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Pushing herself to move as fast as she could while in her sleeping dress, Nyra Nox, wife of Lord Alim Nox and temporary Master of the Arcane, fought to remove the last remnants of sleep from her eyes as she hurried down the corridors of the Red Keep, doing all she could to keep pace with her liege, Lord Eddard Stark. She just barely managed to close her eyes to drift off to the world of dreams when she'd been woken by the frantic pounding on her chamber doors by one of the Stark men-at-arms. The King had sent a summons for both her and Lord Stark that they were to report to his chambers immediately. Not wanting to make the King wait, Nyra hadn't even bothered to change out of her sleeping dress, and instead had simply pulled on a pair of shoes before hurrying out of her chambers, just in time to see Lord Stark come down the hall from his own chambers. And from with only a passing glance at each other, the two had set off at a brisk pace for the royal wing of the Red Keep.
As they approached the King's chambers, she noticed that more than a few of the servants were ducking their heads and moving about their assigned tasks quickly. Having been a serving girl herself before being taken in by Alim, she knew that something bad was happening if the servants were acting like this.
Rounding the corner so that the King's chambers would be in sight, they found all of the Kingsguard, including Ser Barristan, standing outside the chamber doors. Even from down the hall, they could hear the enraged voice of Robert, the King yelling so loud that his words were unrecognizable. And underneath his yelling, she could hear an equally loud Cersei yelling right back at him. And underneath even her voice, Nyra could hear something that…sounded almost like a wounded animal crying in agony.
Of the Kingsguard, only Ser Barristan held his calm. Ser Jamie had a death grip on his sword and looked like he was ready to charge into the room. While the remaining guards were all shifting nervously back and forth, clearly trying to ignore what was happening behind them.
"Ser Barristan," her liege called out as they approached the chamber.
"Lord Stark, Lady Nox," the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard nodded in greeting, just as a loud and vicious slapping noise came from the other side of the doors. "The King, Queen, and Crown Prince await you."
Without even breaking stride, Nyra followed Lord Stark past the Kingsguard and into the king's chambers. What awaited them was chaos. The chamber looked like it'd been turned upside down. Anything that hadn't been firmly attached to the floor, and by the looks of things some that even had been, were overturned or outright destroyed, leaving splinters of wood, metal, porcelain, and numerous other materials scattered across the floor and walls. The Queen was just starting to rise from the ground, the side of her face red from where the King had just struck her. And as for Robert, he was standing in the middle of the destruction with his back turned towards them and his chest heaving as he stared down at the crumbled, bloodied and beaten form of the Crown Prince at his feet with his fist raised.
"Robert!" Ned yelled, bringing a stop to what was happening.
Nyra's womanly instinct told her to immediately go to the Queen and see if she was alright. But a quick glance at the Queen told her that if she did so, it would not be received well. So, she kept her place beside Ned as the Kingsguard quickly closed the doors behind them, sealing them in the room with the mess that was the royal family.
"Ned," Robert breathed, turning his head to look at them yet not lowering his fist. A fist that Nyra now realized was covered in blood, the Prince's blood.
Crossing the distance, Lord Stark stood beside the King. He made no apparent move to stop what was happening, but it was clear to Nyra that her liege would step in should the King continue. "What in the name of the gods is going on?"
Robert snarled, a low growl that should've come from a beast and not a man. "Well, you little shit? Do you want to tell the Lord Hand what the fuck you have done?"
"It was just a misunderstanding, Ro—"
"Misunderstanding, my ass!" Robert roared, glaring at Cersei, who immediately shut up and curled in on herself. Nyra might not care for the Queen, but in that moment she did feel sympathy for the woman. "This little shit deserves far more than my fist! And so do you for trying to pro—"
"Robert!" Ned said, more urgently, bringing a stop to the King's tirade just as the large man made a move to strike the downed Prince again. "What. Happened?"
Visibly taking control of himself, the King stepped away from the whimpering Prince and marched towards the only objects that weren't destroyed in the room, a small table and a pitcher of wine. As soon as he was gone, Cersei rushed past them, falling to her knees beside the prince.
"Renly actually started doing his fucking job and got word that there was a blood pit being held in King's Landing," Robert said, pausing to take a heavy drink. "A fucking blood pit, here right under my fucking nose! Well, he somehow managed to find it and took a few dozen Goldcloaks, that fucking Tyrell boy, and a few of the Kingsguard and raided it. And low and behold, who was amongst the patrons? The crown-fucking-prince of the Seven Kingdoms!"
Nyra was not usually a woman to curse, but at that moment she badly wanted to as the pieces fell into place as to what had brought about this situation. Blood pits, another name for a fighting pit, were outlawed in the Seven Kingdoms. And for good reason as well in her opinion as the primary fighters were either the desperate, or slaves. If the fact that the Crown Prince was a patron of such an establishment…It would not be good.
"I told you!" Cersei screamed. "He didn't know where he was, and was simply wand—"
"Don't try and shovel that horseshit on me, Cersei!" Robert roared, making the Queen flinch and the Prince whimper. "Do you think I'm so fucking rash as to bring this sort of punishment against my own blood without having all the facts first? The fighters and several others were questioned, and all admitted that not only was Joffrey there, but he was a frequent fucking patron! If he was anyone else, his head would already be on a fucking pike right now or he'd be halfway to the fucking Wall!"
Visibly taking control of himself, Robert gave off one last growl and turned towards the chamber doors. "Kingslayer, get your ass in here."
Ser Jamie walked in, and Nyra could instantly see his eyes move to his sister and the crown prince, not the King. She saw his eyes harden and his fist tighten, though he wisely did not put them on the hilt of his sword, despite clearly wanting to. "Take your sister and my shit excuse for a son to the Maester and see them treated," Robert ordered, clearly putting both out of his mind as he purposefully turned his back on all of them.
Ser Jamie did so, quickly ushering his sister and nephew out of the room. Although, given his state, Prince Joffrey could barely walk and had to be half-carried. Once they were alone again, the King sighed heavily, taking the pitcher with him, and dropping heavily into one of the many broken chairs within the room. It may have had its legs broken and its backrest snapped completely off, but the cushions that sat upon the seated area still worked just fine as the large Baratheon settled upon it.
"Gods fucking damn it all to the Seven Hells," the king grumbled, draining the entire pitcher before distractedly tossing the thing aside to shatter on the floor. "You were fucking right, Ned. You and Nox… You were both right. That boy… He isn't right."
Nyra felt a lump form in her throat as she knew what was coming. Her husband had already informed her privately about the King's concerns with the Crown Prince, and how he wanted her husband and Lord Stark to try and transform the boy into something resembling a proper King. Her husband had told the King that it was a lost cause, that the boy would never truly be ready for kingship, and that he should never sit upon the Iron Throne. With what the King was saying, she knew what was coming next. And the issues…and potential war…that it would cause.
"Robert," Lord Stark tried to say gently. "There is still time to—"
"No there fucking isn't, Ned." Robert sighed, the King seemingly aging ten years or more before her very eyes as he lowered his head in a defeated manner. He then started coughing, a wracking cough that shuttered his whole body and forced him to bring a hand to his mouth. A hand that came away red with his own blood as the fit passed. "That boy is the Mad King come again. I can see it. Nox sees it. And I know you see it as well. So don't try and feed me that horseshit that he can be taught differently and change. There is no hope for him…I was just too much of a fucking idiot to see it."
Getting up, Robert started pacing, leaving her and Lord Stark to wait for him to speak again. "On the marrow I'll be going hunting Ned. After all of this…I need to kill something with my own two hands. I'll be taking Tommen with me. And when I get back…I will make my decision as to the Throne's succession known. Until then, I name you as Acting Regent, as is your right as Hand of the King. And you Nyra, I'm not naive enough to think that you don't know what's going on or what this will lead to. I also know the Sorcerer and what he's capable enough to know that you more than likely have a means of communicating with him far faster than any raven. Get word to him and get his ass back down here immediately. We're going to need him…Far sooner than I would have liked given the shit storm I'm about to start up."
The uneasy feeling in her gut was doubling, no, tripling now. She knew what was coming. The king intended to disinherit his eldest son and pass on the throne to another. While this had been done in the past, it was never a seamless transition and always resulted in bloodshed on some scale.
Nodding, Nyra excused herself, quickly leaving the King and Lord Stark to talk more away from her ears. Without hesitation, Nyra made her way back to her chambers, leaving her two guards almost needing to run to keep up with her. Arriving at her chambers, Nyra quickly sealed herself within and went to her traveling chest. Opening the chest, she pressed down on one of the panels on the interior of the lid, revealing a small hidden compartment that had a thin Valyrian glass candle lying within.
Taking the candle, Nyra crossed her legs and sat down, setting the candle down upon the floor just before her. 'You can do this, Nyra,' she tried to encourage herself as she focused on her breathing and closed her eyes. After realizing that she was developing Force sensitivity, Alim had begun teaching her how to use the candles. But she had barely been able to get any practice in with him at all before they were forced to separate at Harrenhal. Despite the limited instruction, she had been able to use the candle as a far-eye, but she had only been able to see only a few dozen steps or so away from where she was when using it. And now, she was being asked, no, instructed to use the candle to not only find her husband, who was north of the Wall, but to also contact him and inform him of what was going on so that he could drop everything he was doing and come south.
It was far harder than she remembered, but she was able to make a connection with the glass candle through the Force, and she began seeing the far side of the room as if she were looking through a far-eye and not sitting on the floor with her legs crossed. Pushing her sight out of the room, she saw the sprawling landscape of Kings Landing laid out before her as if she were a bird soaring overhead.
The land beneath her lurched and blurred, the clouds and air around her rushing past faster than anything had the right to move. The rushing slowed, and she saw herself over a road surrounded by fields and trees with no other signs, villages, or holdfasts nearby. She could feel exhaustion taking hold. She'd never tried to see so far before, and while she could feel the strain on her body even if her sight was so far away. She tried to move again, but it was like she'd run headfirst into a wall and next she knew she was back in her chambers. Her sight was spinning and it took her a moment to regain her bearings enough to realize she was laid out on the floor with the glass candle still sitting upright before her.
Pushing herself upright, Nyra wiped at the sweat on her brow, frowning as she realized just how much there was, and with just how tired she was. 'Sleep will come later,' she thought, resetting herself before the glass candle and closing her eyes once again. 'Alim…where are you? I need you. Now more than ever. And for more reasons than one.'
Sitting quietly in a secluded corner of the Red Keep known only to a select few, Petyr Baelish idly swirled a glass of Dornish Red as he waited for what was about to come. Having the blood pit exposed to the gold cloaks and the Kingsguard had been a calculated risk on his part, one he had not taken lightly. He truly made good coins off the pit, rivaling even some of his most profitable brothels. But in the end, he concluded that the temporary loss of coin would be worth it in the long run. So, he'd given a few silvers to a dozen different peasants, all of it going through two or three different intermediaries before they got the coin to avoid it tracing back to him, with instructions that they were to reveal the time and location of the blood pit. And when word reach the current Captain of the gold cloaks, one Baelish was set to replace as soon as he could as the man was one of the few not in his employ, the Captain and Renly acted just as he suspected. Ordering an immediate raid on the blood pit to capture or kill all who were there, setting the stage to expose Joffrey as a premier patron of the blood pit.
And now, he was at the next and honestly a much more crucial part of this gambit. Convincing the idiot boy that he truly was still on his side and had no part in the prince being caught and brought before the King.
Hearing heavy footfalls on the tiled floor, Petyr sat down his glass of wine and stood, ready to receive the would-be Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.
As soon as the prince entered their little private sanctuary, it took all Petyr had not to chuckle at the state of the boy. The boy had been beaten severely as if he were nothing more than a pathetic whipping boy. Both eyes were darkened, his lip swollen and cut, several bruises were forming on his face and Petyr could see that the boy was limping slightly and favoring one arm over the other. "My Prince." That was as far as Baelish managed to get before the little pounce started on him.
"Save your whining, Baelish! My patience is not what it usually is!" Baelish wanted to scoff at that. The boy had no patience to begin with. Although, if it wasn't for the fact that Baelish had the two Lannister guards escorting the prince firmly under his employ, he would honestly be a little worried with the rage in the boy's eyes. But should he act out…Well, accidents can happen. And given the state of the King and the whispers around the Red Keep, Joffrey's sudden disappearance would not be overly missed.
"Of course, my Prince."
Joffrey did nothing but pace back and forth a few dozen times before grabbing the bottle of Dornish Red, taking a swig from the bottle. He made a disgusted face and threw the bottle against the far wall. "It's all their fault! My father. The Starks! My Uncles! All of them! This – This is all their fault! They – They want me gone. I – I heard those simpering maids mutter about my father disowning me. Me! I'm the next King! He can't…It's all the Stark's fault! He's whispering in my father's ear and my father is too weak to resist him! And now…now…" Joffrey huffed. For a moment, Baelish thought the spoiled brat was about to cry. But then the momentary weakness passed, replaced by a crazed but almost hard look in his eye. "I want them gone, Baelish. Now. The Starks. The Sorcerer's whore. My uncles… All of them. I want them all gone."
Petyr wanted to smile, but he managed to keep it off his face. His gambit had paid off and Joffrey had been given the last little push that he needed. "Things can be…expedited, my Prince. However, rushing such delicate matters does incur a certain amount of risk."
Joffrey just glared at him. "Do what you have to, Baelish. You will have my backing and protection. Just get them out of my city at least. Or, if you can, get their heads on spikes… If so, I will make sure you have all the protection you need and anything you desire when I take up my rightful place on the throne."
'Perfect.' Spreading his hands, Petyr bowed his head in subservience. "As you command, your grace. So, shall it be done."
Sitting on the Iron Throne, Ned fought against the urge to twitch and move about as he tried to find a comfortable place to sit on the blasted pile of swords. Ned knew well the legends that said that the Iron Throne had a will of its own, that it would reject those unworthy by making them uncomfortable. A legend many believed true, especially as it was well known that the Mad King would cut himself several times a day while sitting on the blasted thing. But now that Ned was sitting on the throne, albeit temporarily, he was convinced that the throne, while intimidating, was just a shit design in the first place. The blades that made up the throne were not smooth in the least. He could feel at least two edges on the seat that made him constantly shift his weight and there were a couple on the back rest that poked into him, preventing him from leaning back. And both arm rests had sharp edges that'd already nicked the sleeves of his tunic, though thankfully hadn't scarred his flesh.
If he had the choice, he would never sit on the wretched throne. Yet, it was not his choice. Robert was gone, hunting to clear his head after the debacle with Joffrey and the blood pit which, with the gods' favor, had not become well known throughout the court. And on top of taking a small portion of the court with him, Robert had also taken Tommen with him as well, much to the protest of the Queen. But, with the King now gone, it fell on Ned to sit on the Iron Throne and see to the day-to-day details of running the Seven Kingdoms while his friend, brother, and King was out enjoying what little time he had left.
Feeling a slight prick on his hand, Ned fought to keep the grimace off his face as he refocused his attention back on the courtier standing before the throne. 'Maybe this is why the throne still has so many sharp edges,' Ned thought, casting a quick glance towards his hand to make sure he hadn't drawn blood as the courtier went on and on about some proposal that Ned was truthfully only half listening to. As Warden of the North, he knew the importance of court and giving his all to each case brought before him. But this…? This man was honestly trying to put through a proposal to change the chamber pots in the Red Keep to a new style from an up-and-coming craftsman that the courtier had taken a liking to!
"Your proposal will be taken under advisement," Ned interjected as the man paused to take a breath. Honestly, he just wanted the man to shut up at this point as he'd been going on for far, far too long. "Grand Maester, please take the proposal and go over the numbers with Lord Baelish and see if the cost is feasible. A messenger will be sent to you after the council has reviewed your proposal."
The courtier did not look pleased to have been cut off mid rant, but the man at least had the brains not to press his luck and reluctantly handed off his rolled-up proposal to a nearby servant before scurrying back into the mass of nobles and smallfolk waiting to stand before him. Despite having dismissed the courtier, Ned's discontent with his situation did not fade. He did not mind holding court. It was one of the duties of a Lord, one he took very seriously. But the difference between holding court in the North and holding court here in King's Landing is astonishing. In the North, real matters were brought to his attention. Bandit raids. Crop rotations. Land disputes. But here? In King's Landing all of the matters brought before him today were either about changing fabrics, or chamber pots, or some other meaningless shite that he did not care about.
"Bring forth the next," Ned called out, trying, and failing, to find something resembling a comfortable spot on the Iron Throne as he braced himself for yet another entitled noble that was trying to gain his favor.
But as the next petitioner was brought forward, Ned knew that this was not another noble looking for his approval. The man brought forward was clearly a member of the smallfolk. He was old, his clothes were torn and dirty, and he even had some dried blood splatters on his clothes that Ned could instantly tell were recent. The nobles and courtiers all backed away as if the man had the plague as two of the gold cloaks brought the old man before the Iron Throne.
"Lord Hand," one of the gold cloaks said, bowing to him while the old man dropped to a knee. "This is Dummar from a small fishing village two days ride to the north of King's Landing. He arrived at the Old Gate at first light, practically collapsing in exhaustion and begging to see you immediately, Lord Hand."
Frowning, Ned motioned towards the older man. "Rise, Dummar. Tell me what has brought you to King's Landing and in such a state."
The old man looked down and seem to realize just how he was dressed. "A–A thousand apologies, milord Hand," the man said awkwardly, his voice heavy as he tried to brush at his clothes. Ned's brow furrowed as he realized that the old man looked as if he wasn't all there. Not that he was mad, just that his body was here but his mind wasn't. It was something that he had seen before several times. And every time he had, it never boded well.
"You need not apologize, speak. What brought you to King's Landing?"
The man looked up, his eyes looking at him yet not seeing him. 'Shock. That is what Nox calls this phenomenon,' Ned realized as the man began shaking slightly before him. "Me village…We not be a large village but we have lots of families. We have a Sept and attend with the Septon and Septa. We mind our own milord. We never hurt anyone. Never cheated. Always tried to be fair. But…Bandits, they… They descended on our village. Killed everyone. Old. Young. Men strung up and women raped. The Septon was… He was strung up by his hands. His legs and arms broken with a maul while the men laughed. Then they cut out his eyes, his ears, his tongue…and then sliced him open and left him to die. They… They did the same to the village elder…me own brother. They… They made me watch as they raided, raped…and then they… They told me to run and tell all what'd happened. That the Andals days are numbered."
Ned went rigid at hearing the man's words, even as fervent whispers swept through the courtiers before him. He knew exactly the way the Septon and village elder had been murdered. He himself had executed several of his own Lords and a Lady of the North in the same manner not a few years past. This… This was a message. No, a declaration of war. A war against the Andal faith. While he would admit that there would be many in the North who would cheer at such a notion, he knew that no man of the North would use such a manner of execution in such an off-handed way. No, this was someone trying to reignite the flames of a war between the First Men and the Andals. 'Could this be the war that Nox forsaw? Not a war of Lords…but rather a war of faith?'
While he could ponder such an implication later, now was not the time for such thoughts. He had to stomp this out here and now. Rising to his feet, he descended from the Iron Throne and approached the still shaking man. Arriving before the man, Ned calmly laid a hand on the trembling man's shoulder. "I know my words will not bring back what you have lost nor remove what you have seen. But you have my condolences and vow that those who perpetrated this heinous act will not go unpunished." Patting the man on the shoulder once more, Ned turned and raised his voice so all in the hall could hear him. "These men are brigands. Nothing more, nothing less. They have violated the King's peace in the worst way, and therefore their lives are forfeited. As Hand of the King, I will hereby see this justice carried out personally."
His proclamation sent even more whispers throughout the court. "Lord Hand, if I may?"
Turning his attention away from the older man, Ned spotted the one who'd spoken. He recognized him from the tournament of Harrenhal, but more importantly as one of the more reasonable Lords in the court. "Speak, Lord Beric Dondarrion."
The younger marcher lord nodded and took a step forward. "My Lord Hand, with respect. Without the King you are acting Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, and we can ill afford to have you hunting down these brigands. With your leave Lord Hand, I would gladly lead this expedition to hunt down these brigands and either have them put to the sword or returned to King's Landing to face the King's Justice."
Frowning, Ned unfortunately was forced to concede the point. As much as he wanted—no, needed—to leave this wretched city and clear his head, he could not abandon his duties, especially now with Robert out of the city. If he left, that would leave either the Queen or, worse, the Crown Prince to rule as Regent until either he or Robert returned. And that was a sobering thought.
"Very well," Ned nodded, conceding the point. "I hereby appoint Lord Beric Dondarrion to lead this expedition to hunt down these brigands and to bring them to justice. And you will not be going alone. I will dedicate half my house guards to accompany you. And you will be given enough coin to properly provide for any who wish to join alongside you as well."
"You honor me, my Lord Hand," Lord Dondarrion said, bowing deeply. "I vow to you and the Throne. I will find these brigands and bring them to justice."
Nodding, Ned turned his back on the Lord, who also turned to make his way out of the hall. "Court is over for the day," Ned called out loudly as he stood at the base of the Iron Throne, not wanting to ascend to the seat once more for the day. "Steward, take the names of those who came to be heard today. I will hear their petitions first tomorrow."
Not bothering to wait any longer, Ned made his way out of the main hall and towards the Tower of the Hand. Almost as soon as he was out in the corridor, his guards formed a protective ring around him, and they were not alone. Lady Nyra appeared with his guards, having departed from the hall as well, and together the two walked in silence back to the tower. Once they were safely back in his solar, Ned gave orders to his men that they were not to be disturbed and closed the door, leaving him and Nyra alone. For her part, Nyra was standing in the middle of the room. Her hands slightly spread out from her sides and her eyes closed. After a moment, she held out a single finger before her brow furrowed in concentration for a moment before she breathed a sigh of relief and opened her eye. "A child. He's asleep now and won't wake for hours."
Ned wanted to curse this wretched city to the worst of the Seven Hells. Using a child as a spy, no doubt hiding in the walls of his solar. He would need to have Nyra point out where the child was and have his men close up the gap they were using to spy on him. If it wasn't a child, he would be tempted to put them to the question to learn who they were spying for. But he couldn't do that to a child.
Sighing, he made his way over to his desk and sat down heavily. "What do you make of the attack on the village?"
Walking over to a small table, Nyra poured out a portion of strong Northern liquor in one cup then filled a second cup with water. Coming back to him, she put the glass with liquor before him before sitting down with her cup of water. When he silently cocked an eyebrow at her choice, Nyra merely shrugged. "Liquor, and even wine and ale has not been sitting well with me as of late. But as for the matter with the village, first it is clear that whoever is behind this is trying to start a conflict between the North and potentially the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. A raid like this, and with the murder of a Septon and village elder in such a manner. It cannot be ignored. And the fact that they were killed using the Traitor's Death, a well-known Northern punishment. It makes the potential culprit obvious to those who don't bother to look too closely. Which unfortunately means almost all the smallfolk and most of the nobles for that matter."
"Aye," Ned nodded, taking a slow drink, and savoring the burn as the liquor went down. "There is a possibility that these brigands are wildlings. While most are under the eye of Mance or Lady Val, there are still a fair number that have no allegiance to either or the North."
Nyra nodded, leaning back as she did so. "That is a way that this could be told. However, such wildlings have rarely, if ever, been seen any further than the Neck. The odds of a rogue group getting this far south unaided is unlikely. Which again, leads us to the conclusion that someone is trying to paint the North in an ill light."
Finishing his drink, Ned idly turned the empty glass in his hand. "Long has your husband predicted two wars to come. One against the White Walkers and their army of dead. But before that war, he predicted another that would tear and heal Westeros in preparation for the war to come. Having lived through two wars, one of which consumed the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms, I had hoped that for once, Nox would be wrong. But with this…I cannot deny that war is on the horizon."
Setting his empty glass aside, Ned got up and walked to his balcony hoping for some fresh air. Though such a hope was foolish in a city as foul as King's Landing. "How fare your attempts to contact your husband?"
"Not good," Nyra answered honestly and without hesitation. "Alim was only able to give me the briefest of true teachings since realizing my Force affinity. And even using what he has given us, at best I can only reach to the Neck and not beyond. I can…sense him. But it's strange. Muted. Even more so than when I knew he was just north of the Wall. I – I fear something may have happened, but I don't know what."
Ned couldn't help but feel uneasy at the thought of Nox being so far away. Part of him did not like that he had become so dependent on the man. But on the other hand, he could not, and would not, deny the security Nox's mere presence added. Not to mention his council and his power. "I will send a raven to Castle Black and have them send someone north of the Wall to try and find him." Ned knew the chances of someone finding Nox's group in the far north would be minuscule at best. But he still had to try. And even if they did manage to find the group, it would still be nearly a full month before Nox would be in King's Landing. "Keep trying to connect with your husband. You are our best hope for getting him here as quickly as possible. And I fear that we will need his aid soon."