The King's two Attendants gave nervous smiles, and the King turned to them again.
Eddard couldn't help but look at the two Attendants for a moment; needless to say, they were from House Lannister.
The Attendants were handsome Boys, fair-skinned and well-proportioned. The one with golden curly hair was about Sansa's age, while the other, around fifteen, had yellowish-brown hair, a slight mustache, and emerald green eyes like the Queen's.
"You two, yes, you two, did you hear what the Hand said? The King is too fat to fit into his armor. Go find Ser Alyn Santagar and tell him I need pincers to stretch the breastplate. Hurry up! What are you waiting for?"
The Boys scrambled out of the bedroom, tripping along the way. The King dropped his serious facade and burst into laughter after they left.
"Are both of them Lannister men?" Eddard couldn't help but ask.
Robert nodded, wiping away tears of laughter. "Her two cousins, Lord Tywin's brother's sons, the one who died, I think, or maybe the one who's alive, I don't remember. Eddard, my wife comes from a very large family."
Eddard remained silent. House Lannister was indeed sprawling, and Tywin had three brothers. Moreover, House Lannister was ambitious, insatiably greedy for power and glory.
Eddard had no objection to the two young men, but he felt it would be better if they were close relatives of House Baratheon or sons of Lords from the Stormlands. The King was surrounded by Lannister people day and night, yet he himself didn't have this worry.
"I heard you had a disagreement with the Queen last night?" The joy on Robert's face instantly froze.
"That dead woman tried to stop me from joining today's Tourney. She's still sulking in the castle now; let her die of anger. Your sister would never humiliate me like this."
"Robert, you don't know Lyanna as well as I do," Eddard told him. "You only saw her beauty, but you didn't know her true stubbornness. If she were still alive, she would tell you that you have no business with the Tourney."
Eddard, after much persuasion, finally deterred the King's intention to join the Tourney.
The more they talked, the more congenial they became. The King's melancholy slowly dissipated, concerning the throne, the Queen, and the iron throne. They even talked about their past time at The Eyrie. Back then, they played orange wars together at The Eyrie, and the halls of The Eyrie were filled with flying oranges.
Eddard couldn't help but have a fantasy, and his mood brightened. His friend Robert was still the same as before, deeply loving Lord Arryn, and Robert was still reliable. Whether it was Lannister or Littlefinger and his ilk, the King held supreme power.
Eddard accompanied the King into the Tourney grounds. He had already promised to watch the championship final with Sansa. The Queen, due to her conflict with the King, did not attend today.
The first match was between The Hound and Jaime the Kingslayer. The Hound was House Lannister's enforcer, and his opponent was the Lannister lion.
Sandor Clegane first appeared in the arena, dressed in smoke-grey armor with an olive-green cloak. That cloak and his hound-head helmet were his only adornments.
When Jaime rode in on an elegant blood-bay warhorse, the horse was draped in gilded chainmail, and Jaime himself was glittering from head to toe. His Longspear was carved from golden wood from the Summer Isles.
The match hadn't officially begun yet; there were still some wagers.
"One hundred gold dragons on the Kingslayer to win," Littlefinger said.
"I'll take that," Lord Renly called back, "I think The Hound is particularly hungry this morning."
"Even a hungry dog knows not to bite the hand that feeds it," Littlefinger retorted coldly.
"Hold on, two hundred gold dragons on Ser Jaime." A voice came from the crowd. The person was very short and looked travel-worn. Tyrion hurried into the arena, still draped in a Shadowcat fur, making The Imp look even more incongruous. The Imp was accompanied by his Attendants and two Mercenaries.
"Thank the gods, I finally didn't miss my brother's match." The Imp, accompanied by Bronn and others, also arrived at the Tourney grounds. Although he was mocked, he still held the identity of a Lannister.
"Who do we have here, if not our short friend," Lord Renly said with a grin.
"Thank you, Lord Renly, for remembering me," Tyrion replied.
"Of course, I could never forget your big head," Renly laughed heartily. "I've missed you after not seeing you for a while."
"It's an honor to see you, my Lord. I thought I was the only one still backing Ser Jaime," Littlefinger said, smiling at Tyrion.
"My honor, Lord Littlefinger, you won't lose my gold dragons." The Imp wanted to slice off Littlefinger's smiling face, but he told himself it wasn't the time. Littlefinger was so popular; everyone thought he was a friend.
The Imp looked around at everyone. His show-off sister wasn't there, which only meant the King and Queen had another disagreement.
Littlefinger had a bad premonition but quickly calmed down. Foolish people were a double-edged sword, and he was confident he could continue to play this game well.
The Imp saw Eddard by the King's side. The Lord of Winterfell had a rare smile on his face today, but that smile wavered for a moment when he saw The Imp. It seemed Lord Eddard was also aware of what happened at the inn. But there were too many people here, and it wasn't suitable for talking.
Jon, in the crowd, also saw The Imp, but out of caution, he didn't greet his friend.
"Good to see you, little brother," Ser Jaime waved at The Imp, then blew a kiss to a lady in the crowd before pulling down his visor and riding to the edge of the arena. The Hound, disdaining such showmanship, simply prepared for battle.
The two knights donned their visors, took their positions, and lowered their Longspears.
Eddard's face was expressionless as he saw The Imp return, but his mind was filled with many thoughts.
Jaime, The Hound, The Mountain, The Imp—the Lannister family was truly well-represented. The lion had occupied all of King's Landing. Although The Imp had no martial prowess, his mind was always reputed to be wise; crippled people always tended to overthink. Not to mention those pesky little characters, The King's party was everywhere.
"Where are The King's party, Robert's confidantes?" Eddard sighed. The situation had deteriorated to this extent, and the King was absolutely the biggest problem.
But the King was still laughing and joking. He would be pleased to see the Kingslayer lose the match and take a tumble. Sansa was simply concentrating on watching the match, enjoying the spectacle, without thinking too much.
The two horses began to gallop at full speed, making the temporary stands tremble. Few prayed for The Hound, but not many blessed the Kingslayer either. After all, the common folk had not forgotten the past; the Kingslayer had killed the Mad King, and Tywin had once bloodied King's Landing.
The two knights, shield in one hand and Longspear in the other, began to charge at each other. A Longspear Tourney was not entirely the same as war; it tested horsemanship more. Ser Jaime and The Hound both leaned forward, then collided with their Longspears. However, The Hound was a bit too eager; the Kingslayer shifted his body just before the impact, and The Hound's spear tip was deflected by the Kingslayer's lion-emblazoned golden shield. The Kingslayer was unharmed, while The Hound was struck squarely, nearly falling from his horse.
The crowd cheered repeatedly; the match was still very exciting.
"I'm going to win," The Imp said to Renly and Littlefinger. In any match with Jaime, he always bet on his brother's victory.
"Yes, my Lord," Littlefinger then said to Renly. "I should start thinking about how to spend your money."
But the second round quickly began. Although The Hound was disheveled, he hadn't fallen from his horse. The Kingslayer threw away his broken spear and took up a new Longspear. The Hound spurred his horse forward, and the Kingslayer also charged to meet him.
Victory came so swiftly. Both Longspears shattered simultaneously, but the Kingslayer's horse was riderless. The Kingslayer rolled in the mud, glittering gold, his helmet dented.
"It seems I have to leave for a while," The Imp requested to step down from the stands.
Jaime looked very dejected. His elaborately decorated lion-head helmet was now twisted and deformed from the impact and the fall from his horse. The Kingslayer stood up but couldn't remove his helmet. The spectators pointed and booed, a clamor of voices, with the King leading the noble Lords and ladies in laughter. The King's laughter even drowned out everyone else's.
"Jon, he's here too." The Imp went down to the arena to lead the Lannister to find a blacksmith, but he saw Jon Snow in the crowd.
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