Red Keep, the Hand's Tower.
A man with graying temples sat at his desk, idly turning a gold coin between his fingers while he listened to the report. When it finished, he gave a single nod.
"I understand. Send word to that foreign lord. He may have his audience with the king the morning after tomorrow."
"Yes, Lord Hand."
The man was Jon Arryn—Lord of the Eyrie, Warden of the East, and Hand of the King. He had helped Robert Baratheon, Eddard Stark, and the other great houses win the rebellion that put Robert on the Iron Throne. Now he ran the realm while the king hunted, drank, and chased women.
Jon watched his man leave, then stood and crossed the Myrish carpet to the window. Below him, King's Landing sprawled under the afternoon sun. He kept turning the heavy, beautifully struck coin—Leo's World of Warcraft gold.
"A second son of a duke from an ancient empire far to the east… lands bigger than any kingdom in Westeros," he murmured. "What exactly have you brought to our shores, stranger?"
He slipped the coin into his pocket, straightened his shoulders, and returned to his desk. As he picked up the next stack of papers, he called to the guard outside the door.
"Find the king. Tell him I have important matters to discuss. I'll see him after supper."
"Yes, Lord Hand."
The guard hurried off. Jon knew "find the king" could mean anything—Robert might be out hunting, in some brothel, or passed out in a farm girl's bed. That was the problem these days.
…
That evening the door swung open.
"You wanted me?"
Robert Baratheon stepped in, already thicker around the middle than he had been a few years ago. The smell of wine and cheap perfume rolled off him. Jon wrinkled his nose and set down his knife and fork.
"I expected to find you drunk in your chambers. I'm almost impressed you came." He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "You should lose some weight."
Robert shrugged, dropped into the chair across from him, and poured himself a cup of wine. "Say what you need to say. I'm in a hurry."
Jon didn't waste time. "You've heard about the visitor from an ancient empire east of Yi Ti. The duke's second son. He wants to present himself and gifts from his father and his country. I scheduled the audience for the morning court the day after tomorrow."
Robert drained the cup in one gulp. "Is there even a country east of Yi Ti? I thought it was nothing but savages and devils." He looked bored. "That's it?"
Jon's voice sharpened. "That's it? You are King of the Seven Kingdoms. A foreign envoy asking for an audience is not a small thing. Or is it less important than whichever whore you were planning to see tonight?"
He leaned forward. "The stories say this Neo Presto crossed the sea with thousands of soldiers, warships, and more treasure than you can imagine. A storm wrecked his fleet. If it hadn't, what do you think he would have done when he landed?"
"And if a mere second son can bring that kind of force across the Narrow Sea, how large is the army and navy his father commands back in the Great Tang Empire?"
"Think about it, Robert. The Andals and the Rhoynar crossed the sea and changed Westeros forever. You truly believe this is nothing?"
Robert's face finally lost its lazy smirk. Jon pressed the advantage.
"I'm only laying out the worst case. But what if it's true? I want you clear-headed and ready for this audience."
He pulled the heavy gold coin from his pocket and tossed it across the table. "Look at that. One of the coins he brought. The mint masters examined it—weight, purity, craftsmanship, everything is superior to our dragons. And your so-called fraud spent roughly a hundred of them in the city today."
Jon leaned in, voice dry. "That is the richest fraud I have ever seen."
He let the word hang a moment, then added, "Also, he rode into the city wearing ornate lion armor. Another foreign 'Lannister,' it seems."
The meaning was clear: whatever house stood behind this boy was richer than any in Westeros.
Robert turned the coin over in his thick fingers. The weight, the perfect strike, the strange but flawless detail—it was no common forgery.
He looked up, sober now. "Fine. I'll treat it seriously."
"Good," Jon said. "Morning court, day after tomorrow. Stay in the Red Keep tomorrow and clear your head. You represent the honor of the Seven Kingdoms. No one needs to see their king as a drunk."
Robert snorted, stood, and headed for the door. As soon as he was in the hallway he thought, If I have to be sober the day after tomorrow, I'd better drink twice as hard tonight.