The Hand of the King
Viserys sat back in his chair and watched his son as he stormed out his solar. Aegon was always very wilful, but he never thought his son would be entirely devoid of sense. To be taken in by such a woman and to have slept with her too. Utter idiocy.
Did he not realize that her father would now come to the Red Keep, seeking recompense for his daughter's lost honour? And he would also spout nonsense about wedding Aegon to his daughter to reclaim her honour or some such.
He had seen such people in the long years past. People who only looked out for their own interests with nary a care for the good of the realm. He had dealt with many such people since his appointment as the Hand and he knew exactly how to deal with them.
Viserys looked out of the window and noticed that the sun had risen almost to its zenith. He called for a page and instructed the lad to send word to the members of the Small Council to meet him in the Small Council chamber.
As Viserys walked to the Small Council chambers he thought about the upcoming festival and celebrations for Warrior's Day. His brother had simply declared that the smallfolk 'have full bellies and be merry' and recused himself from the matter.
However, things were not so simple and most of the lords of the Crownlands were coming to King's Landing to take part in the festivities. There was but a moon's turn worth of time left and quite a lot of work to do.
Viserys reached the meeting Hall but did not take a seat. He was the first to arrive and would be so for quite a while. Viserys walked over to the sphinxes that flanked the doors and put his hand over one's head, tracing the design.
He thought of what he could do with regards to Aegon's problem. The girl had to be sent away, that much was obvious. But she was not some smallfolk that he could simply send men to scare away. She was of noble birth, no matter how ignoble her own house was. Viserys's lip curled as he thought about the Stokeworths, upjumped and grasping, the whole lot of them.
Perhaps, he could marry her off to some knight in their service. Or a landed knight. Or even a hedge knight. Stokeworths married lower that that too if he remembered correctly. They even married off their daughters to merchants.
While Viserys was lost in thought near the entrance of the chamber, the members of the Small Council started to trickle in one by one until the room was full. Viserys nodded his head in greeting as each one came in and when the final member was inside he ordered as servant to close the doors and turned to face them.
He saw the Grandmaester, Munkun seated in his chair already, slouching rather, due to his old age. Viserys feared that the Grandmaester had not much time left and the Citadel had already sent a replacement,a Maester Alford who stood behind the Grandmaester presently, ready to help his superior.
Standing next to the Grandmaester was the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Raynard Ruskin. He had served his King ably after his rise to the position following the Lysene Spring but Viserys noticed that he was getting on with the years with his hair being more white that black.
Then there was the ever reliable Alyn Velaryon, or the Oakenfist, as he was being called now. For a bastard he had risen high and was now the Master of Ships, a position that was slowly becoming traditionally a Velaryon one. His brother, the King, did not fully trust Velaryon but Viserys had no such qualms. Anyone who defied Unwin Peake during the regency for his brother's sake was accorded some measure of trust. And he was family after all, having married Viserys's half-sister, the lady Baela.
Next to Alyn Velaryon stood the Master of Laws, Lord Benjicot Blackwood. While both the Oakenfist and Bloody Ben had fought together during the succession crisis in the Vale, they quarreled in the Small Council more often than not. Benjicot Blackwood had been appointed to the Small Council only a few years past on Viserys's insistence, for it would not do for the crown to forget it's allies during the Dance.
The Master of Whispers was running late but Viserys would rather begin the session without him. He never had anything substantial to say and if any news he had was important enough to disrupt the session, he would have enough discretion to do so.
"Sit down, my lords. We have much to discuss. Grandmaester, have you any news from Lord Arryn? What of the special tithe he was sent to collect?" Viserys asked.
The Grandmaster took a moment to collect himself and spoke, "My Lord Hand, the most recent missive from Lord Arryn placed him past Stonedance and he estimates to be within the Kingswood in a day. He says that beyond the expected protestations most of the lords paid the tithe with minimal fuss and the presence of a King's representative managed to loosen their purse strings."
"He is past Stonedance, but needs one day to get to the Kingswood? What, is he walking or crawling about?" Benijicot Blackwwod scoffed at the Master of Coin's apparently leisurely pace.
Alyn Velaryon was no less quick to the draw. "Isembard Arryn is an old man and he needs to be carried in a litter. If you'd paid any attention to matters such as these, you would have had a better understanding of the matter. As it stands, do not speak of things you know little of," he retorted.
Benjicot Blackwood's face reddened and he stood up a hand on the hilt of his sword and a ready retort on his lips. Alyn Velaryon, not one to be outdone, rose with equal fury. Just as it seemed that they would get to blows, Viserys stepped between them.
"Settle down, friends. Let us not quarrel. We have more pressing issues to attend to. Like the tourney the King wants to be held on the occasion of Warrior's Day. Tell me, Lord Blackwood, have you instructed the City Watch on what their duties entail? The must keep the peace. It should be a day of celebration and piety, not one of violence."
Both Blackwood and Velaryon sat down glaring at each other. The Lord Blackwood replied to Viserys.
"As you know, my lord Hand, the city watch is utterly corrupt, taking bribes from merchants and lordlings to turn a blind eye to criminal activities in the City. Ever since my arrival in the past year, I have worked tirelessly to root out this corruption and ensure that the city is safe for the people in it."
"Replacing the men of the Watch with your own men, you mean," Lord Velaryon muttered under his breath. Benjicot Blackwood looked ready to argue further but Viserys spoke up.
"Lord Velaryon, if you have nothing useful to add, I must ask you to hold your peace," Viserys said.
Grandmaester Munkun, seemingly lost in his thoughts until now, spoke up. "My Lord Hand, as you can see from Lord Arryn's letter, the presence of a King's representative is enough to push the Crownlords into action. Imagine the consequences if the King himself were to go on a royal progress. He need not even go outside the Crownlands. A distant ruler does not endear himself to his subjects, my lord. Already there are rumours in the Crownlands about the King not caring about the realm."
Viserys, ambivalent about the matter of a royal progress, suddenly got vexed at the thought of such rumours about his brother. After everything his brother had done to ensure that the smallfolk did not go hungry after the Dance, they had to gall to think that he did not care about them. He turned on the Grandmaester.
"Who is it that has been speaking such treasons? And why have I not been told of this sooner?" he demanded.
"It is the smallfolk, my lord. They speak many things. I only wished to inform you of the word going round the city. I still maintain that a royal progress would do no harm and only good, my lord," Munkun replied.
Viserys was about to retort when the doors of the Small Council chamber burst open and Ser Robert Darklyn, the Master of Whispers, strode in. For a former Kingsguard, Viserys noticed, he had really let himself go. While he walked as if he was still stout and strong of arm, his muscle had mostly turned to flab and he was heavily balding. He looked excited about something and that did not bode well. He was rarely excited and that too only when he had bad news to deliver.
'My lords! Have you any news of Lord Arryn?" he inquired the Small Council.
"It is obvious that you know something we don't so get on with it. We have no time for your mummery," Lord Blackwood said.
"Well! Since all of you are excited about it, I suppose I must tell it to you right away. He is dead. Or murdered rather. Him and his party." Ser Darklyn looked triumphant as he relayed this news and Viserys gaped at the man. How could someone murder the Master of Coin while on King's business and while travelling with his guards? He enquired as such to Ser Darklyn.
"It was bandits, my lord hand. He was carrying all of the collected tithes with him as he travelled and he must have made for a very tempting target. Why, he even had only twenty men with him as his guards and three knights. Even then, he was murdered." Ser Darklyn looked to be settling down, having delivered his news, and took on a more placid expression and sat down in his seat.
"And who are these bandits? Where are they operating from? How many are there?" Viserys asked the Master of Whispers.
Ser Darklyn shrugged. "Only one thing is obvious, my lord Hand. These bandits are the remnants of the Dance and the Hour of the Wolf. They have been preying on many villages in the Crownlands but the local lords have not brought this matter to our attention because they believed that they could handle this problem. Which they have just proven incapable of."
Viserys stood up. "This must not be allowed to continue, my lords. I shall speak with the King myself and get his assent to send men to root out this problem. Lord Commander, you are to prepare a group of knights and men-at-arms to face these bandits in the Kingswood. The Master of Whispers shall provide you with the number of bandits at his earliest convenience."
Ser Robert Darklyn nodded his assent while the Lord Commander bowed with a mutter of 'I live to serve, my lord.'
Viserys nodded at both of them. "If that is all, my lords, I believe that we should adjourn for now. I have much to speak of with the King."
The members of the Small Council nodded their assent and shuffled out of the room with Grandmaester Munkun trailing behind walking slowly. Viserys too made his way from the Small Council chamber and to the royal apartments. He needed to speak with his brother.