The Small Council chamber had seldom witnessed a gathering of such consequence.
The young king, his three regents, and all members of the Small Council sat in uneasy accord around the long table of polished oak. Carved dragons curled along its edges, a reminder of the dynasty that had ruled before the stag.
Joffrey occupied one end of the table, flanked by Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, known throughout the realm as "Barristan the Bold," and the newly appointed Master of the Army, Ser Jaime Lannister, whom men still called "Kingslayer" behind his back.
At the table's opposite end sat Lord Tywin Lannister, his hard face betraying nothing. To his right was Queen Regent Cersei, to his left, Lord Eddard Stark, Hand of the King, his face grim as winter.
Around them gathered Alyn Lantell, Master of Whisperers; Grand Maester Pycelle, his chain heavy about his stooped shoulders; Lord Tyrion Lannister, Master of Coin; Sandor Clegane, Commander of the City Watch; and Lady Hanna, the Lord Steward.
In the corner, positioned to observe but not participate, sat Samwell Tarly, a quill clutched in his plump fingers, tasked with recording the meeting's proceedings for posterity.
It was Tyrion who broke the silence.
"Your Grace certainly made quite an impression yesterday," the dwarf remarked, his mismatched eyes glinting with sardonic amusement. "A pity Lord Tywin was not present to witness the spectacle firsthand."
Lord Tywin made a sound between a snort and a cough. "Is there truly need to witness such things in person? The entire city speaks of nothing else. I doubt any will dare challenge the crown's authority now."
Joffrey shook his head, golden crown catching the light. "I think not. The greed that dwells in men's hearts cannot be so easily extinguished."
The Hound's ruined face twisted in what might have been a smile. "At least King's Landing will know peace for a time. And we need fear enemies beyond our walls even less—victory is assured."
Ser Jaime seized upon the opening. "This 'Master of the Army'—I confess I remain uncertain of its ultimate function."
"The title speaks for itself," Joffrey replied.
The king began to paint a picture with his words, one of conquest and glory.
"In time, the Master of the Army shall command all land forces throughout the Seven Kingdoms. We shall not confine our ambitions to Westeros alone; the continent of Essos and even lands as yet unknown shall be brought beneath the dominion of the Iron Throne."
Having witnessed the Light Giant with their own eyes only a day before, every word from the king's lips seemed imbued with irresistible force.
Grand Maester Pycelle spoke, his voice tremulous with age. "To achieve such lofty aims, a larger fleet becomes essential. Might Your Grace have given thought to the appointment of a Master of Ships?"
Joffrey looked between Lord Tywin and Lord Stark. "My lords, have you men of worth to recommend for such a position?"
The Hand of the King had grown increasingly withdrawn of late, intervening only in matters that directly concerned his official duties. "Your Grace must forgive me," Lord Stark said, his Northern accent more pronounced than usual. "The North maintains no fleet of consequence. I fear I cannot offer counsel in this regard."
All eyes turned to Lord Tywin.
Was this merely a request for recommendation? Or did it constitute a test of the Old Lion's ambitions? Perhaps the king no longer wished to rely exclusively upon House Lannister?
After all, in the days since the coronation, none could fail to observe the king's boundless appetite for power.
Tywin met Joffrey's gaze without flinching. "In terms of pure capability and qualification, the most suitable candidate in all the Seven Kingdoms would be Lord Paxter Redwyne. Yet, when loyalty must be considered above all, I shall disregard any appearance of favoritism and recommend my own brother, Ser Kevan."
"Ser Kevan would indeed serve admirably," Joffrey said with a slight nod.
"Lord Tywin, my uncle Renly has withdrawn to Storm's End, leaving the position of Master of Laws vacant. Perhaps you might assume additional responsibilities and shoulder this burden as well?"
Lord Tywin rose and offered a precise bow. "As Your Grace commands."
Tyrion sighed audibly. "Lord Renly appears determined to create difficulties. We must prepare ourselves accordingly, particularly regarding finances."
Joffrey signaled for blank parchment to be brought. "Let us address these matters now, together. Hear my plans, and then each of you shall enumerate the resources you require. We shall see if the royal coffers can withstand the strain."
The young king, not yet come of age, seemed to have forgotten his youth entirely. He conducted himself with a diligence that would have shamed his late father.
"Ser Jaime, your task shall prove arduous indeed. Within a moon's turn, you must recruit no fewer than ten thousand men into our army."
The Kingslayer's brow furrowed with concern.
Joffrey offered reassurance. "Have no fear. You shall enjoy the full support of both myself and my master of coin. Proceed with confidence."
"Lord Tyrion, you must bring order to the royal accounts within the year. Reduce expenditures, increase revenues, and produce a surplus of no less than five hundred thousand gold dragons."
The Imp acknowledged the command with a sardonic smile.
"Lord Stark, you too must bear your share. The crown requires the support of both you and the North. Summon your bannermen without delay. Your contributions shall not go unrecognized."
Eddard raised his head, his mouth opening as if to speak, then closing again.
The South is a labyrinth of intrigue, he thought grimly. I wish no further entanglement in these affairs. I long only to return to Winterfell, where honor still holds meaning.
Yet Bran, Jon, Sansa, and Arya all resided within the Red Keep. What escape remained to him?
Lord Stark finally found his voice. "Your Grace, forgive my directness. The North is a harsh and unyielding land. That decree you issued previously... I fear..."
Joffrey waved a dismissive hand. "That is of no consequence. Should the Northern lords send men to fight under our banners, what matter if past tax obligations are set aside? I shall not be miserly."
Lord Stark could only bow his head in acceptance.
Lord Tywin spoke without being asked. "House Lannister stands ever as the crown's most steadfast ally. Twenty thousand men have already assembled at Lannisport, and the gold of the West awaits Your Grace's disposal."
Joffrey acknowledged this with appreciative applause.
Lady Hanna adopted an expression of puzzlement. "Lord Renly's return to Storm's End need not presage rebellion, surely? How does Your Grace know his intent with such certainty?"
Joffrey's sigh carried genuine regret. "I am also aware that letters bearing Uncle Renly's seal now speed throughout the Seven Kingdoms, casting aspersions upon my lineage. Even the Red Keep shall receive such a missive on the morrow. Uncle Renly has crossed a threshold from which he cannot retreat."
A heavy silence descended upon the chamber.
Joffrey pressed on, assigning further duties. "Lady Hanna, you must quickly master the intelligence operations within both the Red Keep and King's Landing. Alyn, your focus henceforth shall be the broader Seven Kingdoms and the continent of Essos, preparing the way for our eventual expansion."
Both Hanna and Alyn accepted their charges with appropriate deference.
"Clegane, the City Watch can no longer continue in its present state of indiscipline. You must train and recruit in earnest, purge the ranks of undesirables, and forge an unassailable defensive force in the shortest time possible."
"Grand Maester, I bid you compose a letter to the Citadel. King's Landing requires additional maesters, even acolytes still in training. The crown shall establish a new institution for research, where knowledge shall flourish and illuminate our path forward."
The councillors began to record their requirements.
Only Ser Barristan and Queen Cersei remained idle. The old knight, concerned solely with the king's protection, appeared untroubled by this. Queen Cersei, however, showed visible signs of disquiet.
Joffrey offered his mother a reassuring glance. With the imposing presence of Lord Tywin beside her, the Queen Regent eventually mastered her impulse to interject.
The burden of regency proves heavier than anticipated, she reflected. My son has grown beyond my influence, learning not to heed my counsel.
Cersei studied her son—crowned, confident, vibrant with purpose—and found herself awash in emotions too complex to name.
The ministers began to circulate their lists of requirements.
The smile that had played about Tyrion's lips vanished abruptly. "Such vast sums," he exclaimed, scanning the parchments. "My lords, do you truly believe gold dragons sprout from trees like summer fruit?"
The Hound's contemptuous laugh was like a blade drawn across stone. "Wealthy merchants have more coin than they deserve, and few acquired it honestly. Confiscate a handful of their holdings, and we shall have all we require."
Tyrion shook his head. "Such action would only undermine confidence and security among the merchant class. The crown's credibility would plummet, and commerce would wither. The harm would far outweigh any immediate gain."
Lord Tywin regarded Joffrey with speculative interest.
The king, naturally, had anticipated this impasse.
"My lords," Joffrey said, leaning forward slightly, "did you imagine that divine grace comes without price?"
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