The Northern Tyrant [Game of Thrones] Chapter 69 - A King's Failure, Tysha's Choice, Spider's Whispers & Slip of Tongue (Patreon)

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Summerhall, Stormlands

The ruins of Summerhall alluded to the tragedy that took place there. But seeing all the flora that had grown around it, Wylis could imagine how beautiful the castle must have been. It was lightly fortified, as the walls around the ruins weren’t that high. 

It was more of a retreat palace than a castle. And it never even got to complete a century since its construction. Perhaps that made it a bigger tragedy. Those arched entryways, the domed towers, the high-ceilinged halls, and all those white walls now charred. 

I can rebuild it. 

His first instinct was to use Earthbending and mend the castle. He could do it with fair ease; all he needed was time and a quick team of carpenters as well as blacksmiths. However, he already had too much on his plate. Ramsgate needed to be finished first. Then there was Harrenhal with a quest attached to it. 

Maybe one day in the future. 

"Pitch camp by the lake," Wylis told his men, glancing toward a tree by the water, likely the very place Rhaella had birthed Rhaegar. She had been far too young herself. "After that, hunt some game. I’ll have a look at the ruins."

He ordered Benjen to go as well, and then entered the ruins on his own. It had to be him alone since the paths were blocked in places by fallen ceilings and pillars. His Earthbending was meant to help. 

The sun was a few hours from setting, so there was still plenty of light. The sounds of insects and the rare caw of crows made the castle eerie. His footsteps echoed more loudly, and nearly everything was damp from the rain. 

Instead of looking around aimlessly, he followed the mental map that led him to the buried treasures and other things. He entered the collapsed, charred great hall; now the sky was its ceiling. Making way through the rubble, around the collapsed, mostly melted chandelier, he entered a smaller hall in the back, its ceiling barely holding up. 

Soon, he arrived at the courtyard, overgrown with tall grass and flowers. Crossing them, he entered the royal apartments. It was a domed tower, though three-fourths of it had collapsed onto the base, forming a hill of rubble. 

The location of Valyrian steel or dragon eggs was pointing him inside, underground. So, instead of moving the rubble, he used Earthbending to let his body sink. He had mastered Earth tunneling by now, since he used it on The Twins. It was somewhat akin to swimming through the ground. 

He moved the earth around him, propelling him forward. But he went slowly since there was no need to go too deep. He'd already left his boots outside so he could feel his surroundings. Once he was somewhere under the rubble, he could sense a cavity further down. 

After a few feet of downward digging and compressing the dirt on the sides, he finally carved a hole into the basement. Though he miscalculated near the end and nearly fell straight down, barely catching himself dangling by a single arm. 

It was pitch-black dark. But he'd come prepared and lit up a small torch to have a look. 

"Wine?"

There were stacked barrels everywhere. Some were rotting, some were broken with their contents spilled out. A few were in good condition. He looked around and couldn't find the treasure, so he started searching for a way further down.  

But soon, he reached a passage that had also collapsed. 

Once again, he began digging down and broke through the floor. 

Can't I explore the Stark Crypts to the bottom?

As he jumped down, he thought of all the places buried underground that he could map in the future. Essos was too far away, so that was a different project entirely. In Westeros alone, there were a few places. 

Thud!

He landed on his feet and lit the torch again. This time the room was smaller and had chests here and there; some were stacked, some had large locks on them. He ignored them and focused on the location of the treasure. 

However, when he stood where the location told him, there was no chest or crate. He knelt and ran his hand across the stones. A moment later, his thick fingertips dug into the stone like it was made of clay. 

He ripped the large stone out of the floor. Then another stone beside it. Finally, a third, then a fourth. Soon, he had a full-sized chest in front of him. It didn't look like something meant to be taken out; the body was fixed underground, and only the lid could be opened. It was akin to a vault. 

And of course, the Targaryen seal was engraved on it, so there was no denying who it belonged to. 

He grabbed the nearest stone and smashed it onto the big lock like a caveman. Then, with a few rough yanks, it came off easily. He placed the torch nearby, wedged between two rocks, and opened the chest.  

"As expected." 

The chest was at least six feet long and two feet wide, deep enough to store most of the things one could imagine. A few daggers, Valyrian steel from the look of them. A few rings, armor pieces, and bits of Valyrian steel, possibly found over the years and stored there for a future purpose. 

There wasn't much Valyrian steel there. 

Essos should have more. 

With time, his desire to tour the East, at least till Slaver's Bay, was growing. The treasure maps in his mind always shone bright in the East. 

Then there were a few pieces of jewelry. They were worthy of keeping in that vault, covered with countless diamonds and gems. And he just happened to have plenty of beautiful women to gift them to. 

Rhaella might know some of them. 

Going through everything, he packed as many bags as he could carry with him. All the gold in one, Valyrian steel in another. There were regular weapons too, a really beautiful ornamental bow covered with engraving and gems. There were ornamental swords as well, made to look pretty, not deadly. 

As he finished removing the items halfway, he found a flat surface, but it wasn't the bottom. Instead, two smaller chests sat in there side by side, made of a perfect size to fit in there flat. Both had their own locks.

Bam!

Nothing a rock couldn't solve. He opened the right chest and found gold dragons. Instead of just being spilled in there randomly, they were neatly stacked to maximize the number of coins. From that, he reckoned it was some sort of emergency stash. A few thousand gold dragons were in there, he guessed. 

Finally, he opened the left chest. Immediately, he smelled something. The inside of the chest was covered with a golden-yellow silk cloth. He moved it and found the true treasure held in that chest. 

Dark, almost black-red, and the other entirely copper-golden. The two were dragon eggs. There was still space for a third, but it was missing. And Wylis saw no sign of it in the mental map. Likely the egg that Aegon V tried to hatch. 

Carefully, he tucked those eggs back in the chest and closed the lid. Then, he used Earthbending to jam the hinges and create a seal around it so it wouldn't open easily. Then, he placed the broken lock back in its place and covered its internal mechanism with solidified rocks, making it impossible to break easily. 

With these two, he now had four dragon eggs in total. He was certain about giving his son from Rhaella a dragon, because he had faith in Tyrant's Squire and the loyalty clause. However, when it came to Daenerys, Viserys, Rhaenys, and Aegon… he was less certain. 

Their ancestors had repeatedly shown that even the best of them could be corrupted. 

Pondering, he summoned the Tyrant's Squire and took a look at the Targaryen Loyalty Gauge he'd earned from the Savior of Targaryens title. 

[Viserys Targaryen - 40% Loyalty]

[Rhaella Targaryen - 100%+ Loyalty]  

[Daenerys Targaryen - 22% Loyalty]  

[Raenys Targaryen - 75% Loyalty]  

[Aegon Targaryen - 41% Loyalty]

[Aslan Targaryen - 100%+ Loyalty]  

It was interesting to look at. It appeared their loyalty was growing with age. Daenerys, being the youngest, was just a small toddler. And toddlers aren't loyal to anyone, not even to themselves. Rhaenys, with more wisdom, knew what loyalty was. And Viserys… was an entirely different matter. 

Finally, there was his son with Rhaella. The boy had 100% from the moment he was conceived. It was Tyrant's Squire's magic. It sometimes made him worry, however. Was he stripping his children of their free will? 

He reckoned he wasn't. Magnus was far from a yes-man and was a top-tier rascal. The boy made silly mistakes, asked silly questions. So perhaps it just meant they wouldn't act against him. 

But what if I deserve to be acted against? 

With a sigh, he patted his clothes and got up. There were still too many treasure locations to be dug all across the castle ruins. There was no Valyrian Steel or dragon egg, just plain treasure buried. It could be a single coin some knight hid, or a stash hidden by some prince. 

But he was done for that night. He tied all the bags on his back, and then tied the small chests to his legs using ropes. But before heading out, just out of curiosity, he decided to take a look inside the other ordinary crates and chests. 

The first one had old, rotting rolls of silk. It wasn't a treasure, but it was still valuable. In another, he found ordinary swords, and another one had simple shields. From that, he could tell it was more akin to an armory that also worked as storage. Perhaps it was for goods not being used. Summerhall was lightly fortified, after all. 

A few more crates of fabrics. Then a few had folded Targaryen sigils on various sizes of cloth. Eventually, he opened a chest filled with books and ledgers. The ones at the top were in bad condition, but those below had survived. 

He read the titles, or what could be read, since much of it was eroded. Most of them were books written by maesters. About Westeros, about seeds in Westeros, the trade, shipping, the lives of smallfolk, the status of smallfolk. 

From that alone, Wylis could imagine what kind of man Aegon V was. These books were likely the old King's research into smallfolk rights. Aegon was known for his efforts to improve the lives of the smallfolk. While it made smallfolk happy, the nobles loathed him for trying to reduce their powers over the peasantry. 

"Is that why he tried to hatch an egg?"

Dance of the Dragons didn't just have the Targaryens lose their mighty steeds, but also their tyrannical will to impose whatever rule they wanted on the nobles of Westeros. Naturally, without dragons, Aegon V couldn’t force the nobles to accept his will. 

Wylis put the book down. Eventually, he reckoned he'd face the same problems. But he knew his results would be far different and more successful than Aegon's. Not because of his tyrannical strength, but because of a simple difference in the execution of laws. With the eventual rise of the burgher class, slowly converting the land-based feudal economy to a money- and trade-based one would be possible. 

Of course, a being like him would still remain at the top, unthreatened no matter how rich the burgher class could get; the same would not be said about the rest of the nobility. 

"Wait! Isn't Braavos already a perfect example of burgher-class-dominant governance?"

He made the decision to keep these books. Though he still looked at the rest of them. 

[East and West - A detailed comparison.]

[Road to Valyria]

[The Dothraki Plague]

Clearly, Aegon V was a man who read a lot. 

[Rights of the Smallfolk - Aegon]

"Hm?"

Right near the bottom, he found a book with a blank cover. But inside, on the first page, a simple title was written in crude handwriting. And the name of the author was left as just Aegon. He made a quick shuffle of the pages to check how much content was in there, and surprisingly, three-fourths of it were written pages. 

Curious about what the dead King thought about Westerosi society, Wylis put the book in his bag and went through the others in the chest. Eventually, he closed the chest and started to plan a route to take it out later with the help of his men. 

He decided to play a small trick. He used Earthbending to raise each of the chests up through the floors so they would sit near the top of the tower's rubble. Later, he would just bring the men and 'mistakenly' stumble upon the chests. 

With what was on his back and tied to his feet, he climbed back up. In no time, he emerged near the rubble of the royal apartments. The sun was nearing the horizon, so he made his way back towards the camp. 

"My Lord!" 

Right as he entered the ruins of the Great Hall, he heard Benjen with two other men running towards him. 

"We were searching for you."

"Why?" Wylis shoved the backs of jewelry and swords into their arms. He handed the chest of gold coins to Benjen and kept the eggs in his own hands. 

"We caught a deer, set up the fire and the camp, and still heard nothing from you. We feared you could be stuck under the rubble."

"I wasn't stuck. Though I did find a few things worth finding." Wylis walked ahead of them. "Which of you caught the deer?"

"It was Seamas, m'lord," a guard replied. 

"Ah, him." Wylis chuckled. The man had a grandmother who'd made prophecies about him. "Then I'll put the spices on it. Tonight we feast, but we'll have to return for the wine barrel first."

"You found wine, m'lord?"

"And a few other things. Let's be quick now, before the sun sets."

####

Initially, the plan was to just carry the barrel of wine. But they ended up 'finding' all those chests and bringing them over to the camp. And because of that, Wylis sent a raven to King's Landing, informing Chett to send a few covered carriages to carry all those things. 

Later that night, they ate and drank, but not enough to get drunk. Two of them were still tasked with keeping watch. 

Wylis entered his tent, and this time it was bigger and his alone. He kept the Valyrian steel, the chest of dragon eggs, and the chest of gold, along with the jewelry, with him. No matter how loyal, he didn't trust the guards. Greed was something that made even the best of men do the worst of things. 

Since they travelled light, there was no luxurious bedding. So, he dragged it near the candles and sat down in the light, opening the book written by Aegon V. He expected it to read like a diary more than a book. 

And he was right. 

[What drives a man to rise each morning and do what he must? After all those years traveling beside Ser Duncan, and now after so many years as King, I have come to understand that the answer is very different for the smallfolk than it is for the nobility.

[A noble wakes with maids and servants ready to bring him water. His clothes are laid out. His hair is combed. His lands are guarded. His horses are tended. His meals are cooked. He needs only wake and enjoy the fruits of another man’s labor.

[A smallfolk rises for a simpler reason. If he does not work, he may not eat. His life offers little certainty. He cannot know whether there will be bread tomorrow, or whether he will live to see the next moon. His thoughts are filled with work, coin, water, firewood, food, and the constant care required not to earn the displeasure of some passing nobleman.

[Yet one word from a noble, even a simple knight, can deny them every kindness and dignity we claim all men deserve. Whether they are guilty may mean nothing. To be accused is often enough.

[I cannot imagine calling just a world where something so barbarous as the right of pit and gallows is accepted. A man may be imprisoned or hanged simply because one nobleman wills it.

.

.

.

[Long ago, when I was still young, Lady Rohanne Webber punished a peasant from another lord’s lands. It nearly cost her…]

Wylis kept on reading through the night. The writing was very simple, but he felt captivated by the thorough process of Aegon V and how modern the man was for his time. Perhaps, in different circumstances, if there had been dragons still, Aegon would have ushered Westeros into a more prosperous age. 

Feeling his eyes getting heavy, he rushed through the rest of the book. 

[The smallfolk spend their lives serving men such as me. Lords, princes, kings. Perhaps, before my own life ends, I should spend some of it serving them. What else is a king for? Surely not merely to warm the Iron Throne.

[The nobles have little love for me. They claim I threaten their power. I have never understood why their power must depend upon the suffering of those beneath them. Yet I am not blameless. There are men closest to me whom I could not guide. Even Ser Duncan strayed, despite all our years together.

[His bastards are scattered across the realm. The North, the Westerlands, the Stormlands, and beyond. He was kinder once. Wiser, perhaps. But he has grown old, as have I. Perhaps I should send someone to seek out the worthiest among them and have that one legitimised. I would rather Duncan leave something behind when we are both gone.

.

.

.

[I see no other path now. I must hatch a dragon. Without one, the lords will continue to ignore the Crown whenever it suits them. They do not respect me, and they certainly do not fear me. A dragon would change that. If tomorrow night succeeds, Westeros itself may change with it.]

Wylis turned the pages, but there were no more words. The King never got the chance to write anything else. 

Too tired to read, he set the book aside and quenched the candles. But as he lay in his bed, he found no sleep. Just a head filled with countless thoughts. From what he'd heard, knew, and read, he could tell Aegon V was a remarkable man. 

He felt if he'd been born a few decades earlier, he'd have gladly offered his support to the man. Perhaps, also saved Rhaella from her atrocious match with Aerys. But it was all in the past. The Targaryens were extinct for the world. 

Yet, the major question unrelated to all that lingered in his mind. 

What makes a good lord or a good king? 

Silently, Wylis tried to find common points between him and King Aegon. Of course, their points of birth were entirely different. One was a royal, and he was a nobody. Yet, there were commonalities. Just like him, King Aegon had lived his childhood amongst smallfolk. Traveled the realm as a squire, cleaned horses, shoveled horseshit, listened to smallfolk in taverns, and saw the injustice done by nobles firsthand. 

So was it exposure to poverty, hunger, and injustice that made one a capable noble? Was that the reason Aegon grew with compassion for the living? 

Wylis, however, couldn’t find a definite answer. In the end, his mind was that of a modern man from a different world. He grew up extremely privileged as well, never made to struggle. But his world had laws, equality of gender, which at least he believed in. 

Considering all that, he couldn’t decide what he needed to do to ensure his children grew up with a mindset similar to his. Kind but not foolish. Strong but just.  

I should write to Old Nan and ask her directly. 

####

King's Landing, 

Tysha had seen her life change more in the past year than she had ever dreamt of. From living in fear to falling in love, then being saved from defilement by a whole garrison, to now working as Lord Kaiser's cupbearer. 

But Lord Kaiser rarely ever made her work since he was always too busy. That left her with too much time to herself. But she felt safe, as two guards always protected her. And hoping to repay Lord Kaiser, she had started to learn household chores to the best of her ability. 

She visited taverns owned by Lord Kaiser to learn how to cook Ramsgate cuisine. She spoke with Lady Chataya whenever she visited, learning the courtly manners a lord's cupbearer should. She learned to sew as well, and even how to help a knight put on his armor. 

Ser Chett was always kind and helped her whenever she had any doubts. It was he who introduced her to the people of Ramsgate living and working in King's Landing. She learned a great many things. 

Already, she had begun learning to read and write. She could count numbers by now, and that made visits to the market much easier. 

That day, she had decided to practice making what Lord Kaiser called Ramsgate fried chicken, and it came glazed with various kinds of sauces. Some spicy, some spicy and sweet, and some with a sprinkle of special dry spice powder. 

She knew how to dry chicken. But making those sauces was the real challenge. 

To buy the necessary ingredients, she went out to the street called The Hook, where plenty of shops sold all that she needed. They tended to be slightly more expensive, as they were in the better part of the city. But Lord Kaiser had barred her from going to more impoverished areas. 

She bought onions, some honey, a little bit of sugar, some garlic, and lemons. Then, she headed to one of the Eel Alley taverns, the finest ones in the city. Since it was owned by Lord Kaiser and run by folks of Ramsgate, they were all kind to her. 

Tysha hoped to get some chicken and dried breadcrumbs since they served fried chicken and were permitted to sell Ramsgate chicken. She was still not used to seeing those humongous chickens. 

However, the moment she entered the tavern, she froze. There he sat, short, golden-white hair, stubby fingers holding a cup. She had no real desire to see him again. 

"Tysha?" 

Tysha frowned and turned around. Lord Kaiser had barred her from seeing him, and she wanted to keep that promise. 

"Sers? Can we return?"

The two guards nodded. They weren't knights, but she always called them Sers. They didn't mind, actually. 

"Wait! Tysha! Please wait!"

Tyrion came running to her. 

Tysha still turned to leave, headed for the door. 

"Please, give me one chance to speak. I was lied to!"

“You chose their lies over my word.” Tysha snapped, not once looking back.

"He was my brother! The only one in this family I trusted. And he lied to me, he—"

“And you just stood there while they all tried to tear me apart. You’re spineless, Tyrion. Lord Kaiser knew nothing of whether I was innocent, but he knew right from wrong. He saw what they were doing to me and stood against it. What did you do when your father called me a whore?”

"I…" Tyrion was bawling, ten and four still. "I was a fool. I—"

“You still are, if you think I can forgive you. I’m going with Lord Kaiser to Ramsgate. You’d best heed what he told you. Be a man worth trusting first.” Tysha reached the door, where the guards had opened it for her.

"Is that all?" Tyrion snapped suddenly. "So you've chosen to be his whore now? Warming Lord Kaiser's bed, and you call that a life—"

“Shut your foul mouth!” Tysha shouted, glancing back at him, hurt plain upon her face and tears in her eyes. “How could you say such a thing? Lord Kaiser treats me like his own daughter, better than my own father ever did. Gods, how could you think that? You’ve a filthy mind. You’re no better than those guards, or your brother, or your father. Don’t ever show your face to me again, Tyrion, you sick... thing!”

Thud!

The door closed. 

In the tavern, Tyrion Lannister fell to his knees. The folks around him chuckled; some laughed outright, some took pity. 

He just bawled his eyes out, cursing his tongue. 

####

It took Wylis a whole week when the planned visit to Summerhall was supposed to last only three days. He spent all his time digging out every piece of treasure buried there. By the end, he got a substantial amount of coin. 

Of course, it belonged to him. However, he was going to loan it to the Crown, keeping with him only the jewelry, Valyrian steel, eggs, swords and armors as Ramsgate needed, and all the books. All the silk he found was deadweight he hoped to sell in King's Landing. 

Once he returned to King's Landing, he submitted King Aegon's diary to Lord Arryn to review. It was already known to them that Wylis was trying to find his ancestor, and Ser Barristan had already reported to them who the suspected man was. 

After that, Wylis sent a falcon to Ramsgate, tasking Lyanna with interrogating Old Nan and getting the truth out of her. He wanted to at least know that he was on the right path. The evidence was very circumstantial yet. 

He spent that whole day showing Ashara, Arthria, and Philip the city, not wanting them to get bored in the Red Keep for too long. He took them to a few taverns he owned, and treated them to food that was rarely made in the Red Keep. 

Then that night, he made love to Ashara as he chose to reside in his mansion instead of the Red Keep. She was dear to him, a woman that he'd known from the near beginning of his journey. 

Well, she loved the intimacy just as much, so there were no issues. Perhaps their difference in stamina was, however. He tired her out far too easily, and yet he kept going until she fell into a sweet, ecstatic slumber, snuggling into his chest. Sore all over, breasts devoid of any more nectar, and a mess between her legs. 

But to Ashara's delightful surprise, when morning came, her husband in all but name left no chance to tire her out again, leaving her to sleep a few more hours on that warm bed. Thankfully, Tysha was there to care for Arthria and Philip. 

Wylis cleaned himself, donned simple attire, and headed out. It was time to begin the repair of the city's sewerage. 

However, when he arrived outside his manse on Caliburn, a large stagecoach was waiting for him. It was a stagecoach built by Ramsgate itself, and sold to the rest of the realm. And the one before him didn't come cheap, so he reckoned it was someone from the Red Keep. 

"My lord?"

And just as he'd expected, a bald, chubby face glanced at him out of the window. 

Wylis reined Caliburn beside the stagecoach. "Lord Varys? Lost your way to the Red Keep?"

“Not quite, my lord. Quite the contrary, I believe I happen to be in the right place at the right time.”

"You do have a habit of that, don't you? I wonder where you were when I killed the Mad King. One of the little tunnels, perhaps?"

“I daresay those tunnels hold few secrets from you, my lord,” Lord Varys replied, smooth as silk. “Might you indulge me with a moment to speak? You must know, this carriage is remarkably comfortable.”

"I'm headed for Flea Bottom."

"A fortunate little coincidence, my lord. I happen to be headed the same way."

Wylis scratched his chin and got off Caliburn. "Cali, follow the carriage."

He climbed into the carriage as it swayed under his weight. But it wasn't cramped, thankfully. And it seemed Lord Varys had done some modifications, placing a small table in the center with hollowed slots to place cups and jugs of wine. 

Soon, they were moving. 

"A monumental undertaking, my lord. Yet perhaps a necessary one. This city has been crying out for cleansing for some time now. It has grown far too filthy."

"Aye, the city's filthy enough. From the Red Keep down to the barracks."

Varys stared at his face. "I hope we're talking about the same type of filth, my lord."

"The filth that's left this city to rot?" Wylis replied, looking through the open window. "Cali! Eyes off the passing mares. Keep close."

"My, what a remarkable creature. Never seen a horse obey so well."

"Because no other horse measures up to my boy." Wylis leaned back in his seat. "Now, why have you come looking for me, Lord Varys? I know you've a talent for twisting words, but I'm only a Northern brute. Spare me the riddles and speak plain."

"If you’re a brute, my lord, then I must surely be a womanizer."

"Who knows? A cruel man needs no cock to take pleasure in a woman's screams. Gods know the realm breeds enough of them. Roose still claims the first night."

"Curious. I was not aware of that."

"It's too far up north for you to give a shit, Lord Varys. Now out with it. What do you want?"

Lord Varys pivoted towards Wylis and spoke diplomatically. “First, my lord, I must confess that I have seldom found a city or town where my little birds could not find a perch.”

"They're little orphans. Children with their tongues cut out. Well done, you've mastered corrupting innocence," Wylis replied with a crooked smile. "Now, let me guess. You're here because I keep collapsing the tunnels your birds use? Have I made spying difficult?"

"My lord, every man has his part upon the realm's little stage. You are Lord of Ramsgate, and now you stand ready to mend this wounded city, after already mending the King's spirit. I do admire you, my lord. Stories such as yours are scarce these days. A rise such as yours, scarcer still."

Wylis scoffed and poured himself a cup. The stench outside was growing stronger, meaning Flea Bottom was near. “Tell me, Lord Varys, who do you truly serve? An orphan from Essos, a victim of blood magic, a thief with useful friends, and now the King’s Spider. What keeps a man like you tied to all this?”

"You know me well, my lord, more closely than most. Then you must know that all I do, however humble, is done for the good of the realm."

"You served the Mad King. Hardly a man who did the realm much good."

"My lord, if memory serves, you served him as well. I was there in the throne room," Varys said softly.

"Point taken." Wylis drained his cup. "But it does not answer the question. I've nothing against you, nor do I care what you do, so long as you serve Robert well. I seal the tunnels because I dislike being spied upon. And I'm only a guest for a few days. Dig them out again once I've gone."

Right then, the carriage came to a halt, and Wylis stepped out of it. But before climbing onto Caliburn's back, he turned back and leaned on the half-door, giving Varys a serious look. 

"I'm no threat unless someone insists on making me one. You keep to your whispering, and I'll see to my duty. For the good of the realm, of course."

"The realm knows peace for the moment, my lord," Varys murmured. "I only wonder how long so delicate a thing may endure."

"It'll last as long as I can still hold my blade, and Robert can swing that hammer."

Lord Varys bowed his head. "Thank you for giving me your time, my lord."

Wylis just waved and mounted Caliburn, riding away. Not that he was happy. Varys was a mystery to him. There was no Daenerys, Viserys, or Aegon this time, so he really had no idea what Varys' motivation was. 

He did have a few doubts, but there was no evidence to back them. For now, ignoring Varys' existence was more helpful since the Greyjoy Rebellion wasn't far away. 

Quickly, he rode further into Flea Bottom, to a small open square where the men and women were told to gather. Chett was supposed to be selecting the strongest of them already. 

"He's here!" 

Just as he was about to take one last turn, someone shouted. 

"Lord Kaiser!"

"M'lord!"

As soon as he reached the edge of the square, countless unified voices shouted his name. They were just excited to see him. And clearly, the Spoonman of the King's Landing title was helping. 

This might just be easier than I thought. 

####

Ramsgate, the North

Lyanna had got to work as soon as the falcon had reached home. But she didn't want to do this alone and asked her mother to join. At the same time, she asked for Wylis' father and grandfather to join. 

Once gathered, they all made their way into Old Nan's chamber, which was simply the children's playroom with all sorts of safe toys, colorful paint on the walls, all handmade by Wylis more than a year ago. 

The old woman was seated on a chair, looking at all the happy children playing around her. She loved each one of them, though the likes of Magnus took more care since Wylis' trueborn children were unusually strong. 

"Old Nan." Lyanna walked over to the woman and pulled a chair close. "Have you been keeping well?"

Old Nan gave each of them a look. "What's wrong with ye lot? Wylis gone and done something again?"

"No, not at all. He's well and strong in King's Landing," Lady Lyarra replied. "Lyanna has a question to ask you. In truth, it was Lord Kaiser who wanted to ask it."

Old Nan glanced at Lyanna again. "What is it?"

Lyanna leaned forward in her chair and took the old woman’s hands in hers. “Tell us true, Old Nan. Was Wylis’ great-grandfather named Duncan?”

Lyanna felt a flinch from the old woman's hands. 

"Duncan? I know no Ser Duncan."

Lyanna grinned. "But Old Nan, I never said it was a Ser."

"..."

"Please speak the truth," Lady Lyarra voiced. "There is little reason to hide it."

"M-My... Wylis be... no bastard," Old Nan murmured, brow knotted.

"Aye, Wylis' no bastard," Jarak, Wylis's grandfather, said. "Mother, the lad's my grandson. He can't be one. I am, though. But ye best speak true. Better to be a knight's bastard than a bloody nobody's."

Old Nan looked up at her son's face, her own grey eyes filled with worry.

####

King's Landing, 

"Get in line!" Chett roared at the crowd. 

Wylis stood behind the tables, arms crossed as he oversaw the distribution of food and coin for the day's work. He preferred paying daily as it left none of them complaining. It had been three days already, and most of them returned to work the other day. 

There were a few fools who used the little coin they got to get drunk in the tavern, failing to wake up on time the next day. Already, Wylis had helped wash the sewers with a stream of water from Blackwater Rush, so it was at least clean enough to work on. 

He'd used his Earthbending the night before beginning the work. Made a tunnel to allow water in from the river. It did flood a few areas of the city, but that at least revealed to him which parts required the most care. 

But no doubt, the stench was still utterly foul. And he had to, at times, guide some of the men personally since they lacked the understanding of construction. He never ventured deep into the sewers, however. 

Digging new ones and enlarging them was up to Earthbending anyway. Right now, he was just using the people to mend the broken or caved areas. 

Ting!

[Cersei Lannister Current Lust - 95%]

Huh? Why?

Wylis stared at the floating notification in confusion. He'd done nothing. He rarely ever went to the Red Keep those days. The last time he'd seen Cersei was days ago. 

"My Lord!"

Just then, Benjen came galloping on a horse, his expression beaming. 

"My Lord, a falcon from Ramsgate. You were right. Old Nan confessed!" Benjen shouted, jumping down before the horse had even stopped and thrusting the folded parchment at Wylis. "You're kin to Ser Duncan the Tall."

Wylis gave the small paper a quick look. It was Lyanna's writing, confirming that Old Nan had accepted the truth. 

However, the quest completion chime didn't come. 

How do I prove it to the realm now? 

A/N: Cersei baby poll - What should come out of her?