The public execution of the wight, witnessed by all, gradually calmed the panicked crowd.
King Robert immediately announced, "We will hold a Great Council, for Winter is Coming!"
Thus, in the early days of 299 AC, a Great Council was convened to address the threat of the White Walkers beyond the Wall.
However, for the council to officially begin, the absent major lords still needed to be summoned.
The lords already in King's Landing were forbidden from leaving the city in the meantime.
Great Councils had been held in Westeros before, the most famous being the Great Council of 101 AC.
But the importance of this Great Council surpassed all previous ones combined.
Because they had all seen the wight with their own eyes.
The Red Keep was bustling with activity recently. Many sought out Eddard Stark, desperate to know what was happening beyond the Wall and if they would even survive the summer.
Eddard Stark, overwhelmed by these incessant inquiries, told all visitors:
"It was Ser Lancelot who went to inspect the Wall as the King's special envoy. He personally captured the wight and brought it back. If you want to know more about the situation beyond the Wall and the wights, go ask him!"
Eddard Stark diverted the trouble to Lancelot, gaining peace for himself while Lancelot found himself besieged.
After all, Lancelot had to practice alchemy every day and learn Water Dancing from Syrio.
Interrupted by visitors, he couldn't study swordplay or transmute gold.
"Ser Lancelot! Are there really White Walkers beyond the Wall? I heard they are even more terrifying than wights. Can they control the wights?"
Margaery Tyrell looked at Lancelot with her lively doe eyes.
This was her third visit to Lancelot's quarters; the previous two times she had come with Loras and Garlan.
"Lady Margaery! As a descendant of Garth Greenhand, it seems the thing you should be doing most is going home to farm!" Lancelot quipped.
"Pfft!"
Beside them, Joffrey suddenly sprayed the wine he hadn't yet swallowed all over Tommen, who was sitting opposite him.
"Joff, what are you doing?" Tommen complained.
"Sorry! Brother, Lancelot just told a noble lady to go farming! That's too funny," Joffrey laughed.
"Joff, don't change the subject. It's your turn!" Myrcella interjected.
"You've already lost nine rounds. Lose again and it's ten! Your IOUs could cover your whole face!"
They were playing poker in Lancelot's room, a five-player game involving Lancelot, Joffrey, Myrcella, Tommen, and Margaery.
"Fine, fine, I can't play! Pass!" Joffrey looked at his hand. He only had a four and a five left.
Since Joffrey passed, it was Lancelot's turn.
Lancelot looked at his cards; they were pretty low too. He had two sevens left. If he played them separately, someone would definitely beat him, but Margaery, who played before Joffrey, had played a ten, so Lancelot couldn't beat it.
"Pass!" Lancelot said.
Tommen played a Queen of Hearts, then laughed.
"Hahaha, I win this time! Pay up!" Tommen extended his chubby little hand.
Lancelot, Margaery, and Myrcella each gave him a copper penny.
Another IOU was stuck onto Joffrey's face. He angrily ripped off the ten strips of paper.
"One silver stag! My debt is cleared! A Lannister always pays his debts!"
With that, Joffrey bolted out of the room.
"Sore loser! Sore loser! Joffrey is a big dummy!" Tommen chased after him.
"Alright, we've been playing for a long time. Time for a break." Lancelot yawned and stretched.
As he lay down on a chaise lounge, Myrcella thoughtfully came over to massage his head.
"Ah! That feels good. Your skills are getting better and better! Myrcella, if only your nails were a bit shorter!" Lancelot said, enjoying the massage.
"I'll trim them shorter when I get back," she replied.
To the side, Margaery gathered the cards and sat opposite Lancelot.
"Lancelot, you really know how to enjoy life! Having a princess massage you! Were you Serwyn of the Mirror Shield in your past life? Defeating dragons and saving princesses!" Margaery teased.
"Margaery, don't research the White Walkers. They are terrifying existences. As for the wights, they are just dead people brought back to life."
"I heard House Hightower of Oldtown has people studying necromancy in the High Tower. Isn't your mother a Hightower? Go back and ask her!"
Lancelot deflected.
Seeing she couldn't get anything out of Lancelot, Margaery prepared to leave.
However, before leaving, she spotted a statue of the Seven on the windowsill.
"What is that? Ser Lancelot, a statue? Why is it so hard to make out which god it is?"
Margaery walked to the window and picked up the statue.
The seven faces of the deity were blurred; even a High Septon wouldn't recognize it as a statue of the Seven.
"That is a cursed idol I brought back from the ruins of Valyria. Anyone who touches it will be snatched away by a dragon from overseas on their eighteenth birthday."
Margaery's mouth twitched.
"Uh, are you trying to trick a child? I won't fall for that! But I guess this statue is important to you. Since you won't tell me about the situation beyond the Wall, I'm taking this statue."
With a light smile, Margaery held onto the statue and turned to leave.
"Stop!" Lancelot instantly sat up from the lounge chair. Like a hungry tiger, he pounced on Margaery, pinning her to the floor.
The softness under his hand made Lancelot realize he had touched the wrong place. Looking down, he saw Margaery blushing furiously.
Her voice was as quiet as a mosquito's. "Get off me! You're crushing me! Weirdo! Scoundrel! Big scoundrel!"
Lancelot apologized immediately and tried to snatch the statue from her hand, but Margaery refused to let go. They wrestled on the floor.
Suddenly, a rip was heard. A large piece of Margaery's dress was torn off for some reason.
She glared at Lancelot in embarrassment and anger.
"You pervert!"
With that, she kicked towards Lancelot's crotch.
Lancelot caught her ankle with his left hand. Margaery pulled her leg back, but her shoe came off in his hand.
"Lancelot, just you wait! This isn't over!"
Margaery ran off bashfully. Along the way, many servants and handmaidens pointed and whispered.
"Look, that's Lady Margaery Tyrell. Why is she running out of Ser Lancelot's room in disarray?"
"Did something happen between them?"
"No way! Lancelot looks decent, but turns out he's a lecher!"
Lancelot suddenly felt a surge in popularity points. "I don't know if they're praising me or cursing me, probably cursing me!" Lancelot rubbed his nose.
"Damn it, she took the statue!" Lancelot slapped his forehead in frustration.
"What a clever Margaery!"
In reality, Margaery had torn her own dress; it had nothing to do with Lancelot. At that moment, both his hands were trying to grab the statue. Margaery held on tight with one hand and tore her dress with the other.
Her action forced Lancelot to stop. Then she kicked at his third leg, taking the opportunity to leave a shoe behind as she escaped with the prize.