A Tale of Stolen Blades and Stolen Hearts

Chapter Four: A Game of Cat and Mouse

"It's the Hand's tournament that's causing all this trouble, my Lords."

Janos Slynt stood before the small council with sword in tow.

"The King's tournament." Ned Clarifies," I assure you the Hand wants no part of it."

"Call it what you will, Lord Stark Ser, the city is packed with people and more flooding in every day. Last night we had a tavern riot, a brоthеl fire, three stabbings and a drunken horse race down the Street of Sisters." Slynt explained in Detail of the rising occurrences of the evening.

"Dreadful." Varys comments. "If you can't keep the King's peace, perhaps the City Watch should be commanded by someone who can." Renly shrugged and ate a grape, Janos eyes the Baratheon for a moment and went back to focus on Ned.

"I need more men."

"You'll get 50. Lord Baelish will see it paid for." Ned replies to Janos' request, and Petyr glared at Ned.

"I will?" Petyr spoke with obvious contempt.

"You found money for a champion's purse, you can find money to keep the peace." Ned firmly set him straight. I'll also give you 20 of my household guards till the crowds have left." Ned said, and Slynt bows.

"Thank you, my Lord Hand Ser. They will be put to good use." Janos leaves in tow, and Ned sighs with frustration.

"The sooner this is over, the better." Ned grumbled, obviously frustrated with the current state of all things. "The realm prospers from such events, my Lord. They give the great a chance at glory, and the lowly a respite from their woes." Varys attempted to talk Ned into seeing reason why they have such events, "And every inn in the city is full and the whοres are walking bow-legged." Petyr said.

"I'm sure the tourney puts coins in many a pocket. Now... If there's nothing else, my Lords?" Ned adjourned the meeting and all begin to depart, Maester Pycelle was slow, taking his time.

"This heat. On days like this, I envy you northerners your summer snows. Until tomorrow my Lord."

"I've been hoping to talk to you about Jon Arryn." Ned cuts him off, Pycelle gingerly turns to him.

"Lord Arryn? His death was a great sadness to all of us. I took personal charge of his care, but I could not save him. His sickness struck him very hard and very fast. I saw him in my chambers just the night before he passed. Lord Jon often came to me for counsel." Pycelle explained.

"Why?" Ned replied, and Pycelle almost looked offended.

"I have been Grand Maester for many years. Kings and Hands have come to me for advice since—" Pycelle droned on.

"What did Jon want the night before he died?" Ned attempts to get the old man back on track.

"He came inquiring after a book." He replied, which raised the eyebrow of Ned

"A book? What book?"

Ned was taken to Pycelle's office, a room full of herbs and potential remedies of aliments. Pycelle shows Ned a large red book held together by metal clasps.

"I fear it would be of little interest to you, my Lord. A ponderous tome." Pycelle said, as if trying to alleviate Ned's suspicion.

"I'd like to read it." Ned replies, and Pycelle almost reluctantly gives it away. Ned flips though the aged pages, the history of many houses and heirs born of said houses.

"Harkon Umber, first of his name, born to lord Hother Umber and lady Amaryllis Umber in the 183rd year after Aegon's landing, at the last hearth. Blue of eye, brown of hair and fair complected, died in his 14th year of a wound sustained in a bear hunt." Ned began to wonder what Jon could find out from this.