Red Keep, Throne Room.
It was the day of the great council. Every noble and high official in King's Landing had packed the massive hall. Noble ladies and young girls lined the galleries overhead, craning for a better view.
They had all heard the rumors: a rich young duke's son from a faraway eastern kingdom called the Great Tang had arrived in the city—a man who loved throwing gold around like it was water. Today the king would receive this foreign envoy.
No one had ever heard of the Great Tang, so curiosity ran high. Everyone wanted to see the stranger for themselves.
King Robert soon entered and dropped heavily onto the Iron Throne. The entire hall fell silent.
Queen Cersei and the Hand of the King sat in high chairs on either side of him. The rest of the Small Council stood in their places nearby.
Robert glanced at Jon Arryn. The Hand gave a small nod and signaled one of the Kingsguard.
"By the king's command!" the guard's voice rang out. "Let the envoy from the Great Tang Empire approach—Lord Neo Presto, second son of Duke Ni Shiming Presto!"
Wearing his full ornate armor, Leo strode into the Throne Room.
He passed through the tall oak-and-bronze doors, descended the stone steps, and walked between rows of lords from the Crownlands and beyond. Every eye tracked him.
Especially the lion armor. Whispers rippled through the hall. Many glanced toward the base of the Iron Throne, where the Kingsguard stood—including Jaime Lannister.
Leo felt the pressure, but he kept his face calm. This is just like giving a presentation to the executives back on Earth, he told himself.
He stopped a few yards from the steps, bowed respectfully, and spoke in a clear, steady voice.
"Neo Presto, second son of Duke Ni Shiming Presto of the Great Tang Empire, far east of Yi Ti, greets His Grace Robert Baratheon the First—King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."
"Raise your head," Robert ordered.
Leo looked up at the Iron Throne.
Robert sat there in the antlered crown, thick beard full, body already running to fat. He looked a lot like the man from the show.
Beside him sat a hawk-nosed man in black robes with the Hand's pin—Jon Arryn.
Lower down stood the Small Council: Petyr Baelish (already met), young and handsome Renly Baratheon, the bald eunuch spymaster Varys, and frail-looking but still vigorous Grand Maester Pycelle.
Robert's other brother, Stannis, was nowhere in sight.
At the foot of the throne stood five white-cloaked Kingsguard. In the center was the legendary Barristan Selmy. One of the others was instantly recognizable: golden-haired Jaime Lannister, tall, handsome, and wearing that faint, arrogant smile.
For a long moment Leo studied the people on the dais, and they studied him right back.
The whole scene felt strangely unreal.
"Lord Neo?" Robert finally broke the silence.
Leo offered an apologetic smile. "Forgive me, Your Grace. On the road to King's Landing I heard so many stories about all of you. Seeing you in person… it's hard not to get a little lost in them."
Robert frowned. "Such as?"
"I heard about the Battle of the Trident," Leo said. "Your Grace's valor in that fight is the stuff of legends. Truly inspiring."
Robert let out a booming laugh, clearly pleased. But the laughter faded fast and he sighed, old pain flickering across his face. "That was a long time ago. Not worth mentioning."
He leaned forward slightly. "I've also heard stories about you. They say you're an adventurer who lost contact with your men in a storm at sea. Then bandits in the Kingswood killed your servants and stole your goods."
"But you hired sellswords and farmers, set a clever trap, wiped the bastards out, and took everything back. That about right?"
Leo glanced briefly at the bald man with his hands tucked in his sleeves—Varys—then smiled. "Yes, Your Grace. Exactly right."
Robert nodded. "So why have you come before me today?"
Leo straightened. This was the part that mattered.
"Your Grace, I was told that in two months it will be Prince Joffrey's nameday, and you will be holding a grand tourney to celebrate. I would very much like to compete in that tourney. I have also brought gifts—one for Your Grace and one for Prince Joffrey."
Robert's eyes lit up. "Gifts? What gifts?"
"They are waiting outside. With your permission, I will have my men bring them in."
Robert waved a hand.
Leo clapped once. Varyn entered carrying a long wooden case with both hands, looking extremely nervous. Behind him another man held a shorter box. Two more servants struggled together with a heavy chest.
When they reached Leo, Varyn—sweat beading on his forehead—lifted the long case with both hands.
Leo opened it.
Inside lay a magnificent longsword, its hilt and pommel glittering with inset emeralds.
The moment the blade came into view, nearly every eye in the hall narrowed with sudden, sharp interest.