The sun was shining brightly. The sun in King's Landing was always different from that in Winterfell. Knights who had only lived in summer could never understand the meaning of the phrase "Winter is coming"...
Before they had even reached King's Landing, they saw rows of troops lined up along the roadside to welcome them. The spectacle, the formation—it was truly bustling, with gongs and drums blaring, firecrackers sounding, red flags fluttering, and a sea of people.
Eddard Stark spotted the man in the lead at a glance; he was tall and wore a suit of enameled green armor, with a pair of golden antlers on his helmet.
There was no need to guess that this was King Robert's youngest brother, Renly Baratheon. When Robert's Rebellion happened, he had still been very young; in the blink of an eye, he had reached the age to marry.
Eddard Stark sighed for a moment, and as they drew closer, he saw the person standing to Renly's left.
He was dressed in a suit of silver-white armor, and although he had a head of white hair, he still looked strong and elegant. He was tall and had a pair of blue eyes.
This was King Robert's Kingsguard, Barristan Selmy, a legendary knight who had once also been a Kingsguard for Prince Rhaegar.
Bringing his thoughts back, Renly Baratheon was the first to come forward to greet them.
Since King Robert had just returned and immediately run off to indulge in debauchery somewhere, Renly had to be the one to host the distinguished guests who had come from afar.
"Long time no see, Lord Stark. It seems the two of us haven't met for nearly ten years. I still remember the scene when you accompanied my eldest brother to his coronation."
"Indeed, it has been a long time. You have grown into a man now." Eddard Stark felt a pang of emotion; he had to admit that the Renly Baratheon before him looked so much like his eldest brother, Robert Baratheon, that he was practically a younger version of Robert.
"Lord Stark, why don't I take you to the most famous brothel in King's Landing to have some fun and relieve your fatigue?"
Renly blinked. In fact, one reason Renly spoke so frivolously was that he was a homosexual; he was deeply in love with the Knight of Flowers, Loras Tyrell, but could not let anyone know.
"That won't be necessary. I'd rather go to the place where I'll be working first. Thank you for your kindness."
Eddard Stark frowned involuntarily, his impression of Renly dropping a level instantly, and he hurriedly found an excuse to leave.
"Lord Stark, you really are just like my second brother, Stannis—equally rigid and serious." Renly watched the fast-departing Eddard Stark and smiled, but as the other man walked further away, his smile gradually faded.
Squinting as he watched Eddard Stark's gradually blurring back, he thought to himself: "Lord Stark, you had better not cause me any trouble..."
Having bid farewell to the Duke of Storms End, Renly Baratheon, Eddard Stark hurried toward the council chamber inside The Red Keep.
Just as he stepped through the bronze gates of The Red Keep, the steward rushed over to inform him that Grand Maester Pycelle had a very urgent small council meeting to convene and hoped the new Hand of the King would grace them with his presence.
Already drenched in sweat, Eddard Stark really didn't want to go. He was physically and mentally exhausted from the journey, but fearing that he would offend his future colleagues upon his arrival, he had to suppress his complaints, have his family and retainers settle into The Red Keep, and go to the meeting himself.
"My carriage is still halfway through the city, and I need appropriate clothing." Eddard Stark just remembered that his clothes were not with him, and he hurriedly asked the steward to lend him a suitable outfit.
"We have already prepared the rooms previously used by Lord Jon Arryn in the Tower of the Hand for you." The steward's attitude was very good, as if everything had been prepared long ago.
Before leaving, Eddard Stark specifically instructed his steward, Vayon Poole: "There is an urgent matter in the palace that requires me. Settle my daughters well and tell Jory to keep them safely in their rooms. Do not allow Sansa to go messing around with Joffrey."
Poole bowed and agreed. Eddard Stark had only walked halfway when he seemed to remember something very important and shouted back to the steward, Poole: "And another thing! Do not let Arya run around everywhere."
"Very well, my lord."
Shortly after, a travel-worn Eddard Stark arrived at the council chamber in The Red Keep, and upon reaching the entrance, he encountered the King's third brother, Renly Baratheon, whom he had just parted from.
Only then did Eddard remember that Renly Baratheon was the Master of Laws on the small council. Although he disliked these tedious social niceties, he reluctantly went up to greet him, and the two walked through the door together.
As soon as he stepped inside, Eddard felt as if he were walking on cotton; the large red carpet under his feet looked very thick.
On both sides of the thick, soft carpet, golden statues extended from the door to the inner hall, carved with various lifelike beasts and birds. From the numerous details, one could see the craftsman's skill was excellent, and one could also sense that they were quite expensive.
As they were about to enter the inner hall, Eddard Stark saw many magnificent suits of armor and weapons placed behind the door on the left; judging by the style, most were from Pentos and Braavos.
Eddard Stark glanced at them without changing his expression. He understood in his heart that Robert must have been unable to resist sending assassins after the Targaryen brother and sister again.
Whenever the ancient surname Targaryen was mentioned, Eddard could not help but recall the words he had heard at the Tower of Joy more than a decade ago: "Promise me, Ned. Promise me..."
Only when he truly stepped into the council chamber did he realize that several people were already sitting at the council table.
The first person he saw from his angle was the Master of Coin, Littlefinger, Petyr Baelish.
Petyr was short and of average build, but he had a handsome appearance. He had a pair of grey-green eyes, a small tuft of beard on his chin, and his dark hair was streaked with a little grey.
This man was the only "acquaintance" Eddard Stark saw at the small council. He was a childhood friend of his wife, Catelyn Tully. In his youth, he had dueled with Eddard's eldest brother, Brandon Stark, known as the "Wild Wolf," for his wife Catelyn, and had almost been killed, only saving his life because his wife, Catelyn Tully, pleaded for him.
The second person was the Master of Whisperers, The Spider, Varys. He had a round, chubby, bald head and looked somewhat honest on the outside, but those deep eyes made Eddard Stark feel that this man was not simple.
Just as Eddard Stark was about to enter, he smelled a strong scent of powder on him and couldn't help but frown.
Varys was wearing a loose, deep purple brocade robe, which clearly looked like it was made of high-quality silk, and he was wearing soft slippers on his feet.
The third person was Grand Maester Pycelle, who had his back to him and did not turn around even when he heard the door open. His bald head was covered in age spots, and a few sparse strands of white hair hung on both sides of the forehead.
His maester's chain was made of twenty-four kinds of metal links, hanging heavily from his neck to his chest, with a long, Snow-white beard flowing down to his chest.
The fourth person surprised him; it was the Crown Prince, Joffrey Baratheon, who had just returned with him. Joffrey had changed into a deep red outfit embroidered with gold trim and was sitting to the left of the Hand's seat, directly opposite Grand Maester Pycelle.
Noticing Eddard Stark's gaze, Joffrey even stood up and greeted him with a smile, "Good morning, Uncle."
Joffrey called him "Uncle" very naturally; he thought to himself that since he would be his father-in-law sooner or later, there was no harm in calling him that early.
"Hello, Your Highness. I wonder, why are you here today?"
It was no wonder Eddard Stark was confused. Throughout the history of Westeros, it was rare for a Crown Prince to attend small council meetings because, before ascending to the throne, the Crown Prince had rights but no obligations, and generally would not interfere in complex government affairs.
"My dear brother, His Majesty the King hopes the Crown Prince will participate more in government affairs to prepare for leading us old fogies after he ascends to the throne."
Before Joffrey could speak, his third uncle, Renly Baratheon, spoke up first, speaking somewhat ambiguously, with a mix of flattery and a touch of joking humor.
It soon made everyone present laugh. Joffrey was also quite relaxed and smiled: "Uncle, you exaggerate. I just wanted to come and learn from you all. Besides, I came here of my own accord, and it has nothing to do with the belt in my father's hand."
"Hahaha, it seems all fathers in the world are the same. I still remember when I was a child, my father always used a whip to force me to practice sword fighting."
Littlefinger, Petyr Baelish, was also a shrewd person with great situational awareness; he took the initiative to join the conversation and even made a joke about himself.
After the group exchanged pleasantries for a while, Grand Maester Pycelle yawned, as if he had just woken up.
"Apologies, I just fell asleep. It seems everyone knows each other, so let's start the meeting. After all, it is His Majesty the King's request, so let's finish early. Please forgive my aged body."
"Lord Stark, welcome. His Majesty the King says he wants to hold a grand tournament in your honor to welcome you."
Hearing this, Eddard Stark sat up straight immediately. Grand Maester Pycelle began to speak; his words were so slow that Eddard Stark was almost falling asleep, yet he dared not speak loudly to urge him on, fearing that a loud voice might scare him to death.
As soon as Grand Maester Pycelle finished speaking, the Master of Coin, Littlefinger, Petyr Baelish, handed Eddard Stark the royal decree written by His Majesty King Robert.
Eddard Stark took it and began to read, but as soon as he opened it, he was stunned by Robert's actions; he felt a bead of cold sweat running down, and he suddenly experienced a little "Robert shock."
Looking at the dense decree written by Robert in his hand, Eddard Stark's head immediately began to ache. The specifications of the items listed for the tournament could not be covered by a small amount of gold dragons, and many required long-distance transportation and had to be urgently mobilized from the Westerlands and the Reach.
However, Petyr Baelish's next sentence left him stunned on the spot.
"I should inform you, Lord Stark, that our royal debt has currently reached six million gold dragons."
It took Eddard Stark a long time to recover before he looked up at the Master of Coin who was smiling at him.
"You said a debt of six million gold dragons? How could it be so much?"
Although he found it hard to believe, he still had to understand the specific situation first. It was only at this moment that he realized what a huge pit his good brother Robert had dug for him.
"This money is mainly used for His Majesty the King's feasts, celebrations, and various tournaments, including this one. Of course, if you want the exact number, it should be six million, three thousand, two hundred and fifty-one gold dragons."
It must be said that "Littlefinger," Petyr Baelish, was quite competent as Master of Coin; even the odd change was calculated very accurately.
"Among them, House Lannister is the largest creditor, but we have also borrowed from Lord Tyrell of the Reach, the Iron Bank of Braavos, and quite a few Tyroshi merchant houses. The good news is that we have recently been setting our sights on the church, but our High Septon's bargaining ability is truly impressive. If he were to sell fish, he would definitely make a fortune."
"It is *your* High Septon."
"Oh, right, please forgive me. I forgot again that you do not believe in our Seven, and I do not know if your old gods have any septons now."
Ignoring Littlefinger's teasing, "I will speak with His Majesty," Eddard Stark said seriously, "The realm cannot afford such an extravagant and wasteful tournament."
"Speaking with him is certainly fine," said the King's youngest brother, Duke Renly Baratheon, "but let's start by making a plan first."
"We shall discuss this another day." Eddard Stark ignored the gazes of others and walked straight toward the door. After walking a few steps, he suddenly remembered that his position here was Hand of the King, not Warden of the North, and he could not afford to offend these people too much.
Thus, Eddard Stark turned around somewhat helplessly and explained to everyone: "I am very sorry, I am not feeling well today. Let's wait until I have discussed this matter with King Robert before we talk about it further."
He then left.
...In the North, atop The Wall.
The sound of splashing water rang out as a thin stream flowed down from the towering wall, falling into the vast expanse of white.
"You came all this way just to do this? You really are boring."
"This is not boring; this is a remarkable event." Tyrion Lannister shivered, shook his little brother, pulled up his pants, turned his head, and smiled at Jon Snow: "I have wanted to do this for a long time. Isn't such a landmark the perfect place to leave a mark?"
"I am already tired of this godforsaken place. Shouldn't the Nights Watch be..." Jon Snow curled his lip.
"Should be honest, trustworthy, upright, selfless, and possess a sense of honor and justice?" Tyrion Lannister smiled.
"Lord Snow, you really don't understand. The Nights Watch has long since ceased to be what it was hundreds of years ago. Do you know what kind of people are in the Nights Watch now? Liars, thieves, bandits, and so on; it can be called the gathering place for the talents of the continent of Westeros."
Jon Snow ignored his mockery. The nickname "Lord Snow" was given to him by the master-at-arms at Castle Black, and overnight everyone knew it and used this terrible nickname to mock him.
He looked at the towering, majestic Wall and muttered: "The Nights Watch once fought against the terrifying White Walkers. How could it have become like this?"
As he said this, Jon's right hand unconsciously touched the dragonglass dagger that Joffrey had given him in his pocket.
For some reason, every time he touched this dagger, he felt the blood in his body boiling and burning. He had the feeling that this dagger was connected to his own bloodline.
"Is your hand better?"
"Thank you, I'm fine." Every time Jon Snow thought about that day when a few thugs fought him and shouted that he was a bastard, his heart would involuntarily feel a sharp pain.
"I am leaving tomorrow. I will tell you this one last time: from the moment you donned the black, these people you see as trash are your true brothers, more so than your Stark brothers. You may spend your whole life together; do not despise them."
The Imp, Tyrion, really liked this child, Jon Snow; perhaps he felt empathy for Jon.
As he said, in the eyes of a father, every dwarf is no different from a bastard.
"You must always remember what the master-at-arms said to you that day."
"But they..."
"They call you a bastard? You don't like that term? So what? What can you change?"
"I..."
"Then, little bastard brother, let me give you some advice: never forget your humble status, because the world will not forget. Use it to arm yourself, and no one can use it to hurt you."
After saying this, Tyrion reached out to pat Jon's shoulder, then discovered he couldn't reach it, so he suppressed his embarrassment and patted his arm nonchalantly.
What they didn't notice was that outside The Wall, a pair of blue eyes, as crystalline as gems, were watching this place with aggression.