Tywin Lannister sat behind his desk and regarded the man stood dutifully before him. By all accounts, this was one of the most diligent and best of the Goldcloaks available. If anyone was going to be able to find this blasted Stark whelp and remedy the disastrous situation his damned incompetent family had managed to get them all into, this was the man.
"What did you say your name was?" he asked , looking down his nose in supercilious fashion.
"Javert, if it please you m'lord." the man raised his head to meet his gaze before looking down dutifully. Good, a man that knows his place. Tywin could hear the remnants of a lower class accent although the man took pain to suppress it, aping his betters no doubt.
The man by all accounts was like a bloodhound, utterly devoted to his job, with a ruthless streak that meant he was unlikely to give up at the first difficulty. With this man on her tracks, how long could Sansa Stark stay at bay?
"The girl needs to be found, before she causes any more disturbances." Tywin instructed with a disdainful flare of his nostrils. "I'm sure you understand how important this is to us, and how richly we will reward any news of her, leading to her return to our fold."
"I will set to work at once, m' lord." Javert assured him.
"Remember, she must remain unharmed. Not a bruise or a scratch, you understand, of course?"
"Of course, m'lord! How do we know she hasn't already left King's Landing?" asked Javert. "If you don't mind me asking, m'lord?"
"Every port and road is being watched. Besides the Riverlands is currently under siege by our forces." Tywin sneered. "Her luck may have held so far, but there is no way she is going to get to Riverrun past that."
hr/
Tywin waited until his daughter had left before sending a message to Petyr Baelish. There was something that he wanted to discuss with him and seeing that he was such a slippery customer he wanted to make sure that their conversation remained private.
"Baelish, how good of you to attend me so swiftly!" he said as the other man entered his makeshift office.
Baelish bowed respectfully and waited for Tywin to invite him to sit down and get to business.. "Anything to be of service to my lord Lannister."
"So does the Northern plan still look promising? The girl is being adequately trained, is she? I want no mistakes with this. Things are already unsettled with the disappearance of Sansa. I want nothing to interfere with the plan."
Baelish made a slight face. "The raw material, I'm sorry to say is not promising, and yet my associates endeavour to shape her into a useful tool for our purposes."
Tywin narrowed his eyes very displeased with Baelish's news. iMore damned excuses! Was there no one who was competent in this entire sweltering city?/i "Well, they'd better redouble their efforts. Failure is not an option, Baelish, I hope you understand this."
The other man's smooth mask of a face barely flickered. "Perfectly, my lord."
"I'd like to pick your brains on the Sansa problem, if I may. How is it possible that one lone female can evade our forces for so long? Who is likely to be helping her?"
"I would have thought she had no friends here in King's Landing, but there's been much unrest lately."
Tywin looked down his nose. "Yes I had heard of the riot, thank you. So you suggest she's fallen in with some of our more restless subjects?"
Baelish shrugged. "Well, she would be a figurehead to the disaffected, and who knows what she could tell them."
"Tell them?" Tywin frowned. The thought that Sansa might well talk once she had left them had barely occurred to him.
"Tis very unfortunate that the king in his infinite wisdom saw fit to manhandle the lady. Very bad publicity if she talks about how the Kingsguard struck her in public with mailed fists, no less. It looks bad all round." Baelish suggested with a hint of smugness.
"That was not done on my say-so!" Tywin retorted, angry flush rising up his neck. "Besides, Joffrey did not strike her in court technically, his guards did."
"The girl already holds you a grudge because of the death of Eddard Stark. Though she swears blind she is loyal to the king, she would not be human if she did not resent him and his family for what was done." Petyr suggested, with the faintest hint of a cynical smile. "You know at the time I suggested a match between the girl and I, since she is nothing but a traitor's get now, and not remotely suitable for the king, but Cersei seemed to think it was a bad idea. I'm fairly sure that I could have had her under control."
"Again, not our fault! Cersei was perfectly prepared for him to be sent to the Wall in perpetuity and forfeit his lands as a last resort, but execution in front of the populace, well, I will not deny that did not make us very popular. For some reason the small-folk seem to think he was unjustly murdered and in consequence we have been cursed ever since. Mere superstition, I have no time for it. "
He pointedly did not say anything about his proposal for the girl, but the curl of his lip told him that Tywin was unlikely to champion his suit of Sansa.
hr/
Enjolras was trying to concentrate on getting his latest pamphlet ready for print when he got a tip-off from one of his Oldtown accquaintances, which sent his enquiries in a new and profitable direction. Leaving the humble room where they worked, he met Alyn Goodsgrace of Pinkmaiden in one of the local inns and took a booth, accompanied by Combeferre and Feuilly. As they ate and worked, Enjolras scribbling as ideas came to him, the men discussed the issues in front of them.
"Has Winter been declared yet and has the Crown made provision for the people of King's Landing? I have to say it troubles me to hear you say that there was riots here in Summer." Alyn asked. "You'll have to forgive me, I'm still not fully caught up on what's happening in King's Landing. We're all so isolated in Oldtown."
As he realised the serious implications of that remark Enjolras started to draft a new pamphlet one that would surely draw the attention of their audience. This was possibly one of the most important issues they would work on yet.
"It must be soon, by my reckoning." Combeferre commented.
"By Citadel reckoning as well. They're intending to send out the pale ravens soon."
"This year?"
His informant just looked at him.
"We have months left?"
"Makes you worry, doesn't it? When King's Landingers starve in summer..." Alyn grimaced. "Are they even stockpiling? Tell me they are stockpiling?"
Feuilly looked at Alyn in horrified anger as the full implication of their coming plight was revealed. How could the people have forgotten so easily? This was a disaster brewing and the small-folk, the beleaguered working people and the poor of King's Landing would suffer most of all.
"Do you know what I suspect? They haven't been stockpiling for Winter at all." Combeferre said quietly. "In fact we've been struggling for food as late. There was riots down at the docks, not long ago because of it."
"Riots? I never thought the small-folk would be driven so far. What happened?"
"The small-folk rose up and detained the royal party after the departure of Princess Myrcella demanding bread, It got rather violent in places , but at least the voice of the people was heard loud and clear." Enjolras told his friend with a note of pride in his voice.
"They cannot sit in their golden and ivory towers claiming that they do not know of our woes!" Feuilly said.
"Food supplies will be low, even lower than now, and the people already complain about the high prices even of the basics. It's been a hard few months here, bread and meat cost a fortune here." Combeferre told Alyn. "No wonder they reacted badly, and Joffrey , that arrogant little shit just made it worse."
"If supplies are being withheld as you're already arguing?" Alyn leaned forward in concern.
"Aye, there are no food wagons coming in from the regions."
"None? Not from the Reach? Or the Westerlands? We know the Riverlands are decimated by war as it is." As they shook their heads, Alyn's bluff honest face twisted in pity.
"None, not one." Combeferre affirmed.
"It will be too cold to go out and work. The poor and the destitute will starve and freeze on the streets as fuel prices and rents soar." Feuilly counted out his points on his fingers.
"This is a disgrace!" Enjolras declared as he took another drink.
"As soon as Winter arrives it's going to be a disaster. Who knows how many will die in the city and yet the King and his council will do nothing."
"Why are they not providing for the people of the city?" Comberferre said in frustration at the situation in front of them.
"Because Robert Baratheon, damn his soul, spent the money on tourneys, booze and women." Alyn told them bluntly, "Because while Stannis and Renly tussled over a pair of shiny golden antlers, the food wagons from the Reach haven't been coming up the Roseroad as you say."
"It's deliberate, I tell you!" Enjolras butted in. "I've said it for weeks. A dirty tactic by Renly and the might of Highgarden, so King's Landing falls and he gets to march in and be the hero!"
"This is far wider than King's Landing, though I have no doubt that it's going to be bad here." Alyn told him. "They're even starting to discuss this in the Citadel, can you imagine?"
"The entire kingdom is teetering on the brink. This is probably the biggest story we've ever tackled." Enjolras said, realising the gravity of their discussion, "The Crown should be shouldering its responsibilities to care for the people, and yet they are not. Why?"
Alyn leant forward, lowering his voice as he glanced around. "That's where my source comes in."
"Your source?" Feuilly asked.
"There is great concern in Oldtown about what is going on here and all over the Seven Kingdoms. One of our old classmates, you remember Addam Braythwaite?
"Good old Addam! Always-flush Addam! Pockets full of silver and gold!" Combeferre exclaimed. "Of course I remember him! Good lad!"
"The lad from Shipbreaker's Bay?" Feuilly frowned, "I think I remember him."
"Used to work at Storm's End for Renly Baratheon? He had his tuition and stipend paid by the lord out of his own pocket." Combeferre recollected. "I used to take Old Valyrian with him. I thought he was going to qualify as a maester and return to Storm's End? Evidently he thought better-"
"Aye, he got a job in the treasury under Petyr Baelish. More money, or career opportunities, no doubt!"
"Well, he always did love gold!" Feuilly cracked a smile at the thought of his old accquaintance.
"The things he could tell you would turn your hair grey overnight. The Kingdoms are going to the dogs, frankly."
"What did he tell you?"
"There is no more gold in the treasury, for a start." Alyn let that bombshell out. "Can you believe that?"
The three of them just stared at each other in shock, unable to take in the stark reality of what had just been revealed.
"What?" Enjolras's mouth gaped open for a moment.
"It's all been pissed away. The Crown is broke. They can't afford to feed the populace, they can't even afford to run themselves. The Queen Regent isn't even making payments on her debt to the Iron Bank at the moment. There's talk that she's blueing what's left on an armada."
"On a-" Jaws dropped round the table at the sheer hubris.
"We must write about it, Enjolras, do a series! The people must know what is ahead of them." Feuilly urged. "Of all the damn irresponsible-"
Enjolras frowned, considering what he had been told. "I need more information about this if we are to bring this message to the people." He turned to Alyn, "Can I see your friend Addam, discreetly?"
Alyn sighed, "I'll see what I can do, but you have to understand that if his bosses find out that he talked to you, he's liable to lose his position?"
"I will be discreet, but I can't back away from this story, you understand?"
"I realise that. You know, some of us get copies of your pamphlet even in Oldtown? There's many who read 'Apollo' and his columns avidly. You all do a good thing here. Keep fighting the good fight for the small-folk."
hr/
Enjolras decided to meet the contact on neutral ground. If he was correct and Braythwaite corroborated his predictions, this had to be one of the biggest and most controversial scandals King's Landing had ever seen, something to rouse the people from their apathy, make them question the authority of the Crown and the Lannister/Baratheon regime.
How could they let it get that bad? Winter always hung over them like a threat, bringing cold, hunger and disease to the masses, who unfortunately did not have the resources to stave off distress.
He remembered something that Sansa had earnestly said about Eddard Stark and the North - that it was the lord's responsibility to look after his people in times of need, that they looked to him to care for them. The high lords had failed their people by indulging in petty revenge and land grabs, their own vendettas and wars which ripped whole regions like the Riverlands apart.
"Alyn told me where to find you. He said you want to talk about finance." Addam Braythwhaite said as he met Enjolras.
"I remember you! Combeferre's friend from the other set. Smart yet idealistic, training to be a lawyer or some sort. You could have easily got a post under Renly Baratheon in the Law Office. He was a decent boss by all accounts, paid very well as long as you were discreet and very easy-going, he was. And he liked a handsome man in his office, they say, your looks might have taken you far."
Enjolras's opinion of Lord Renly Baratheon was not particularly good, seeing as he blamed him for the lack of food coming from the Reach and his reckless attempt at the throne- not backed by his birthright as Sansa had said- which had split the opposition to the current regime in two just when he could have stayed out of the business, or put his talents to better use, but many seemed to like the man personally. Enjolras could not really understand it.
"Shall we get a private chamber to dine? 'Twould be far more discreet and I would rather not be-"
Enjolras understood. Addam was taking a big risk talking to him. "I will arrange everything, never fear."
….
As soon as Enjolras and Addam sat down to their humble meal, Enjolras offered his credentials. "I work for a publication in King's Landing now, writing about current affairs."
"Aye, I read it, quite a few people do, even in the palace."
"They do?" Enjolras raised his eyes in surprise.
"In secret, of course they do. The servants certainly, though they are careful never to be caught."
There was a small part of Enjolras that was pleased at the impact his publication had made however slight.
"This is off the record, aye?" Addam said looking round warily, even though they were in their private room and the door was bolted.
"Of course, Addam."
"Ask your questions then and I will see I can answer them."
"Is it true that the Crown has no more gold?" asked Enjolras, getting straight down to the crux of the matter and taking notes with his quill. "I heard the rumours, but I couldn't believe that this was true so near to Winter when food banks need to be stocked up for austere times ahead."
"Aye, and it's even worse, Enjolras. It cannot even keep up it's payments to the Iron Bank."
Enjolras was so astounded that he could barely speak for a moment, the thought that not only was the kingdom in debt to a fearsomely powerful organisation such as the Iron Bank of Braavos, but now it was not paying back the money owed. Meanwhile the Seven Kingdoms were plunging into yet more debt, and the Iron Bank was known to interfere in politics if it impacted the running of the bank. This was a very serious matter indeed.
"Seven Hells, you don't even know the half of this, do ye?" Addam's mocking chuckle sounded weary, as if he could hardly believe the mess they were all in, and could only deal with it by mockery and dry laughter.
"Tell me. The people need to know. They deserve to know what is being done in their name."
"The crown took out several loans during Robert Baratheon's reign to-"
"To do what?"
Alyn shrugged, pulling a cynical face. "Tourneys and feasts are expensive. At first he was being bankrolled by the Lannisters and their gold mines, but that came to a stop, so the Master of Coin had to look elsewhere, and the Iron Bank were happy to oblige."
Enjolras couldn't help but notice how cynical working for the government had made Addam, who he remembered as a genial, harmless if profligate student at Oldtown. "How bad is it? And why did the Lannisters cut off their funding?"
"There's nothing in reserve, apparently."
Enjolras frowned. "Nothing in reserve? But the Lannister mines are-"
"Lord Tywin tells them that the mines are dry, what are they going to do? It's certainly true that there hasn't been any on the markets for a long while." Addam said with a shrug.
"Do you think he's stockpiling gold for himself?" asked Enjolras keenly, quill at the ready as he listened to Addam's dry knowing commentary.
"Who can prove it, short of breaking into Casterly Rock and checking for yourself? I wish luck to anyone who is foolhardy enough to try it."
"So come the Winter, when food runs out and everyone is fighting over the scraps as the weather becomes more severe and people can no longer afford heat and fuel, can we get anything from the regions?"
"I hate to say this, but I sincerely doubt it. All the Seven Kingdoms are going to be affected by the War of the Five Kings and the Long Winter coming. The Riverlands are gutted by war."
"That's one region down."
"The Stormlands are leaderless now, Renly might have had stores, he did usually make efforts to succour the small-folk, but it's likely he took them to Bitterbridge when he wed the heiress Margaery Tyrell to prepare for war with Stannis. I doubt there's anything left."
"Gods, what a mess!"
"The North is decimated after Ned Stark's execution and Robb Stark's rebellion. When the Boltons took over, I heard tell they wrecked Winterfell."
Enjolras thought that Sansa would be very upset to hear about that as she seemed to have a deep affection for the place. She probably grew up there.
"-plus the fact that they would suffer the worst of winter due to their location. Stark is the one lord likely to have stockpiled extensively but those probably went with the wrecking of Winterfell."
That was a blow, definitely. He had no idea how precarious the situation really was all this time.
"Let's discount the Iron Isles: the will likely starve as they hardly produce enough for themselves even in good years. The Vale has gone full on separatist under Lysa Arryn, even if they shared their stores which is highly unlikely knowing what we do of the lady, it couldn't cover the shortfall even if we combined it with the stores of the Reach and the Westerlands."
"In short, it does not look good?" Enjolras looked up.
Addam had to agree. "I'm afraid it doesn't. Be ready for hard times."
"Thank you." Enjolras told Addam sincerely as he got up to leave. He clasped his hand firmly, feeling a sense of brotherhood with this man who had shared his knowledge despite the very different paths their lives had taken since their days at the Citadel.
"Anything for a fellow student of the Citadel. God's grace go with you, Enjolras."
Now that he knew the awe-inspiring extent of the problems in front of them, he was torn between despair for their future and righteous burning anger. He could use that: use it to inform his readers of what they faced in the coming months and how little they could rely on the ruling elite to do their duty. Let them try and deny it now! He would eviscerate them in print and damn the consequences.
hr/
subBack at the Musain/sub
When Enjolras returned to the Musain, he was accosted by a rather distressed Courfeyrac.
"Enjolras, we need to talk before you go in and see Grantaire-" he said before they could say another word. It was evident that his conscience was weighing heavily on him.
Enjolras was brought up short. He had been so preoccupied with the horrors of the coming Winter , and how little prepared the city and even the whole country were for it's rigours that he had forgotten the cynical painter's vendetta against the mysterious maiden who had swiftly become part of their lives. He had made it his goal to convince the rest of them that she was lying through her teeth and even Enjolras had noticed that the painter resented it when he paid her attention.
iToo quickly. You should be wary of that, Enjolras/i. He told himself. iShe is not for you, however beautiful she is. You have a goal to attain, winter is coming and disaster for the people of King's Landing looms, unless by some miracle we can get food to keep us alive during the lean years. This is the worst time of all to suddenly be enamoured of a girl completely out of your league./i
"What does he have to say for himself?" He shrugged off his red coat and found a seat as the group greeted him and Combeferre.
"I was not out of line!" Grantaire's chin stuck out, aggression gleaming in his blue-green eyes. "You know nothing about her, only what she deigns to tell us! Ask her! Demand that she finally tells the truth!"
"As far as I can see you are the one who objects loudest to her presence, Grantaire." pointed out Combeferre, trying to keep the peace.
"Well, actually I do. A girl from Chataya's who knows Sansa. Swears that she is as close to her as a sister." Grantaire's chin went up in a defiant line, eager to prove his point.
"Doesn't sound good, does it?" Marius said with a grimace.
"I'm sure there's a logical explanation, Grantaire, talk to her instead of jumping to conclusions." urged Marius, refusing to believe that such an innocent looking girl could be a doxy.
"But why didn't she just tell us her background?" Jehan wondered out loud. No one could deny that the bard had a point.
"Why do you think?"
Enjolras stood toe to toe with Grantaire, jaw tensed.
"Every single time you have to cast aspersions on the girl. What has she ever done to you? She is alone and vulnerable. She needs our help." Enjolras insisted. "If she's run off because of your accusations, I swear by the Seven I will-"
"So are you telling me you have never doubted the girl? Because I can tell you that is a lie!" Grantaire's voice was starting to rise. "We wouldn't be being chased by those 'Little Birds' if it wasn't for her."
"Aye, he's got a point, I hate to say it." Joly had to add, reluctant as he was to speak about someone who wasn't there to defend herself. "She even admitted that Varys the Eunuch used them to spy."
"But why would she have told us of the threat? If she was one of them, she would have said nothing while they got all they could from us and damned us out of our own mouths. But she seems to fear them just as much as we do."
"And so you told her this?" Enjolras turned his attention to Courfeyrac. "Told her we all thought she was nothing but a lying doxy and taking us for a ride?"
Courfeyrac gave a guilty little gulp and shuffled back minutely. His apologetic little smile told him everything he needed to know. "I didn't say that as such, I just mentioned that Grantaire was making enquiries about her at his new job on the Street of Silk."
"And how did she take that?" Enjolras said to Courfeyrac, his voice tight-wound as an automaton spring, every vowel and consonant tenser and tighter with every word.
Courfeyrac gave a nervous smile. "Umm, she was offended? I didn't mean to do it, I just wanted to warn her that he was asking after her."
"She may not have meant to lie. Perhaps she was in a bad position and desperate." reasoned Jehan, who had a tender spot in his heart for the girl, as he did for all fair and lovely things.
"It still doesn't answer the question that we rightly have!" Grantaire retorted, keen to prove his point.
There was a loud knock on the door and the tension in the room dispersed as Combeferre readied himself to open the door. "Password?"
"Maiden, Mother and Crone." came Musichetta and Eponine's voices from behind the door.
Enjolras nodded at Comberferre to indicate he could grant them entrance. "Ladies, what bring you both here?" he said trying for politeness.
Musichetta's chin was jutted out as she searched for Grantaire and Courfeyrac. Her sharp dark eyes scanned the room, landing on the painter. "I want a word with you."
"Oh this is ridiculous! What have I done now?" protested Grantaire, exasperated at getting attacked from two fronts. All he'd done was make enquiries about someone who had not proven their credentials in the team. He was trying to be a part of the group, for seven hell's sake!
"What have you done? How about the fact I have one of my workers sobbing in the scullery all afternoon, because she is convinced you all think she is a whore? " Musichetta accused, going on the warpath straight away. She crossed her arms over her bodice, every inch the defensive mama bear guarding her cub, ready and willing to do battle on Sansa's behalf.
There was a collective wince round the room.
"Nice one, 'Taire! Thought that one through, didn't you?" muttered Courfeyrac who was still sore about getting the blame for upsetting Sansa as it was.
"I'm sorry, gents, I love you all but if you're going to upset my staff when they're on duty, I'm not having it." Musichetta put her hands on her hips, eyeing them severely. "You already interrupt her when she's mean to be working, dragging her away from her work."
"You made my dear friend cry?" Eponine was outraged. "Is this true?"
"Look, don't get me wrong, I like the girl, I really do, but if Grantaire is right and she's a spy? We can't take that risk!" Joly's voice rose.
Eponine and Musichetta exchanged another look and withdrew a little, urgently whispering to one another while looking over at Enjolras and Grantaire.
"Look, we're going to mention this because we are worried, but if you're going to be unpleasant to the girl, we'll have her moved somewhere else. I brought her here in good faith, and I won't have my friend given a hard time for no reason!" Eponine gave them all that piercing look that made many of them group fidget and feel bad. In truth, she was rather adept at it.
"She might be a spy!" Grantaire piped up, aware that he was losing his rhetorical advantage. "Are we going to stand here and wait, while she reports back to the Master of Whispers?"
"-and if she is a spy she's on the run! She's terrified. Wherever she's come from, they've hurt her and hurt her badly. There, I didn't want to say it, but-" Musichetta burst out.
"Hurt her? What do you mean, hurt her?" asked Marius. "You've mentioned it now, you may as well come out with the whole thing."
"Gods forgive us for betraying a confidence, but I'm really worried about the lass. We were having a bath, us girls, and we saw her back striped with lash marks and bruises."
There was an intake of breath as Eponine's revelation sunk in.
"Lash marks?" Combeferre asked.
"Someone's given her a good working over with a whip or some sort of blade- maybe a sword. She has bruises on her legs and hips. We tried to salve as much as we could, but she was unhappy and distraught. I feel bad even talking about this, to be honest." Musichetta chimed in.
"How could they?" Jehan said faintly, his empathetic soul appalled by the marks of abuse that the women had spoken of. "No wonder she ran away!"
"Wherever she's come from, she's safer with us. But please give her a chance to trust us. I think she would find it hard to trust anyone in this situation."
"Did we do the right thing?" fretted Eponine as they left. "I still feel terrible about telling them about, well, you know."
"We didn't have much of a choice. I'm sure that they were convinced she was a spy thanks to Grantaire."
"What has he got against her anyway? I've seen her with the group, she goes out of her way to be friendly to them all." Eponine urged.
Musichetta didn't say anything, but her mouth thinned into a severe line.
"What?"
"It's not for me to say." Musichetta grudgingly said as they heard footsteps behind them.