Jorah and Daenerys were nothing more than two lost dogs wandering in a foreign land.
But, dragons?
An Unsullied army?
These two words sent a colder chill down people's spines than the charred wight they had just seen.
Robert Baratheon, who had just been full of ambition, ready to lead his army north to strike at the army of the dead, saw the smile on his face instantly freeze, then vanish.
He turned his head inch by inch.
His eyes, bloodshot from alcohol and rage, became cloudy and dangerous once more.
He stared intently at Lynn.
His gaze was full of suspicion and gloom.
"Is what he said true?"
Robert's voice was terrifyingly low, like the final growl of an enraged lion before it attacked.
"Lynn."
"Where is your dragon?"
"I want an explanation for everything he said!"
The temperature of the entire Throne Room seemed to plummet to freezing point at that moment.
Ned Stark's heart sank to the bottom.
His worst fear had finally come true.
Robert's current state was clearly not right.
He was erratic and moody.
He would become like this from time to time.
If Lynn couldn't provide a reasonable explanation now, then today would truly not pass.
He wanted to speak but found himself unable to defend.
He only hoped Lynn would have a good solution.
Everyone's gaze, whether schadenfreude or fearful surprise, once again focused on Lynn.
They wanted to see how this young man from the North, who had just turned the tide, would face the King's deadly interrogation.
Lynn remained calm.
He didn't even look at Littlefinger, who sat in his wheelchair with a victorious smile.
He simply met Robert's almost murderous gaze and nodded calmly.
"Yes, Your Majesty, I have a dragon."
He admitted it.
So easily, so decisively.
A collective gasp echoed through the Throne Room.
"And, I also possess eight thousand of the world's finest soldiers, they are called the Unsullied."
Lynn's second statement made everyone's heart skip a beat even more.
He's mad!
This man from the North must be mad!
He actually dared to admit to possessing such a powerful private army before the Iron Throne, in front of the King!
"Everything I have done, I have done for you, Your Majesty."
"For the entire kingdom."
Lynn's voice resonated through the silent Throne Room, clear and firm.
"Your Majesty, you just saw it, that was just a wight, a scout from the army of the dead."
"Beyond the Wall, there are hundreds of thousands, even millions, of the dead!"
"What do we have to fight them with?"
"A few tens of thousands of cobbled-together kingdom troops who don't even have enough food for winter?"
"Or those unreliable-looking sellswords?"
"No, Your Majesty, that's not enough!"
"We need an army that fears no death and obeys orders absolutely!"
"Therefore, I have brought you the Unsullied!"
"We need flames powerful enough to burn away all evil!"
"Therefore, I have brought you a dragon!"
Lynn's gaze was burning, directly meeting Robert's grim face.
"The Unsullied army will fight for you, Your Majesty!"
"My dragon, its dragonfire will also burn only for you, Your Majesty!"
"They are not my private property, Your Majesty."
"They are your sharpest sword against the Long Night!"
Robert's expression remained unchanged as he questioned again.
"Then how do you explain Jorah and Daenerys?"
"A damned slaver, and a remnant of House Targaryen. Are you really trying to abolish House Baratheon?"
Lynn remained unhurried in the face of the questioning.
"Ser Jorah Mormont is a descendant of the previous Lord Commander, Jeor Mormont. Jeor regarded me as his successor and bestowed his ancestral sword, longclaw, upon me. My relationship with him is not shallow."
"But my relationship with House Mormont cannot be the key point for me to pardon Jorah, as that would be suspected of favoritism."
"When I first arrived on the continent of Essos, Ser Jorah, in order to atone for his sins, voluntarily sought me out and tried to pledge his loyalty to the Seven Kingdoms once again."
"He could have simply run away, but he didn't."
"He knew he was risking being hanged, but he still found me."
"Furthermore, Jeor Mormont guarded the Wall for the Seven Kingdoms for many years. I believe Jorah's sins have been atoned for, and Your Majesty should give him a chance to reform."
Lynn's words were evasive, making Robert impatient.
He didn't want to know about the so-called Jorah, but about someone else.
Daenerys!
The other remnant of House Targaryen!
Lynn seemed to see through Robert's petty thoughts.
"As for Daenerys..."
"Actually, I originally intended to offer her head to Your Majesty, but I ultimately decided to spare her."
Robert's eyes widened, and the next second he roared.
"Lynn, do you know what you're doing?"
Lynn, neither servile nor overbearing, replied.
"Of course I do, His Majesty the King."
"As is well known, dragons are the symbol of House Targaryen. Only those of Targaryen blood have ever successfully ridden these powerful magical creatures."
"And sometimes, even the Targaryens themselves cannot control these proud dragons."
"Therefore, killing Daenerys would also mean executing the dragon."
"But if we take Daenerys, not only can we keep her under close surveillance, cutting off any hope of her restoration, but it will also completely sever the pure bloodline of the Targaryen succession."
"Most importantly, this will make the dragon controllable and useful to the Seven Kingdoms."
"One could say it's killing many birds with one stone."
"Does Your Majesty not wish to possess a dragon that can fight for the Seven Kingdoms across the lands?"
Robert's facial muscles twitched, his suspicion-filled brain working furiously.
How could a King refuse the allegiance of a dragon?
He dreamed of owning a dragon!
That was the glory only Aegon the Conqueror possessed!
But reason told him that dragons were uncontrollable, a huge threat capable of overthrowing his rule!
Just as Robert was caught in an internal struggle, Lynn changed the subject.
"Of course, Your Majesty."
"Armies and dragons both need to be fed."
"And I hear the kingdom's finances seem a bit tight."
He pointedly glanced at Littlefinger in the wheelchair.
Petyr Baelish's smile stiffened.
Lynn took out a small bag wrapped in white silk from his Huai.
Under everyone's surprised gaze, he walked step by step up the steps leading to the Iron Throne.
"Stop!"
Kingsguard Commander Jaime Lannister instinctively reached for his sword to stop him but was halted by a look from Robert.
Lynn walked up to Robert and respectfully presented the silk bag.
Robert took it suspiciously and opened the bag.
Inside was a fine white powder, like snowflakes, shimmering with a crystalline luster in the torchlight.
"What is this? Some kind of poison from Lys?"
Robert asked gruffly.
"No, Your Majesty, this is white sugar from Astapor."
Lynn smiled.
"Taste it."
As soon as he spoke, Lynn seemed to remember something and feigned sudden realization.
"Oh, no."
"For Your Majesty's safety, it should still be tested first."
"After all, hearts are hard to fathom."
Lynn's gaze, neither biased nor unbalanced, fell on Petyr Baelish in the wheelchair.
"Lord Littlefinger was most suspicious of my loyalty just now, and presumably most concerned about Your Majesty's safety."
"How about Lord Littlefinger personally tastes this for Your Majesty to prove its purity?"
Instantly, everyone's attention shifted from the small bag to Littlefinger's face.
Petyr's smile completely vanished.
He felt as if he had been targeted by a venomous snake.
Robert first froze, then let out a crude laugh, thinking the suggestion was simply brilliant!
"Right! Well said!"
Robert pointed at Petyr, his fat finger almost poking his nose.
"You, come here!"
"Aren't you the best at helping me with my worries? Now come and share this worry!"
"You taste this for me!"
Petyr's face turned from white to green, then from green to purple.
He was pushed in his wheelchair by two Gold Cloaks to the foot of the Iron Throne.
He looked at Lynn's half-smiling face, wishing he could tear him to shreds with his gaze.
But he had no choice.
With trembling hands, he picked up a pinch of white powder from the bag Robert handed him.
The powder was finer than anything he had ever seen.
He closed his eyes, steeled himself, and put the powder into his mouth.
In an instant, Petyr's eyes snapped open!
An intensely pure, overwhelmingly sweet taste exploded in his mouth!
This was not honey, nor any sweet treat he had ever tasted.
This was a flavor that could drive all nobles mad!
He was not a fool.
He instantly understood the value of this thing!
This was a mountain of gold that could overturn the entire trade landscape of Westeros!
And this mountain of gold was now in Lynn's hands!
Robert hesitated for a moment.
Looking at Lynn's calm eyes, he finally extended a thick finger, picked up a pinch, and put it into his mouth.
At that moment, Robert Baratheon's eyes widened sharply!
On his bloated face, which was a result of excessive indulgence in wine and women, an expression of incredible surprise appeared!
The Seven Gods above!
What was this taste?
It was a sweetness of ultimate purity!
Like the sweetest berries of summer, and the richest honey of early spring, it instantly exploded on his taste buds!
It was a sweetness that could make the soul tremble!
The nobles of Westeros loved sweets.
Here, the production and acquisition of sugar were extremely difficult, requiring a large amount of labor and technology, so the price was expensive, and ordinary people could not afford it.
By enjoying sweets, these nobles could directly display their economic strength and social status.
Moreover, in some social activities, sweets were often used as important items to show status and entertain guests.
Therefore, owning and consuming a large amount of sugar was considered a symbol of prestige.
He had lived for half a lifetime, drunk bitter Dornish red wine, and eaten honey-roasted wild boar, but he had never tasted such an incredible sweetness!
He eagerly grabbed another large handful and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing like a gluttonous bear.
"The Seven Gods above…" Robert mumbled indistinctly, his eyes shining.
"It's called white sugar, Your Majesty," Lynn's voice carried a hint of allure.
"It will become a commodity more precious than gold."
"I have already secured its exclusive production in Astapor."
"And I am willing to supply it to the Royal Family at cost price."
"Whether it's for resale or anything else, the wealth it brings is enough to fill all the deficits in the treasury, enough to arm ten armies to fight the Others!"
"Your Majesty, are you still worrying about the military expenses for the war?"
"I bring you an inexhaustible mountain of gold!"
Robert was completely stunned, his mind buzzing.
Dragons.
Armies.
Wealth.
This young man actually delivered everything he had ever dreamed of right to him!
Robert suppressed the joy in his heart and asked the most crucial question, feigning seriousness.
"Then Lynn, I ask you."
"Are you willing to hand over the dragons to King's Landing?"
This was a win-win situation.
Not handing over the dragons would not prove Lynn's loyalty.
Handing over the dragons would confirm Lynn's loyalty, and House Baratheon would gain a dragon for free.
Lynn's expression was peculiar.
Why did people still want to raise dragons now? Was he going to be the next Robb?
Someone willing to help him raise dragons, and it was King's Landing, which was "not short of money" and "cared most about face," he was naturally delighted, even agreeing with both hands and feet.
Lynn immediately said, "Of course, that's no problem. I'll send the dragon over as soon as I return to Essos."
"However, I still have other uses for Daenerys…"
Robert showed an expression that all men understood.
He knew that Lynn had already given enough, and if he pushed his luck further, wouldn't he become the next Mad King?
"Haha… Hahahahaha!"
A deafening burst of laughter suddenly erupted in the Throne Room!
Robert threw an arm around Lynn's shoulder, his large, fan-like hand slapping his back vigorously.
"Good lad! Ned! Look at this fine lad you've raised!"
"He's more useful than a whole ship full of Varys and Petyr combined!"
Robert's face was flushed with excitement as he held up the white sugar and roared at the shocked courtiers.
"Do you all see this?!"
"A bunch of cowards who only know how to gossip behind my back!"
"While you were squabbling over a few coppers, this young man has conquered a city for me and brought a mountain of gold!"
He suddenly pointed at Littlefinger in the wheelchair, his eyes full of disdain.
"Petyr!"
"You told me he was a threat! He was a traitor!"
"Nonsense!"
"He is the best hero under my command!"
The smile completely vanished from Littlefinger's face, replaced by a deathly pallor.
He couldn't understand how his potentially fatal blow had turned out like this.
Robert's mind raced.
He had to firmly tie this young man, this dragon, and this mountain of gold to his chariot!
With the strongest chains!
"Marriage alliance!"
The word popped into Robert's mind.
"Yes! A marriage alliance!"
He slapped his thigh excitedly.
"This is the best way!"
Cersei Lannister's face instantly turned ashen.
"My daughter! Myrcella!" Robert roared.
He remembered that his daughter seemed to be under Lynn's "protection."
"This is simply a destiny arranged by the Seven Gods!"
"Lynn! You shall marry my daughter, Princess Myrcella Baratheon!"
A princess in a marriage alliance could secure the loyalty of a single fiefdom, but marrying Lynn was different.
His dragons could conquer two, or even more, fiefdoms.
He understood this much.
Boom—!
The entire Throne Room exploded!
Lynn was to marry the King's only princess?
"Your Majesty! This cannot be!"
Grand Maester Pycelle was the first to object.
"He… as far as I know, Lord Lynn is already betrothed to the daughter of House Stark!"
"Betrothal?"
Robert sounded as if he had heard a joke.
"So what?"
"Have you all forgotten what I said before?"
Robert looked around at everyone, his voice filled with unquestionable authority.
"I said, Lynn can marry as many as he wants. Even if he marries a hundred, I will approve it!"
"He will marry my daughter, and he will marry the daughter of House Stark!"
"First Myrcella, then the daughter of House Stark!"
"It is settled!"
Robert looked at the dumbfounded Lynn, a grin on his face.
"What, lad, you're not willing?"
What could Lynn say?
He slowly knelt on one knee.
"It is my honor."
Outside the door, a small figure heard everything clearly.
Arya Stark.
She leaned against the cold wall, her small body trembling slightly.
Lynn had succeeded.
He was alive.
Father could no longer prevent their marriage.
A great joy had just surged in her heart, but then, another name, like a needle, pierced her heart deeply.
Myrcella.
That blonde, always dressed in beautiful dresses, doll-like Lannister girl.
Lynn was going to marry her first.
A bitter, jealous emotion surged uncontrollably.
Lynn looked at Robert's satisfied face, then glanced at Cersei and Jaime, whose faces were ashen in the corner.
Finally, his gaze fell on the utterly distraught Littlefinger.
Lynn gave him a meaningful smile.
Since Baelish insisted on seeking death, he couldn't be blamed for being ruthless!
Then Lynn surveyed the entire Throne Room and said loudly.
"Lord Baelish's intelligence is very keen."
"However, what you know are only the superficial matters, and I have never deliberately concealed them."
"But I know some unknown secrets or… past events of Lord Baelish."
"For example, the cause of Lord Jon Arryn's death."
"Lord Baelish, how do you explain that?"
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