The inheritance of the Vale was a settled matter in the minds of other nobles and had caused no ripples in King's Landing. What they were concerned with now was who the next Hand of the King would be.
As of today, the candidates proposed at the Small Council meeting were:
Lord of the Riverlands: Mace Tyrell, recommended by Renly Baratheon. He was the current Master of Coin, and his management of the royal finances had been adequate.Lord of the North: Eddard Stark, nominated by the King himself. A close friend of Robert Baratheon, Eddard had overseen the flourishing of farming and animal husbandry in the North, making leather goods a significant export of the Seven Kingdoms.Lord of the Westerlands: Tywin Lannister, recommended by Mace Tyrell. Former Hand of the King, he had served the realm for over 20 years with great experience. However, he hadn't yet recovered from the grief of losing his daughter, and had not yet returned to King's Landing. Mace Tyrell, following his daughter Margaery's advice, had arranged lavish feasts for the nobles of King's Landing, though it was widely known that Tywin would not be attending, making it all for show.
The real competition lay between the two Lords: Eddard Stark and Mace Tyrell. Mace, with his wealth, had gained much favor in King's Landing by hosting grand feasts and funding impoverished knights, quickly boosting his reputation. Meanwhile, Eddard Stark spent his time drinking with Robert Baratheon.
Wright's temporary appointment would last until the jousting tournament was over, which meant there were still nine days remaining.
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A few days ago, the Gold Cloaks had arrested so many people that the Red Keep's dungeons were full, and a large number of prisoners had to be temporarily housed in the military camp. Today, Wright, along with his intelligence officer Andrew Estermont and the legal clerk, was at the camp to pass judgment on these prisoners.
"Next! Move quickly!"
"Ah~~~ My lord, don't hit me, please!"
Every prisoner, shackled in irons, was escorted by a Gold Cloak, lining up in a long queue waiting for Wright's verdict, life or death to be decided today. Many criminals began to waver and could no longer stand steadily, prompting the Gold Cloaks to use their short sticks to strike them wildly.
Wright and the two clerks had chosen a room and set up three long tables. The clerks sat at the tables, diligently writing, while Wright sat beside them, waiting to sign off on the records. His cousin, Andrew Estermont, stood by, questioning each prisoner one by one.
A prisoner was pushed before Wright and forced to kneel, as the clerk prepared to record. Wright turned to the Gold Cloak standing beside him.
"What crime has this man committed?"
"Thievery!"
"My lord, it's a lie! I've never stolen anything!" The man shouted, trying to grab Wright's feet. The Gold Cloak punched him in the back and shouted, "Kneel down!"
Andrew Estermont, well-versed in dealing with such scum, looked at the man on the ground. "Can you read and write?"
"No."
Andrew Estermont then pried open the man's hand with his foot and stepped on his fingers. "You can't read, and you're wearing ragged, filthy clothes. You're clearly not a noble nor a scholar. Your palms have no calluses, so you're just a common thief, aren't you?"
In this era, every working commoner, male or female, would have calluses on their hands. Nobles, especially those who trained in martial arts, also developed calluses, though they could use oils to soften their hands, making them feel smoother. A proper man without calluses on his hands was either a scholar from the Citadel or a noble with poor martial skills—and those nobles were usually fat.
"My lord, please don't cut off my hands!"
Andrew Estermont glared fiercely. "I won't cut off your hands, but you'll be sent to the Wall to serve!"
These men knew all too well how harsh the Wall was—cold, miserable—and the vow to forsake family honor, never marry, and never have children was enough to break them. It was the worst fate imaginable for these ruffians.
At this moment, it was Wright's turn to speak: "You're still young. I am Lord Wright Baratheon of the Stepstones. You'll serve in the navy of the Stepstones for ten years, and after that, I'll restore your status as a commoner!"
"I'm willing! I'm willing!"
Wright asked, "Do you have any family?"
The man, despondent at the thought of being sent away for ten years, answered, "I have a woman and two sons."
Upon hearing this, Wright smiled. "The Stepstones is in need of people. I can arrange for your woman and two sons to join you there, as commoners. Your woman can work as a maid, and your sons can be apprentices in the workshops."
"Thank you very much, my lord! My home is—"
The criminal looked at Wright's smile and felt as though Wright himself were the father of judgment descended from the heavens. He was deeply grateful and quickly thanked him.
Wright's cousin, Andrew Estermont, nodded discreetly at Wright. This meant that the intelligence department had claimed the thief. With family members involved in the relocation to the Stepstones, the man would have emotional attachments, making him easier to control.
The trials continued. Aside from murderers and rapists, who were sentenced to beheading, all other criminals were sent to the Stepstones to serve in the military. Those with families were also taken along.
A Gold Cloak entered the small room to report to Wright: "Lord Varys, the Master of Whisperers, has arrived."
Wright nodded. "Bring him in."
The Spider, Varys, entered with a smiling face. A few others accompanying him didn't seem intent on leaving. Varys was puzzled as to why Wright had summoned him to this place.
Wright remained seated and had a chair brought for Varys. Wright disliked beating around the bush, knowing that Varys was adept at leading conversations astray. He went straight to the point:
"Varys, how many orphans are there in King's Landing? I want them all sent to the Stepstones."
"There are thousands of orphans in King's Landing. It takes a lot of money to support them. What does Lord Wright intend to do with them?"
Varys was shocked. He had been traumatized as a child and feared that Wright might want to use the children for some dark magical experiments! He tried to bring up the cost in hopes of deterring Wright, but also wanted to know exactly what Wright planned to do.
Wright saw through his thoughts. "Don't get the wrong idea. The Stepstones needs people, and my city of Tyrosh needs people even more! The immigrants to King's Landing are too few. Over the past few days, I've had criminals from the city brought to the Stepstones to serve in the military. I won't keep these children for free; they'll be put to work—herding sheep and cattle, working as apprentices in the workshops, serving tea in entertainment venues. That will be their job."
Varys laughed, "Now I can rest easy. But many of these children don't even have names. I can't provide you with an accurate list, Lord Wright."
"Just send the children to the docks in King's Landing. Any ship flying my banner will take them. As for how many little birds you've planted inside, I won't interfere with that, and I can't. But if these children cause any problems in Tyrosh—"
Wright tapped his finger on the table. "I'll only hold you accountable, Varys."
Everyone in the room looked at Varys, especially Andrew Estermont, who was touching the ring on his finger, engraved with the image of a turtle bound with straps, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. Varys had long known that Andrew was Wright's head of intelligence.
Varys kept his smile, bowed to Wright and Andrew, and said, "I hope Lord Wright will be kind to these children."
Wright planned to open several small schools in Tyrosh, where they would teach literacy and basic arithmetic every evening. It wouldn't be compulsory, and without money, it wouldn't be formal education. He'd simply put out a notice, and any children who wanted to learn could attend. If a few dozen out of the thousands of children learned something, that would be considered a success.
In this society, offering privileges to commoners meant infringing on the interests of the nobility. This upset both the nobles and the Citadel, as well as shaking the very foundation of the kingdom's rule. It had led to numerous wars, even the overthrow of kings.
Wright understood the difference between kindness and preferential treatment. At this stage, he only needed to show kindness to the commoners. The opportunity would be there, but whether they succeeded or not depended on their own abilities.
Wright knew that he couldn't afford to offend the nobility; if conflict truly broke out, it would mean the nobles from both continents would unite against him, and even Robert wouldn't dare intervene. He had power and dragons, and could destroy his enemies, but did he really want to become a lonely ruler and reign over a wasteland with no one else around?
To develop significantly, he needed a major event that could affect the entire continent or rely on time to gradually change things.
Before Varys left, Wright pulled him aside and quietly asked:
"Do you know if Lysa Tully is involved with any man?"
Varys paused for a moment. "I really don't know. Lysa Tully has lived in King's Landing for many years. Aside from having a bit of a bad temper, there haven't been any rumors about her."
Wright put his hand on Varys's shoulder. "Really?"
Varys replied, "There's one suspect—Petyr Baelish, a minor noble from the Fingers in the Vale. He's currently the sewer master of King's Landing. I heard that when he was younger, he got Lysa Tully pregnant once. Afterward, she married the old Lord."
Wright chuckled.
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