Pale morning light filled the council chamber of the Governor of Lys's residence.
The long conference table had been polished like a sheet of black ice, reflecting the leaden sky beyond the tall windows.
Aegon sat at its head. On the wall behind him, the new Three-Headed Dragon Banner hung motionless against its black field, the red dragon seeming ready to burst from the cloth in the morning light.
The two sides of the long table were distinctly divided.
To Aegon's right sat Jon Connington and Luciana.
Sea charts and fleet registers lay spread before Jon, an inkwell weighing down their curling corners. Beside Luciana lay two heavy ledgers, a quill resting along their edges, the ink on its tip not quite dry.
To his left, Henry and Carl sat side by side.
Henry was still pale, but his back was ramrod straight. Carl rested her left arm on the armrest, her posture a little stiff but her gaze sharp.
Behind them, attendants stood solemnly with their hands at their sides. No one spoke.
Wood crackled in the fireplace.
Aegon tapped the smooth tabletop once with his fingertips.
The sound was quiet, yet even the last faint rustle of clothing in the chamber ceased.
"Three weeks have passed since Myr opened its gates."
He spoke, his voice exceptionally clear in the spacious chamber.
"It's time to take stock of exactly what we hold, and what we still lack."
He turned his gaze to Luciana.
"How is Lys?"
Luciana opened the uppermost ledger with a steady movement, but the crisp rustle of its pages sounded particularly distinct in the silence.
"Recruitment for the garrison is proceeding according to Your Highness's orders. The soldiers are recruited from Tyrosh, and Lys pays their wages."
Her voice never wavered. Each word sounded like a