RM: Chapter 113

As it turned out, the Messenger was a teenager, perhaps four or so years younger than I was, with dirty brown hair and a forgettable face. He wore a leather jerkin and brown breeches and carried a leather satchel. In short, if not for the lack of tongue and chalk slate hung about his neck with a piece of cord, you might have thought he was any courier being used by the various armies fighting over the Iron Throne. That was likely intentional on Varys' part. The Spider did so love to obfuscate things even when said obfuscation wasn't necessary. The Eunuch had a crippling addiction to scheming, after all. It would have been a good trait in a Spymaster if only he hadn't had a plot to put a Blackfyre on the Throne in Aegon. Regardless, Varys' Messenger was ushered into my command tent to deliver his message.

I was in full armor, waiting for him, as were Ser Andar Royce, Ser Raymun Darry, Ser Denys Irons, and Lord Mors Marshberry. After all, I didn't dare take the chance that this was some sort of ploy for Varys to sneak a Sorrowful Man into my tent. Thankfully, it seemed that wasn't to be the case, as the Messenger bowed to us and began writing on his slate with a nub of chalk as quickly as he was given leave to do so. The words were not the famed apology of the Sorrowful Men, which always preceded an attack, but a preamble to the main thrust of Varys' reason for sending him to talk with me. I frowned as I read what was on the slate, wondering what exactly was going through Varys' head here.

'My Lord wishes to open a dialogue. He wishes there to be no more conflict between you and him.' Read the Slate.

"And your Lord is Varys?" I questioned.

'He is.' Wrote the Messenger.

"And just why would the Spider wish to make peace now?" Queried Ser Raymun Darry.

'Because he understands that you are winning this war despite his best efforts. He wishes to avoid being ruined when King Stannis inevitably puts paid to the Old Lion.' Jotted down the Messenger.

"He wants to turn his cloak?" Asked Lord Mors Marshberry.

"I don't trust it, My Lord." Frowned Ser Andar Royce.

"Yes, it seems too good to be true." Agreed Ser Denys Irons.

"Indeed. Tell me, why should I trust a word out of Varys' mouth?" I questioned.

'My Lord offers a gift of information. Littlefinger will be sailing across the Narrow Sea to speak with the Archon of Tyrosh in one month. If your fleet can catch him at sea, that will go a long way toward ending the war.' Scribed the Messenger.

"And just what am I to do in exchange for this war-winning information?" I queried.

'My wishes to meet face to face and ask for your patronage. He knows that King Stannis is like to remove him as Master of Whispers on victory and knows that without noble patronage, all of his hard-won victories will be ephemeral as smoke in the wind.' Scrawled out the Messenger.

"The information of a sea journey alone is hardly worth that. Not when we know nothing else about it." Pointed out Ser Denys Irons.

"Aye, and he wants to meet face to face? How is that not a trap?" Scowled Lord Mors Marshberry.

"It would be wise not to put full trust in the Spider's information. My Lord Father has oft said such poisoned words always extract their price." Intoned Ser Andar Royce.

"Aye, Ser Spruce's father has the right of it. Bronze Yohn is no man's fool after all." Affirmed Ser Raymun Darry.

'My Lord thought there would be doubts, so he prepared a summary of what information he knows of Littlefinger's upcoming journey.' Recorded the Messenger.

As he finished writing, the Messenger reached into his satchel and pulled out a letter sealed with dark blue wax stamped with the image of a spider. I gestured to one of the guards to take the parchment from the messenger and open it. He did so with a dagger, cutting the wax off the parchment with the edge of the blade and unfolding the letter. When no dust, spores, or other inhalant proceeded to issue forth to poison the guard, I had him hand the letter to me. Reading it, I frowned as I saw exactly what the Spider knew about Littlefinger's upcoming Journey to Tyrosh. It was not exactly news that I wanted to hear, although it was news that was baffling to me that Varys would give up, given how it implicated minions of his partner, Illyrio Mopatis, in Pentos.

Apparently, Littlefinger had some sort of hidden dockyard in the Fingers somewhere that was producing those Pseudo-Carracks with aid from the Pentoshi. He had six more being built this month, and by the time he set sail halfway through next month, he would have another three. They were to meet up with the remnants of the fleet that fled from the Battle off Runestone at some godforsaken rocks in the middle of the Shivering Sea before making their way down to Tyrosh, where they hoped to convince the Archon to attack the Stepstones in order to open up another front, one which could threaten my Capital at Bloodstone. Unfortunately, Varys didn't know where this hidden dockyard in the Fingers was, and only knew the name of the collection of rocks in the Shivering Sea, the Salvation Islets, not the location.

I frowned at that. Would Tyrosh be willing to attack? Somehow, I doubted it. Not after the Daughter's War. They didn't have the manpower. That didn't mean this was a bad move by Littlefinger, though. Tyrosh had Sellswords and Sellsails that Littlefinger could hire, banks that could give out loans, and connections to other Free Cities that might be willing to go all in on an attack. Lorath, for instance, which was a perennial commercial rival with my allies in Braavos for control over the Northern Trade Routes to Saath, Omber, and Ibben, and who might be interested in attacking a Braavosi Ally in order to knock their rivals down a peg. The issue wasn't whether or not the plan was solid. It was whether or not I could trust the information at all.

After all, Varys still presumably wanted to put Aegon on the Iron Throne. How could I trust the sincerity of his desire to make peace and turn his cloak? Everything he said was suspect here, though it was interesting that he mentioned the Pentoshi working with Littlefinger. It indicated a potential falling out with Illyrio Mopatis, though I could scarcely imagine what could have caused such a thing. Their partnership honestly was the longest-standing one in Westeros or Essos, after all. It had also brought them both great successes. Of course, I knew all that because of Metaknowledge, but that wasn't something that Varys could or should think of when concocting whatever scheme he had up his voluminous sleeve. Perhaps he simply thought that my information-gathering abilities were that good? Vizimir was damn good at his job, after all.

No, Occam's Razor dictates that the simplest solution was often enough the right one. Varys may just be doing this because he understands that Aegon will lose if he tries anything at this juncture and that he's hoping to play for time to have Aegon invade at some point down the road. In that case, a face-to-face meeting would allow me to ambush the Spider and end his threat once and for all. It was a gamble, but if this was genuine, this course of action would let me deal with Varys and Littlefinger all in one go. With that in mind, there really was no other alternative but to agree. The potential rewards were just too good, even if the risk was commensurately high. I nodded at the Messenger, handing the parchment off to Ser Denys Irons as I did so.

"Very well. Tell the Spider I will meet with him." I agreed.

"You will?" Questioned Ser Andar Royce.

"I will." I confirmed.

"I'm with Ser Spruce here. It seems folly." Scoffed Ser Raymun Darry.

"Aye, at least wait until we've dealt with Maidenpool." Huffed Lord Mors Marshberry.

"Though I have heard of the Salvation Islets. They are a real place." Mused Ser Denys Irons.

"Oh? Where?" I queried.

"Due East from Old Anchor in the Vale and then southeast when you're halfway to Braavos. They're a notorious Smuggler's Haven shrouded in mist most of the time due to some quirk of the currents and weather. They're small, a collection of Islets and small islands, the largest is no bigger than fifty square miles, and the smallest is little more than a spit of rock jutting up from the sea." Informed Ser Denys Irons.

"Why do they call them the Salvation Islets?" Asked Ser Andar Royce.

"Like as not because they're not on any map I've ever seen." Growled Lord Mors Marshberry.

"Yes, I'd imagine that plays into it. If you're a smuggler and have a patrol after you, uncharted islands could be your salvation, right enough." Nodded Ser Raymun Darry.

"Right. We can grill Salhador Saan about them later. For now, tell your Lord I will meet with him when we have verified his information." I intoned, turning back to the Messenger.

'I will do so. I doubt My Lord will begrudge you such things.' Wrote down the Messenger.

"Good. Ser Andar, escort the Spider's Messenger out. Make sure he leaves camp. I'm extending trust only so far, after all." I commanded.

"Aye. I'll do that." Agreed Ser Andar Royce.

As Varys' Messenger left with Ser Andar, and Ser Raymun, Ser Denys, and Lord Mors exited my command tent, Ser Roger Groves entered. He wore a faint grin on his face as he did so, nodding to me as he entered and poured himself a goblet of Madeira-style Wine from the Vinyards back in the Stepstones, taking a drink as he did so. He drained his goblet before setting it down with a satisfied grin and nodded at me. The behavior was somewhat unlike him, and for a moment, I frowned, thinking that this wasn't Ser Roger and that Varys had sprung for a Faceless Man instead of a Sorrowful Man. I immediately banished that thought, however. The Faceless Men would not be this unprofessional, to give the game away with such theatrics, nor would the Sealord or Iron Bank allow them to take a contract on me without trying to talk them out of it or give me a warning.

"Ser Roger. You look pleased with yourself." I spoke up.

"Because I am, My Lord. The Tattered Prince has agreed to our terms. He will be abandoning the defenders just as soon as he receives the remainder of the contract money." Beamed Ser Roger Groves.

"That is good news. What sort of caveats did he demand?" I questioned.

"How did you know there were caveats?" Queried Ser Roger Groves.

"There always are, Ser Roger. You were a Sellsword once, you know that." I scoffed.

"He is demanding an increase in the payment to match the increased size of the Windblown. As I said earlier, he has absorbed the shattered remnants of the other Sellsword Companies." Answered Ser Roger Groves.

"That is reasonable, I suppose. How much does he want?" I asked.

"An additional twelve-thousand-five-hundred Gold Dragons. Five for every man in the Windblown at present." Informed Ser Roger Groves.

"We can finance that easily. He may have them with my compliments. Have Ser Harry send a requisition back to the treasury in Bloodstone with Salhador Saan's fastest ship. I want this resolved as quickly as we can to begin work on the next phase of the Siege." I insisted.

"Of course. How did the meeting go with Littlefinger's Messenger, My Lord?" Questioned Ser Roger Groves.

"About as well as could be expected. Better even." I acknowledged.

"Oh? Did we finally manage to pin down a location for the Spider's lair?" Queried Ser Roger Groves.

"No, but that won't matter if we can verify the truth of his information." I responded.

"What information, My Lord?" Asked Ser Roger Groves.

"See for yourself." I smirked, handing the letter off to Ser Roger, who scanned it with a critical eye.

"I will speak to Salhador Saan. He may know something about these Salvation Islets that might corroborate the Spider's story." Opined Ser Roger Groves.

"I'd already planned to do so. Varys also wants to meet face-to-face once we verify his information. It seems he realizes King Stannis won't have him on the Small Council once he finishes off the Old Lion and wants to beg for my patronage." I grinned.

"Risky. It could well be an ambush." Warned Ser Roger Groves.

"Not if we ambush him first, Ser Roger." I chuckled.

"I see. Well, it seems things are proceeding apace on all fronts, then." Nodded Ser Roger Groves.

"Indeed, they are." I affirmed.

In fact, with any luck, we should have this Civil War finished by the end of next month. We should be done with Maidenpool soon, and with Littlefinger in Custody, the Vale ought to capitulate. King Stannis should have finished off Tywin Lannister by then, which just leaves the Ironborn as a loose end to tie up, though from what I had heard, the Reader has the Traditionalists well in hand already. With that, only the Wall and the Others would remain to be a problem, and with a stronger Night's Watch and a United Westeros to hold the Wall, the Others would have a much more difficult time of things than they would have had the first time around. Yes, everything was coming together. We were nearing the Endgame.

And I was determined to see it through with my allies and I on the top of the heap. . .

XXXX

AN: All right, so here's the next chapter. It turns out that, between all the successes that Ricasso and Stannis have been having, Varys wants to make peace as a way to bide his time until the next opportunity for Aegon comes along, possibly even getting Dany and her Dragons in on the action. Of course, Ricasso has no intention of letting Varys live to gain that opportunity. He plans to ambush the Spider at their meeting. Meanwhile, Littlefinger is apparently taking a trip to Essos to find allies, and the Tattered Prince has agreed to abandon the defense of Maidenpool. Everything is coming together nicely.

At any rate, the next chapter will be the last phase of the Battle of the Wall, then we'll head back to the Crag to check in on Stannis is Tywin before returning to the Iron Isles for the Battle of Hammerhorn, before finally returning to Ricasso's POV for the next part of the Battle of Maidenpool

Stay tuned. . .