Gods damn these bloody headaches. Trying to run Robert's Kingdom for him was bloody hard work. It seemed as if his head had been splitting from the very moment he'd agreed to this damnable post. Trying to manage Robert's affairs for him was quite possibly the single most difficult job he had ever done. And if there was a more thankless job in the Realm than Hand of the King, he didn't know what it could possibly be.
Ever since he had arrived at King's Landing the Small Council had been recalcitrant. They liked how Robert had largely ignored them and let them run their own petty fiefs the way that they pleased. Jon Arryn, good man that he was, had grown lax at the end. He had been old and tired, and much that he would have dealt firmly with ten years ago slipped past him in the last few. There would be none of that on his watch, of that Eddard promised himself.
And if he followed that line of thought, Eddard would be forced to admit that he had made a start of rooting out the rot that was setting in. He took no pleasure in seeing Lord Stannis removed from the Small Council, but if the man was not going to fulfill the obligations of his office, then Eddard had no use for him. And removing Stannis had allowed him to install a much more effective Master of Laws than Lord Renly. Lord Tarly was a hard man, some would say he was a harsh man. But perhaps that is what is the Realm, what Kings Landing, needed right now.
Lord Tarly had only held his office for a fortnight, yet already he had made changes. He had read many of Jon Arryn's reports and it seemed that Janos Slynt, the Commander of the City Watch was unquestionably corrupt. But Robert had refused to remove him, arguing that his replacement could be even worse. Eddard had been disappointed in his old friend after reading that. But Lord Randyll had solved the problem in short order.
It seemed that he too had heard of Commander Slynt's corruption and wanted no part of it. He had spoken to the various gate captains, ascertained who's word could be trusted, and then ordered the arrest of Janos Slynt based on that word. The charges the former Commander of the City Watch was facing were murder, accepting a bribe, and treason. Though no one had yet come forward to offer evidence of these crimes, Janos Slynt was currently occupying a Black Cell and being put to the question. The words of the gate captains alone had been enough for Lord Tarly to act, and for that he was grateful, as he himself would have preferred to have something more certain to go off of. At least Lord Varys had assured Eddard that every one of the charges against the former commander were absolutely true and they now need only wait for his confession. That had assuaged his conscious a bit at the possibility of condemning an innocent man to a date with the headsman.
In the meantime, Lord Randyll had appointed one of his own Guard Captains, a Ser Hyle Hunt, as Commander of the City Watch. While Lord Tarly was certain there was further corruption to be rooted out, he would take his time and ensure that when he finally moved, the fire he lit under the Watch would burn out every last trace of corruption that could be found. Eddard doubted that he would be entirely successful. Perhaps for a moon's turn the corruption would be gone, but he doubted it would remain so beyond that. For even the most honest of men would sacrifice their honor for the right incentives, much as he had for Jon.
But that was a task for another day. While Lord Randyll had been acquainting himself with his duties as Master of Laws, Eddard had gone about trying to find how in the seven hells Robert had ended up six million dragons in debt. When he had started to look over the account books that Lord Baelish maintained he was expecting them to be little different from his own account books back in Winterfell, though perhaps grander in scale than his own would be. Instead, he had found a maze of taxes and tariffs and loans being brought into the royal coffers and an even more elaborate maze of payments and outgoing loans leaving the royal coffers. While the majority of the payments seemed to be legitimate, there were more than a few that raised his eyebrows. There were payments that seemed to be doubled on one page, then recovered on the next and sent back out a few pages later. Eddard had a sneaking suspicion that not all was as it seemed with the Realm's accounts, and he believed that he had the documents to prove it.
Now came the hard part. Trying to convince Robert that "counting coppers" was worthwhile. Sighing heavily to himself, Eddard collected the account books and his other papers, and steeled himself to deal with his friend. He sincerely doubted that this would be a pleasant conversation, as he was about to ask for more changes in the Realm's governance.
For once, he found Robert remarkably free of drink. Robert was pulling on a very large mail shirt over a thick gambeson and had the war hammer he had wielded at the Trident leaning on the wall next to him. Robert saw him enter and said, "Thought about what you said the other day. About how I should start training again if war truly is coming to our shores. You're right, damn you. I need to start preparing myself. I can't go into battle looking like this. Wouldn't inspire out soldiers much, would I?"
"I'm glad to see you training again, Your Grace. Before you head down to the training yard though, there is a matter that I need to discuss with you."
Robert sighed, pointed at the book under Eddard's arm and said, "Does it have to do with that bloody thick book you're holding?"
"It does. This is one of the account books that Lord Baelish keeps."
"Fucking hells, Ned! Are you really going to sit here counting coppers with me when I could be down in the yard bashing someone's skull in? That's what I have you and Littlefinger for!"
"Robert, the Throne's finances are just as important as your prowess in battle. I'll keep it short and simple, if that's any consolation."
Robert tilted his head back, let out a long, frustrated sigh and replied, "Fine. But then you're going down to the training yard with me so I can beat you about the head like I did when we were boys. Understand?"
"You can certainly try. Have you ever fought against Valyrian Steel, Your Grace? I believe the experience will be an enlightening one."
Robert looked surprised. "You're going to fight with Ice? Good! I need a bloody challenge!"
Eddard just grinned and said, "Now, the books Robert?"
"Fine, open the fucking book and lets get this over with."
Eddard sat down at a table where Robert joined him after another long-suffering sigh escaped his lips. "All right, now what is it that was so bloody important it couldn't wait?"
"Robert, do you know how much coin you have in the treasury?"
Robert opened his mouth to respond, closed it, then said in a somewhat sheepish tone, "No, I don't."
"Then let me enlighten you. You don't have any in the treasury. The Crown is in massive debt. Would you care to know how far in debt you are?"
"Just fucking tell me, Ned."
"You're six million dragons in debt. You owe three million dragons to Tywin Lannister, two million to the Iron Bank and a further one million to the Faith."
Shock filled Robert's face as Eddard continued, "Robert, I don't think it's as bad as it sounds. In fact I doubt many of the numbers that are listed here. I think someone has been stealing from you and hiding it in plain sight in your account books."
Fury and rage now replaced the surprise on Robert's face. Robert shouted, "Who?! Who's the slimly little shit that's been stealing from me?! I'll bash his brains in and put what's left of his head on a spike!"
"Calm, Robert. I believe I know who is stealing from you, but I can't prove it yet. And until I can prove it, the person I suspect must never know it."
"Fine. I won't bash his skull in until you tell me to, but who is it?"
"The only man who can, Robert. Petyr Baelish, your Master of Coin."
"Fucking Littlefinger?! You're mad Ned! The man owes everything he has to me and Jon Arryn. He would never dream of it!"
"It is often the ones we least suspect that abuse our trust the most. Lord Baelish is a man who has nothing. No rich lands, no large armies, nothing that would make anyone suspect him. Yet now, only a few short years after he came to court, he is one of the richest men in the City. How, I wonder? I will grant you that he has been outstanding at his job of finding coin to pay for everything that you've demanded. The man can seemingly rub two dragons together and make a third appear. But Robert, did you never stop to ask where the coin was coming from?"
Through gritted teeth, Robert replied, "No. I always thought counting coppers was a waste of time. Gods damn it. Jon tried talking to me about it several times. I always brushed him off, told him it wasn't important, just keep seeing to it that the Kingdom ran smoothly so I could ignore it. Fuck."
"Robert, this is why your Kingdom's accounts are important." Eddard pointed to a line in the book and said, "Look here. 'Mychal, wine merchant, two hundreds casks of Arbor Gold, bill for one thousand dragons received.'" Eddard turned several pages, pointed to another line and said, "Now here, 'Mychal, wine merchant, two hundred casks of Arbor Gold, bill for two thousand dragons paid.' Did you notice, Robert? The bill from the merchant was only for a thousand dragons, yet two thousand were paid." Turning the pages yet again Eddard pointed to a third entry. "The wine seller shows up yet again. 'Mychal, wine merchant, one thousand dragons on account from overpayment.' Are you still with me, Robert?"
"Aye. So far nothing seems out of the ordinary."
"Other than someone being sloppy with their payments, I agree. But there is one more item in this book I want to show you." Eddard turned another few pages and said, "Here. A fourth entry for this same merchant. 'Mychal, wine merchant. two hundred casks of Arbor Gold, account empty.' Now, all that appears to be legitimate. But look here." Eddard paused and drew out four pieces of parchment and foolscrap from inside his tunic. Pointing to the first one, he said, "This is from the the kitchens. The head cook signed for receiving one hundred casks of Arbor Gold, not two hundred." Pointing to the second one, Eddard continued, "This is the actual bill that this wine merchant gave to the cook. It is only for five hundred dragons. I asked the cook why he had a copy of it, and he said that he always kept copies of things like this for his inventory and his accounts." Holding up the last piece of parchment he said, "And these are the bills that Littlefinger gave me when I told him that you wished to inventory the royal cellars to make sure you had enough wine for Joffery's upcoming name day celebrations. The two bills from Baelish are for two hundred casks and a thousand dragons each.
"Robert, the cook and I went to the cellars together. There were only one hundred casks from this merchant there, both empty and full. The cook told me that this merchant always marks his barrels so anyone who sees them knows who they came from and who they can go to in order to buy the wine themselves. But according to the records he gave me, Baelish has paid for four hundred casks of wine to the amount of two thousand dragons, yet there are only one hundred casks in the cellar that amounted to five hundred dragons. Someone has stolen one thousand, five hundred dragons from you just in this one purchase."
Robert roared, "I'll kill him. I'll kill him myself the ungrateful bastard!"
Eddard sighed a bit and said, "Robert, I wish that you could. But we don't know it was Baelish. For all we know it could be anyone who deals with the Royal Treasury. It probably is Baelish, but we can't kill a Lord, even a minor one, without ascertaining whether he truly is guilty or not."
"Well if I can't kill him, what the bloody hell do you propose we do about him then?"
"I want to bring in one of my own Lords, Robert. Let him look over these books and trace the money. Once he's done that we can deal with Baelish on a more, permanent, basis."
Robert gritted his teeth again and said, "Fine. I'll wait to kill him until we know for sure it was him. Who do you want to replace him on the Small Council?"
"Lord Manderly. Wyman may be too fat to sit a horse, but he's one of the richest men in the Seven Kingdoms and he knows how to handle anyone's accounts forwards and backwards. He'll soon root out any theft against you."
"Good. Send a raven for him."
"I'll do that at once, Your Grace."
"No, not at once, Lord Stark. Did you forget? You've got me angered beyond belief, delayed me from the training yards and Ser Aron and you made me count fucking coppers. Straight to your chambers to put your armor on, grab Ice and meet me in the yard. I plan to work out my frustrations on you."
Eddard smiled, "As my King commands. I will try not to humiliate you in front of the whole Court."
Robert laughed. "You couldn't even if you tried. But I welcome the chance to prove you wrong. Meet me down in the yard."
"As you command, Your Grace."
Eddard hurried to his chambers in the Tower of the Hand to change out of his silks and satins and into the boiled leather and steel of his armor. As he was climbing the stairs to his chambers, he saw Arya standing on one leg trying to balance. He groaned. Perhaps he was wrong to have hired Syrio to instruct her. The Braavosi had her doing all manner of things that were, frankly, ridiculous. At least Nymeria was lounging on the steps beneath her so that if she fell again she would land on the direwolf instead of stone.
Eddard shook his head and said, "Let me guess, Syrio says?"
Arya flashed a smile at him, lost her balance and landed, mostly, on Nymeria. "Syrio says that I need to have perfect balance to be a water dancer."
"But why on the stairs? Surely you can practice balancing on a flatter surface?"
"Syrio says that every hurt is a lesson. Falling down the stairs is a good lesson to keep my balance better so next time I won't lose it so easily."
Eddard looked at his youngest daughter, then down at the still growing direwolf, back at his daughter, then raised an eyebrow.
"He didn't say I couldn't use Nymeria to catch me if I fell."
Eddard barked out a short laugh and pulled his daughter into an embrace. He ruffled her hair and told her, "Just maybe practice somewhere that's a bit more out of the way, eh?"
Arya rolled her eyes and said, "Fine. Come, Nymeria." As the pair ran off, Eddard smiled to himself and thought, "Arya, child. When it comes time for me to give you away, I almost pity the man that asks for your hand. I pray he lives his life as fully as you live yours."
Reaching his chambers, he shouted for his manservant to come and help him get his armor on. It took long minutes, but Eddard was soon attired in a polished steel breastplate that was adorned with a beaten bronze direwolf on the chest, pauldrons, vambraces, gauntlets, greaves and tassets. In his hands, he carried a helm that had been crafted in the shape of a direwolf head, while his grey silk cloak was fastened to his shoulder with clasps crafted in the shape of a running direwolf. Lastly, he strapped Ice across his back and picked up his shield.
Perhaps sparring against Robert would be a good thing. They both had need of the practice. And if truth be told, he would relish the chance to take some of his frustrations out on the man causing most of them. Robert was a demon with his war hammer, but he'd never fought anyone that was wielding Valyrian Steel. Eddard had spent years learning how to use Ice in battle, and a key for him, Robert had never seem him wield it. He was going to enjoy this spar.
