Ned walked to the seat at the king's lower right and pulled out a chair before sitting down.
His gaze swept over the council once more. Just as Robert was about to begin, Ned finally noticed that someone was missing.
"Your Grace, Lord Stannis has not arrived yet."
He could not help but say it aloud.
Varys, seated nearby, wore a smile piled thick upon his face. "Oh, not long after the king rode north, Lord Stannis returned to Dragonstone and has yet to come back."
When Ned mentioned Stannis Baratheon, Robert frowned slightly.
He said indifferently, "If he's not in King's Landing, then forget it."
"Let's talk about real business."
The others immediately straightened in their seats, listening closely.
"When I was at Winterfell, Benjen Stark of the Night's Watch rode through the night to report," Robert said.
"Large numbers of wildlings are gathering beyond the Wall, planning to attack Castle Black, and the rangers sent to scout even discovered the presence of giants."
As soon as Robert finished speaking, the council chamber fell into dead silence.
Aside from Ned, everyone else wore expressions of disbelief.
Pycelle sucked in a sharp breath, his voice hoarse. "Giants?"
The smile vanished from Renly's face, replaced by serious astonishment. "Giants? Are you certain?"
Petyr's eyes shifted as he looked toward Ned. "Could the rangers be mistaken? If I remember correctly, giants vanished hundreds of years ago. How could they still exist?"
Ned cast a glance at Littlefinger and replied coolly, "The report about the giants came from Ser Jeremy Rykker.
I believe Maester Pycelle should be familiar with his character. Maester, tell Lord Petyr, would he lie?"
Pycelle's mind flashed with the image of Ser Jeremy Rykker. He shook his head and spoke in a trembling voice.
"Mm, Ser Jeremy may have served the Mad King, but his character is trustworthy.
If the information truly came from him, then it should be reliable."
Petyr chuckled softly. "In that case, I have no objections. Your Grace, how do you intend for us to respond?"
At once, all eyes turned to Robert.
Robert leaned back in his chair and pointed at Ned. "Lord Stark is now the Hand of the King. Let him decide such a small matter."
"And to celebrate our new Hand taking office, I intend to hold a grand tourney. The winner…"
Before Robert could finish, Ned cut in. "Your Grace, I do not believe my appointment warrants a tourney. Even if the treasury were flush, we should prioritize supporting the Night's Watch."
To his surprise, Petyr laughed, drawing an annoyed glance from Ned.
"Lord Petyr, do you find what I said amusing?"
Petyr's smile turned into a perfectly measured look of distress.
He shook his head and explained, "My lord Hand, you misunderstand. I was laughing because the treasury is so empty that only rats are left running about."
"There is no abundance of coin, as you say."
Ned looked startled.
He immediately recalled what Robert had said in Winterfell about owing the Lannisters a vast sum.
"Your Grace, didn't you say you borrowed a sum of gold from the Lannisters? Has it all been spent?"
At the mention of money, Robert's face grew impatient. "Littlefinger, you're the master of coin. Explain it to the Hand."
Petyr sighed. "Lord Stark, to be precise, Lord Tywin loaned the Iron Throne money three times, each loan totaling one million two hundred thousand gold dragons."
"But these funds were spent long ago on governing the Seven Kingdoms and maintaining the king's splendor.
Before Lord Arryn passed away, he had already begun arranging another loan from the Lannisters, because our debt to the Iron Bank was also coming due."
Ned's expression turned utterly incredulous. He stared at Robert. "All three million six hundred thousand gold dragons are gone?"
Petyr's eyes gleamed with an unreadable light as he answered firmly, "Yes, my lord Hand."
At that moment, Ned finally understood what Robert had said during their argument in Winterfell's great hall.
'Owing the Lannisters a mountain of debt…'
'If the North and the Westerlands go to war, I won't know how to govern the realm…'
He shook his head, forcing those words aside, and could not help but question Robert. "Your Grace, you… how exactly have you been governing the realm?"
Robert looked even more impatient. "Governing the realm is your job. I've handed everything over to you."
Ignoring Ned's speechless expression, he turned to Littlefinger. "Discuss the specifics with the Hand."
"And get the tourney arranged as soon as possible. Set the winner's prize at forty thousand gold dragons for now…"
"Your Grace!"
Ned could no longer hold back. He sprang to his feet and shouted, "The Wall is facing a wildling threat, and you still have the mood for a tourney?"
"Not to mention that the treasury doesn't have a single coin!"
Robert shoved his chair back and stood up as well. "If there's no money, then find some. That's what you're supposed to do!"
"That's enough. It's settled. I have other matters to attend to. You continue."
Unwilling to argue further over coins and ledgers, the king strode out of the council chamber. Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, rose without a word and followed him.
In an instant, only the councilors remained, each wearing a different expression.
Ned's brow was tightly furrowed.
He had never imagined Robert could be so unreliable, caring only for his own pleasures while completely neglecting the governance of the realm.
Only after the king left did Petyr speak again, meaningfully. "Lord Stark, do you think we should borrow more from the Lannisters?"
"The Iron Throne already owes more than three million gold dragons, and you want to borrow more?"
Ned glared at Petyr, his voice sharp. "How does the Iron Throne intend to repay it?"
Petyr replied calmly, "Lord Stark, forgive me for correcting you. It is not three million. At this very moment, the Crown's debt exceeds six million gold dragons."
As Ned stared at him in shock, Petyr tore away the last shred of pretense.
"The Lannisters are our largest creditors, but we have also borrowed from House Tyrell, the Iron Bank of Braavos, and merchant guilds of Tyrosh.
To meet the realm's needs, I even had to find other avenues and turn my attention to the Faith.
I must say, the High Septon's bargaining skills put even the fishmongers of Dorne to shame."
Ned was now too stunned to speak.
It felt as though no matter how many more creditors Petyr named, he would no longer be surprised.
After a long while, he finally took a deep breath and asked, "The Mad King left behind so much gold and treasure. How did it come to this?"
Littlefinger shrugged. "The master of coin finds the money. The spending is done by the king and the Hand."
Ned was left speechless.
He knew Jon Arryn would never have allowed the realm's accounts to rot like this. It could only have been Robert's reckless extravagance.
Pycelle shook his head and sighed, the links of his maester's chain clinking softly.
"Lord Arryn was indeed frugal, but alas, His Grace could never bear to heed wise counsel."
"Lord Stark, regarding the wildlings beyond the Wall, I believe we should consider the matter carefully over time."
Renly nodded in agreement. "Yes. The Night's Watch is made up of rapists, thieves, and brigands. We can't easily find many more such men on short notice."
Even Varys nodded solemnly in agreement.
Seeing this, Ned let out a helpless sigh.
No matter how hard he thought, he could not see a way to resolve a deficit exceeding six million gold dragons.
When Petyr raised the idea of borrowing from the Lannisters again, Ned shook his head and refused.
It was not that he did not wish to borrow.
He simply knew that with the current strained relationship between himself and the Lannisters, Tywin would not lend him even a single gold dragon.
With the brutal reality of the treasury laid bare, Ned found himself unable to push forward the matter of supporting the Wall.
In the end, the Small Council meeting came to nothing.
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