The very next day, quite by coincidence, Kingsguard Ser Meryn Trant was poisoned.
Jaime had granted him a day of leave, and as fate would have it, Harald Orme had reliable men at the very inn in King's Landing where Trant often chose to relax and indulge himself in a hearty meal.
This solution seemed to me calmer and more efficient. It was far preferable to taking Meryn into custody, suspending him from service, searching for and then presenting official proof of guilt and treason. All of that would have required time and considerable effort. And there was no shortage of other matters demanding attention.
We immediately placed the blame for the guardsman's death upon the enemies of the Crown. Jaime merely let out a heavy sigh—he had known, in broad strokes, what was being prepared. However, that did not mean he was pleased; the Kingsguard was already short-handed.
He sent a letter to Oldtown, and Garth Grey Steel eagerly accepted the offer to join the Kingsguard. But until his arrival, we had three vacancies.
***
Kevan and I met in my office—this was not a conversation that could be postponed.
"So, what is your decision?" I asked once Jacob had poured the wine and withdrawn. We were alone, seated opposite one another in comfortable chairs.
"I've only just begun to understand what it means to be Master of Whisperers, and now you offer me a new position," he replied, a faint grumble in his voice. Yet beneath it lay satisfaction—as though my request had flattered him. And why wouldn't it? Even during Tywin's lifetime, I had made no secret of my respect and regard for Kevan. Such an offer was not an empty gesture.
"If you refuse, Lord Mathis Rowan will become Hand. I simply don't see any other suitable candidate. The choice is yours—whatever you decide, so it shall be." I leaned back and studied the light filtering through the wine in my crystal goblet.
On the small table beside us lay thin slices of cheese from the Free City of Lorath and exquisite fruits from the Summer Isles. The mangoes there are incomparable.
"Yes, it is no easy choice." He followed my example, leaning back and closing his green eyes for a moment. "You know, Joffrey, I have never especially sought the foremost roles. Your grandfather—my brother—always relished being the leader, the spearhead. But I was content to stand at his shoulder. Until now…"
"Everything changes, Uncle. And my heart tells me hard times are coming. Our enemies will grow bold and raise their heads. Our friends will begin to waver. And we all need a reliable and loyal man. So my offer is not only an honor—it is a tremendous duty. May I count on you?"
"What of Cersei? She will not be pleased to see me in this role."
"I will handle her. I will do my utmost to send her to the Rock. Well?"
"Then I accept," he said at last, with a deep sigh.
"Lord Kevan Lannister, from this moment forth I, King Joffrey the First, name you Hand of the King and pillar of the realm."
From a small chest I withdrew the heavy chain of golden hands, each clasping the wrist of the next. Tywin had worn it before.
Kevan rose and bowed his head. I placed the chain about his shoulders—the symbol of authority and dignity belonging to the second most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms. My great-uncle, despite his age and experience, looked visibly moved. This appointment was clearly no trifling matter to him. In Westeros, tradition is held in reverent regard.
The following day, we formally presented the new Hand to the realm, held a feast, and arranged a modest tourney in honor of the appointment. At the same time, we announced several additional decisions: Lord Paxter Redwyne was named Master of Ships, and Qyburn took the office of Master of Whisperers.
The irony was not lost on me—I myself was taking steps that closely mirrored the sequence of canonical events known to me.
Edmure Tully was appointed Master-at-Arms. In truth, the office was largely nominal at present. In other castles and cities, a Master-at-Arms commands the garrison, oversees security, recruits and trains soldiers, and maintains discipline among them. But King's Landing has its own peculiarities. There is Lord Commander Jaime Lannister, who not only commands the Kingsguard but formally holds authority over the kingdom's entire host. There are also the Gold Cloaks, under the command of Ser Addam Marbrand, and the Holy Hundred, who answer only to me and to Bonifer Hasty.
After consulting with Kevan, we settled upon this appointment. We both wished to see how Lord Tully thought and conducted himself at meetings of the Small Council—what he would say, what he was capable of. It would be desirable to make him an ally, but first he needed to be assessed and understood. And since he was residing in the Red Keep, it was only prudent to observe him closely.
Thus, in practice, Edmure Tully gained no real power. What I gained, however, was the opportunity to watch him during council sessions, to weigh his words and actions, to measure his judgment and intellect. Now I could begin to understand how I ought to regard him—and what I might expect from him.
One wise man once said: keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. Though Kevan and I had yet to decide into which category the River Lord ought to fall.
Edmure himself regarded the appointment as an undeniable honor, and we did everything in our power to make it appear exactly that.
(End of Chapter)
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