The next morning.
What should've been a trial by combat—blood and glory intertwined—was postponed indefinitely.
A royal decree.
The herald's voice echoed through the Red Keep's halls.
"His Grace is unwell. He requires rest."
Nobles and ministers exchanged glances. Whispered.
Unwell?
Everyone could see—Robert, that fat stag, was healthy as an ox.
Aside from wine-bloated flesh and a foul temper, he could punch a bull to death.
This was an excuse.
A king finding a way down from his rage.
Lynn stood behind Ned Stark.
Watched the king on the Iron Throne—face flushed, eyes clouded.
Cersei's already made her move.
When I return, I'll use greensight to see which "expert" she consulted.
"GET OUT! ALL OF YOU!"
Robert waved his arms. Shooing away flies.
Ministers fled like pardoned prisoners.
The empty throne room filled with Robert's heavy breathing.
Ned looked at his friend—hollowed out by wine and excess.
Worry deepened in his brow.
He wanted to speak. Didn't know where to start.
Lynn said nothing. Just bowed slightly. Followed Ned out of the suffocating hall.
A Special Guest
That afternoon, Lynn's estate received a visitor.
"Ser Lynn."
Sansa stood stiffly at the door. Arya behind her, equally uneasy.
Between them—a girl in a pale yellow dress. Delicate as a porcelain doll.
Myrcella Baratheon.
Her clear green eyes brimmed with fear.
She clutched her skirt. Her small body trembled.
Like a fawn separated from its mother.
"She looks like she's about to cry."
Arya whispered in Lynn's ear.
Lynn ignored her. Walked to Myrcella. Crouched to meet her eyes.
"Welcome, Princess Myrcella."
His voice was soft. Gentle.
Myrcella flinched. Instinctively stepped back.
"Don't be afraid."
Lynn smiled warmly.
"This isn't a cage. This is your new home."
"Can I... can I still see Mother?"
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Of course."
Lynn's tone was firm.
"Whenever you want. You can visit her anytime."
He reached out. Gently ruffled her golden curls.
"From today, you'll stay with Arya and Sansa. They'll teach you things you'd never learn in the Red Keep."
Arya's eyes lit up.
Sansa stood silently. Said nothing.
Lynn looked at the frightened little princess.
Felt nothing.
Politics is never sentimental.
All I can do is treat her kindly.
Keep her out of the power struggles.
Lynn gestured for them to follow.
Led them into a prepared room.
A long table sat inside. Clay pots. Strange materials.
"You're all noble ladies."
Lynn picked up a parchment. Scanned their confused faces.
"Tell me. How do you bathe?"
"Especially you, Princess."
Myrcella's face reddened.
"We... use fine sand. Lye water. Sometimes flower petals."
"Sounds miserable."
Lynn shook his head.
Alchemy in the Courtyard
A few days later.
A large cauldron sat in the estate's courtyard.
Steward Rob had bought animal fat from butchers—scraps they didn't want—and a sack of wood ash from fireplaces.
Arya and Myrcella crowded around curiously.
Watched Lynn direct servants to toss fat into the pot. Light the fire.
A foul, rancid smell spread quickly.
Sansa stood far away under the corridor. Silk scarf over her nose. Brow furrowed.
Why is the Black Knight—admired by thousands—interested in this filthy commoner's work?
Lynn didn't care.
He poured wood ash into a wooden bucket. Added water. Stirred constantly. Filtered.
Repeated the process several times.
Finally—a bucket of clear alkaline liquid.
"My lord... what are you making? Some kind of potion?"
Steward Rob asked cautiously.
He'd never seen such a strange process.
"I'm practicing alchemy."
Lynn didn't look up.
Under everyone's gaze, Lynn slowly poured the alkaline liquid into the boiling fat.
HISS—
The pot erupted violently. Fat churned. White smoke billowed.
Servants stumbled back.
Only Lynn remained. Stirring calmly with a long wooden stick.
As time passed, the rancid smell faded.
Replaced by a mix of oil and alkali.
The liquid turned from murky yellow to thick paste.
Finally—solid blocks.
Lynn scooped one out. Dropped it in cold water.
Arya, bold as ever, dipped a finger. Rubbed it on her hand.
"Wow! So slippery!"
She cried out in delight.
"And... my hand's so clean!"
Lynn smiled. Scooped all the blocks onto a wooden board to dry.
"What's it called?"
Arya looked up.
"Soap."
Lynn answered.
"Something that cleans a person from head to toe."
He picked up a quill. Scribbled the detailed steps on parchment.
Step 1: Collect animal fat. Boil and melt.
Step 2: Collect wood ash. Add water, filter. Make lye.
Step 3: Slowly add lye to fat. Stir and heat until saponification.
Step 4: Add fragrance.
Step 5: Cool, mold, cut.
He handed the parchment to Steward Rob—who stared, dumbfounded.
"From today, all our brothels will provide this soap to clients. Free."
"Also, find skilled craftsmen. Mass-produce this. Follow the recipe."
"Give them the best treatment. Don't let them share the formula. Make them work in separate steps. No contact."
"Watch them closely. If anyone leaks a word..."
Lynn didn't finish.
Rob understood.
"I want every noblewoman in King's Landing to go mad for this little bar of soap."
Rob clutched the priceless "alchemical formula."
His hands trembled.
He could already see gold dragons flooding into Lynn's coffers.
Sansa stood in the distance.
Watched the man laughing amidst grease and smoke.
Her blue eyes held something she didn't recognize.
Infatuation.
───── ⊹ ⊹ ─────
📖 80+ chapters ahead — full story available
🔍 Search "patreon.com/DarkGolds
───── ⊹ ⊹ ─────