"Lord Varys, you must know," Lynn smiled slightly.
"You are asking me for a favor, not the other way around."
"Oh, naturally, Ser Lynn."
Varys nodded, unsurprised.
"How about I offer you a small gift?"
"As a foundation for our cooperation."
"And after confirming that you have spared Daenerys, I can grant you one request within my power."
Varys seemed well-prepared.
Lynn nodded. "Go ahead."
Varys continued.
"With the Hand's Tourney approaching, since you are participating, your goal must be the champion's purse for the joust. Otherwise, the King would have no reason to agree to send you across the Narrow Sea."
"And your greatest opponent is undoubtedly Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers from Highgarden."
Lynn's gaze flickered. He already knew what Varys's token of goodwill was.
"Are you aware that just this afternoon, Lord Baelish was scouting for a new mount for Ser Loras?"
Varys lowered his voice further, a mysterious smile playing on his lips.
"He was looking for a mare in heat."
"And Ser Loras's favored opponent in the joust happens to be Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain That Rides, of House Lannister."
"To maintain his combat effectiveness, the Mountain rides an ungelded stallion—a beast of violent temperament."
"Now, can you imagine what would happen if a rampant stallion caught the scent of a mare in heat mid-charge?"
The result was self-evident.
Littlefinger treated even the tourney as chips on a gambling table.
He was ensuring Loras won against the Mountain to make a killing on the bets!
This was indeed a valuable piece of intelligence.
Although Lynn knew the trick involved, it was enough to prove Varys's sincerity.
Varys truly intended to cooperate.
By handing this lucrative opportunity to him.
"I accept your terms."
Lynn spoke slowly.
"The King will see only Viserys's head."
"Excellent."
Varys stood up, the smile on his face returning to its gentle, harmless state.
"Our upcoming cooperation will surely be most pleasant."
He walked to the door, hand on the handle, then turned back as if remembering something.
"By the way, Ser Lynn."
"That little Stark girl who brought your supper is quite the beauty."
"Did you know? She has been secretly sewing a cloak for you, hidden under her bed."
"A black cloak, embroidered with the direwolf sigil in the finest southern silk."
With that, Varys opened the door.
His stout figure vanished into the darkness outside, as if he had never been there.
The room returned to silence.
Lynn walked to the window, looking out at the brightly lit King's Landing.
Sansa...
That slightly foolish girl, her head full of princes and knights.
In his mind, he saw Sansa's blue eyes, like the summer sky of Dorne.
Lynn's heart was inexplicably touched.
The girl was foolish, yes, but her heart was kind.
Perhaps she shouldn't marry Joffrey.
Lynn shook his head.
Now was not the time for such thoughts.
Since Littlefinger wanted to play tricks at the tourney, Lynn would play along.
He would not only win, but win openly and honestly, leaving everyone speechless.
He would even make Littlefinger personally present him with the champion's purse of forty thousand gold dragons.
And, of course, the winnings from the bets!
The corners of Lynn's mouth curled up uncontrollably.
He began to look forward to the expression on Littlefinger's face when he saw Lynn riding away on the only suitable mare available.
I chose you for a reason, Storm!
That day at the stables, he could have chosen a faster, stronger, more robust warhorse.
But he chose a Shire mare, not known for speed, precisely for this day!
She was the only mare in heat available for combat!
Littlefinger would never guess that someone had ruined his plan the moment the idea was born.
His horse of choice had been intercepted by Lynn in advance. It wouldn't be easy for Baelish to find another mare in heat suitable for a knight.
Thinking of this, a glint of mischievous excitement flashed in Lynn's eyes.
Standing by the window, the night wind felt exceptionally cool.
He had thoroughly mapped the undercurrents of King's Landing.
Littlefinger wanted him dead.
Whether or not Lynn knew of his schemes, Littlefinger wanted to eliminate this variable who had disrupted his plans repeatedly.
Varys wanted to use him.
He wanted to save Daenerys.
The Lannisters were currently indifferent to him.
At least they weren't enemies yet.
As for the Baratheons... they saw him as a savior.
This game was getting interesting.
Just then.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The knock sounded again.
This time, it carried the urgency unique to youth.
Lynn frowned, walked over, and opened the door.
Standing outside was Joffrey.
The Prince had changed out of his fine clothes into a light hunting outfit.
His golden hair was slightly messy, his face full of excitement and adoration.
"Ser Lynn!"
Joffrey's eyes lit up upon seeing Lynn.
"I... I came to see how you are recovering!"
Behind him were not the Hound, but two Kingsguard Lynn didn't recognize, clearly just assigned by the King.
"I am fine, My Prince."
"Good! That is good!"
Joffrey rubbed his hands together like a child with a favorite new toy.
He lowered his voice, speaking to Lynn mysteriously.
"I just begged Father!"
"And Father agreed!"
"When you win the champion's purse, he will not only knight you himself, but he will make you my sworn shield!"
Joffrey puffed out his chest, his face full of pride.
"From now on, you belong to me!"
"Even if you are a crow, no one in King's Landing—no, no one in the Seven Kingdoms—will dare look down on you again!"
"If anyone dares despise your origins, I will punish them severely!"
The boy's promise echoed in the quiet corridor.
Lynn looked at the boy before him, his face full of sincerity, regarding Lynn as a hero and idol.
Then he thought of Joffrey's true parentage—not of Baratheon blood—and his destined tragic end.
A sense of extreme absurdity rose in his heart.
Become Joffrey's sworn shield?
This world is truly full of fucking surprises.
Just ridiculous.
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