The Small Council Members rose as one and bowed toward the principal seat.
After the king departed surrounded by the Kingsguard, Lord Mace, returning to the Hand of the King's chair, could not help scratching his face. He seemed to have fallen into some kind of confusion.
Princess Arianne glanced at the figure obscured by a snow-white cloak, her slender fingers lightly pinching her smooth chin. By chance... her gaze met Lord Mace's.
Then, Arianne actually saw The Lord Oaf roll his eyes at her without the slightest decorum. She laughed in irritation.
"Father."
Willas's gentle voice interrupted the eye-to-eye contest between the Hand of the King and the Master of Laws.
"Let's head back together."
As he spoke, Lord Mace reached out and patted Willas's shoulder. A Tyrell attendant pushed the wheelchair from behind as father and son left the Small Council table together.
Count Mathis, his brows furrowed, also rose and followed his liege lord and his liege lord's heir.
"Lord Tully."
Pycelle's aged voice pulled Lord Brynden from his thoughts. He looked around and only then realized that he and Pycelle were the only ones left at the Small Council table.
Pycelle looked like a kindly ordinary old man. Lord Brynden forced a faintly polite smile onto his resolute face. "Grand Maester."
Perhaps sensing Brynden's distance toward him, Pycelle smiled kindly and harmlessly. "I had wanted to congratulate Count Rowan, but these old legs of mine couldn't keep up with his pace."
Cradling a thick sheepskin-bound book, he extended a hand and added, "Let us walk together, my lord."
Pycelle walked with a tremble in every step, forcing Lord Brynden to slow his pace.
"Ah—"
As they walked, Pycelle suddenly sighed, only to be ignored by Lord Brynden.
Pycelle's cloudy eyes deepened. After a pause, he