Robert's face darkened. "Jon, have you gone mad? Make peace with an eastern pirate?"
Jon calmly met Robert's furious, incredulous gaze. "Your Grace, we have no fleet, not enough heavy dragon-slaying crossbows, and an empty treasury. We need time to restore our finances, build warships, and forge weapons. All of that takes time."
Robert turned to his most trusted friend. "Ned, do you think so too?"
Eddard Stark nodded gravely. "The Lord Hand speaks sense. If war breaks out again, the captive nobles may fall victim to the Easterner. The Easterner does not value honor as the Seven Kingdoms do."
Robert's chest heaved, his heavy breathing particularly clear in the silent hall.
He looked around at the faces, some anxious, some frightened, some grave.
At last, like a deflated ball, he slumped against the back of his chair and let out a beastlike growl. "Gods damn it... Jon! Find someone! Someone who can go to the Stepstones and deal with that eastern bastard. Find a way to stall that damned Easterner, and bring our lords... bring them all back to me!"
With that, he abruptly rose and strode away without looking back.
His heavy footsteps and the white-cloaked figure of Ser Barristan Selmy following close behind disappeared into the depths of the corridor outside the Council Chamber.
Lord Jon turned a conflicted gaze on the high officers of the Small Council.
"My lords, regarding the peace negotiations, we must choose an envoy capable of shouldering this responsibility. He will carry the dignity and honor of the Seven Kingdoms to the Stepstones, negotiate with that Easterner, and ransom the captive nobles."
As his words fell, the entire Council Chamber sank into silence.
Renly Baratheon averted his gaze. Nearly all his Stormlands lords had escaped back to King's Landing, so he was