Game of Thrones: Oath of Iron and Fire-Chapter 48: The Red Keep’s Great Hall and the Intrigues Below

In King's Landing, within the Red Keep's Great Hall, the air was thick with the aroma of roasting meat, the scent of perfumes, and the constant hum of a lively crowd. Soft, decadent music filled the room, accompanied by bright, flickering lights.

The banquet in the Great Hall was in full swing, with men and women dressed in their finest attire mingling and conversing. King Robert, a man given to indulgence—hunting, feasting, tournaments, and the company of beautiful women—was the center of attention. His boisterous roar drowned out all other sounds as he staggered to his feet, his face flushed with drink, clutching a goblet in one hand.

"Meddling woman, don't you dare tell me what to do," King Robert screamed at Queen Cersei. "I am the king here, do you understand? I say I want to hunt a wild boar alone, and by the gods, I will hunt a wild boar alone."

Everyone stood in stunned silence. Ser Barristan the Bold, the king's two younger brothers, and Littlefinger all exchanged uneasy glances. The queen's cheeks were pale as ice, drained of all color. She chose to leave abruptly, tugging at her skirts and turning away without a word, her handmaidens hastening to follow.

Ser Jaime Lannister moved to restrain the king, but Robert shook him off with a forceful jerk. The Kingslayer stumbled and collided with a long table. "What a fine knight you are, just another one of my servants. Remember that, Kingslayer," the king slurred, banging his jeweled goblet on the table so hard that the wine spilled everywhere.

"Yes, Your Grace," Jaime steadied himself, his tone cold and stiff. His golden hair flowed over his shoulders, his bright blue eyes flashing, and his smile as sharp as a blade, but the nickname "Kingslayer" weighed on him like a shackle.

Lord Renly Baratheon approached with a grin. "Robert, you've spilled your wine. Let me pour you a fresh cup." Stannis Baratheon glared at Renly, who was not only wealthier but also more popular than him.

Prince Joffrey seemed unfazed by the scene, remaining silent as always. The Hound lurked a few steps behind him, like a shadow of the night.

Stannis pondered the situation, wondering why the Kingslayer did not simply cast aside his white cloak and leave King's Landing to escape such humiliation.

Was the knightly honor, as intangible as it was, more appealing than becoming the heir to the wealthy Westerlands?

Jaime's golden hair shone brightly, as did Joffrey's. Stannis looked from one to the other, his mind churning with thoughts.

"Where is my foster father, Lord Jon Arryn! Has no one summoned the Hand of the King to the feast?" King Robert bellowed. Lancel Lannister, the king's squire, quickly stepped forward.

"The Hand's son has fallen ill, and Lord Jon is with the child," Lancel whispered.

"Poor Robin," the king's face fell into a brief look of sorrow, but he did not refuse the new goblet of wine, downing it in one gulp.

Stannis considered his suspicions. If he could find an ally within King's Landing, Lord Jon Arryn was the only one.

Beneath the Red Keep lay a labyrinth of secret passages, as intricate as a spider's web. The ruthless Maegor the Cruel had believed that only a true dragon could keep these secrets, and so he had killed all the builders of the Red Keep.

The Targaryens had once guarded these secret passages as their most closely held secrets, often known only to the Master of Whisperers among the courtiers.

Deep within the dark passages, Varys and Illyrio spoke in hushed tones, the dim light of flickering torches casting shadows on the walls.

Varys, a portly man by nature, was a master of disguise. He wore a leather half-cloak, and though he donned heavy boots, his feet seemed to glide silently over the ground. Beneath his steel helm was a round, scarred face with a tuft of short beard. He was clad in boiled leather, over which he wore armor, with a dagger and a shortsword at his belt.

"Stannis is secretly searching for the king's bastards; perhaps he has a secret theory," Varys said. "Gods above, the king's bastards are far too numerous. There are ready-made ones in the Stormlands and the Vale, and here in King's Landing."

"What will Stannis do?" Illyrio's yellow goatee looked particularly seedy. His rings glittered in the firelight—red gold, white silver, set with rubies, sapphires, and even tiger's eye with yellow stripes. Every finger was adorned with a ring, some with two.

This content is taken from fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm.

"Hard to say, he might spark a war. I think he'll share the secret with old Jon Arryn! Because Stannis has no allies, few people like him! Lions, wolves, roses, even the knights of the Stormlands, poor Stannis," Varys sighed.

"Too soon, my old friend. If the lions and stags fight, it won't do us much good! We are not ready!" Illyrio worried.

"We have no army, that's a fatal flaw!" Varys sighed.

"Perhaps we need to consider those barbarians, though they hate the sea and have no culture. But at least they have tens of thousands of roaring warriors!"

"Consider those barbarians? The Dothraki hate the sea and have no ships. Besides, we've given gifts to the Dothraki, and their return is uncertain; who knows when it will pay off!" Varys complained. They knew the barbarians well.

"We can only hope for that possibility. The magistrates have no such army and are not considering an invasion. A marriage alliance between the Khal and the dragon. It would be better if the princess were pregnant, and the Khal might be persuaded after the child is born!"

"Perhaps we have another new option!" Varys reminded.

"You mean the mysterious Powdergrass King?" Illyrio mused. Though bloated, he moved with a light step, shifting his weight to his heels and walking like a water dancer.

"Do you remember, I once gave a blacksmith a king's bastard, dark-haired, blue-eyed, and strong!"

"You mean!"

"Yes, by size and deeds, I suspect it's that boy. But he has slipped from my grasp!" Varys emphasized. "If this bastard learns his true heritage, he will surely strike at the Lannisters."

"Old friend, we cannot place our trust in outsiders. The Powdergrass King challenges slavery, which is earth-shattering. If we ally with him, there are too many concerns. The Powdergrass King does not have tens of thousands of warriors either. Let's wait until the Powdergrass King can withstand the attack from Myr first!"

"My old friend, what are the Rose and our dear Renly up to?" Illyrio asked.

"The Rose and Renly's schemes, the king and queen's quarrels, Renly has seen it all. The Knight of Flowers has been writing to his father, advising and warning. A teenage maiden, both beautiful and obedient, Lord Renly and Ser Loras plan to make Robert fond of her, then marry her and establish a new queen. As for Littlefinger, who knows what he thinks... And Lord Stark, the northerner, is still holding his breath..."

"My old friend, the situation is complex. We need time. There are many balls in the air, and I wish you were a fine magician to buy us more time," Varys said softly, holding a torch.

"I will do what I can, but I need funding and thirty birds."

"So many?" The light ahead grew dimmer, and Illyrio's voice fainter.

"The kind you want isn't easy to find... young and literate... if a bit older... not so easily killed..."

"No, the young ones are safer... be kind to them..."

"... if they can keep their tongues..."

"... take risks..."

"Wait for the situation until we can sell the princess at a good price."

"We need an army, any army. If the Powdergrass King breaks through the encirclement, it might be worth considering."

The two figures in the shadows grew longer as they spoke.