"Speak! Who was it?!"
Joffrey put all his strength into every kick!
"Who gave the order?! Who told you to kill my father?!"
Pycelle's body convulsed on the floor, bloody foam mixed with fragments of teeth spilling endlessly from his mouth.
He wanted to die.
All he wanted now was to die quickly!
But Joffrey clearly had no intention of letting him escape so easily.
"Your Grace, you'll beat him to death."
Cersei rose from the floor, urgency in her voice.
She was not concerned about whether Pycelle lived or died.
She was afraid that, in his fury, Joffrey would truly destroy everything House Lannister had put in place in King's Landing.
Joffrey ignored her completely.
His bloodshot eyes remained fixed on the dying Grand Maester Pycelle on the floor.
"Lord Lynn."
Varys's honeyed voice rang out at a most inopportune moment.
"You have seen much of the world. Perhaps you know a way to make the Grand Maester talk?"
Every gaze turned to Lynn.
Lynn had stood to one side throughout, like a spectator with no stake in the matter.
He looked at Varys, then at the half-dead Pycelle on the floor.
"I've heard that when people are in extreme pain, they'll say anything for relief."
Lynn's voice was calm.
"Of course, we could also try another approach."
Lynn walked over to Pycelle, crouched down, and studied his mangled face.
"Grand Maester, I heard that when Lord Ned Stark served as Hand of the King, he tried to stop King Robert from taking part in the tournament and the hunt?"
"And that ruined your plan to kill Robert?"
A faint gleam flickered in Pycelle's clouded eyes, and he nodded desperately.
"So you had no chance to act that time, correct?"
Pycelle nodded again, pleading in his eyes. He wanted