robb.

-"Wounded? - He asked the obvious question.

- Maybe wolves got it and drove it off. Maybe one of the commoners was messing around. - The Guardsman voiced his opinion and fell silent. Robb thought about it.

He no longer resembled the seven-year-old boy Theon had seen him as in his first days in the North. He was taller now, broader in the shoulders. His short red hair had grown thick, and his face had already lost its childish swelling, gaining sharp features.

The animosity and aloofness had been replaced by a kind of excitement and competitive spirit. Young Stark was always trying to outdo Lord Stark's ward, whether in swordsmanship or in Maester's lessons, when Greyjoy himself was present.

And naturally the teenager lost to the more experienced Theon, being older spiritually than he should be. But sometimes the latter lost deliberately, keeping the heir to the North from slipping into despondency.

They followed the bloody trail. Theon had already prepared his bow, guessing where their path would lead them. And his hunch was right.

A pack of wolves was crouched over the dead body of a deer, eating their prey. But they noticed the uninvited guests, and the bloody faces of the wolves turned in their direction. Multiple angry growls were heard. But still the cunning creatures did not seek to attack the troop.

Everyone immediately sheathed their swords, Robb readied his hunting spear, and Theon placed an arrow on his bow.

It is not known why the wolves attacked - maybe they thought they were competitors, or maybe they didn't think they were dangerous, which is unlikely, for these predators have always been renowned for their caution.

Theon's arrows managed to kill three wolves, each with only one arrow. Robb nailed one wolf with his spear, and Jon pierced the wolf that had jumped on him with his sword.

In a minute the whole pack was finished. The wolves' corpses were lying all over the small clearing, and the troop hadn't received a scratch.

-They got off easy,' one of the Guardsmen muttered, and Theon agreed. If the wolves had ambushed us, for instance...

Robb stared at the resulting carnage, and not without reason, for it was practically his first combat experience. He stood a little away from the squad and did not notice that one of the wolves was not completely killed....

The wolf's maw opened, ready to claw the heir to Winterfell's leg. Robb saw it, but had no time to react...

An arrow whistled, and a black-tipped arrow sank into the eye of the wolf, who stood up sharply. It gave a death growl and fell to the ground sideways. Stark reflexively looked back and saw Greyjoy lowering his bow.

He exhaled sharply and said hoarsely:

- I owe you a bottle of Arborian, Greyjoy!

-All right. - Theon smiled and added: - 'But first, let's deal with the wolves. Maybe we could skin them as a trophy of war. There's enough for every guard! - He looked round and finished, raising his voice.

The Guardsmen who heard him around him murmured approvingly. Robb, already completely calm, shouted after Greyjoy.

- A pelt each! We didn't catch any edible game today, so at least we'll get wolf pelts!