For a long moment, Robert remained lost in thought.
Beside him, Hand Eddard Stark was suddenly taken aback upon realizing that the gift Renly had given Robert was a pendant seemingly bearing the image of a woman.
And when he heard him even mention Lyanna Stark's name, he too felt momentarily bewildered.
He wanted to lean forward to see whether the painting on the King's pendant truly resembled Lyanna.
But seeing the King staring fixedly at the pendant without speaking, he could only restrain his impulse and instead ponder inwardly what Renly's purpose was in showing Robert a woman's portrait at such a time.
"Who is she…?"
After a while, Robert gazed blankly at the image on the pendant and spoke.
His voice sounded dry, as if recalling something distant.
"She is the rose of House Tyrell of Highgarden. Her name is Margaery Tyrell, fifteen years old this year."
Seeing that Robert had taken the bait, a smile curled at the corner of Renly's mouth.
"And what do you mean by showing her to me?"
Robert pretended not to understand Renly's intention, reaching out his finger to stroke the image on the pendant.
The unique texture of the oil paint surfaced beneath his fingertips, as though he were touching the skin of the woman he never had the chance to touch in those days.
Renly's smile did not fade. "Noble blood flows in her veins. If you wish it, she could become your queen."
As he spoke, Renly turned to glance at the silent Eddard Stark, then smiled and said, "What do you think, my lord Hand?"
Hearing that the woman who resembled Lyanna on the pendant was Margaery Tyrell of House Tyrell, Eddard could not help but recall the girl's appearance in his mind.
Not alike, was she?
Why would Renly say she looked like Lyanna?
Though Eddard felt a faint doubt in his heart, he did not show it right away.
For he already more or less understood Renly's thoughts and the intentions of House Tyrell.
So, in response to Renly's question, after a few seconds of silence, he still nodded slightly. "Your Grace, if you are to take a queen, Margaery Tyrell would indeed be a fine choice."
"She would bear you a worthy heir."
"Hmph…"
Even in his drunken haze, the King felt a twinge of displeasure at the words of his brother and his Hand.
Of course, he knew perfectly well why Renly was doing this, and why he would meddle in this matter as a peacemaker.
And he knew even better that his brother Stannis Baratheon, for the matter of succession, had even gone out of his way to seek out his Hand, Eddard Stark.
Ned had not concealed this from him.
He knew what his brother, the Lord of Dragonstone, was thinking.
And he understood why Eddard would approve of it. He was merely drunk—not a fool.
Yet looking at the pendant in his hand, Robert in the end swallowed the curse that had risen to his lips.
"Enough for today. Whatever there is to discuss, we'll speak of it tomorrow."
The King had already lost his patience. As he spoke, he staggered to his feet, but his legs, weakened by drink, nearly gave way, and he almost fell to the ground.
Seeing him about to fall, the wine-servant newly chosen from the Red Keep's household hurriedly reached out to steady him.
The King did not make a fool of himself, but being helped only made Robert feel all the more humiliated.
"Get off!"
Robert suddenly roared, shoving the servant who supported him aside.
"Damn it, damn it, Seven Hells!"
"You all think I'm drunk, don't you? You all take me for a fool?!"
Pushing away the servant who had kindly held him up, the King cursed under his breath in anger.
Seeing that he was now completely drunk, Eddard could only step forward helplessly to support his old friend himself.
"I'll take it from here. It's too late tonight—everyone should go rest. There are matters that must be handled together tomorrow."
The Hand stepped forward to steady the irate King, preserving the royal dignity.
He first gestured to the wine-servant, who had nearly been shoved to the ground, indicating that he would take care of the King, and then turned casually to Renly and the others as he spoke.
As for Robert's drunkenness, Renly had nothing more to say.
It was already late, and indeed time to rest—he still had plenty of matters to attend to.
So, Renly Baratheon merely shrugged. "I'll trouble you, my lord Hand, to see that my royal brother is well cared for. I hope he won't have a headache when he wakes tomorrow."
"I'll have a maester prepare him a draught to sober him up."
At the reminder, Eddard cast a deep glance at Renly and could only nod in agreement.
Having said that, he too no longer wished to remain here any longer.
He turned and called out to his wife and children.
"Catelyn, take the children back first. I'll return a bit later."
Thus, as the Hand supported the completely inebriated King toward his tent, the riverside banquet finally drew to a close.
Ser Barristan Selmy and another of his sworn brothers followed behind them, helping share the King's weight so that the Hand would not be too exhausted to make it home.
"I think I'll have to suggest to the King that he appoint a few new Kingsguard," Barristan said.
"That is your duty as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan."
At the old knight's "complaint," the Hand, who was supporting the drowsy King with one shoulder, could only nod bitterly.
The three vacant seats in the Kingsguard had all been the doing of Kal El—who today had faintly become the most dazzling, most radiant figure in all the Seven Kingdoms.
When he had done all that, he had not even been a knight yet, merely an insignificant sellsword—a bastard who did not know who his father was.
But now, in just half a year, he had already become Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, even establishing a house of his own.
"Once the Tournament of Victory ends, I will select a few suitable lads. During this time, I'll be keeping a close eye out for worthy candidates."
Hearing the Hand agree to his request, Ser Barristan Selmy smiled as well, seeming in rather good spirits.
To this, the Hand could only respond with a few polite words.
"If need be, I can recommend some suitable candidates to you."
On the other side, watching Eddard Stark support the drunken King away, Renly once again turned his gaze toward Kal El, who had also risen when the King declared the feast over.
Kal naturally noticed Renly looking at him, but he made no unnecessary moves, merely offering Renly Baratheon a gentle smile.
However, Renly had nothing particular to say to Kal, nor was there any conflict between them.
He did not know that Margaery Tyrell and Kal had once had an unpleasant encounter, so toward this nephew of his, he only returned a polite smile before turning to leave with Loras Tyrell.
He had accomplished all that he had set out to do today; his purpose had been fulfilled.
Judging from Robert's reaction, it was clearly something that brought joy to both himself and House Tyrell.
So he was in high spirits.
As for what his elder brother might think once he sobered up, that was none of his concern.
What he had done was merely to strengthen the position of House Baratheon, and he also believed his royal brother would make the best possible choice.
Before leaving, recalling Stannis's grim face and sullen departure, he found himself all the more amused.
"Let's go, I should get some rest too," Kal murmured to himself.
As for the meaning behind all that had happened today, how could he not understand?
With his keen senses, he could feel the many gazes fixed upon him; he knew well that he now stood at the very center of attention.
But sometimes, to achieve what one sought, one simply had to walk this path.
Thinking these thoughts, Kal's lips curved into a faint, meaningful smile before he turned to leave.
...
Inside the King's tent, after much effort, he and Barristan finally managed to heave the King—like a mountain of flesh—onto his bed.
Eddard and Ser Barristan Selmy both had to pause to catch their breath.
But just as Eddard was about to say something and order a servant to fetch a maester to prepare a sobering draught, a deep, resounding laugh suddenly echoed through the tent.
Both men froze at once and instinctively turned their heads toward the bed.
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