Lynn's words set off a monstrous wave in Sansa's heart.
Master of Coin?
To her, these three words sounded like a story from another world.
Distant, strange, even somewhat absurd.
Sansa's face was blank.
Her beautiful blue eyes were wide open, lips slightly parted, unable to speak a word for a long time.
She felt as if her brain was stuffed with a tangled mess, completely unable to think.
Could a woman sit on the seat of the Master of Coin?
"Me?"
Sansa finally found her voice.
"Lord Lynn... you... you must be joking."
She shook her head repeatedly, almost instinctively.
As if that could deny the crazy thought.
"I don't know anything... I can't count, I can't even read a ledger..."
"I only know how to sing, embroider, and recite the Seven-Pointed Star..."
Sansa's voice grew lower and lower, the confidence Lynn had just built with his own hands crumbling at this moment.
She was a lady.
A qualified, perfect lady.
She had been taught since childhood how to smile, how to walk, how to please and serve her future husband, how to manage a castle's household.
But among those teachings, there was never a lesson on how to manage the purse of a kingdom.
That was a domain exclusive to men, a world she could never touch.
"Who told you the Master of Coin needs to know how to count?"
Lynn's calm voice interrupted her self-denial.
He looked at Sansa, no trace of jest in his deep eyes.
"Sansa, can Petyr Baelish count?"
"Of course he can."
"He can even count every gold dragon in the realm clearly, and then figure out how to turn them into gold dragons in his own pocket."
Lynn walked to Sansa and pulled her to sit down.
"There are many kinds of power."
"Queen Cersei's power comes from her surname and the King's title."
"Lady Margaery's power comes from Highgarden's granaries and armies."
"Their power is good, but it relies on others."
"When the King no longer favors Cersei, when Highgarden's army is defeated, their power will vanish like smoke."
Lynn lowered his voice, shattering all of Sansa's naive fantasies about the word "power" from the past decade.
"But there is a kind of power that truly belongs to you."
"You don't need to understand those complex accounts. I will find you the shrewdest accountants in the world from the Iron Bank of Braavos. They will handle everything."
"You don't even need to attend those long, boring Small Council meetings, listening to old men argue until they're red in the face over a few coppers."
Lynn's gaze locked onto Sansa, seeming to inject courage into her.
"You just need to sit there."
"Your name is Sansa Stark."
"You are the eldest daughter of the Warden of the North, the Lord of Winterfell, the Hand of the King."
"Your identity is your greatest power."
"Sitting in that seat, you represent the will of House Stark, the will of the entire North."
"Anyone who wants to touch the realm's purse must go through you."
"Questioning you is questioning your father, questioning the entire North!"
Sansa stopped breathing.
She felt herself trembling all over.
She had never thought that this identity, considered a weakness by everyone including herself, could become the most indestructible weapon in Lynn's mouth.
"And I,"
Lynn's voice dropped lower, carrying an irresistible magic.
"I am the King Beyond the Wall, and I will fully support you too."
"Anyone who goes against you will have to face my wrath."
"Anyone can fall, but I will not."
"As long as I fully support you, with me as your backer, no one can touch you. Do you understand, Sansa?"
The last sentence hit Sansa heavily in the heart.
Her mind was buzzing.
Fear, excitement, confusion, and an unprecedented feeling filled her heart.
She thought of Joffrey's handsome but twisted face, of Cersei's green eyes always full of disdain and scrutiny, of every noble in King's Landing who smiled at her face while hiding venom behind her back.
She was tired.
She was tired of being a little bird, only singing songs composed by others in her cage.
She wanted to fly.
Even if flying meant crashing and bleeding, she wanted to see the world outside the cage with her own eyes.
Sansa looked at Lynn before her, at the path this man painted for her, a path she had never imagined.
A path covered in thorns, but leading to true freedom and power.
The next second, she made a move that surprised even Lynn.
Sansa lifted her complicated, gorgeous dress, her movement elegant and decisive.
She slowly dropped to one knee before Lynn.
This was no longer a lady's curtsy.
A smile finally appeared on Lynn's face.
He reached out, his large, warm hands pulling Sansa up from the cold floor.
"Sansa."
"Remember."
"From today on, I will protect you. You are no longer a little bird locked in a cage."
"You are destined to be a hawk soaring over King's Landing."
---
The next day.
The morning sun had just filled the Red Keep's courtyard.
Lynn stood on the balcony of the Tower of the Hand, watching the swaggering figure in the training yard below.
Joffrey Baratheon.
This future King was like a child who hadn't grown up.
He held a two-handed greatsword taller than himself, struggling to hack at a straw man.
His movements were clumsy and comical, but the expression on his face was as ferocious as a bloodthirsty beast.
Beside him, the Hound, Sandor Clegane, held his signature dog helm under his arm, watching expressionlessly, saying nothing.
Since the date of the duel was set, Sandor had become increasingly silent.
His violent aura seemed to have been restrained, the whole man like a sword sheathed.
All his sharpness pointed to seven days later, to his nightmare-like brother.
The chessboard in Lynn's mind was laid out.
Cersei, Margaery, Sansa...
Each piece was in place.
But Joffrey, the most crucial and unstable piece, was still wandering outside the board.
To control a mad dog, the best way wasn't to put a collar on it.
It was to become the only person who dared to feed it raw meat.
"Your Grace, Prince Joffrey, in high spirits I see."
Lynn's voice carried clearly to the training yard.
Joffrey, struggling with the straw man, spun around.
When he saw Lynn on the balcony, his face, red from exertion, lit up instantly.
He threw down the greatsword and ran over excitedly like a puppy seeing its master.
"Lynn! You're here! I was just looking for you!"
Joffrey looked up, a sickly fanaticism flashing in his blue eyes.
"Did you see my dog?"
"He can't wait to rip out his brother's guts!"
"This will definitely be the most exciting duel in the history of King's Landing!"
His words were cruel and childish.
Joffrey secretly tortured small animals; having such a cruel and violent personality wasn't strange.
"Duels are exciting, but a true King cannot only indulge in daytime bloodshed."
Lynn walked down the stairs to him.
His tone was casual, like an older brother teaching a younger one.
Joffrey paused, a bit confused.
"What do you mean?"
"Your father, King Robert, was a great warrior in his youth."
A mysterious smile curled Lynn's lips.
He lowered his voice, leaning into Joffrey's ear.
"But do you know what your great father likes to do most at night?"
Joffrey shook his head blankly.
He only knew his father got drunk every night and roared.
"He likes to experience the life of his subjects."
Lynn's tone carried a hint of seduction.
"Go to the liveliest, most real places."
"Go drinking, listen to stories, find fun a King can't find during the day."
Lynn painted Robert's debauchery as a charming, kingly boldness.
Joffrey's eyes lit up.
He had heard rumors about his father's affairs, but from his mother and the Hand, they were shameful, dishonorable.
But in Lynn's description, it all sounded... so charming, full of masculine allure!
"Do you want to experience it?"
Lynn cast his bait.
"Like a true man, a true King, go see the unknown side of this city."
"I... I certainly do!"
Joffrey puffed out his chest instantly.
He couldn't wait to prove he was already a man.
"Then change out of these ridiculous princely robes and dress like a commoner."
Lynn patted Joffrey's shoulder with satisfaction.
"Tonight, I'll take you to see the real King's Landing."
---
Night fell.
King's Landing shed its daytime disguise.
Revealing its truest, and ugliest, face.
Two figures wrapped in dark cloaks slipped out of a secluded side gate of the Red Keep.
Joffrey was trembling with excitement.
This was more thrilling than any hunt.
He felt like a hero on a secret mission in a song, filled with the thrill of adventure.
Lynn led him familiarly through the filthy, winding alleys.
When they passed Flea Bottom, the smell of poverty, filth, and despair made Joffrey cover his nose.
"A King comes to a place like this?"
Joffrey asked in disgust.
"A King rules all subjects, whether nobles in silk or beggars in rags."
Lynn's voice was exceptionally calm in the night.
"You must understand them to rule them better."
"Or..."
Lynn paused, a strange smile curling his lips.
"...destroy them."
The last two words pierced Joffrey's heart, making him shudder uncontrollably, yet feel an inexplicable dark pleasure.
Destroy.
What a beautiful word.
They finally stopped in front of a stone building on the Street of Silk hung with red lanterns.
Unlike the dilapidated brothels they had passed along the way, this place looked exceptionally elegant.
Melodious music and the silver-bell laughter of women drifted from the building, and the air was filled with the scent of expensive spices.
"Where is this?"
Joffrey swallowed nervously.
"Your Grace, this is my property. You don't need to worry about anyone knowing you came here."
"You can have fun tonight."
Lynn smiled and pushed open the carved wooden door.
The scene behind the door made Joffrey freeze on the spot.
Warm air mixed with the scent of wine, powder, and ambiguity rushed over him.
Thick Myrish carpets covered the floor, and Volantene tapestries depicting men and women in passion hung on the walls.
Several women in sheer gauze with graceful figures were flirting with a pot-bellied merchant.
Their laughter was charming to the bone, their eyes soul-hooking.
This was originally one of Petyr Baelish's highest-end properties.
A gold-squandering cave providing top-tier enjoyment for nobles and wealthy merchants.
Now, Lynn had not only taken it over but made it more perfect than Petyr ever did.
Every woman was taught modern professional techniques.
Some were even researching how to pole dance.
They learned to flirt.
Instead of just stripping naked and lying on the bed like a dead pig.
And they learned to use soap, making themselves cleaner.
Just the scent on their bodies was intoxicating to these locals.
Joffrey felt his blood rush to his head in an instant.
He had seen maids in the Red Keep.
But compared to these stunners before him, those humble women were like potatoes in the mud.
Everything here shocked him, terrified him, yet gave him a frantic excitement.
A woman in a red silk dress with fiery curly hair walked over, swaying her hips like a water snake.
Seeing Lynn, her eyes lit up, and a fawning smile piled onto her face.
"Lord Lynn, it's been a while since you came."
Her voice was cloyingly sweet.
"And this is?"
Her gaze fell on Joffrey.
Even in a plain cloak, that handsome yet childish face and the arrogance that couldn't be hidden exposed his identity.
Lynn's hand on Joffrey's shoulder could clearly feel Joffrey trembling slightly.
It was fear, and anticipation.
"My younger brother, out to see the world for the first time."
Lynn gave the woman a meaningful smile.
He lowered his head, lips close to Joffrey's ear, whispering in a voice only the two of them could hear:
"Welcome to the other playground of power, Prince Joffrey."
Joffrey's pupils constricted violently.
He looked at the debauched men and women in the hall, at the stunners casting flirtatious glances at him, and the shock and fear of doing something bad quickly faded from his face.
Replaced by a look full of curiosity.
It was the look of a child who had discovered a new toy.
Lynn smiled.
Very good. The first lesson for the little mad dog begins now.