The next morning began with my summoning of forr maester Qyburn. He had previously served as a dic in the Brave Companions, and according to canon sohow managed to bring Gregor Clegane, the Mountain, back to life after his duel with Oberyn Martell and place him in Cersei's service.
He also managed to prevent Jai Lannister from developing gangrene after his hand was cut off, and it was Qyburn who made the Kingslayer a skillful prosthesis in the form of a golden hand.
In short, if you think about it, he is a very valuable and versatile person. It would be a sin to leave soone like that aside.
The forr maester was not only knowledgeable in dicine, anatomy, and various diseases, but also possessed a deep understanding of poisons and antidotes.
Qyburn turned out to be a tall, slightly stooped, elderly, gray-haired man with polite manners and a quiet voice. He was dressed in black, worn-out clothes and gave the impression of a "kind grandfather." He listened with great enthusiasm to my request to teach everything he knew. Of course he was delighted—after all, the king's attention usually ant king's favor. And Qyburn, as I quickly realized, was very ambitious and inquisitive.
The private laboratory I set up for him made him a perfectly happy and loyal man.
During one of our joint sessions, when we were studying a poison called "the strangler," he casually ntioned that he believed he had surpassed the archmaester of dicine, Ebrose, who lived in Oldtown. And looking at his confident, asured movents, at how easily and skillfully he explained even the most complex things in simple terms, I fully believed his words.
That sa day, I attended my first Small Council eting ever. Joffrey's mories contained nothing related to this. From that, I concluded he had never attended such events before.
I went to the council accompanied by Ser Herald and Ser ryn Trant, a knight of the Kingsguard.
The eting took place in the Tower of the Hand. Lord Tywin, using his authority and position, preferred to hold such gatherings exclusively near his own chambers, so that he would not have to walk far.
The tall, double doors were guarded by two warriors in armor and gold cloaks. When I approached, they straightened up.
"What are your nas?" I paused beside them.
"rgold Birk," introduced the first—a dium-height, clean-shaven warrior with brown eyes.
"Stone Gerg, Your Majesty," said the second, who turned out to be very young, no more than twenty, with a morable expression—as if everything he looked at invariably surprised him.
"Very well," I said as I walked through the door, trying not to forget these guards. And although I understood that there were more than four thousand Golden Cloaks and it was simply unrealistic to rember them all, I figured it wouldn't hurt to rember so n and show it when the occasion arose. This was one of hundreds of tiny details and the "glue" that binds people together—the foundation that helps ordinary soldiers feel valued and rembered.
I arrived in the hall before the others and now, leaving my companions outside the door, looked around with curiosity.
The room was large and had several windows facing different directions. In the center stood a long, massive table made of wood darkened by ti, with chairs arranged around it.
On one of the walls hung a huge map of Westeros and Essos. There were also a couple of tall candlesticks and a glass-fronted cabinet filled with nurous books.
Looking around, I picked up a book describing the largest cities of Westeros, as well as the goods they bought and sold, and imrsed myself in reading.
The first to arrive, Lord Tywin, found engaged in this activity.
The Hand of the King entered the hall with his usual confidence, took a few steps, and only then stopped, noticing he was not alone.
"What an unexpected and pleasant surprise, Your Majesty," Lord Tywin said, overcoming his astonishnt and allowing a hint of sarcasm to seep into his voice. He walked over to the table and sat at its head.
"I am also very glad to see you," I smiled, putting the book aside.
"May I ask what brings you here?" Grandfather raised one eyebrow.
"Affairs of state. I suppose I did not pay enough attention to them before and wasted a great deal of useful ti."
"Well, that is very comndable," he said after a short pause, approving of my presence. "But I am curious—is this a one-ti occurrence, or do you intend to attend all etings of the Small Council from this day forward?"
"If circumstances permit, and with your approval, I would like to be present here as often as possible. You would not object, would you, Grandfather?"
"If the king shows prudence and wisdom, I will be only glad," Lord Tywin fixed with a cold stare from his pale green eyes flecked with gold. "You do understand that a good king is one who listens carefully to his advisors, don't you?"
"Of course! I promise you that at first I will not intrude with unsolicited advice or ill-considered ideas," I smiled, trying to hide my uncertainty. This man's appearance and manner inspired respect and unconditional reverence.
It seed to that Tywin wished to add sothing else or ask a question, but several people entered the hall at once, and he fell silent.
The first to appear was Kevan Lannister, a tall man with narrow shoulders and a receding hairline, who served as Master of Laws.
He was accompanied by Varys the Spider, Master of Whisperers, and Grand Maester Pycelle.
These n were discussing sothing quietly, but they stopped and fell silent when they noticed that I was sitting near the Hand.
An unreadable expression flitted across Varys's face. A mont later, and it returned to its usual serene calm.
Old Pycelle looked confused for a heartbeat, then flashed a broad smile, showing how pleased he was to see .
Kevan, however, reacted more openly: his eyes widened in amazent, his face a mixture of surprise and even confusion. He shifted his gaze from to his older brother. Tywin barely narrowed his eyes, and Kevan, deciding to accept everything as it was, sat down to the right of the Hand.
(End of Chapter)
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