"Long live the king! Long live Prince Joffrey! Long live the tourney!"
"Seven blessings!"
That night the king and his lords gathered around massive bonfires for a roaring feast on the banks of the Blackwater.
With the tourney drawing nobles and knights from every corner of the Seven Kingdoms, the riverside was packed. Wine flowed, music played, and the air smelled of roasted meat and smoke.
King Robert sat at the head table with the royal family, laughing and drinking with his bannermen. The rest of the lords had brought their wives and daughters, turning the feast into one giant networking event.
Leo—fresh off his first-round victory—found himself suddenly popular. Plenty of nobles came over to clink cups, swap names, and wish him luck in the later bouts. How many were sincere and how many were wearing polite masks was anyone's guess.
Still, the "young duke's son from a distant eastern empire" was starting to make a name for himself among the highborn of Westeros.
Littlefinger, true to their earlier deal, brought over a steady stream of lords for introductions. With the Master of Coin smoothing the way, the conversations stayed easy—at least on the surface.
After the latest group wandered off, only Littlefinger and Leo remained.
"I hear Varys cornered you for a long chat today," Littlefinger said casually, sipping his wine.
These two old foxes really do watch each other like hawks, Leo thought.
And why the hell do they both keep such a close eye on me?
"Nothing serious," Leo answered smoothly. "Some people at court are questioning my background. He just asked about my homeland and offered to help clear things up."
Littlefinger nodded, that familiar half-smile in place. "That's the Spider's style—smiling at everyone, looking harmless. But remember, the man who runs the realm's spies isn't simple. He told you he wants to be friends, didn't he?"
He leaned in a fraction. "In King's Landing, trust no one. Especially not eunuchs. No heirs, no family ties… the only thing that gets them hard is playing with power and people's minds."
Littlefinger's tone stayed warm, but the warning cut like winter wind.
Leo gave a serious nod. "I understand. Thanks for the heads-up."
"No thanks needed," Littlefinger replied with a chuckle. "We're allies. It's what friends do."
Yeah, right, Leo thought. You two have been pulling the same tired routine on each other for years.
"Oh—almost forgot the real reason I came over," Littlefinger said, smacking his forehead. "Come with me. There's someone I want you to meet."
He led Leo through the crowd to a quiet corner table.
"Allow me to make the introductions," Littlefinger said smoothly. "This is Lady Tanda Stokeworth, mistress of Stokeworth Castle. These lovely ladies are her daughters, Lady Falyse and Miss Lollys. My ladies, this is the young talent everyone's talking about—Ser Neo Presto, second son of a duke from the distant Great Tang Empire."
Lady Tanda was in her forties, well-preserved, and dressed in rich silks. Her older daughter Falyse had a long, sour face that made her look like someone owed her money. The younger one, Lollys, was around twenty, pretty enough, with bright, curious eyes fixed on Leo.
Leo gave a courteous half-bow, smile perfectly in place. "A pleasure to meet you, Lady Stokeworth, and you as well, my ladies."
"The pleasure is ours, Ser Neo," Lady Tanda replied warmly. "You're even more handsome than the rumors said—and after today's joust, quite the rising star."
Before anyone else could speak, Falyse cut in with a sharp, mocking tone. "First of all, it's Lady Falyse, not 'miss.' And I'm hardly beautiful. Second, thanks to you, my proud husband finally gets to rest in bed instead of chasing every skirt at the tourney."
The table went dead quiet.
Leo blinked, completely lost. I put her husband to bed? What the hell is she talking about?
Lady Tanda's face darkened. "Falyse, you've had too much wine. Go get some air and clear your head."
"Hmph." Falyse stood, still managing a stiff, ladylike curtsy. "If you'll excuse me."
As she stalked off, Littlefinger leaned close and whispered, "Her husband is Balman Byrch—the knight you unhorsed this morning."
Leo's eyebrows shot up.
Littlefinger added quickly, "Don't worry. Their marriage is cold. She won't make trouble for you."
Leo wasn't worried at all. He barely remembered Balman from the show. The guy was a background extra at best.
Lady Tanda gave Leo an apologetic smile. "Forgive my daughter—she sometimes speaks before she thinks. If it's no trouble, Ser Neo, would you sit and share a cup with an old woman?"
Leo glanced at Littlefinger, who gave a tiny nod and a wink.
"Pardon me," Littlefinger said loudly, "I just remembered some business I must attend to." He bowed and slipped away into the crowd.
Leo had no choice but to sit in the empty seat beside Lady Tanda.
The older woman was clearly interested. She asked about his family, his homeland, even whether he was married—probing with practiced casualness.
Leo stayed polite but careful. When the marriage question came up, he smoothly replied that his father had already arranged a match back in the Great Tang; he simply hadn't wed yet because of his travels.
It was the perfect answer—flexible. If he met someone he actually liked, he could ignore the fictional betrothal. If someone tried to push an unwanted match on him, he had a ready excuse.
Lady Tanda paused for half a second, then recovered with another warm smile and changed the subject.
Close one, Leo thought. Good thing I'm quick on my feet.
It was obvious now: the old woman was trying to set him up. Her older daughter was already married, so that left the younger one sitting right beside her—Lollys.
Up close, Lollys seemed a little… slow. Dreamy-eyed, almost vacant.
Suddenly a scene from the show flashed through Leo's mind, and he realized exactly who these two were.