Chapter 155: The Grand Maester's Legacy
"Did you hear? They say Grand Maester Pycelle's head was completely severed. What a gruesome end," Varys murmured, gesturing toward the blood-stained bed, his tone hinting at a touch of sympathy.
Samwell shrugged, unfazed. "When you release a viper, you should expect it to bite. At least he only killed one person."
At this, Varys flared up. "Lord Caesar! Do you even realize that if I hadn't risked my own life to stop him last night, that 'Red Viper' would've broken into Maegor's Holdfast itself!"
Samwell burst into laughter, clapping the Spider's ample shoulder. "Well, I'd never have guessed you were the self-sacrificing sort, Lord Varys. How gallant!"
Varys merely rolled his eyes, ignoring the taunt.
"So, I heard today's Small Council meeting was quite a spectacle," Samwell remarked, moving out of the bedroom and into the grand maester's study.
"It went much as expected," Varys replied, following him. "With the queen controlling most of the Keep's forces, Renly knew better than to defy her directly. His decision to step down as Regent was wise. But Lord Eddard…" Varys looked thoughtful. "He surprised me. I'd never have thought he'd concede the Regency to the queen so easily."
"Perhaps even wolves from the North know when to be pragmatic," Samwell said, scanning the shelves until he found a particularly hefty tome he'd been seeking. He left it in place for now, and moved to the nearby shelves.
The shelves were neatly filled with vials and jars, each labeled in Pycelle's precise handwriting.
"Perhaps," Varys said. "But either way, this might restore some stability to King's Landing." Noticing Samwell pocketing a small vial, he added, "Be careful with that, Lord Caesar. That's 'The Tears of Lys,' quite deadly."
Samwell smirked, rolling the vial between his fingers. "Colorless, tasteless, faintly sweet. Deadly."
"And extremely costly," Varys nodded, "which is precisely why you should leave it where it is."
Samwell ignored him, stashing the vial in his pocket. "When's the coronation for Prince Joffrey?"
"Three days from now."
"Rather quick, isn't it?"
"The realm cannot be left without a king." Varys watched as Samwell pocketed other vials, one after another. Greycap powder, widow's blood, stone-lizard venom...
"Lord Caesar," Varys sighed, exasperated, "you really are here to clean out Pycelle's entire collection, aren't you?"
"Waste not, want not," Samwell said nonchalantly.
"And do you know how to use any of these?"
Samwell raised a brow. "Do you see any silver chains around my neck?"
Varys gave him a reproachful look. "Then why take so many?"
"Relax. I may not be a maester, but I have a well-learned one back in my lands."
"Qyburn was expelled from the Citadel."
Samwell raised a brow at him. "I'm impressed, Varys. How many of your little birds are nesting in my lands?"
Varys chuckled, deflecting the question. "Speaking of your lands, I hear that wildling, Chiman, has made quite the name for himself in the Red Mountains."
"Oh?"
"Oh yes," Varys continued. "He's conquered forty-seven tribes in the western Red Mountains, and he's known for his ruthlessness. He now goes by the title 'The Bringer of Terror.' As his liege lord, Lord Caesar, you're earning a nickname too — 'The Lord of Terror.'"
Samwell's brow twitched. "Lord of Terror?" he muttered, mentally cursing Chiman. He'd instructed the man to show restraint.
Maybe he should send a letter back, telling Chiman to hold off on his bloody conquest for now. The way things were going, the Iron Throne was bound to go to war with Dorne soon, and he'd need to prepare his forces to claim a slice of land for himself in the south.
"Lord Caesar," Varys interjected, watching Samwell's sweeping of the shelves, "you might want to leave some for the next Grand Maester. Otherwise, he may find an empty study and nothing but tears."
"Fine, fine," Samwell relented, his search almost done.
With a sigh, Varys remarked, "There's something I've been meaning to ask, Lord Caesar."
"Go on."
"How did you discover that it was Petyr Baelish who had Jon Arryn murdered?"
"Wasn't the culprit the 'Red Viper'?" Samwell replied, feigning ignorance.
Varys sighed, dissatisfied with the evasion. "Come now, Lord Caesar. I've put my faith in you as an ally. Surely I deserve a bit of trust in return?"
Samwell gave him an amused look and retrieved a vial labeled "sweet sleep." "Tell me, Varys, how much do you know about this?"
"It calms the nerves, slows the heart rate…though in excessive amounts, it's lethal," Varys replied.
"You really do know your poisons!" Samwell laughed, then added, "I've heard it can also be used to treat epilepsy, correct?"
Varys's gaze flickered, as though understanding something. "It can suppress fits, yes."
Samwell toyed with the vial, his voice casual. "And do you know anyone in King's Landing who keeps a regular supply of it?"
"Several."
"How about Lord Baelish?"
Varys, seeing where this was going, gave him a wry smile. "So, that's what tipped you off! Quite the deduction, Lord Caesar. Yes, Petyr did have a regular supply, though it wasn't for him — it was for Lady Lysa's young son, who suffers from seizures."
Samwell simply smiled knowingly, pocketing the vial and moving on to the bookshelf. After rifling through several volumes, he finally pulled out his true target: The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms.
In the original storyline, Jon Arryn had used this very book to discover the truth about Cersei's three children and their lack of Baratheon blood, and had been murdered as a result.
"Strong seed," he'd allegedly murmured on his deathbed — a hint about the Baratheon family's genetic trait of black hair.
Every child Cersei bore had golden hair, a telltale Lannister trait. Given the infamy of the Lannister golden locks and the ancient pedigree of House Lannister, few questioned that their gold might overpower Baratheon black.
Yet this book chronicled several historical Baratheon-Lannister unions, each resulting in black-haired offspring.
Every one.
If true, this proved that Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen had no Baratheon blood whatsoever.
"Lord Caesar," Varys watched him handle the tome with curiosity. "Whatever do you want with that book? It could put anyone to sleep."
Samwell studied Varys, surprised. Didn't the Spider know about the book's secrets?
He merely shrugged, holding the book close. "That's perfect, I've been having trouble sleeping recently."
Varys pointed to a vial. "Then I'd suggest the poppy milk. Far more effective than that dusty thing."
Samwell chuckled, grabbing the vial as well. He wasn't about to leave without the book, though.
"Lord varys," Samwell finally asked, "Petyr had a number of brothels in King's Landing, did he not?"
Varys laughed. "Almost half of the city's brothels were his."
"I'd like to buy them. Could you help arrange a meeting with his heir?"
Varys raised an eyebrow, curious. "And why the sudden interest in brothels?"
"Investments," Samwell said, maintaining a poker face. "The purse I received for winning the tourney was rather large, and I'm looking to put it to good use."
Varys chuckled knowingly. "Lord Caesar, if it's an investment you're after, I might suggest the trade ships that voyage across the Narrow Sea. They yield far greater returns than a few brothels."
"But brothels are safer," Samwell replied without hesitation. "They don't sink, nor do they risk pirate attacks. And even if a pirate did show up, he'd still have to pay if he wanted any fun. Can you see? No business is as safe as that."
The truth was, Samwell was after the network of informants Petyr had built through his brothels. With war on the horizon, he knew he'd need eyes and ears in the capital, especially as he'd soon be leaving for his own lands. Having allies like Varys was one thing, but relying solely on him would be reckless.
Varys seemed to grasp his intentions, though he wasn't thrilled. Nonetheless, he could hardly refuse. He simply shrugged. "Very well, if you insist. I'll see what I can arrange."
"Thank you, lord Varys," Samwell replied with a smile.
(End of Chapter)