The air in King's Landing still seemed charged with the frenzy of the tournament.
In streets and alleys, bards cobbled together the legend of the Black Knight in clumsy verse.
Drunks in taverns argued about the splendor of that lance strike, spittle flying.
At noble banquets, meanwhile, "Lynn" had become the most fashionable topic of conversation.
When Lynn pushed open the door to Littlefinger's room, once a symbol of intrigue and desire, this was the scene that greeted him.
Several maesters were sweating over the accounts.
The ledgers stood in piles as high as small mountains.
The air was filled with the distinctive smells of old parchment, ink, and money.
Like a mouse that had found its way into a granary, Arya darted excitedly among the ledgers, curiosity shining in her gray eyes.
Sansa, by contrast, looked utterly out of place.
Dressed in a sky-blue gown, she stood stiffly by the door.
She could not understand why Lynn would come to a place like this.
Especially when she learned that some of this wealth came from those filthy brothels, a wave of physical revulsion rose within her.
"My lord."
A shrewd, capable-looking middle-aged man with a goatee had once served as Littlefinger's chief steward.
Now he bowed humbly, presenting a thick general ledger to Lynn.
"All the property deeds and accounts are here."
"By our preliminary estimate, the fixed assets you took over from Lord Baelish include seven brothels, three warehouses at the docks, two estates outside the city, and more than a dozen shops, with a total value of approximately fifty thousand gold dragons."
"In addition, we have just finished tallying all your proceeds from the tournament..."
An irrepressible tremor entered the steward's voice.
"After deducting the winnings paid out to the other bettors, you and Lord Ned made