Morning brought panic.
The queen had been found dead. No wounds save a thin black line across her neck. No sign of a struggle. No broken locks. No guards missing.
Whispers flooded the Red Keep.
Assassination. Treason. Magic. Vengeance.
Jaime Lannister was the first to lose control, slashing a poor chambermaid in his grief and rage. King Robert was too drunk to respond with anything but curses and more wine.
But Köinzell? He stood hidden in the upper rafters of the Great Hall, cloaked in shadow, watching them crumble.
> "Your queen is gone," he thought. "The first stone has fallen. The wall of lies begins to collapse."
Later, he met with Varys in a forgotten tunnel below the castle. The Spider, pale and rattled, stared at Köinzell with wary respect.
> "You know what you've done… don't you?"
"I've begun the cleansing," Köinzell replied coldly. "I told you. The throne is a lie—and lies must bleed."
> "The lion will roar," Varys warned.
"Let it."
Köinzell turned, the Aetherbane Fang humming gently on his hip.
> "I have no mercy for vipers."
As he walked into the darkness, one thought burned in his mind:
> The realm will scream before it's cleansed. But scream it must.