The Seven Swords Plot, a Riverlands Mutiny, and Monkeys in Crowns

The Seven Swords Inn.

It was the largest inn in Duskendale, four stories tall, rising above the neighboring houses.

Seven wooden swords hung precariously from an iron nail above the inn's entrance, their white paint cracked and peeling.

They represented the seven men of House Darklyn who had worn the white cloaks of the Kingsguard. No other house in the realm could boast such an honor.

That was how the inn had earned its name.

At that moment, in a secluded room on the inn's second floor, flickering candlelight played across three faces, their grim expressions shifting in the glow.

Walter He An, Arwood Halton, and Gyles Leger.

The sour smell of cheap ale filled the air, along with something stronger than ale: murderous intent.

"Suleiman's power comes from neither his house nor his bloodline."

Gyles Leger broke the silence first, his voice so low it was almost a whisper.

"His power comes from himself, his charisma, and his genius for war."

"My house has a blood feud with him."

"But in fairness, I acknowledge that much."

"It is something he can take pride in, yet it is also his greatest tragedy and his fatal weakness."

"Exactly!" Walter He An nodded emphatically, a sickly flush spreading across his aged face.

"No one can inherit Suleiman's political capital."

He clenched his fist and tapped it against the table.

"Even if he has children, even if his women bear him a whole litter of lion cubs, can those children inherit his genius for war?"

"Can they make these fickle Riverlords of the Riverlands willingly bow their heads and obey?"

He gave a short, cold laugh. The answer was obvious.

"Of course not!"

"The war has been won. His purpose has been fulfilled."

"If he were to die now..."

Walter He An let