The ornate, imposing gates of the Governor's Palace soon came into view.
Two rows of guards stood at the entrance, wearing armor adorned with elaborate heraldry and feathers that looked better suited to a parade than a real battle.
They stood ramrod straight, their eyes fixed ahead.
Yet Young Griff's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
Something about these guards... felt wrong.
Their posture was too erect, their gazes too calm and sharp, and the muscles of the arms gripping their halberds bulged too powerfully even beneath their ornate armor.
They carried the fierce air of men who had fought real battles and spilled blood, utterly at odds with the easygoing temperament common in Lys after so many years of peace.
Perhaps Governor Dorian had transferred them from the elite troops under his direct command? Young Griff set that faint suspicion aside for the moment.
They passed through the gates and entered the Governor's Palace.
Inside, the palace blazed with light, a stark contrast to the silence outside.
In the spacious Banquet Hall, long tables were already laden with a dazzling array of delicacies and fine wines, silver cutlery and crystal goblets glittering in the light.
Twenty or thirty lavishly dressed noblemen and women had gathered there. At their arrival, the guests broke off their conversations and turned curious or quietly eager gazes toward them.
These faces matched the intelligence Young Griff and Jon had received earlier. Most were representatives of influential families in Lys who either favored cooperation with the Targaryens or were waiting to see how things developed.
Sa Melis led the two men close to the seats of honor and said softly, "Please take a seat. The banquet will begin shortly, and the Governor will come in person to offer his apologies."
*Since they were here, they might as