Later that night, in the torchlit depths of the Black Cells, Köinzell met with Varys again. The eunuch's mask of serenity had cracked. Sweat clung to his brow, and his voice trembled slightly as he lit the lantern.
> "You realize the chaos you've unleashed?"
Köinzell sat calmly on a stone ledge, cross-legged, arms resting loosely on his knees. The Aetherbane Fang remained wrapped on his back like a sleeping dragon.
> "Chaos was already here. I've only uncovered it."
Varys swallowed hard.
> "You've stirred the lion. Jaime suspects everyone. Littlefinger is manipulating the council. And Stannis... he suspects the truth of the children."
> "Good," Köinzell said simply. "Let truth fester. Let paranoia bleed."
Varys sighed.
> "You truly are not of this world, are you?"
Köinzell turned his head slightly, his elven features half-lit by the lantern's flame.
> "I was born in a realm where gods fell, and empires crumbled from within. This place is no different. It only lacks... an executioner with conviction."
At that, a chuckle echoed behind them.
Tyrion Lannister.
Leaning against the wall, wine goblet in hand, eyes sharp as ever.
> "So, you're the shadow in the Keep," he said. "The one who silenced my beloved sister. I must admit—I expected someone taller."
Köinzell's eyes narrowed. The air grew tense.
But Tyrion only sipped his wine and smiled.
> "Relax. I'm not here to avenge her. I just want to know: why?"
> "Because lies kill more than swords," Köinzell replied. "And she built her throne upon corpses."
Tyrion nodded slowly. The grin vanished.
> "Then you and I may find common ground… one day."
As Köinzell rose to leave, Tyrion spoke one last time.
> "If you plan to burn the rot, Elf, remember that the fire spreads faster than you think."
> "Then let it spread," Köinzell said coldly. "Let it cleanse."
He vanished into the stone passage, leaving Tyrion alone with his wine—and Varys alone with a dangerous truth:
> The Elven swordsman was not a tool.
He was a storm.