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Chapter 172: Jon Arryn’s Probe
🕑 Added 2025-02-25 12:19:10 +0000 UTCIn the days that followed, Lynd personally transferred 6,000 golden dragons from his chambers in King's Landing to Tobho Mott and arranged for his men to escort the smith to repay his debts one by one. The remaining shortfall was temporarily covered by Lynd’s funds and would be settled once the smithy was sold.
Tobho Mott’s smithy was in a prime location on the Street of Steel, the largest of its kind in the city, and had already built a strong reputation in King’s Landing. The Chamber of Commerce estimated that it could be sold at a high price without much difficulty.
Perhaps because he was now free of debt, Tobho Mott’s forging skills seemed to have improved even further. When Lynd commissioned him to craft a necklace with Frozen Dragon Runes, the success rate was remarkably high. In less than five days, with only eleven failures, all twenty-six dragon rune pendants were completed.
Lynd embedded the dragon rune pendants into twenty-six pre-made bronze plates, threading them together with a sturdy rope to form necklaces fit for the Stone Giants.
To test their effectiveness, he had Mag, the leader of the Stone Giants, try one. While the runes did not generate as intense a cold as when Lynd personally invoked the Frozen Dragon Rune, they still produced a steady, chilling aura that the Stone Giants could feel surrounding them.
For ordinary people, however, the cold radiating from the necklaces was deadly. To confirm this, Lynd conducted an experiment, fastening one of the necklaces around a rabbit. Within moments, the creature froze solid, its body turning to ice, much like the servant of Varys.
This demonstrated that the Stone Giants possessed some degree of resistance to the magic of the Frozen Dragon Rune, allowing them to withstand the cold that would otherwise be lethal to humans.
With the matter of the Stone Giants resolved, Lynd began preparing to leave King’s Landing. Though he had spent his recent days accompanying King Robert on hunts and attending various banquets, enjoying a seemingly leisurely time, the monotony of it all had begun to bore him. He found himself longing for Summerhall.
Even though Summerhall Castle was still only a foundation, the prospect of sitting at the foot of the mountain peak, watching its gradual construction from the Town Hall of Redemptions, felt far more meaningful to him than enduring another round of endless feasts.
One morning, he found an excuse and requested leave from King Robert, planning to depart the next day.
Although Robert did not want Lynd to leave, he could see that the revelries that kept him entertained—the banquets, the hunts—held no real appeal for Lynd. Understanding this, he did not press the matter further and simply told Lynd to visit King’s Landing whenever he had the time.
Just as Lynd was about to leave the Red Keep, a servant approached him. “My lord, the Hand of the King wishes to see you.”
Lynd was momentarily stunned, confused as to why Jon Arryn would summon him, but he did not hesitate. Without a word, he followed the servant to the study in the Tower of the Hand.
Jon Arryn had just finished reviewing a document when Lynd entered. Without looking up, he signed his name at the bottom and handed it to a courtier waiting nearby.
“This document is to be delivered immediately to Ser Pesson. He is to follow the instructions in it without fail,” Jon Arryn instructed.
“Yes, my lord,” the courtier replied, taking the document. Upon noticing Lynd, he immediately bowed before hurrying out of the room. The gesture, however, was not a standard form of courtesy but rather a reverent salute—one given by a devout follower of the Seven.
“Lord Rubey is a devout believer in the Seven,” Jon Arryn remarked casually. “To him, you, as the Chosen of the Seven, hold nearly the same status as the High Septon.”
He gestured toward the chair across from him. “Please, sit. Lord Lynd, in your position, you should not be standing while speaking to me.”
Lynd did not hesitate and took the offered seat without ceremony.
Jon Arryn’s expression grew serious as he explained, “An order was issued from the Hand’s residence to the garrison, instructing them to interfere with your Master Artisan. However, that order was forged—one of my attendants was responsible. He harbored a personal grudge against your Master Artisan and, upon learning that the man would be relocating to your territory, feared he would never have the chance for revenge. So he used my name to have the garrison make things difficult for him. I had no knowledge of this.”
Lynd froze for a moment, studying Jon Arryn with slight confusion. He was uncertain whether this explanation was a fabricated excuse to conceal Lysa Tully’s involvement or if Jon Arryn truly was unaware that the matter was actually connected to Littlefinger.
Despite his suspicions, he chose to go along with the explanation, replying, “This was merely a dispute between subordinates, and it has already been resolved.”
Jon Arryn nodded, then gave Lynd a contemplative look before stating, “I know you are connected to Varys—and have been for quite some time.”
Yet in the eyes of the Hand of the King, Lynd did not flinch, nor did he display any sign of surprise or guilt. He remained as calm as ever.
“I know,” Lynd said calmly, meeting the gaze of the old Hand of the King. “I knew long ago that you, Lord Hand, were aware of my connection with Varys. However, my cooperation with him is entirely above board. There is nothing to hide, so there is no need to conceal it.”
Lynd’s frank admission caught Jon Arryn off guard. The Hand of the King was momentarily stunned, his surprise lingering before he regained his composure. Suppressing his initial reaction, he asked, “Can you tell me what kind of cooperation you have?”
Lynd did not answer directly but instead pointed to the armor he was wearing.
“So he was the one who introduced Tobho Mott to you,” Jon Arryn deduced, nodding slightly. Then, after a brief pause, he added, “Although there is nothing inherently wrong with your cooperation, I still believe that someone like you should not be too closely associated with someone like Varys…”
“I understand what you mean, Hand of the King,” Lynd interrupted, his voice steady. “But I must ask for your forgiveness, as I cannot follow your advice. I see no issue with having dealings with Lord Varys.”
Jon Arryn frowned. “Is that what you truly believe?”
“Yes, my lord,” Lynd affirmed, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t think you’ve ever truly taken the time to understand Lord Varys, have you? In your eyes, and in the eyes of most nobles, Lord Varys is nothing more than a eunuch, an outcast, or even a freak. Many among the highborn won’t even allow themselves to speak to him for more than a moment, as if his very presence sullies their spirit. Am I wrong, Hand of the King?”
Jon Arryn did not respond immediately. He merely observed Lynd in silence.
Lynd continued, undeterred. “But in my eyes, Lord Varys is more noble than the vast majority of the nobility, and he embodies the virtues of knighthood more than most knights ever could.”
Jon Arryn’s expression shifted slightly, his surprise evident. “You actually hold Varys in such high regard.”
“With all due respect, Hand of the King, you were born into nobility, standing atop the shoulders of your ancestors, looking down upon the world. This privilege has allowed you to see farther, to perceive the grander picture—but it has also made it so that none of you ever truly lower your gaze to see those beneath your feet,” Lynd said, his tone sharp with conviction. “In your eyes, the smallfolk are vulgar, ignorant, and in need of guidance. You do not wish to waste your time looking at them. Instead, you focus only on those born into privilege, those whose upbringing and thoughts align with your own.”
“But I am different. I have climbed from the very bottom to where I stand now. I have seen both the depths and the heights of this world. I know that nobility of birth does not guarantee nobility of spirit. Among the highborn, there is no shortage of vile and despicable men. And among the smallfolk, one can find true nobility, wisdom, and honor. Our Lord Spider, in my eyes, is one such man—a sage among us. I consider it an honor to know him and to call him a friend.”
A heavy silence settled over the room. Jon Arryn appeared deep in thought, and Lynd made no attempt to disturb him.
After a long pause, Jon Arryn finally exhaled and looked at Lynd with a thoughtful expression. “Lord Lynd Tarran, you may be right. At times, I do forget that talent can be found in places we seldom look. Pride and habit can blind us to those who might otherwise serve us well. But I will still remind you—no matter what you think of him, a spider is not someone who should be trusted as a friend.”
Without allowing the conversation to linger on that point, Jon Arryn suddenly shifted the subject. “After you and Varys left the smithy that day, where did you go?”
Lynd did not hesitate. “He took me to the Dragonpit to meet a friend from Across the Narrow Sea.”
Jon Arryn’s gaze sharpened. “And why did he introduce you to someone from Across the Narrow Sea?”
“Because I asked him to,” Lynd replied.
“You asked him to?” Jon Arryn repeated, narrowing his eyes. “Can you tell me why?”
“Of course,” Lynd said, his expression turning serious. “In fact, this matter may also require the cooperation of the Hand of the King.”
Jon Arryn remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
“I sought out that contact to gather intelligence—detailed information on Tyrosh, Myr, Lys, and the Stepstones. Within five years, I will take complete control of the Stepstones and return them to the Seven Kingdoms. Then, I will lead an army eastward to attack Tyrosh, Myr, and Lys.”
Jon Arryn was completely taken aback. He had summoned Lynd on short notice primarily to gather information, suspecting something unusual in his dealings with Varys and the foreign contact. But he had not expected to hear anything so audacious.
The first thought that came to his mind was that Lynd must have lost his senses.
“Are you mad?” Jon Arryn blurted out his thoughts without realizing he had spoken aloud.
“Of course I am not mad. My mind has never been clearer,” Lynd said, blinking in mild surprise at Jon Arryn’s outburst.
“Huh?” Jon Arryn only then realized he had spoken aloud. He stiffened in brief embarrassment before regaining his composure.
After a moment of silence, his tone turned grave. “Why would you willingly provoke the Free Cities Alliance? Do you understand the consequences of what you’re suggesting?”
“Of course I do,” Lynd said solemnly. “My lord, I have seen the White Walkers beyond the Wall with my own eyes. I know how powerful they are. If they breach the Wall, the Seven Kingdoms will struggle to withstand the tide of the dead. We must prepare an escape route in advance. And the escape route I have in mind is through the Stepstones, leading to Essos.”
“You are being too pessimistic, Lord Lynd,” Jon Arryn said with a frown.
“No, you are being too optimistic, Lord Hand of the King,” Lynd countered. “You have never seen the White Walkers, nor do you understand how terrifying they truly are. That is why you are so calm. But if you had witnessed the reality of their existence, you would not be questioning my decision.”
Jon Arryn was silent for a moment before asking, “Are the White Walkers truly that powerful and terrifying?”
Lynd nodded. “More so than you can imagine.”
Jon Arryn knew full well how formidable Lynd was. It would not be an exaggeration to describe him as a one-man army. Yet even Lynd, with all his strength, spoke of the White Walkers with such dread, considering an escape route rather than a direct confrontation. That alone was enough to make Jon Arryn reevaluate the severity of the threat.
After contemplating the matter, Jon Arryn made his decision. “Is there anything I can do to assist in this matter?”
Hearing this, Lynd knew that his performance had been successful. Without hesitation, he said, “The Iron Throne already controls part of the Stepstones. I want those islands placed under my authority. I need them as a staging ground to take full control of the archipelago. Additionally, I require Greenstone Castle in the Stormlands as a logistical base for my fleet. I need you, Lord Hand, to send a letter to the lord of Greenstone.”
Jon Arryn was momentarily taken aback. The request was far less demanding than he had expected. “Is that all you need? No financial or military support?”
Lynd shook his head. “I have sufficient funds, so I don’t require financial assistance. As for an army, I have enough men under my command. Perhaps when we march on Tyrosh in five years, I may ask for the Iron Throne’s aid. But for now, asking the crown to fight pirates in the Stepstones would be… excessive.”
Jon Arryn considered for a moment before responding. “I will bring the Stepstones matter before the Small Council. It should pass without issue. As for your campaign against Tyrosh, the Iron Throne will not intervene—you will bear the consequences of your actions.” He paused, then added, “However, I will see to it that the Gulltown fleet assists you with logistical transport. That is a decision of the Vale, not the Iron Throne.”
“Thank you, Lord Arryn,” Lynd said.
“Now, you may go,” Jon Arryn said, rubbing his forehead in evident fatigue.
Lynd rose to leave, but before he could exit, Jon Arryn spoke again. “That apprentice, Gendry, among Tobho Mott’s students—take care of him.”
Lynd paused, then glanced over his shoulder. “He’s His Grace’s bastard, isn’t he?” After a brief pause, he added, “He looks just like him—with all that black hair.”
Without waiting for a response, Lynd turned and left the study.
Jon Arryn, however, did not dwell on Lynd’s words. His mind was elsewhere.
“Pride and habit can blind us to talent,” he muttered, as if making a decision.
He took out parchment, quickly wrote an order, sealed it with his sigil, and rang for his attendant.
“Deliver this order to Petyr Baelish, the tax collector of Gulltown. Immediately.”
Comments
Jobe Destine
Love the chapter man keep it up
