The Red Keep, the Throne Room.
Robert Baratheon's roar nearly shook the jagged iron spikes loose from the Iron Throne.
"An assassin?!"
"In my King's Landing! In broad daylight! My son was nearly pinned to a wall by a crossbow bolt?!"
He heaved his bloated body upright and kicked over the low table covered in wine cups.
Fragrant wine and shards of glass spilled across the floor.
"Search the whole city! Drag that damned assassin out for me! I'll hang him from the walls and feed him to the crows!"
Joffrey stood nearby, his face still deathly pale.
But his eyes burned with fervent admiration as he looked at Lynn.
"Father! Lynn saved me! You must reward him generously!"
Robert's gaze settled on Lynn. His savage fury eased a little, replaced by undisguised appreciation.
"Good lad!"
Robert's huge hand landed heavily on Lynn's shoulder again.
"You saved my son's life!"
"What do you want? Tell me!"
"Gold Dragons? A fine sword? Whores? Whatever I have, it's yours!"
Lynn's expression remained unchanged. He merely bowed slightly.
"Your Grace, I only did what I ought to."
He paused, his face seeming to grow a shade paler and his breathing becoming somewhat labored.
"To block that bolt, I used a Secret Technique that took a great deal out of me."
"I need to return to my room and rest until I recover."
The explanation was perfectly reasonable.
After all, to everyone else, that lightning-fast sword stroke had seemed beyond human capability.
Attributing it to some mysterious "Secret Technique" actually made it easier to accept.
"Quick! Take him somewhere to rest!"
Robert's eyes brightened, and he immediately ordered the Kingsguard beside him.
"Find him the best room! Post guards outside. No one is to disturb him!"
Joffrey looked even more anxious. "Ser Lynn, you