Köinzell arrived in King's Landing cloaked beneath a traveler's garb, his longsword sheathed under layers of fine leather. He moved like a shadow in the streets, unnoticed by the guards, unbothered by the filth.
The city smelled of smoke, sweat, and blood—rotting wealth masked in perfume.
Through whispers in brothels and wine-stained taverns, he learned of Queen Cersei's iron rule behind the throne, of the growing unrest among the lords, and of King Robert's ever-deepening indulgence in drink and wenches.
> "A kingdom ruled by indulgence, not strength," Köinzell murmured, gazing at the Red Keep's towers.
But it wasn't the king he came to see. It was the children.
During a brief visit disguised as a noble emissary from the East, Köinzell watched the royal family dine in the throne room. King Robert was absent, as usual.
Prince Joffrey sat arrogantly beside the queen, golden curls catching the candlelight. Beside him, Princess Myrcella and young Tommen giggled softly.
But Köinzell's eyes narrowed.
> "All three… have the same eyes."
Not Baratheon eyes—no black hair, no storm-blooded features. But green eyes.
Lannister green.
Later that night, Köinzell scaled the Red Keep silently, perching like a ghost on the outer wall of the Tower of the Hand. His elven hearing picked up voices through the stone.
> "They must never know the truth, Jaime."
"You think Robert will care about his bastards? He doesn't care about anything but wine and war."
Queen Cersei. Ser Jaime.
He had heard enough.
> Bastards of incest. Hidden beneath crowns. The line is broken, and the realm sits blind.
If war comes, it won't be over thrones—but over blood.
He returned to the street with a shadow over his expression.
> "The wheel has already begun to turn."
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