The mountain breeze rippled by, carrying the scent of powder and perfume straight into Matthew's face.
Matthew, however, showed no reaction, simply waiting quietly to hear Varys's voice.
Varys scratched at the black beard glued to his chin. He seemed unaccustomed to it.
Despite the itch, a genial smile remained plastered on his face.
His plump, dignified face made him look approachable, nothing like the ruthless operator he truly was.
But Matthew knew it was all a disguise.
Varys had been watching Matthew's every move, observing him from head to toe.
Truth be told, he quite liked this boy. At the very least, he was pleasing to the eye.
Then, he suddenly smiled and said:
"Oh, what's wrong with you? You look like a donkey with a lame leg."
Matthew lowered his head in apparent embarrassment and replied:
"Two strangers found me today. I nearly lost my life. I barely managed to escape, but I hurt my leg and fell a few times on the way here. I apologize for the sorry sight, my lord."
Varys narrowed his eyes, a cold glint flashing through them for a brief second.
Then, he patted Matthew on the shoulder, circled around him, and asked softly:
"What was the deal with those two?"
Matthew shook his head, but his tone was firm.
"I couldn't tell. They came from the Kingswood. After I dove into the water, they scrambled back into King's Landing through the King's Gate."
Varys had sharp eyes. As he circled, he spotted the red, swollen scratches on the back of Matthew's neck, and the grass stains and mud on his clothes.
All these signs told him Matthew wasn't lying.
And he believed it.
Varys rarely doubted the loyalty of the "little birds" he raised himself, though this time was a bit of an exception.
Perhaps out of guilt, Varys coughed a few times before continuing.
"I understand. You did well, child."
At the same time, he raised his hand and gently patted Matthew's chest twice.
Matthew's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of nervousness passing through him.
But Varys made no other moves. He simply patted him, lowered his hand, and sighed with a nostalgic air.
"I remember the first time I saw you. You were about the size of my arm, so thin and small. Everyone said you wouldn't survive, yet here you are, so tall and strong."
He cupped Matthew's face in his hands, staring into his eyes, scrutinizing him.
"The resemblance... it truly is striking. Perhaps I shouldn't have let you join the little birds?"
Matthew did his best to maintain an attitude of near-worship, replying firmly:
"If not for you, my lord, I would have died long ago. I owe my life to you."
Varys sensed the sincerity and respect. He gave a bitter smile and sighed with regret.
"Yes, yes. It's just a pity that all my plans for you..."
Then, his tone shifted abruptly. His entire demeanor became serious, his face freezing over like ice.
"Child, did you know? Our Hand of the King died at noon. Our plans are ruined."
Matthew lowered his head further, his eyes widening to their limit as anxiety exploded in his chest.
But fear was useless right now. In fact, it was poison.
Remembering that he had checked the surroundings and confirmed no one was nearby before approaching, he quickly calmed himself. Feigning shock, he asked:
"Lord Jon was in good health. Why did he die so suddenly? Did the Maester not treat him properly?"
Varys let out a dry chuckle, his expression briefly cracking.
But he caught himself quickly. After taking several deep breaths, he did his utmost to return to his normal state. A soft smile reappeared on his plump face.
"Child, this is the game of thrones. Some want to climb, some want to profit from the chaos. And our efforts must begin anew."
Matthew stayed silent, trying to guess Varys's new plan.
The Spider's thoughts were like the wind wandering the wilderness—erratic and untraceable.
Under the moonlight, however, Varys looked almost like a divine messenger, his bald head shining as bright as the silver moon above.
"Child, I need you."
He reached out a hand, explaining to Matthew:
"This was entirely a plot by Littlefinger, Petyr Baelish. I need you to eliminate him and restore harmony and balance to King's Landing."
Matthew's pupils shrank. Inside, he cursed the eunuch viciously.
You hermaphrodite, you rotten asshole...
This was indeed a trap. A "Hongmen Feast." But Varys didn't intend to kill him directly; he wanted him to die for a cause.
In King's Landing, Littlefinger's intelligence network was only slightly inferior to the Spider's little birds, and probably far superior to the Lannister spies.
Assassinating a man like that? It was a suicide mission.
Calling it a "nine deaths, one life" scenario would be optimistic.
Sending him to assassinate Littlefinger was just a way to send a warning to Baelish while borrowing his knife to get rid of Matthew.
Matthew looked up slightly, fighting the urge to draw his axe and kill Varys on the spot.
But just then, Varys snapped his fingers.
Snap!
The sound was crisp and loud in the moonlit wilderness.
Suddenly, three figures emerged from the shadowed bushes behind Varys, aiming crossbows directly at Matthew.
One of them was Wald, his bolt trained steadily on him.
Matthew's face darkened. He hadn't expected them to be hiding in such a small patch of brush right next to him.
Seeing the three small figures with wrinkled, torn clothes and trembling legs, it was clear they had been hiding there painfully for a long time.
"Matthew, I'm putting Wald, Harlan, and Newar under your command. How does that sound?"
Varys narrowed his eyes slightly, a faint, confident smile playing on his lips as he opened his arms.
"You know them well. I trust there won't be any problems?"
Matthew looked away. He knew perfectly well these three were "helpers" in name only—they were there to watch him.
But he had to agree.
However, if he was going to agree, Matthew was going to get something out of it for himself.
He lowered his head again and replied immediately:
"My lord, we still don't have enough manpower. I need Gold Dragons to create chaos and ensure Littlefinger goes to meet the Seven."
Varys hadn't expected Matthew to make demands. He paused for a moment before asking intently:
"How confident are you?"
Matthew deliberately paused, pretending to think, then held up seven fingers.
"About seventy percent. I think it's worth a gamble."
Varys was surprised by Matthew's high confidence. His eyes narrowed into slits as he scrutinized the boy.
"What do you plan to do?"
Matthew pointed at Wald and the others, speaking firmly:
"I'll get my hands on some wildfire. They will smuggle it into Littlefinger's brothel. Once the chaos starts, I'll wait for Littlefinger to come out."
Varys's eyes went round. He grabbed Matthew's hand, asking in astonishment:
"You know where to get wildfire?"
He had never heard Matthew mention this.
Matthew nodded.
"How do you know?" Varys pressed, skepticism in his voice.
Matthew continued his bullshit with absolute conviction:
"From an Alchemist of the Guild. He has some. I've seen the fruit-shaped clay pots myself, filled with that thick green substance."
"We just have to wait for him to show up."
Varys hadn't expected Matthew to actually know about the existence of wildfire in King's Landing. His description matched perfectly. He also hadn't expected the boy to have secrets of his own, or that an Alchemist would be so bold.
But none of that mattered now.
As long as Littlefinger and Matthew died together, everything would be fine again. It would all be worth it!
Varys gave Matthew a deep look, twirling the ruby ring on his finger. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly.
"How many Gold Dragons do you need?"
sa
Matthew didn't hesitate. He held up five fingers.
"Five thousand Gold Dragons?"
Varys frowned and refused instantly.
"Impossible. I can only give you two thousand. As for how much that buys, that depends on your relationship with the Alchemist. Or perhaps... you can use other methods."