The Red Keep, White Sword Tower.
Oberyn Martell had changed into a brand-new suit of Kingsguard armor.
The gilded armor gleamed in the candlelight, with decorative patterns adorning the edges of its pauldrons and greaves.
Most striking of all was the snow-white cloak that fell from his shoulders and trailed along the floor.
He sat at the writing desk, leafing through a thick volume, the White Book.
Compiled by successive Lord Commanders of the Kingsguard, it recorded the lives and vows of every White Knight.
He turned the pages one by one: Prince Aemon the Dragonrider, Ser Duncan the Tall, Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning...
Then his gaze stopped on one page, and undisguised contempt curled his lips.
Jaime Lannister.
The Kingslayer.
He scoffed and flicked the edge of the page, as though brushing away something filthy, then turned it over.
Picking up the quill he had prepared earlier, he dipped it in ink and wrote his own name on a fresh page:
Oberyn Martell.
Beside his name, he drew the sigil of House Martell.
A golden spear piercing a crimson sun.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Come in."
The door opened, and a soldier wearing black-and-red armor engraved with a three-headed dragon on the breastplate stepped inside.
"My lord, Prince Aegon is convening a council in the Throne Room. He requests your immediate attendance."
Oberyn nodded.
He closed the White Book and returned it to the shelf, fastened a longsword to his belt, straightened the white cloak on his shoulders, and left the room.
The Small Council convened in a side chamber of the Throne Room.
When an attendant ushered Oberyn inside, several people were already seated around the long table.
Aegon sat at its head, with a huge Map of Westeros spread before him.