"Your Highness, I would be honored."
Lynn showed just the right amount of gratitude, then let a hint of weakness pale his face.
"It's just that, right now..."
"I understand! I understand!"
Joffrey caught on immediately and hastily waved his hands.
"You need your rest! I won't disturb you!"
Like a child who had received the reassurance he wanted, he took two satisfied steps back and gave Lynn another emphatic nod.
Only then did he turn and leave with a spring in his step, accompanied by his two new Kingsguard.
The corridor fell quiet again.
Lynn closed the door.
Dealing with this spoiled brat took even more mental effort than handling that old fox Varys.
As he considered this, heavy footsteps sounded from the far end of the corridor.
They were uneven, neither the orderly tread of patrolling guards nor Joffrey's light steps.
Whoever was approaching walked unsteadily, each step as though landing on cotton, yet carried an anger he could barely contain.
Lynn's gaze shifted slightly. His room certainly had been busy today.
Still, the visitor he had expected had finally arrived.
Knock, knock-knock.
The knocking was neither soft nor forceful.
Lynn opened the door.
Ned Stark stood outside.
At that moment, the Hand of the King possessed none of the dignity of his office.
He was merely a travel-worn middle-aged man, fatigue and confusion etched across his brow.
His honest gray eyes were bloodshot, fixed unblinkingly on Lynn.
Ned entered the room without a word.
Lynn closed the door, as though shutting out the entire world.
"Were you behind what happened today?"
Ned went straight to the point.
He neither skirted the issue nor tested the waters.
The harshness of the North left no room for the South's twists and turns.
He wanted only an answer, a direct