Chapter 26: The Handsome Stewards
The Great Hall of Maegor's Holdfast (also known as the Queen's Tower).
They walked in silence for another ten minutes before finally reaching their destination.
Jaime gave Glyn a meaningful look, and Glyn, nodding his thanks, walked inside.
Jaime's figure had already vanished. Glyn found a few scattered groups of people within the great hall.
Glyn did a rough count and found about a dozen people in total.
Some who noticed Glyn nodded their greetings politely.
Quietly observing for a moment, Glyn noticed several shared characteristics among the gathered people.
All were very young and handsome, estimated to be around twenty years old.
Judging by the sigils on their clothing, they were all nobles from the Westerlands and the Crownlands, though most hailed from the Westerlands.
*Don't tell me all these people are the queen's stewards!*
*With looks like these, they could stir up trouble even when there was none. At least on the surface, they looked like a troop of paramours.*
Jaime is here every day. Queen Cersei can't be *that* desperate, can she?
...
In the great hall, Glyn recognized a particular voice amidst the sounds around him.
He had a head of golden-brown hair, light green eyes, and a handsome face that resembled Jaime's by sixty or seventy percent, but he lacked Jaime's heroic bearing.
Kevan Lannister's eldest son, Lancel Lannister, known as the "wine-pouring squire."
"Lancel, congratulations!"
"Lancel, I'm a bit envious of you!"
"Indeed, indeed!"
"To serve as the king's squire, your future is limitless!"
"Indeed, indeed!"
"Shh, Lord Arryn's health is very poor. Who knows, Lancel might be the future Hand of the King."
"Indeed, indeed, only the most trustworthy person can serve as King Robert's squire."
Facing the crowd's adulation, Lancel maintained a perfectly poised smile, his demeanor impeccable.
Glyn stroked his chin. At this moment, Lancel, on the cusp of becoming King Robert's squire, was full of youthful vigor and ambition—a far cry from the later obsequious figure he would become under the king's constant drunken rebukes.
Ordinarily, anyone capable of serving as the king's squire would surely have a smooth and prosperous future in the Red Keep.
Alas, King Robert was not a man to be predicted by common sense. He had verbally abused the king's squire—whom everyone viewed as having limitless prospects—into being merely the "wine-pouring squire."
Glyn approached at an opportune moment. "Good day, Lord Lancel."
Lancel looked at Glyn, who had entered his line of sight, and nodded slightly. "Good day, my lord...?"
Lancel noticed the bog-gold basin flower sigil on Glyn's clothing and had a flash of realization. "Lord Glyn of House Crabbe?"
Glyn nodded. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I happened to overhear your conversation and couldn't resist coming over to offer my congratulations."
Glyn's heart skipped a beat.
At Glyn's congratulations, Lancel's cheeks actually flushed. "Thank you. I heard you had arrived in King's Landing and have long wanted to pay you a visit."
"I have read the raven messages from the Citadel several times. The battle you commanded was truly brilliant."
"I, too, have always dreamed of leading armies, but alas, my family's talents lie in governance."
"When I was little, I'd hide from my father..."
Glyn relaxed. The boy was a young admirer; he had misjudged him.
Lancel, abandoning his previous reserved manner, spoke enthusiastically to everyone about the details of the battles Glyn had commanded.
*Oohs and ahhs.*
The people around them, whether they understood the details or not, gasped in surprise as Lancel recounted the events.
Their exclamations, however, were not for Glyn.
At this moment, whatever Lancel said, everyone would readily applaud and flatter him.
Glyn, ashamed to be counted among such fawning sycophants, quietly slipped away from the group.
...
As Glyn grew a little bored from waiting, he finally heard the clear announcement, "The Queen has arrived!"
Glyn moved with the crowd and positioned himself.
All eyes quickly converged on the staircase.
Queen Cersei's figure had already appeared at the top of the stairs, slowly descending.
Queen Cersei was clad in an off-the-shoulder gown, her golden curls cascading naturally over her collarbones.
Faint golden embroidery, shimmering jeweled ornaments—a display of ultimate wealth.
The moment Queen Cersei's graceful figure appeared, Glyn felt the gazes of those around him, fixed on the Queen, fill with reverence—and even adoration?
Those permitted to stand here were surely not simple folk.
*Such gazes, as if for a beloved?* Glyn shook his head.
The disparity between his own nature and the emotional expressions of these people was simply too vast; Glyn found such displays impossible to emulate.
Cersei paused after descending the final step.
Jaime stood faithfully behind Cersei, fulfilling his role as a guard.
"Good day, my stewards."
The men bowed, placing a hand over their chests. "Good day, Your Grace!"
Cersei gave a slight nod of her graceful chin, her eyes shifting subtly, her voice cool. "Lord Glyn."
When Queen Cersei finished speaking, Glyn stepped out from the crowd and bowed again with a hand to his chest. "Good day, Your Grace. It is an honor to meet you. Thank you for elevating this humble servant to the position of steward."
Glyn, whose demeanor was usually composed, infused his tone with a touch of excitement; everything was perfectly calibrated.
Cersei appraised Glyn once more. A flicker of satisfaction passed through her emerald-green eyes as she extended the back of her hand toward him.
Glyn moved forward a few steps, gently taking Queen Cersei's outstretched, pale and slender hand.
Glyn bowed and symbolically touched his lips to the back of Queen Cersei's flawless hand.
Cersei raised her chin slightly, a faint curve gracing her lips.
(end of chapter)