Odahviing had never been to the Vale and didn't have a navigation system. By nightfall, except for the rooms of the wealthy that had candles, the outside was pitch dark.
The King Robert's order had been given, and the next day, at dawn, Wright set off for the Eyrie.
Nymeria and Tyene went to assist with the relocation of the Alchemist's Guild, leaving Margaery to enjoy Wright's company for the past two days.
The town's roosters began to crow, and a fresh breeze wafted in through the open window. The sky was no longer dark, and although the sun hadn't yet risen, the outline of the clouds was already visible.
"Has the day broken already?" Wright squinted and looked outside.
"Don't rush. We agreed on eight times today, and there are still two left!" Margaery flipped over and pressed Wright down.
The sun had risen, and King's Landing began to grow noisy, with countless residents shouting and cursing. When the dragon took flight from the ruins of the dragon pit, it stirred up massive dust clouds, which fell onto the clothes of the residents, re-dusting them.
On Odahviing's back, Wright wasn't standing as usual but lying on its most stable back while it flew, holding tightly to a thorn and already fast asleep.
In Margaery's room, she had her legs lifted high and placed against the wall, with two pillows under her hips, lying on the bed with her feet up and head down.
Renly and the knight of flowers, Loras Tyrell, opened the door and entered. Seeing Margaery in that position, Renly sat on the edge of the bed, stroking her stomach, and asked:
"Are you pregnant?"
Margaery tilted her head, looking at the two of them: "How would i know? Even if I am, theres no way of knowing."
"Oh."
The two men had never really studied these things.
Loras Tyrell picked up Margaery's clothes from the sofa and threw them onto the bed: "Hurry up, get cleaned up, and put on some clothes. Father is hosting a luncheon for the Riverlands nobles today."
"It's still early, isn't it?"
Renly pulled out a black Valyrian steel pocket watch from his pocket, opened it, and placed it in front of Margaery: "Look at the time!"
"It's almost noon?"
Margaery was startled and immediately rolled over, grabbing a piece of clothing and putting it on. There was a water basin in the room, and she went over, took a damp towel, wiped herself down, then sniffed it: "Such a waste!"
Renly pulled Loras's hand, preparing to leave the room: "We'll wait for you downstairs. I'll call the maid in to help you get dressed."
The acting Hand of the King, Wright Baratheon, had been sent by the King to the Eyrie. The scholar from the old Hand's service, Colemon, had already informed Wright where the family records were stored. According to the King, although there was a dragon, it would be impossible to find the exact direction and it would take at least four days to return.
The official Hand of the King—judging by the title alone, the King could also appoint someone. But judging by Robert's intention, it seemed that a selection would take place in the Small Council, followed by a vote.
There were now three candidates: Lord Mace Tyrell of the Reach, Lord Eddard Stark of the North, and Lord Tywin Lannister of the Westerlands.
Many of the Westerlands nobles were still in King's Landing for the tournament, and the suggestion to nominate Tywin was made in consideration of their honor. Whether or not he came was his issue, but his name had to be brought up, thus satisfying the Westerlands' nobles' sense of pride.
Lord Eddard Stark, also the adopted son of the previous Hand of the King, had grown up alongside Robert, and Robert's favorite person had always been his deceased sister, which had even sparked a war across the Seven Kingdoms.
Because of their close relationship, Eddard was always dragged by Robert to drink. And who were Robert's drinking buddies? There were all kinds of people—Lords, mercenaries, even enemies from the battlefield. After the battle, Robert might even invite them to drink together.
The Lord of the Reach, Mace Tyrell, had a very large residence in King's Landing. It could be said that it was the most impressive house in the city. In the noble residential area of Street of Steel, a few years ago, he bought two adjacent houses, tore them down, and built a luxurious four-story mansion. It had the largest and most lavish banquet hall in King's Landing, second only to the Red Keep.
"Eddard Stark seems to be seizing this opportunity, and it looks like I have the best chance of becoming the new Hand of the King. But why hasn't my daughter arrived yet? These people are really hard to deal with."
He was laughing and talking with the nobles of King's Landing while holding a wine glass. Some of the conversations he could join in, but some were beyond his reach, so he could only laugh awkwardly, his face full of anxiety.
"The Lord of Storm's End, Renly Baratheon, and his wife, Lady Margaery Tyrell, have arrived!" The servant at the door shouted.
Mace Tyrell's anxious face instantly brightened, and he quickly excused himself from the nobles around him, rushing to the door to greet his son-in-law Renly. Young Rose Margaery naturally walked to her father's side and linked her arm with his.
Mace and Renly were very familiar, having done business together for over ten years. After exchanging polite pleasantries, Renly thoughtfully suggested that Margaery accompany her father while he and Loras went to the side to drink. Today was Mace's event, and he wanted to win over the nobles from the Riverlands.
Margaery: "Eddard drinks with the king every day, but it's useless. They're just small nobles. His wife, Catelyn Tully, often attends city banquets, but it's mostly to show off her son."
Mace's face was full of smiles: "So, I have a very good chance?"
Margaery: "Wright and Renly have already promised to vote for you."
Mace was surprised: "Do I have one vote myself?"
Margaery tugged on her father's arm: "If the votes are already enough, then you should either abstain or vote for Eddard!"
Mace realized: "Got it, got it, but that's only two votes."
A noble raised his cup to Mace, and the father and daughter exchanged a few words with him. With Margaery's help, Mace quickly engaged in conversation with the noble.
Renly and the Knight of Flowers, Loras Tyrell, were drinking and chatting about the tournament. Renly, a powerful mage, was more influenced by Wright's style, keeping a small number of personal guards. Now that he was married, his guards had to be divided to protect Margaery, and he was planning to expand his personal guard.
Loras: "Do you have any suitable candidates?"
Renly: "The best choice to protect Margaery is a woman. My apprentice Sansa Stark could be one, but she's too young and timid, she'll need to learn a few more years."
Loras: "Speaking of women, today at the tournament grounds, I saw a tall female knight, one of your Stormlands people. You should come see tomorrow. If she wins the tournament this afternoon, she'll be my opponent tomorrow."
On the other side of the banquet hall, once they had a moment of free time, Margaery and Mace began to have a private conversation.
Margaery: "The Grand Maester is from Oldtown, and Oldtown is in the Reach. He knows exactly who he wants to vote for. The Kingsguard Barristan Selmy and the Master of Whisperers, Varys, have special identities. You can't approach them."
Mace: "So that's only three votes, still not enough."
After chatting with a noblewoman, Margaery continued to speak to her father: "Don't forget, Wright Baratheon is also the Archmage. He holds two votes himself, so now you have four votes!"
Mace was excited: "Yes! Yes! So, who should we go for next?"
Margaery looked at her father in confusion.
Her daughter stared at him, and after a long pause, Mace finally came to a realization: "Hahaha, there's only one person left—Stannis, the Master of Ships!"