Sansa's hands were cold, but her grip was tight.
"I'm not leaving."
She repeated it again.
King's Landing was hell.
But only in hell could claws sharp enough to tear everything apart be forged.
She no longer wanted to be a Lady who was at everyone's mercy.
Sansa was a Northern rose forced to bloom prematurely in blood and fire.
Lynn could feel the tremor from her palm and see the fear that hadn't entirely dissipated in the depths of her eyes.
But she didn't flinch.
"Good."
Lynn didn't try to persuade her further.
He clasped Sansa's icy small hand, gradually dispelling the cold with his own body heat.
"Since you've decided to stay, remember this feeling."
Lynn's voice was very low, like a lover's whisper, yet it carried a teacher's authority.
"Remember today's fear, remember the humiliation when your father knelt, remember the King's mad face."
"These things will all become your sharpest weapons in the future."
Sansa nodded forcefully, a pang of sourness in her nose.
She looked at Lynn, at his deep eyes that seemed to see through everything, feeling the steady and powerful warmth from his palm.
This warmth seemed to isolate her from all the bloodshed and madness of the outside world.
At this moment, she suddenly felt that as long as this man was behind her, even if the sky fell, she would dare to hold it up!
Sansa's body involuntarily leaned forward slightly.
Her pretty face, tear-streaked like a pear blossom, slowly drew closer to Lynn.
She closed her eyes, her long eyelashes trembling gently like butterfly wings.
She didn't know why she was doing this.
Perhaps it was gratitude, perhaps dependence, or perhaps... some inexplicable emotion she couldn't quite put into words.
These thoughts, fueled by fear, grew wildly.
Sansa instinctively wanted to get closer to this warmth, the only thing that made her feel safe.
The air in the study became somewhat thick at this moment.
Lynn could smell the faint, clean scent of soap from her hair.
He could even feel her faint and hurried breath.
The fragrance, unique to a young girl, gently brushed his face.
If he were to just lower his head slightly, he could kiss those slightly trembling, petal-soft lips.
But Lynn didn't.
He just quietly watched Sansa, watching her both nervous and expectant demeanor.
Then, Lynn raised his other hand and gently touched Sansa's smooth forehead with his index finger, stopping her approach.
"It's not time yet, my student."
Lynn's voice was soft, but it instantly extinguished all of Sansa's romantic fantasies.
Sansa suddenly opened her eyes, her face instantly flushed.
A red blush spread from her cheeks all the way to her earlobes.
Sansa saw the hint of playful amusement in Lynn's eyes, and she was so embarrassed she wished she could immediately find a hole to crawl into.
Oh my god!
What was I just doing?!
Sansa felt her mind go blank.
"When you can truly control the master of coin's seal, when you can look at the King's butcher knife without a change in expression..."
Lynn withdrew his hand, then gently ruffled her beautiful reddish-brown long hair.
"Only then will you be qualified to ask your teacher for a reward."
Sansa was stunned.
She looked at Lynn, at the matter-of-fact expression on his face, and the shyness and embarrassment in her heart were slowly replaced by a strange emotion.
Controlling the master of coin's seal... looking at the King's butcher knife without a change in expression... these were the things she should be thinking about now!
"I... I understand."
Sansa lowered her head, her voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz.
But in her blue eyes, the flame of fighting spirit reignited.
Lynn smiled with satisfaction.
Leaving Sansa, whose emotions had stabilized, Lynn didn't linger for a moment and walked directly to the Throne Room.
Petyr Baelish was dead, and the position of master of coin was vacant.
He had to push Sansa into this position while Robert's madness hadn't passed, while everyone was still immersed in fear and hadn't reacted.
This move had to be fast, accurate, and ruthless!
He hadn't forgotten his deal with Margaery.
In the Throne Room.
It was a mess.
The leftovers from last night's feast hadn't been cleared, and the air was filled with a sour stench of mixed food and vomit; it was unclear who had drunk themselves sick last night.
Robert Baratheon, like a tired wild boar, was slumped on the cold, uncomfortable iron throne.
He wasn't wearing his royal robes, only a set of casual clothes stained with filth.
Vomit still clung to his messy beard.
He even had his crown askew, looking decadent and comical.
Clearly, he was the one who had drunk himself sick last night.
Two Kingsguard stood like statues on either side of the throne, oblivious to the surrounding mess.
Seeing Lynn enter, a flicker of impatience crossed Robert's cloudy eyes.
"What is it now?"
Hangovers, slaughter, and endless suspicion had completely drained the energy of this King, whose days were numbered.
"Your Majesty, I am here to report on the situation in the North."
Lynn spoke calmly, ignoring Robert's terrible attitude.
"The North again?"
Robert frowned, a hint of vigilance in his eyes.
"What new trick is that bastard Ned trying to pull?"
"Quite the opposite, Your Majesty."
Lynn said unhurriedly.
"Lord Ned is fiercely loyal to you; he is already preparing to write a letter, asking his Lady to come to King's Landing."
"However... a raven arrived from the North; the North had some minor trouble a while ago."
"Trouble?"
"A group of wildlings, or rather, bandits, who appeared from nowhere, are burning, killing, and looting in the villages near Winterfell, causing some chaos."
"Lady Catelyn, as the acting Lord of Winterfell, will likely need some time to deal with these 'rebellions' before she can depart for King's Landing."
Lynn repeated Ned's prepared excuse verbatim.
Robert snorted dismissively upon hearing this.
"Rebellions?"
"By those Northern paupers who haven't even seen iron?"
"What is House Stark doing?
Can't they even handle such a small matter?"
He clearly didn't believe it.
But in his muddled mind, this reason seemed plausible enough.
"Just a bunch of flies, nothing to worry about."
Robert waved his hand impatiently.
"Then let Catelyn deal with it before coming to King's Landing; do I need to be bothered with such a small matter?"
"Of course not, Your Majesty."
Lynn finally revealed his true purpose.
"I'm here for another, more important matter."
"Petyr Baelish is dead, but the kingdom cannot be without a master of coin for a single day."
"The treasury of King's Landing is like a wineskin with countless holes poked in it; if we don't plug them, the gold dragons will all flow out."
At the mention of "gold dragons," Robert's expression finally changed slightly.
He knew better than anyone how poor the kingdom was now.
"Do you have any candidates?"
Robert narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Lynn.
"Your Majesty, I believe the new master of coin must meet three conditions."
Lynn held up three fingers.
"First, he must be absolutely loyal, and would never embezzle like Baelish."
"Second, he must be 'foolish' enough, without his own schemes; all his actions must be under your control."
"Third, and most importantly, he must be obedient, so he can become a trump card in your hand, used to deter those with ill intentions."
Lynn's three conditions seemed to be entirely for the King's consideration.
Robert's interest was piqued.
Loyal, foolish, and a trump card?
Where in the world could such a perfect candidate exist?
"Speak."
"Lady Sansa Stark."
Lynn calmly uttered the name.
The air, at this moment, instantly solidified.
The flicker of interest on Robert's face vanished instantly.
In its place was the gloom before a volcanic eruption.
He suddenly sat upright on the iron throne, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Lynn, as if he wanted to devour him alive.
"What the hell did you say?"
Robert's voice was squeezed through his teeth, every word carrying a chilling murderous intent.
"You want me to hand the kingdom's money bag to a Stark?"
"Are you out of your mind too?!"
He felt Lynn was insulting him!
"Your Majesty, please calm your anger."
Lynn's face showed no fear; instead, he revealed a profound smile.
"The reason I recommend Lady Sansa is precisely because she is a Stark."
Robert was stunned.
"Consider, Your Majesty."
Lynn's voice carried a peculiar magic, guiding Robert's confused thoughts, and he secretly used his Warg ability, continuously influencing Robert's sensitive and fragile nerves.
"Lady Sansa is just a young girl; what does she know about finance? Does she understand what a balanced budget is?"
"She knows nothing."
"If she sits in that position, she will be like a helpless little girl, completely dependent on you, dependent on His Majesty the King's wisdom and guidance."
"Won't her seal essentially be in your hands?"
"Won't she be your most loyal and 'foolish' puppet?"
The anger in Robert's eyes subsided somewhat.
It was replaced by contemplation.
"This is not the most important thing, Your Majesty."
Lynn continued to raise the stakes.
"Think, what does Ned Stark cherish most?"
"It's his honor, and his two precious children!"
"By placing Lady Sansa in the position of master of coin, you are firmly grasping the softest lifeline of House Stark in your own hands!"
"She is in King's Landing, right under your nose!"
"As long as she is in your hands, would Ned Stark dare to make a move?"
"If they dare to make any unusual moves, you can chop off Sansa's head at any time!"
"She is not the master of coin, Your Majesty."
"She is your hostage to control the North!"
Lynn's words gave Robert a wake-up call.
Hostage!
Right!
How could he not have thought of that!
Robert's breathing instantly became heavy, and the excited light rekindled in his cloudy eyes.
This idea... it was so damn brilliant!
"Moreover, Your Majesty."
Lynn's lips curled slightly, delivering the final blow.
"What could better display your authority, and better wash away Ned's offense to you, than having the Warden of the North's most proud daughter manage your money bag, and have her bow and scrape before you every day?"
"You don't even need her to kneel; she'll have to report the whereabouts of every single gold dragon to you every day!"
"What glory! What power!"
"And, you previously promised Sansa compensation; isn't this killing multiple birds with one stone?"
Robert was completely convinced.
He looked at Lynn as if he were looking at a monster.
He imagined Ned Stark's ashen face upon hearing this news, imagined that little girl Sansa in the master of coin's robes, kneeling before him in terrified apprehension... an unspeakable pleasure shot from the bottom of his heart straight to the top of his head!
"Haha... Hahahahahahaha!"
Robert burst into a frantic laugh.
The laughter echoed in the empty Throne Room, sending shivers down one's spine.
He descended from the throne, walking step by step to Lynn, and clapped his large, fan-like hand heavily on his shoulder.
"Lynn! You fellow!"
In Robert's eyes, a madness bordering on admiration flickered.
"You... are more Lannister than the Lannisters!"
"You are my most loyal subject!"
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