The Red Deer

The morning of a new day for the inhabitants of the Red Castle began with an unusual sight. There was an uncharacteristic commotion in the western courtyard, as several dozen golden cloaks, under the strict guidance of the master of law's men, dragged the inhabitants of the royal prison into the light of Day. All of them were sorted by the nature and severity of the crimes committed and their future fate was determined.

 In total, at the moment, almost three hundred people were waiting for their fate in the dungeon. What was the need to keep prisoners in the main royal residence... is a great mystery to me personally. No, I would understand perfectly well if political prisoners, all kinds of oppositionists or anti-corruption fighters were "resting" here, because such people should always be kept close by. But ordinary thieves? Of course, the right to administer justice is sacred to the King, but that's the point! That's the thing, all the prisoners have already been convicted! The block, the galley, the Night Watch, but no! They are still sitting in stone bags, losing their human appearance and working capacity. So it turns out that almost three hundred criminals are sitting under the royal castle, which almost no one cares about. Or rather, there was no case until I took up this issue. With a certain intent, of course.

 I was obsessed with exploring all sorts of secret passages and exits. As usual, dungeons should have the largest number of these entrances and exits. But how could you do this without attracting attention? After all, the executioners and jailers who are loyal to whom they need are vigilant! That is why it was decided to make a small "repair" in the dungeon, combined with a certain optimization of the work.

 The prisoners were taken out in groups. They were fed and watered. They raised the "cases", simultaneously conducting an express interrogation and leaving the poor guys two paths: a few years on the galley or a Wall. There was, of course, a third one, the gallows. But we reserved this option only for the most inveterate repeat offenders, who, frankly, were a little scary to let go. And so – beauty and efficiency! A Baratheon tie around his neck and a kick in the ass off the wall. The problem is solved! Brilliant!

 They also decided that this time it was not worth turning the castle yard into a cattle yard, and dispensed with the legal removal of nostrils, castration, and even without cutting off hands and fingers. As people made their choices, they were separated into different piles, along with appropriate markings. On the skin, of course, right on the wrist. Two red-hot pokers were not allowed to cool down for a long time today. A circle is for the Patrol, a triangle is for the navy. If such marked lads are caught after escaping, they will be hanged immediately.

 Interestingly, I've heard a lot of rumors and even tales that any Southerner would rather voluntarily cut off his penis than go to the Wall. They were lying, as it turned out. After all the perspectives were brought to the dungeon staff, about a third chose the Wall. Eighty-nine new brothers will soon take a ship to the north, but in the meantime, the issue of their resettlement will be resolved. They will still be under lock and key, of course, but now in one of the empty barracks of the city guards. They'll give them a chance to clean up and tidy themselves up. Perhaps someone will be hanged for trying to escape. Probably, someone will die during the journey. But one thing is for sure – the Night Watch will receive a decent number of recruits for the first time in a very long period. Everyone else to the galleys!

 You can't envy either of them. Life in the Night's Watch may be harsh, but life on the galley is only torment. It's only Conan who's become a jock in captivity, it won't work in Westeros. On the other hand, by swearing an oath to the Night's Watch, you forever renounce your family, land, and everything that could have been (and the very idea of "service" is not to everyone's liking here), and after you've exhausted yourself on the galley, you go ashore and roll on all fours.

 As soon as I appeared in the courtyard, so handsome, my new Lord Justiciar and Lord interrogator immediately jumped up to me.

"My Lord!

"My lord."

 Brienne of Tarth and Jacelyn Bywater. A sweet couple... with tension. Brienne, though with doubts, but I appointed Lord / Lady Justiciar. Thanks to her father, Brienne received the most comprehensive education possible. She was taught not only to swing a sharpened piece of iron, but also to control and command people and lead them into battle. She was also taught purely feminine pursuits. For example, how to run a household. Undoubtedly, Brienne is blinded by dogmas, rules and traditions. She's a man of honor and dignity, but that's all that's required of her. She should become the prosecutor General for the capita Brienne of Tarth and Jacelyn Bywater. A sweet couple... with tension. Brienne, though with doubts, but I appointed Lor / Lady Justiciar. Thanks to her father, Brienne received the most comprehensive education possible. She was taught not only to swing a sharpened piece of iron, but also to control and command people and lead them into battle. She was alsht purely feminine pursuits. For example, how to run a household. Undoubtedly, Brienne is blinded by dogmas, rules and traditions. She's a man of honor and dignity, but that's all that's required of her. She should become the prosecutor General for the capital. The punishing hand of a master of the law. The auditor and the chief guardian of the law. Simply put, a scarecrow. I'm sorry, Brienne. She will have to become a figure whose shadow everyone will be afraid of. I think she can handle this easily and naturally.

 Why do I need it? Well, of course! And who's going to tell her, "Don't go there, go here"? The locals will quickly figure out who needs to be negotiated with, I'm sure of that. And there is patronage, nepotism and patronage of art with gifts.

 The second one, Jacelyn Bywater, The second one, Jacelyn Bywater, was in my favor on purpose. I set my sights on recruiting him almost as soon as I arrived in the capital. However, it took a while to get around to it. And of course, I had to take into account local games and politics. If Bywater was already one of Slint's favorites before the well-known events related to Dim, then after them this swineherd completely hated the veteran of taking Rations. Of course, as long as Robert was well remembered, Bywater might not have worried about his career, but the Gods take care. So, as soon as I offered Ser Jacelin to defect with my loyal people to the bodies under my jurisdiction, he agreed without hesitation. With his decision, he clearly made everyone around him breathe a sigh of relief. But in vain. I really shouldn't have.

 Ser Bywater has not only charisma and a stylish prosthetic arm, but also vast experience, remarkable intelligence and the ability to work not for fear, ber has not only charisma and a stylish prosthetic arm, but also vast experience, remarkable intelligence and the ability to work not fbut for conscience. Bringing several people with him, he famously set to work, quickly bringing the bodies of inquiry to their senses and working condition. In general, he acted fully justifying the high level of trust and the high salary by local standards.

 There is only one "but" in this story about the genius of my work with personnel. The cadres hardly get along with each other. Does it come to expl There is only one "but" in this story about the genius of my work with personnel. The cadres hardly get along with each other. Does it come to explosive conflict or p

He immediately strolled towards a group of prisoners who had only recently been dragged out of their cells. A dozen and a half dirty, smelly and overgrown men with empty, doomed eyes.

"One of the last groups, my Lord," Ser Jacelin said.

- Thieves, rapists, sodomites?

"Ahem, thieves and smugglers, my lord.

 We got very close to the prisoners. I couldn't help but grimace in disgust. The stink was terrible. People were covered in excrement and something else, and clearly not in one layer.

"So," I nodded towards the dungeons, "does it stink like that everywhere?"

"Unfortunately, yes, my Lord.

"It's disgusting." Well, okay. If the Royal Justice is comfortable in such conditions, then the Gods are his judges.

 After walking along a short row of criminals, I couldn't hold back my restless curiosity.

- What are you tied up for? He turned to one of the prisoners, who was almost toothless and had shifty eyes.

"My lord! Have mercy! I'm not guilty.…

 Yes, of course. How long has it been written on my forehead: A "sucker"?

"And you?"

"My lord! It's all the guards! They forced me to…

"You?"

"My lord! I am innocent.…

 One more, one more, and one more…

"I am a thief, my lord…

 I was already taken aback, looking at the speaker in surprise. He was still a burly, heavily overgrown man with gray streaks in his brown beard. The look was that of a man who, though doomed, had not yet broken down. There was a strong man in front of me.

"... just like my father." He robbed a merchant alone, and they turned me in.

"I was on my way to success, but not fortanulo..." saying words from the distant past to the uncomprehending stares of others, I once again looked at the figure of the man standing in front of me.

 Okay, she wasn't!

"Ser Jocelyn!

"Yes, my lord!"

- Throw this robber out of here, otherwise he will spread a bad influence on these decent people here. We won't get out of trouble.

"Um... it will be done, my lord."

 The prisoners were about to start howling and confess all their sins to me, but it was too late. The guards, understanding everything from Bywater's demanding gaze, quickly led them away under Brienne's loud shouts. They took the lucky guy away, too, but in the other direction.

- Let him wash himself properly, find him a clean shirt and pour out some silver. Start a new life, or at least try.

"We will, my lord, but let me ask you a question.

"I'm listening."

- why?

- You know, I love strong and honest people, - he looked into the eyes of the former captain of the Iron Gate, - and I try not to leave such people in trouble.

 Bywater held her gaze and bowed slightly, but respectfully enough. There is definitely an understanding of the spoken words in this person.

"My lord!

 Somewhere behind me, my squire appeared with a very serious look. Bywater, sensing that it was time for him, hurried away, leaving us alone. Marik, however, waited when no one was around and without showing his emotions in any way, handed me a piece of paper, which I accepted with some suspicion.

"Who sent it?"

- I don't know! – to my surprised look, he hastily explained. – I found it in the morning, after breakfast, on your dining table.

"I see... conspirators, too! "as if there's anything to hide here from Varys or Baelish's ubiquitous spies." "Not a room, but a courtyard!"

 I quickly read the note requesting an anonymous meeting and returned it to the average Seaworth.

"Burn it." And every last dog in the castle should be aware that I'm going to be watching dragon skulls alone tonight. You could even say I'm fulfilling a childhood dream. Understood?

"It will be done, my Lord." Marik bowed quickly, obviously trying to hide a smile. The parasite.

***

The light of the torch cut through the darkness of the dungeon, leaving corners and niches at her mercy. The huge skulls, black as onyx, sparkled joyfully, as if they sensed their native element.…

 After completing all the urgent matters, rather than postponing the not too urgent ones, I waited until nightfall and headed straight here. Being in the cycle of life, I completely forgot about my childhood desire to see a real dragon. But the dragons died out, leaving behind only such silent witnesses of their former lives. Nineteen skulls that have been languishing in darkness, deep underground, for fifteen years now. One of them stands out in particular. The Ballerion's skull. The black horror. A dragon who lived for more than two hundred years and found old Valyria. The skull was so huge that it seemed that in the prime of his powers, its owner could bite a mammoth at once. His teeth looked like swords and a half, and the darkness in his eye sockets was so deep that the glow of the torch categorically refused to dispel it.

 A flock of goosebumps ran through my body, making me shudder slightly. It is not there, but it is felt. That scrutinizing and arrogant gaze, as if weighing you on the scales of fate. Are you worthy, stranger, to see our bones? Are you worthy to experience a little of the awe that your ancestors felt while standing in the shadow of our wings?

 See. Look at this! I am here, in front of you, and I have nothing to hide. I've seen the remains of worse and older creatures. But you don't have to judge and dress me up! Who are the judges?! Dead lizards?! A bucking, but still ultimately obedient weapon! No more than that…

- An amazing sight…

 A strange voice coming from the darkness abruptly brought me out of this strange state. It seemed like at some point I was in meditation and... damn. I stared in surprise at my right hand, which was resting on the smooth and black bone. When did I do that? And the feeling of someone else's presence and gaze disappeared, as if it had never existed. Was the local religious psychosis so contagious? I would not like to. Is there a special kind of hallucinogenic mold in the local food?

"... at one time, these skulls were hanging in the throne room. They inspired fear. And someone will say that the kings of the Targaryen dynasty were emphasized and given greatness. Echoes of former power. It is ironic that fate forced them to hide shyly in these cells. Do you, as I can see, have a liking for them?

 With an unexpected inner protest, I tore my hand away from the skull, slowly turning towards the speaker. Varys. In person, but with a small oil lamp in his hands, without any obsequious emotions, he looked directly and honestly into my face, while shadows danced jerkily on his face, generated by the flame of my torch.

- A tribute to the memory and respect of the true creators of the Seven Kingdoms. No more than that. – Turning away, I looked at the dragon's skull again, then looked at its empty eye sockets.

- The true creator of the Seven Kingdoms was man.

 My interlocutor calmly disagreed with me. His position takes shape without further ado. And in this form, Aegon the Conqueror is immediately guessed.

- A man, his will and his work build everything, from dams to castles, and here... - Varys' gaze also went to these bone relics, – we see a tool. Incomparably more majestic than all the others, but an instrument.

 I like this kind of Varys better. No fawning, sycophancy, acting or acting.

- Aegon was neither a great warrior, nor a great commander, nor a great leader, nor a good father, nor a good husband or brother. Apparently, he wasn't very good as a man either. His only merit is a brief moment of desperate courage and bravery, which allowed him to ride the Black Terror. The dragon did the rest of the work for him. So who was controlling whom? Has it certainly occurred to your bright head whether Aegon the Conqueror controlled Balerion at all, being his rider, or was he a silent witness to the history that was happening?

- Maybe so, maybe not, - Varys just shrugged his shoulders, this time without objecting to my words, - but the result of the events of the past is not to be put anywhere. The Seven kingdoms have existed for three centuries.

- It's hard to disagree here, no matter how much my quarrelsome nature would like otherwise.

 Turning on my heel, I headed deeper into the room, wanting to look at the skulls of other dragons, while making an inviting gesture to the master of whisperers. I couldn't help but think of Lovecraft's novel "The Whisperer from the Dark", forcing me to look at Varys in a slightly different way. Although, he doesn't look like a representative of the Mi-go race... Gods, I can't think of anything!

"What did you want to discuss with me, Lord Varys, that prevented you from visiting my chambers as you did before?"

"Circumstances have changed, Lord Renly. Just yesterday, you gave the impression of a quarrelsome young man whose interests did not extend beyond the soft feather beds of brothels. And now you are in good standing with His Majesty, you have gained the position of the master of the ships, you have established a close relationship with the master of the coin. Today, close contact with you… You've been getting attention, very close attention, my lord. And I note that observers don't really like what is happening or could happen. So much so that they have already taken certain measures.

- Who and what are you talking about? – The evening stops being languid.

"Tell me, my lord," Varys continued, ignoring the questions, "are you still waiting for an answer from Highgarden?"

 I stopped abruptly and fixed my gaze on the face of the former street actor, who remained completely calm and indifferent.

 Almost immediately, as soon as I got used to my new life and assessed all the upcoming prospects, I sent a marriage proposal to Highgarden. To implement my plans, a decent amount of capital is required, which can be easily obtained through dowry. Margaery Tyrell is pretty, smart, and her parents are fabulously rich... and, of course, this marriage is "canonical." If I got this girl to be my wife, I would get everything I needed. A beautiful girl. Gold. Army. All the things that could make the course of the upcoming war of the five kings take on a completely different character... but they haven't been in a hurry to answer me for a month now! Even Loras stopped writing. But who? Who could my matrimonial plans interfere with so much? Did I cross Daddy Tywin's path somewhere? No…

"John."

My mouth went dry immediately.

"The Lord Hand is very concerned about your activity," Varys nodded briefly, continuing to dump information on me, "he has been meticulously building a system of checks and balances within the state for a long time. With great difficulty, Lord Arryn managed to stop the influence of Lord Tywin, managed to establish relations with Dorne, and also completely negate any influence of the Tyrell House by intermarrying the Baratheons and Florents. Whose house, by the way, is challenging the Tyrells' right to Space more and more loudly. And your marriage to a Tyrell representative will bring them back to the capital, giving them the opportunity to grow here again, upsetting the balance and destroying old alliances.

"So what does John have to offer the Tyrells?"

- To become related to the royal family directly, of course.

"Does he want to marry Margaery Joffrey?" – To say that I was surprised is to say nothing, then what is the point of this whole deterrence strategy?!

"My Lord," Varys smiled for the first time during the conversation, making it as condescendingly as the fact that he was dealing with Baratheon's ego allowed, "promising is not marrying.

 We stared at each other for a while longer before I gave up, letting out a long, empty sigh. This conversation was not easy for me.

"Why are you telling me everything?" Why are you risking your position?

"For now, let's just say that I deeply like you, Lord Renly. You could have done a lot of good to the kingdom and its subjects if it weren't for the shackles that have entangled you hand and foot. Or maybe I'm just wondering what you'll find a way out of the situation. Who knows…

 Varys bowed, and having extinguished his lamp, silently disappeared into the darkness gathering around me. The torch was almost extinguished.

 Or maybe you just want to pit me against John! But if what Varys said is really true... I'm in serious trouble.