King's Landing.
Situated on the eastern coast of Westeros, overlooking Blackwater Bay.
It was the place where Aegon the Conqueror first set foot upon Westeros, later expanded into the capital of the Seven Kingdoms and the seat of the Iron Throne.
It was noon.
The royal procession slowly entered King's Landing through the Gate of the Gods.
The vast convoy immediately drew the attention of the city's people. These plainspoken folk of King's Landing paid little heed to the gold cloaks before them, craning their necks one by one to watch the king's arrival.
Although they had already seen this spectacle once a few months earlier.
Robert, returning once more to King's Landing, wore a face full of exhaustion. The events along the journey had left him poorly rested for several days in a row.
He had originally been in high spirits when he invited his good brother to come south and serve as Hand of the King, thinking that once that was settled, he could return to drinking, feasting, and merrymaking.
But the journey had far exceeded his expectations.
After reaching the North, there was first the trial by combat, where he came to know a promising Northern lord.
Then came Bran's fall from the tower and Jaime's killing of Theon, igniting fierce tensions between lion and wolf.
Just as matters were finally smoothed over and Ned agreed to accompany him south to serve as Hand, another incident occurred at the Trident.
Arya's direwolf bit Joffrey, leaving the boy's hand still unhealed to this day.
The queen had also come to see Ned as a thorn in her side.
After learning the cause, Robert chose once again to punish both Arya and Joffrey equally, forcing the matter to rest.
"Fuck, what a mess," he cursed inwardly, casting his gaze over the people lining the streets of King's Landing. "I should just hold a grand tourney to drive off this bad luck."
With that thought, Robert made his decision. He would announce the tourney at a suitable time.
Behind him, riding on horseback as well, Ned Stark showed little interest in the city before him.
His eyes swept over King's Landing, with its constant stench, without the slightest hint of delight.
Since the War of the Usurper, the city seemed unchanged. Robert's rule had brought it no improvement.
'I need to stabilize the situation in King's Landing as quickly as possible and eliminate Robert's hidden dangers,' Ned thought.
'After that, I can return to the North.'
Frowning, he followed silently behind the king.
After some time, the procession entered the Red Keep, where Ned parted ways with Robert.
He needed to settle into the Tower of the Hand.
Yet before he could properly arrange matters for Arya and Rickon, the royal steward arrived to summon him to an emergency session of the Small Council.
Exhausted to the bone, Ned said irritably, "If possible, reschedule it for tomorrow."
The steward bowed deeply. "Hand of the King, then I shall inform His Grace and the councilors that you are unable to attend."
Ned was left speechless.
If he offended the court's most powerful men before even taking office, his work would never proceed smoothly.
'Just as well,' he thought. 'I can test what kind of people they are.'
'I'll see who might be an enemy and who could be an ally.'
Recalling Galon's advice, Ned quickly made his decision. "Wait a moment. I'll change my clothes."
The steward kindly added, "My lord, we have already prepared Lord Arryn's former chambers in the Tower of the Hand for you.
If you need anything else, please instruct me, and I will have it delivered at once."
"Thank you," Ned replied.
As he spoke, he pulled off his riding gloves and instructed the steward Vayon Poole, "The king has urgent business with me. Watch Arya and Rickon carefully, especially Arya."
Vayon Poole bowed and agreed.
Ned changed into proper attire, then followed the steward to the council chamber.
Upon entering, he saw that the king and his councilors were already waiting.
"Haha, this is our new Hand of the King!" Robert rose from his seat, laughing as he introduced Ned.
The others stood as well, greeting him with expressions of varying warmth.
Ned nodded to Robert, then let his gaze wander as he examined the members of the Small Council, trying to judge who among them might be friend or foe.
Yet every face wore the same polite mask of a smile, making it impossible to read their true intentions.
'There will be time,' Ned thought. 'Sooner or later, I'll learn what kind of people they truly are.'
His attention returned to Robert.
Nearby, Varys' eyes shifted subtly. Just before attending the meeting, one of his little birds had delivered fresh news.
Catelyn Stark had entered King's Landing through the Mud Gate.
Varys glanced unobtrusively at Littlefinger and found Petyr smiling back at him.
Clearly, he too had learned of Lady Catelyn's arrival.
The two old foxes exchanged knowing smiles, then turned together to welcome the new Hand.
"Since Lord Arryn's unfortunate passing, we have long awaited Lord Stark's arrival in King's Landing," Varys said, wearing a syrupy smile as he spoke first.
Ned felt little fondness for the master of whispers and replied coolly, "I would rather not have come at all, if only Lord Arryn were still alive."
His perfunctory response showed no sign that he noticed Varys' deliberate emphasis on the word unfortunate.
Petyr's heart skipped. He smoothly cut in, smiling as he greeted Ned. "Lord Stark, I've long wished to meet you. Lady Catelyn must have mentioned me to you?"
"She has," Ned answered coldly. Petyr's sly tone irritated him. "If I recall correctly, you also knew my brother Brandon."
Petyr's smile froze.
Of course he knew Brandon. He had even challenged him to a duel in hopes of winning Catelyn's hand.
The result had been a crushing defeat.
The memory of that humiliation had never left him.
Everyone present knew the story.
Robert slowly sat back down upon his chair embroidered with the crowned stag. At Ned's mention of Brandon, his thoughts also drifted to Galon.
"Haha, speaking of which, I met a man in the North who also demanded a trial by combat for the sake of a Northern lord's daughter," Robert said.
"Ser Meryn Trant was even killed by him in single combat."
The room stirred, all eyes turning toward the king.
The trial by combat at Winterfell had begun spreading through the city along with the king's return, especially since it involved the death of a Kingsguard knight.
"Galon Glover of the Wolfswood," said Renly Baratheon, the Master of Laws, softly, a strong interest gleaming in his eyes.
"It's a shame he didn't come south. I would have loved to see how he defeated Ser Meryn."
"I heard Ser Meryn couldn't even last three moves against him?"
He turned toward Ned, saw the displeasure on his face, and immediately recalled another matter.
Renly quickly added, "My apologies, Lord Stark. I am also deeply grieved by what happened to Bran."
"Although Joel joined the king's retinue from Storm's End, I swear by the Seven that I had nothing to do with the attempt on your son's life."
Ned replied stiffly, "His Grace has already explained this to me."
Though he knew Joel was likely unrelated to Renly, the man had come from Storm's End. Renly could not fully escape that association unless the true culprit was found.
Renly understood this all too well.
But Joel's fate was unknown, and letters sent to Greenstone had yielded no useful clues.
Thus, the matter remained like a rotten account hanging over his head.
Anger and frustration churned within him. 'If I ever find out who framed me, I'll make them pay dearly.'
'I'll have to find a way to repair my relationship with Ned later.'
Just then, the king rapped his knuckles against the table, breaking the tension.
"Enough of this," Robert said. "Let's get down to business."
At once, the councilors grew solemn and took their seats. The Small Council meeting officially began.
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