The Wind of Change. book 1

"Good morning, Your Majesty."

"Good morning, Ser Ashley. How did you sleep?"

"Fine," he shifted his puzzled gaze from me to the faces of the stewards. "What can I do for you?"

"Tell us again about the evening feast. There's something I need to know."

Ser Ashley began to talk about the order of the dishes, about the seven minstrels who would perform one after the other, about the numbers of snake tamers, fire magicians and various animals.

I listened and nodded. Finally, he got to the right one.

"And then, Your Majesty, as we agreed, you will give a sign, and I will release the dwarfs with a number about the kings of Westeros."

"You know, I've changed my mind."

"I'm sorry," he blinked, fell silent, and stared at me in disbelief.

"I don't need this number at my wedding ceremony."

"But we've been preparing so much, and we've discharged these guys from Pentos itself! Lord Baelish put so much effort into this!"

It's getting more and more interesting. It seems that Littlefinger was not particularly hiding in this matter. But Geoff didn't understand what it was all about.

"I've changed my mind, sir, don't you see?" and he tried to soften the situation, seeing that he was genuinely upset — it looks like the guy really tried, organizing all this. It seems to me that their performance will be too vulgar.

"Everything is clear," he sighed resignedly.

"What are you upset about? Don't be afraid, speak up."

"I'll have to pay them a penalty." The master of ceremonies muttered.

"How much?"

"Sixteen dragons, Your Grace."

"During the day, my steward will bring you this money."

"Thank you, sir," he smiled, bowed deeply, and left.

Perhaps now he will think that I am not a completely bad person, since I have undertaken to compensate for his expenses.

I went into the room, opened the safe, rummaged through the pouches and selected a handful of gold coins.

Popular rumor is reluctant to part with beloved and familiar names. The dragon is a gold coin of the Targaryen dynasty, as their coat of arms had a three-headed dragon, which was minted on one side. The second one featured the profile of the reigning king.

The Targaryen rule ended seventeen years ago. Robert Baratheon issued his own coin, which was of identical weight, but had a crowned stag on one side and his profile on the other. But the name itself, the dragon, remains the same.

I think that now the Treasury should start issuing a new coin with a coat of arms in the form of a deer and a lion, and Joffrey's profile on the other side.

It turned out that there were currently three different types of the same dragon in circulation, not counting the earlier Targaryen coins. There were mostly coins with Robert's profile in my safe. I handed sixteen of them to Jacob with orders to take them to Ser Ashley.

They began to dress me. It's a common thing for Joffrey, but I felt awkward-you have to get used to it.

Ser Tallad stepped out into the hall.

Fortunately, I wasn't forced to try on my entire wardrobe. As it became clear, Joffrey (or his mother) has already approved three different costumes for the whole day. In the morning, I was dressed in a thin silk shirt, a light brown caftan with embroidered lions and deer, velvet trousers with gold plaques on the outer seam, a rich belt and soft fabric boots with low heels. A jewel-encrusted dagger scabbard was hung on the belt. I pulled it out and looked at it — it looks like a very good metal with a wavy pattern. I don't know, maybe that's what Valyrian steel looks like. I'll check it out soon. The knife was very sharp — I checked it on the nail, but still it's more of a status decoration than a weapon.

I looked at myself in the mirror and was very pleased with what I saw. Even though the body is someone else's and you still have to get used to it, it's still nice to know that I'm a handsome guy here.

Chapter 2.2 The morning feast.

There was another knock on the door. First came a man whom Joffrey only vaguely remembered. He came from my mother, asked about my health, well-being and mood, and reminded me about having breakfast together soon. I expressed my gratitude and informed them that I would be there soon.

The next servant came, accompanied by several warriors in golden cloaks. Joffrey's memory told him that this was what the city Guard looked like. The servant bowed and placed two large and weighty leather purses on the table.

"Pre-wedding gifts from the Right Hand and the Queen Regent," the servant explained.

"And how much is there?"

"My Lord Tywin and Queen Cersei have sent you five hundred coins each."

Wow, and Joffrey continues to be pampered. A thousand dragons is a huge sum. To understand what's what, it's not superfluous to know that an ordinary person can live on three dragons for a whole year. An ordinary, non-combat horse, worth one dragon. Good armor with a closed helmet — about four or five, and here a whole thousand. Most likely, this is money for pocket expenses and for encouraging loyal servants and friends. Although I doubt Joffrey has any.

Well, now everything is clear. I was wondering where the king got the money from. It is clear that he takes them out, for example, from a safe. But who fills this safe? The treasurer, probably... And anyway, I don't think kings know such a thing as a salary.

I had to put the money in the safe myself — the wallets turned out to be very heavy, similar to small bags. Finally, we went out into the hallway. Two stewards also dressed up and continued to accompany me.

"Your Majesty," the knight in front of the doors took off his helmet and bowed. His name was Ser Osmund Kettleblack. He is tall, like Tallad, over six feet tall, a muscular man with a hooked nose, bushy eyebrows and a brown beard with a shovel. He looked fierce.

"Ser Osmund," I tilted my head a little, remembering that the man was at one time (or will he still be?) Cersei's lover.

The knight greeted me and froze, waiting for the order.

I was confused for a moment, because I just didn't know where to go. Joffrey knew the castle pretty well, and he certainly knew where breakfast was going to be held, but I had a vague idea of how to get there. So I stopped, coughed, and found a solution:

"Robert, go ahead."

The steward nodded and headed down the corridor to the right. Relieved, I followed. Ser Osmund fell in behind me on the left, and Ser Tallad and the second steward fell in on the other, slightly behind.

After going down the stairs, we went through some kind of long passage, turned left at the fork.

We walked through richly furnished corridors — granite floors, marble walls, stained glass windows, numerous statues and columns, tapestries.

The path was practically not stored in memory. I could hear the noise of people growing in front of me, and in time with the footsteps, I began to shake noticeably from the tension, from the adrenaline rush and from what I was about to see. My heart was pounding: boom, boom, boom.

My palms were even sweating-I wiped them on my coat and bit my lip resolutely. It's okay, be yourself, pretend that everything is fine, more confidence and an independent smile ... — I reassured myself. It didn't work out well.

We passed through the tall double doors and the guards standing at the edges saluted me with spears. We found ourselves in the Queen's Ballroom, as I later learned it was called.

"His Majesty, King Joffrey Baratheon, the first of that name" The herald proclaimed as soon as I entered the hall — it seemed that he had been waiting for this very moment. Everyone stood up immediately.

The noise subsided like it had been cut off by a knife. Time stood still. Hundreds of faces and eyes turned in my direction.

The whole crowd flashed before my eyes like a multicolored, crumpled spot. The faces of men and women, lords and ladies, handsome, bearded, bald, funny, sly, concerned, attentive, interested, flashed like cards in a deck as Robert led me to a place in the center of the table. As I walked, I had one very sensible thought in my head-the main thing was not to stumble and fall right here, under a hundred interested stares. What fun that would be!

There was an empty space in the center, between the people. That's where we came to.

Robert bowed to the lords present and pushed back his chair. But before I sat down, I had to spend some time greeting relatives and influential people.

Lord Tywin, Queen Cersei, Lord Kevan, Lord Mace, Tyrion, and others followed one another. Joffrey's memory suggested their names, and I greeted them, asked about their health, smiled, and tried not to blurt out too much. They all treated me respectfully and I responded in kind.

Finally, this nightmare ended and I was allowed to sit down. Other people began to sit down next. Cersei, the woman who was now considered the mother Queen, turned out to be at my right hand. Lord Tywin sat on the left. Behind him sat the portly and cheerful Lord Mace, the bride's father.

Cersei raised her hand majestically, indicating that breakfast could begin.

Honey cakes with blueberries and nuts, ham, fish fried in breadcrumbs, and various fruits were already on the tables. There was also one very unusual Dornish dish, as I later learned — fried onions, cheese and chopped eggs with very hot pepper.

I tried a piece carefully, but I didn't eat much. He'll probably make you very thirsty. And you can't drink too much. And although I will be bullied at the gala dinner, and not now, I should not lose my vigilance.

I was on pins and needles for the first thirty minutes. The feast began. Musicians walked along the tables, playing lutes, bagpipes, and violins. Some overweight man, probably a buffoon, was fooling around, making faces, singing in a bad voice and jumping on a stick along the central aisle between the tables.

Cersei leaned towards me:

"Are you all right, honey? You look pale today." her rich voice sounded very beautiful, one might say melodious. Her beautiful hair was caught at the nape of her neck, forming a small bun, but the bulk of it cascaded down her back like a living, shimmering golden waterfall. Her face, with its perfect skin, large, attentive emerald eyes, and sensual lips, somehow resembled a marble statue-just as majestic and cold. Her high breasts were very effectively accentuated by the finest, amazingly crafted dress. It was hard to tell from the woman's appearance that she was already thirty-four years old and the mother of three children.

"I didn't sleep well, Mother," I replied softly.

She asked a few more questions, furrowed her brows — she didn't like something, and carefully touched my shoulder with her perfectly shaped hand, but then left me alone, turning away in the other direction.

I took a deep breath.