The next morning, the trial by combat, which should have been a spectacle of blood and glory, was indefinitely postponed by a King's command.
The royal herald's voice echoed through the Great Hall of the Red Keep.
The reason given was that His Grace the King was feeling unwell and needed rest.
The assembled nobles and ministers looked at each other, whispering in hushed tones.
Unwell?
Anyone could see that Robert, that fat stag, despite the bloat and temper caused by constant drinking, was healthy enough to punch a bull to death.
This sounded more like an excuse.
A way for the King to climb down after his rage.
Lynn stood behind Eddard Stark.
Looking at the King on the Iron Throne, whose face was unnaturally flushed and eyes cloudy, Lynn understood completely.
It seemed Cersei couldn't sit still anymore.
He would have to check his Greensight later to see exactly whom Cersei had "consulted."
"Get out! All of you!"
Robert waved his arm impatiently, as if shooing away annoying flies.
The courtiers, granted amnesty, retreated hastily.
Only Robert's heavy breathing remained in the empty Throne Room.
Ned looked at his old friend, hollowed out by wine and lust, worry deepening on his brow.
He wanted to offer counsel, but didn't know where to start.
Lynn said nothing, just bowed slightly and followed Ned out of the oppressive hall.
---
In the afternoon, Lynn's manse welcomed a special guest.
"Ser Lynn."
Sansa stood formally at the door, followed by a somewhat uneasy Arya.
Between them was a girl in a pale yellow dress, delicate as a porcelain doll.
Myrcella Baratheon.
Her clear green eyes were filled with panic and unease.
She clutched her skirt tightly, her small body trembling slightly, like a fawn separated from its mother's protection, fearful of everything around her.
"She looks like she's about to cry," Arya whispered in Lynn's ear.
Lynn ignored her, walking slowly to Myrcella and crouching down to be at eye level with her.
"Welcome, Princess Myrcella."
His voice was very soft and gentle.
Myrcella was startled by his sudden movement, instinctively shrinking back.
"Don't be afraid."
A gentle smile appeared on Lynn's face.
"This is not a cage. From now on, this is your other home."
"Will... will I see my mother again?"
Myrcella asked timidly, her voice faint as a mosquito.
"Of course," Lynn answered firmly.
"Whenever you want, you can go back to see her."
Lynn reached out, gently ruffling her brilliant golden curls.
"From today on, you will stay with Arya and Sansa. They will teach you things you can't learn in the Red Keep."
Hearing this, Arya's eyes lit up instantly.
Sansa watched this scene silently, saying nothing.
Looking at the frightened little princess, Lynn felt no ripples in his heart.
Politics was never warm and tender.
All he could do was treat Myrcella a bit better.
Try to keep her out of the power struggles as much as possible.
Lynn said no more, gesturing for them to follow him into a prepared room nearby.
Inside was a huge long table with several clay pots and bags of unknown materials.
"You are all highborn ladies."
Lynn picked up a piece of parchment, his gaze sweeping over three equally confused faces.
"Tell me, how do you usually bathe?"
"Especially you, Princess."
Myrcella blushed slightly.
"Scrub with fine sand, and lye water... sometimes with flower petals."
"Sounds like a terrible experience." Lynn shook his head.
---
A few days later, a large cauldron was set up in the backyard of the manse.
Steward Robb, following Lynn's instructions, had bought several large chunks of animal fat rejected by butchers, and a large bag of wood ash swept from fireplaces.
Arya and Myrcella gathered around curiously.
They watched Lynn direct servants to throw the fat into the cauldron and light the fire to boil it.
A foul, rancid smell soon permeated the air.
Sansa stood far away under the corridor, covering her nose with a silk handkerchief, her brow furrowed.
She couldn't understand why Lynn, the Black Knight admired by thousands, would suddenly be interested in such filthy, low-class things.
Lynn didn't care at all.
He poured the wood ash into another wooden barrel, added water, stirred constantly, and then filtered it.
This process was repeated several times, finally yielding a barrel of clear lye.
"My Lord, are you... brewing some kind of potion?"
Steward Robb asked cautiously.
He had never seen such a bizarre process.
"I am performing alchemy."
Lynn answered without looking up.
Under everyone's gaze, Lynn slowly poured the lye into the melted, boiling fat.
Hiss—
A violent reaction occurred instantly in the cauldron. The fat roiled furiously, emitting large amounts of white smoke.
The servants retreated in fear.
Only Lynn, holding a long wooden stick, stirred the cauldron unhurriedly.
As time passed, the foul smell faded, replaced by a mixed scent of fat and lye.
The liquid in the cauldron changed from murky yellow to viscous, finally solidifying into blocks.
Lynn fished out a piece with the stick and placed it in cold water.
Arya was bold.
She curiously dipped a finger into the foam and rubbed it on the back of her hand.
"Wow! So smooth!"
She exclaimed in surprise.
"And... my hand is so much cleaner!"
Lynn smiled, fishing out all the solid blocks and placing them on a wooden board to dry.
"What is this stuff called?" Arya asked, looking up.
"Soap," Lynn answered.
"Something that can wash a person clean from head to toe."
He picked up a quill and quickly wrote down the detailed steps and ratios for making soap on a piece of parchment.
1. Collect animal fat, boil and melt.
2. Collect wood ash, add water and filter to make lye.
3. Slowly add lye to the fat, stirring and heating continuously until saponification occurs.
4. Add fragrance.
5. Cool, mold, and cut.
He handed the parchment to the dumbfounded Steward Robb.
"From today on, all our brothels must provide this soap to customers for free."
"Also, find some nimble craftsmen. Follow this recipe and mass-produce it for me."
"Remember, give those craftsmen the best treatment. Don't let them reveal this formula. Make them work in separate steps, forbidden from contact with each other."
"Send men to watch them secretly. If anyone dares reveal half a word..."
Lynn didn't finish, but Robb already understood.
"I want every noble lady in King's Landing to go mad for this little bar of soap."
Steward Robb held the priceless "alchemy formula," his hands trembling.
He seemed to see endless gold dragons flying into Lynn's pocket.
Sansa stood in the distance, watching the man laughing and talking amidst the grease and smoke.
In her blue eyes, a trace of infatuation she hadn't even noticed herself appeared.
---