New students start from 'Game of Thrones'

Chapter 28 Surveillance

Time slipped by, and the tournament grounds outside the King's Gate were taking shape. The jousting lists were nearly finished; only the spectator stands remained under construction.

Eddard Stark had been swamped—torn between Small Council duties and his investigation into Jon Arryn's death. To make matters worse, Robert was proving to be a hopeless king: drinking himself into a stupor, frequenting brothels, or hunting wild boars in the kingswood. He acted less like a monarch and more like a rebellious lord.

Adding to Eddard's frustration was Robert's impulsive decision to send assassins across the Narrow Sea to kill Daenerys Targaryen. Eddard had argued fiercely with the king, but neither had budged—their shouting match ending in a bitter silence.

Owen hadn't left the Red Keep in days. Whenever he had a free moment, he drilled the Stark guards relentlessly. He couldn't be sure if Eddard would follow the same path as in the tales—uncovering Robert's infidelity only after the tournament, then hesitating long enough for Cersei to strike first. So he pushed the guards hard, teaching them simple, lethal swordplay and tricks to end fights quickly.

But training wasn't his only task. Through careful observation, he'd mapped the Red Keep's spy network: most eyes were fixed on Eddard, while outside the castle, the watchers focused on him, Vayon Poole, Harris, and Hill. This left the Stark household's cooks and provision buyers free to move—and pass messages—without scrutiny.

Word from outside confirmed Jonn had purchased over a dozen jars of wildfire from the Alchemists' Guild, sealing them tightly and submerging them in seawater for safety. Fran, meanwhile, had befriended the River Gate's captain, joining him for drinks most nights—sometimes bringing Jonn along to build rapport.

In his chambers, Owen stared at a small jar of wildfire on his table. It was hard to believe such a tiny container of green liquid could burn like napalm—sticking to anything it touched, impossible to extinguish until it consumed every last bit of fuel. He scribbled a note and handed it to a provision buyer: If wildfire is seen burning in the Red Keep, dock the ships at once. Secure the River Gate. Keep our escape route open.

By dinner, Eddard returned to the Hand's Tower, exhausted. He collapsed into a chair in his chambers and closed his eyes.

"Ser Owen!" Vayon Poole knocked on Owen's door.

Owen opened it. "What is it, Vayon? Has his lordship returned?"

"Yes. He wants you in the top-floor dining hall. He has something to discuss," Vayon replied.

"Very well. I'll go at once." Owen tucked the wildfire jar away, locked his door, and headed upstairs.

Arya and Sansa were already eating when he arrived.

"Ser Owen!" Arya called, grinning.

"Arya," Owen nodded.

Sansa ignored him entirely—her nose in the air. Owen didn't care; he'd never liked this "Little Bird" phase of hers, when she was more focused on princes and gowns than the dangers around her.

"Ser Owen, why are you here?" the septa asked, her tone cool.

"Lord Eddard sent for me," Owen replied.

"Owen." Eddard's tired voice cut through the room as he walked in.

"My lord." Owen bowed.

"I didn't see you in the hall earlier. Harris said you were busy. I thought you might not have eaten yet, so I asked Vayon to fetch you," Eddard said, a faint smile softening his face.

"Thank you, my lord."

"Sit." Eddard gestured to the chair across from him.

Owen sat, and the septa set a bowl of stew and a plate of bread before him. He glanced at Eddard's smaller portion and raised an eyebrow.

"Eat. Don't be shy. I suspect the septa thinks you need more sustenance," Eddard chuckled, noticing his hesitation.

Owen laughed and dug in.

When Arya and Sansa finished and left, only Eddard and Owen remained. Once the servants cleared their plates, Eddard leaned forward.

"Owen, any progress?"

"Yes, my lord. Word came today—my men have bribed the River Gate's guards. They can slip in and out at night now.

"Also, Jonn got wildfire from the Alchemists' Guild. I have a small jar here, hidden away. I sent a message: if wildfire is seen burning in the Red Keep, they'll secure the River Gate immediately—keep our escape route open," Owen explained.

"Excellent. That's the best news I've had in days," Eddard said, relieved. "I never thought you'd get your hands on wildfire. It's a terrible weapon, but these are terrible times. We can't afford to be squeamish."

"Has something happened, my lord?" Owen asked, sensing tension in Eddard's voice.

"Just the usual chaos with the tournament. But two things stood out today. First, merchants came to me this morning, complaining about Janos Slynt. They say he's using the tournament as an excuse to extort gold and steal goods—ruining their businesses," Eddard said, rubbing his temples.

"That won't be easy to fix," Owen noted.

"Indeed. Robert appointed Slynt personally—he trusts him. Without proof, we can't touch him," Eddard sighed.

"My lord, could Slynt be in Cersei's pocket? He's greedy—who has more gold than the Lannisters? The crown owes them over three million dragons," Owen suggested.

Eddard froze, then frowned. "You might be right. But we have no evidence."

"We don't need evidence—we just need to suspect him. If there's even a chance he's loyal to the Lannisters, we must be on our guard," Owen said firmly.

"You're right. As always," Eddard admitted,  ing. He'd come to rely on Owen's sharp insights—even when they were uncomfortable.

"The second thing: Baelish visited this afternoon to report on tournament funds. He told me Pycelle has been spreading word of my investigation into Jon Arryn's death," Eddard continued, his voice darkening.

"Then every spy in the Red Keep knows what you're doing. Cersei, too," Owen said.

"Yes. Baelish also warned me—the Red Keep, even the grounds outside the Hand's Tower, is crawling with people watching me," Eddard said, his jaw tight.

"I know. The children are Vayon's 'little birds.' The women are Baelish's eyes. And the gardeners? I suspect they're Cersei's men," Owen replied calmly.

"When did you figure this out?" Eddard asked, surprised.

"From the start. I've been confirming it ever since. Even when I took Arya out, we were followed the entire time," Owen said.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Eddard asked—not accusing, just curious.

"Because we needed you to draw their attention. If you'd known, you might have acted differently—and they would have noticed. You, me, Vayon, Harris, Hill—we're all being watched. But while they're focused on us, the cooks and provision buyers can move freely," Owen explained.

"You're right. My presence distracts them, giving your men room to work," Eddard nodded, understanding now.

"My lord—did Baelish admit to having people watch you?" Owen asked suddenly.

"He did. Why?"

"Because it's a game. By confessing, he's selling you a favor—'look how honest I am.' He warns you about Pycelle, he admits his own spies... it makes you trust him more. But it's a trap. If you trust him, you'll share more with him—and he'll know exactly what you're thinking, exactly what you're planning. His cunning is terrifying," Owen said.

Eddard paled. "Why would he do that? What does he gain?" He paused, then realization dawned. "If I trust him, I'll give him more responsibility. He'll have access to my plans... he'll control more. Gods, that's twisted." A shiver ran down his spine.