King's Game

Joffrey's King's Game began.

Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy played two opposing "lords."

Bran Stark, Jon Snow, Rodrik Cassel, and four others played "knights," each swearing fealty to one of the two "lords."

Another seventy-seven spectators had been drafted to play "soldiers," serving under the seven "knights."

Everyone also owed allegiance to the "king."

The "king" spoke.

"What petitions do those below have?"

All the players turned serious. After hearing the Crown Prince explain the rules, no one still thought this was merely a simple game for entertainment.

Robb spoke first.

"His Majesty the King, your vassal Stark requests a territorial ruling."

He had four knights sworn to him, and this was Winterfell of House Stark. He undoubtedly held a greater advantage than Theon.

"Greyjoy has forcibly occupied one of Stark's knightly holdings. Stark demands that Greyjoy return it."

Each "lord" had three opportunities to issue challenges. The challenged side could counterattack once without using up a challenge.

Robb launched the first round of challenges against Theon.

If he won, one of Theon's knights and eleven soldiers would become his.

If he lost, there would be no reward, and the king would randomly impose a punishment.

Naturally, Theon would not surrender outright.

He stepped forward to petition as well. "Your Majesty, this is Stark's slander! Greyjoy requests a Trial by Combat."

Joffrey nodded.

"Trial by Combat is permitted. Stark and Greyjoy, designate your knights to fight."

Robb selected Ser Rodrik, the Master-at-Arms.

Theon looked toward Jon, whom he usually got along with least. "Jon, you won't deliberately lose, will you?"

Jon snorted unhappily.

"I still have honor, my 'respected' lord."

Jon did not break his word.

He gave it his all. The swordsmanship and physique he had honed through harsh training since childhood were his greatest assets over the years, and he defeated the seasoned Ser Rodrik.

Robb's challenge had failed. Joffrey did not punish him.

Theon decided to counterattack. "Your Majesty, Stark has forcibly occupied two of Greyjoy's knightly holdings. Greyjoy demands that Stark return them."

Theon raised the stakes.

Most of those present were from Winterfell, and some of Theon's own people were already growing displeased.

Robb did not request a Trial by Combat. He knew Jon's skill with a sword. There was no chance of winning that way; only a vote remained.

"Your Majesty, Stark is innocent. I request the convening of a Great Council!"

Joffrey agreed.

The "Great Council" was another form of judgment in the King's Game, in which the seventy-seven soldiers present voted on the matter at hand.

Each knight now had eleven soldiers. If seven or more soldiers made the same decision, the knight had to adopt it. Otherwise, the knight could choose to agree, disagree, or abstain.

The final seven votes would determine the outcome.

Before the vote began, however, the two lords could speak to win the soldiers' support.

"The lords may speak."

Robb was extremely confident. He said only one sentence. "Please support me."

After all, this was Winterfell.

Theon understood even more clearly. It seemed he was about to taste defeat and mockery once again.

This game is unfair!

But where was there any fairness in this world?! Was Winterfell not just like this game?!

He sank into anguish.

I am the heir to the Iron Islands, Son of the Kraken, a tenacious Ironborn...

Am I?

My father is King Balon of the Iron Islands. By now, his face has long grown blurry in my mind, replaced by Lord Eddard's face and words.

My words are "We Do Not Sow," yet now I am in the North, where "Winter Is Coming."

My god is the cruel Drowned God. "What Is Dead May Never Die, but rises again, harder and stronger." Yet now I pray to the Gods of the Green Lands.

My home is the sea, the longships, yet I have already forgotten the salty taste of the sea.

Who am I, truly?

Would Stark ever accept me?

Theon tasted the metallic bitterness in his mouth.

He felt his soul constantly sinking, descending into a dark and mad abyss. It was neither Winterfell nor Pyke of the Iron Islands, but a place of unconscious nonexistence...

Joffrey poured his vast spirit into his eyes, and even his words carried Magic Power.

He said only, "Greyjoy may speak."

Theon could not help lifting his head. The Crown Prince's eyes seemed to draw him in.

Gods, what kind of monster lived within them?

Beneath their calm warmth lurked a storm that could sweep across the world—ever-changing yet unwavering, inspiring both reverence and fear, love and hatred, impossible to forget for a lifetime.

Like a supreme king.

A king.

Yes, a king!!

Fanatical emotion flooded Theon's face, while his eyes shone with a light mingling hope and despair.

Theon prostrated himself on the ground, as though on a pilgrimage.

"Supreme Your Majesty, Theon Greyjoy offers you loyalty that shall never fade! My sword, my body, my heart, my soul—everything I have is yours!!"

Everyone was dumbfounded!

Joffrey's lips curved into a wanton smile.

He drew Dragonflame and pressed its point heavily against Theon's shoulder.

"I accept your fealty."

"In the name of the Seven Gods, Theon of House Greyjoy, I, Joffrey Baratheon, confer upon you a knighthood beneath the king's throne. Remember: you must never retreat in battle."

"Rise, Ser Theon Greyjoy."

It was the simplest of knighting ceremonies, even somewhat improper, yet no one dared treat it as a joke.

All they could do was stare blankly.

Joffrey withdrew Dragonflame, one hand on his hip and the other resting on the sword's hilt.

"Begin the vote."

Robb lost more than half his confidence.

The seventy-seven soldiers gradually began to move. They looked at one another, then tacitly chose to obey the greatest Liege Lord to whom they all owed allegiance.

Robb closed his eyes.

All seven knights lost their right to choose. Their soldiers voted overwhelmingly for the same side.

In the Great Council, Greyjoy had won!

Robb lost two of his knights, half his strength. The scales of victory tipped toward Theon.

Theon launched his attack.

"Your Majesty! Stark has forcibly occupied two of Greyjoy's knightly holdings. Greyjoy demands that Stark return them!"

If he won once more, Robb would be completely defeated.

Robb now had no choice but to face a difficult decision. In a Trial by Combat, Jon was on the other side; and the Great Council no longer seemed to offer much hope either.

Do I have to swear fealty too if I want to win?

Robb's feelings were complicated. He seemed to understand the Crown Prince's intent. The King's Game truly was a king's game.

Jon was struggling inwardly as well.

Sharp as he was, he had long seen that this game was no simple matter. At the very least, the Crown Prince intended for him to make a choice now.

King's Landing? The Night's Watch?

It seemed he had to choose now.

Jon looked toward the Crown Prince, and their gazes met. It was as though some inexplicable power flowed over.

Jon felt his head grow hot, and immediately dropped to one knee.

"Your Majesty, Jon Snow is willing to offer eternal loyalty and requests a Lordship Conferment."

Everyone was stunned again.

There was another rule in this game: a knight could request a lordship conferment, so long as he gained the renewed oaths of allegiance from another knight and seven soldiers.

Joffrey was very satisfied with the outcome of the game.