"I will arrange everything."
Tyrion watched the morning light outside the window.
"Once I've dealt with some trifles in King's Landing, I'll find you in Essos."
"I will wait for you in Pentos." Lynn said nothing more.
Conversing with intelligent people like this required no superfluous words.
Tyrion tipped his head back, downed the last of his wine, and turned to leave.
His short figure, elongated by the morning sun, no longer seemed so hunched.
However, moments of peace were always fleeting.
While the people of King's Landing were still immersed in the Black Knight's legend, another undercurrent was breeding wildly in the city's dark corners, spreading even faster.
"Have you heard? There's news about Lord Jon Arryn's death!"
"It was the Queen!"
"Seven save us! Is it true?"
"Absolutely true! My cousin's wife's brother works in the Red Keep, he heard it with his own ears!"
Rumors were the deadliest poison in King's Landing.
They needed no evidence, nor logic.
They only needed a sensational enough hook, true or false, to spread to every corner of the Seven Kingdoms within a day.
Through his Greensight, Lynn knew.
All of this was spread by Petyr Baelish, the former Master of Coin.
Though he had lost all his wealth, he hadn't lost his most potent weapon.
Like a rat hiding in the sewer, he was using his most practiced method to drag the city into the abyss of chaos!
The ladder might lead him up, or it might lead him down.
But he didn't care about that anymore.
---
The Throne Room.
The atmosphere was oppressive enough to suffocate.
Robert Baratheon sat on the menacing Iron Throne.
His face was livid, his massive frame trembling slightly with rage.
Below him, noble ministers knelt on the floor.
Cersei Lannister stood in the center of the hall, wearing a golden gown symbolizing her queenly dignity.
Her face was pale, but her back was straight as a proud swan.
The broken, desperate woman from Maegor's Holdfast yesterday seemed to have never existed.
She stared coldly at the man full of fury on the Iron Throne, the King who was nominally her husband.
"I will say it again. I did not poison Jon Arryn."
Her voice was filled with a bone-deep anger at this baseless accusation.
She feared Jon Arryn discovering her scandal, but she truly hadn't killed him.
"You didn't?"
Robert's roar was like thunder.
He stood up from the throne, pointing at Cersei's nose.
"All of King's Landing is talking about it! Do you dare say you didn't silence him?"
"That is slander!"
Cersei met his gaze without weakness.
"Someone is plotting behind the scenes! Trying to drive a wedge between Baratheon and Lannister!"
"Enough!"
Robert interrupted her impatiently.
"I don't want to hear your sophistry!"
"I advise you to confess obediently. That way, I can give you a more dignified death."
Cersei looked at Robert in disbelief. After a long moment, she suddenly laughed.
"Since you deny me, then let us follow the law!"
In Cersei's azure eyes, flames of madness burned!
"I demand a trial by combat!"
The hall erupted in shock!
Trial by combat was the ultimate recourse, entrusting one's fate entirely to the gods.
Proving innocence with blood and life.
But it wasn't a hard choice to make.
She had no way back.
"Good!"
Robert laughed in extreme anger.
"Trial by combat! Granted!"
"Speak. Who is your champion?"
"Is it your brother Jaime?"
Robert's tone was filled with undisguised mockery.
Cersei's face turned incredibly ugly instantly.
Jaime...
Jaime's arm had been injured by Lynn at the tourney; he couldn't even hold a sword steady!
Grand Maester Pycelle stepped forward tremblingly.
"Your Grace... Ser Jaime... his body is unwell. I fear he cannot fight."
"What about that Mountain?"
Robert looked around.
"I recall that is also one of your Lannister dogs!"
A Lannister knight answered, bracing himself.
"Your Grace, Ser Gregor... returned to Casterly Rock on Lord Tywin's orders after the tourney."
The Throne Room fell into a deathly silence.
Cersei's two strongest champions—one injured, one gone.
She was like a lioness with her teeth and claws pulled out, left only with rage and helplessness.
Seeing her wretched state, Robert's anger dissipated slightly, replaced by a morbid pleasure.
"It seems the gods have abandoned you."
Robert sat back on the throne, looking down at her.
"I give you one day, Cersei."
"In one day, if you cannot find your champion, I will personally declare you guilty."
"Then, your head will hang on the walls of Maegor's Holdfast alongside those traitors."
With that, he waved his hand in disgust.
"Get out! All of you get out!"
---
Everyone fled the Throne Room as if escaping a plague.
In a blink, only three people remained in the empty hall.
King Robert, the Hand of the King Ned, and Lynn, who had been specially permitted to stay.
Robert picked up a wine flagon, took a huge swig, his chest still heaving violently.
"Ned, did you see that?"
"That poison woman! She finally showed her fox tail!"
Ned Stark's brow, however, was tightly knitted.
He glanced at the calm-faced Lynn beside him, hesitating to speak.
"What? You still want to speak for her?"
Robert noticed his expression.
"Your Grace."
Ned finally spoke, his voice heavy.
"This matter is likely not that simple."
"Not simple? What's not simple about it? The evidence is conclusive!"
"Your Grace, whether Queen Cersei is guilty or not, we have no evidence."
Lynn spoke calmly, taking over the conversation.
"But one thing is certain."
"Once you declare the Queen guilty and execute her..."
Ned continued the analysis, following Lynn's lead.
"It means House Baratheon will completely break with House Lannister."
"You will not only lose the treasury that maintains the kingdom's expenses."
"Moreover, Lord Tywin will never sit idly by while his daughter is executed."
"At that time, the Lions of the West will inevitably raise their banners against King's Landing."
"War will be unavoidable."
Ned's voice echoed in the empty hall.
"War?"
Robert paused, then burst into wild laughter.
"War, then! Who have I ever feared?"
"That Tywin is a turtle who hides his head, waiting for the war's outcome to become clear before surrendering!"
"Am I afraid of him?"
"Your Grace."
Lynn looked directly at Robert.
"Back then, you had the elites of Storm's End, the knights of the Vale, the wolves of the North, and the trout of the Riverlands."
"And now?"
Lynn's voice was like a bucket of ice water poured over Robert's alcohol-and-rage-addled brain.
"You sit on the Seven Kingdoms, seemingly powerful, but your foundations have long been hollowed out by the Lannisters."
"The treasury is empty, the court is divided."
"Once House Lannister rises in rebellion, what choice will House Tyrell of Highgarden make? Will House Martell of Dorne sit idly by?"
"Not to mention Lysa Arryn, hiding in the Eyrie, her allegiance unclear."
Robert wasn't a qualified king, but he was a born warrior.
He knew better than anyone what a war sweeping the Seven Kingdoms meant.
Corpses everywhere, rivers of blood.
And the cause was merely an unverified rumor.
The rage on Robert's face gradually faded.
He looked at the spot where Cersei had just stood.
In his cloudy eyes, a complex emotion he didn't even notice appeared.
He hated Cersei.
Hated her for killing Jon Arryn, the former Hand he regarded as a father.
But when it came to personally sending this woman to the executioner's block and sparking a bloody civil war for it, he hesitated.
Could it be... she really was wrongly accused?
Once this thought appeared, it couldn't be suppressed.
But Robert was the King.
He had spoken in absolutes in front of everyone.
Taking back his command now was harder than killing him.
"Damn it!"
Robert smashed the wine flagon on the floor.
"This damn iron chair! This damn King's Landing!"
He paced the hall irritably like a manic boar trapped in a cage.
Ned looked at the conflicted King, unsure of what to do for a moment.
Lynn just watched all of this quietly.
Littlefinger's move was both stupid and vicious.
He thought this would make the Lion and Stag kill each other.
But he didn't expect this would instead give Lynn a perfect opportunity to thoroughly subdue Cersei, and even meddle in House Lannister's affairs.
As long as Cersei wasn't stupid, her only path to survival now was to beg him.
Lynn looked at the gloomy sky outside the Throne Room.
He was looking forward to it.
Looking forward to seeing in what posture that proud golden lioness would kneel at his feet tonight.
---