The nobles and knights around them wore stiff smiles as they echoed their approval of the king's "wise" decision.
No one dared object.
The dragon that had just landed swept its three pairs of differently colored eyes coldly over everyone present.
Any foolish remark could bring down devastating dragonfire.
Lynn watched Joffrey calmly.
The little madman was even more useful than he had imagined.
A tournament held solely for him, the title of Hand of the King.
In the most direct way possible, Joffrey had announced his arrival to the entire Seven Kingdoms-and proclaimed his status.
The banquet ended amid a chorus of hollow cheers.
Lynn was escorted to the residence reserved for the Hand of the King.
The Tower of the Hand.
It had once belonged to Jon Arryn, then briefly to Ned Stark and Tywin Lannister.
Now Lynn was its master.
The tower's rooms were spacious and lavish, their walls hung with tapestries depicting House Targaryen's conquests.
Lynn waved away the servant who had guided him there.
He stood alone by the window, looking down over the scattered lights of King's Landing.
The city was like an enormous mire.
Full of desire, intrigue, and rot.
And he would be the only predator in that mire.
The night gradually deepened.
In the room, the fire burned quietly in the fireplace, giving off faint crackles.
Lynn took off his leather armor, leaving himself bare-chested in a simple pair of black trousers.
The firelight traced the sculpted perfection of his muscles, every inch filled with restrained yet terrifying power.
Suddenly, the faintest rustle of fabric came from the shadows in the room.
A slender figure stepped silently out from behind a tapestry.
It was Liana.
She had changed out of her sumptuous gown and wore only a thin white silk nightrobe.