Varys linked his hands together. "The queen has always been capricious. If we add a brave lord to the mix, we can quietly enjoy a rare spectacle in King's Landing."
Petyr Baelish's gaze shifted. "Master of Whisperers, you seem concerned about something."
"If King Robert remains firmly on the Iron Throne, there will be no uncontrollable events. Therefore, I sleep soundly every night."
"Oh, your premise in words sends shivers down my spine. With only coins for company each day, I find myself increasingly worried about accidents. Tonight, I won't sleep well because of you."
Varys nodded apologetically. "I'm truly sorry, Lord Baelish. I was simply reflecting on the current state of King's Landing, I apologize for unexpectedly causing you distress. My tongue tends of spread unease these days."
Petyr Baelish instinctively sensed the danger emanating from Varys, a danger he hadn't paid special attention to before.
Petyr Baelish silently pondered the hidden purpose in Varys's words, but his face showed no sign. "Well, just a joke. Unfortunately, I'm not humorous enough. I still have to wait for Lord Arryn's audience. Good day."
Petyr Baelish's face displayed an elegant smile as he bid farewell to Varys.
The thoughts of this rootless man were the most unpredictable. Today's encounter was by no means a coincidence, and Petyr Baelish's inner self had already decided to increase his guard against Varys.
Varys watched silently as Petyr left, his smile gradually fading.
...
...
As the boat rocked gently, Gallen stood at the bow, gazing at the towering King's Landing and the majestic Red Keep, melodies from his past life echoing in his mind.
After three days and two nights of sailing, King's Landing was finally within sight.
Many in the party experienced seasickness, keeping the three physicians busy.
Transporting soldiers from Whispers to King's Landing via sea was the quickest and most efficient method. Traveling overland would require passing through too many territories, consuming time and energy.
It was common for soldiers on their first sea voyage to experience seasickness on a large scale. To avoid affecting their combat effectiveness in the future, they needed to undergo adaptation training in advance.
The eastern region of Crackclaw Point still needed time to consolidate. After that, Gallen's plan was to "move west" to establish control over the western region of Crackclaw Point, up to the influence of Rook's Rest. It would be best to operate under the identity of "Protector of Crackclaw Point," making Gallen's westward advance legitimate.
...
...
Gallen's merchant ship entered the Blackwater Rush from Blackwater Bay and docked at the bustling port of River Gate (affectionately known by locals as Mud Gate).
As the busy workers on the dock suddenly felt a tingling sensation on their skin, they involuntarily stopped their tasks.
This sensation was not unfamiliar—it was an aura forged from years of blood. They had encountered many similar individuals before, but this time, the feeling was deeper. Everyone's gaze shifted in the same direction.
They saw a group of heavily armored guards, tall and sturdy as iron towers, surrounding a young man.
The young man was tall and slender, dressed in a blue robe embroidered with a Marsh Marigold on the left chest, white trousers, and deer leather boots.
His appearance was outstanding, with a delicate yet unyielding demeanor that belied his age.
The group of workers, who had long honed their keen eyes while working at King's Landing's docks, made way for him, creating a large space.
Surlana's eldest son, Layton, finally met Gallen's party. "Good day, my lord."
Enduring the various odors of the dock, Gallen frowned slightly. "Is the lodging in King's Landing ready?"
"It's ready. I just finished dealing with the estate and received a raven from Hershel. My lord, it was arranged yesterday. It's all set, and the house is located near Fishmonger's Square. I'll lead the way for you."
Gallen mounted the horse provided by Mordin, and his warriors followed suit, surrounding Gallen.
...
...
King's Landing, Fishmonger's Square, the temporary residence rented by Gallen.
After soaking in a hot bath, Gallen felt much better.
Surlana took Gallen's towel. "Are you only leaving twenty guards?"
"We're not here for battle." Gallen sighed as he sat down on a bench. "I noticed many eyes on us along the way, so this should suffice. Entrust the guard duty to Mordin and Ford. You lead the rest of the men to settle in the estate outside the city."
Surlana folded the towel neatly. "I would suggest leaving behind two handmaidens and one physician just in case. We must be prepared for any unforeseen circumstances."
Gallen nodded. "Alright, you're always attentive, Surlana."
"The letter to Her Grace has been sent by Layton, along with the address here. You can rest and recover from the journey while waiting."
"I'll leave Layton here to manage this house; he's capable and I can rest assured."
...
Evening, Fishmonger's Square, Knight's Inn.
Gallen sat alone at a table, having dinner, while Mordin and the others sat nearby, enjoying their meal. After a long day of rest, their appetites, affected by days of sailing, had finally improved significantly.
The tavern door opened once again, and a short figure walked in.
Gallen's position afforded him a clear view of the door, and Tyrion Lannister's distinctive features were unmistakable. Gallen glanced at him and recognized him immediately.
Gallen didn't show any surprise and continued dining. The roast beef at this inn was really good.
Tyrion Lannister pulled the tavern doorbell.
Ding-ling!
The sound of the bell drew everyone's attention, and Gallen followed suit, shifting his gaze to Tyrion Lannister.
Tyrion Lannister exclaimed, "Ladies and gentlemen, I must remind you that today is your lucky day. Tonight, all your food and drinks are on me!"