Poison Shadow Longing

Paisell slowly raised his head, his bald head covered in spots and his two wide-open eyes below, making him look just like a boiled egg.

But Joffrey still managed to force a cold expression.

"How could you think such a thing, my good prince?" Paciel twirled the cup in his hand nervously.

"No, absolutely not. I've been the Imperial Advisor for forty years. Is it illness or...?"

Joffrey shoved a peeled egg into his mouth, silencing the rest of his sentence.

Then he put one finger in front of his mouth.

Paisell puffed out his cheeks and stiffened his neck, barely managing to swallow the milk, then raised a hand and waved to the waitress.

"You can go out now."

After glancing at the closed door, Joffrey began to mutter to himself.

I was originally planning to reveal some of my secrets, since this Pycelle is a genuine Lannister and someone I could definitely win over.

That's good, now only the two of them are left in the house.

What to do if you are being wiretapped.

"Relax, Grand Tutor," Joffrey hinted vaguely. "I know it wasn't you who arranged it, and I know who instructed you to do it."

"Think about who I am. Lord Tywin Lannister is my maternal grandfather."

Upon hearing this, Paisell's aged and decrepit appearance vanished instantly.

After blinking twice, he peeked forward.

"Your Majesty? She told you about this?"

Joffrey pulled out the chair the maid had just brought, sat down in front of him, and shook his head.

"no."

"But no matter how much my mother was involved, or what you plotted, it doesn't matter anymore."

"I want you to remember one thing: if anyone asks you again, don't try to pin it on Varys."

Paisell's eyes flickered.

"An eight-legged spider? Why?" His tone was full of disgust.

Joffrey curled the corners of his mouth into a smile.

"Because I want you to push it onto your little finger."

Seeing Paisell deep in thought, Joffrey pushed back the two front legs of his chair and reached for a glass of milk.

But after shaking it a couple of times, I put it aside.

It's not that I'm afraid of being poisoned.

He was afraid of getting an upset stomach by drinking something iced on an empty stomach so early in the morning.

After a while, it was unclear whether Paisell had figured out the reason, but the old man nodded thoughtfully.

"I understand, but who else would ask about this?"

"What I did wouldn't arouse any suspicion at all."

He looked quite proud.

But it immediately shrank back.

"Since Her Majesty the Queen did not tell you, how did Your Highness know about this?" Paciel asked cautiously.

"What's wrong?" Joffrey raised an eyebrow. "Is it wrong for me to deduce it myself?"

"As for the next one to ask, there isn't one now, but there will be one in the future."

"That is our new prime minister."

Joffrey stood up.

"By the way, that big book that Lord Erin asked you for before he died, the one with the long and boring name, let me take a look at it."

Before long, Joffrey returned with a stack of books in his arms and several bottles of herbs in his pocket, kicking open the door to the Bachelor's Tower with a bountiful harvest.

After all, this old man is a fence-sitter, so giving him a warning beforehand will help him side with us in the future.

Just as Joffrey was thinking about finding someone to help him return the things, the hound guarding the door happened to tilt its head slightly.

The two exchanged a brief glance.

So Joffrey casually stuffed all the things into his arms.

"Dog, find someone to take the book back to my room."

"You've brought so much again. Have you even looked at it?" Sandor sighed. "I'm your bodyguard, not your errand boy."

"Mind your own business." Joffrey squinted and kicked him in the shin. "I'll give you a raise later."

"I get angry whenever I talk about stories. I kindly taught you to read before, but you didn't appreciate it and insisted on being illiterate. You can't even understand a letter."

"Go to hell." Sandor wanted to bend down and rub it a couple of times, but he couldn't free his hands.

"Showing me this stuff is less appealing than having the White Walkers fight me."

Joffrey reached into his pocket, intending to take out the herbs as well, but after thinking about it, he put them back.

"Forget it, don't bother looking for anyone. You'll come with me yourself."

Just to be on the safe side, it wouldn't be good if it got switched out halfway through.

After all, he got all this stuff from Paisell to test the new extraction capabilities.

After a quick jog, the two returned to Joffrey's bedroom in the Mega Tower.

"Is there anything else?" Sandor placed the book on the oak table by the window and then habitually stood in the shadows by the wall.

Joffrey took the small bottles out of his pocket, weighed them in his hand, and then picked up a bottle containing a grayish-white powder, examining it carefully against the light.

"This is a treasured item that the old man kept hidden away."

"Just a little bit is enough to make someone have diarrhea all day; if it's too much, their intestines might fall out."

Sandor's scarred half-face twitched slightly: "What are you trying to do now?"

He took two steps back slightly.

"Of course, it's for studying." Joffrey tore off a piece of paper, carefully poured out a little, and then locked the rest in his drawer.

"Dog, do me a favor later."

No one answered.

Joffrey turned around and saw Sandor already pressed against the door.

"Let me tell you, I will not let you test drugs. Our relationship is not at that stage yet." He crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking very alert.

"Dog! You've been with me for six years, what have you ever taken me for!" Joffrey was heartbroken.

"A demon even worse than your short uncle," the Hound bared its teeth. "Otherwise, why would you bother with all this stuff?"

"Find people to test the drug."

As soon as he finished speaking, Sandor opened the door and peeked out halfway.

Joffrey quickly pulled him back.

"Of course I'm not asking you to try it; I'm asking you to help me observe the symptoms."

"After all, it's not convenient for me to be in the public eye all the time."

After the explanation was clear, Sandor returned, still somewhat doubtful.

Then, with great interest, he huddled together with Joffrey and began discussing who to target.

"What do you think of Boros? He's a complete coward. Your father must have been blind to let him wear the white robe."

"Watch your words! But I think Genos is more suitable. He's a complete opportunist. Once I'm in power, I'll get rid of him immediately."

Just as the two were deciding who would be the unlucky one, there was a knock on the door.

"Your Highness, His Majesty the King requests your presence in the council chamber."

Robert is looking for him? Joffrey glanced out the window. What could be going on so early in the morning?

"understood."

Joffrey shoved the medicine packet into Sandor's hand: "Go find whoever you don't like, just let me know when you get back."

"Don't expose me even if you get caught."

The hound grinned lewdly. "Don't worry, I'm good at this."

After changing into a more formal velvet coat, Joffrey followed his attendants into the council chamber.

Even in the morning, the hall was lit up with lights, illuminating the room brightly.

Joffrey quickly scanned the room and found that almost all the key ministers were present.

Robert sat at the head of the long table, propping his chin up with one hand, looking very impatient.

"Father." Joffrey bowed, displaying the proper demeanor of a twelve-year-old prince.

Then he walked to the empty seat by the table and stood there.

Robert clicked his tongue and beckoned to him: "Come here, come here."

As soon as Joffrey approached, Robert shoved him into the chair next to him.

This is the Prime Minister's position.

"Sit here," Robert said gruffly. "Your name day is coming soon, and I'm going to throw you a grand tournament so that the Seven Kingdoms can see what the heir of House Baratheon looks like."

He took a big gulp of wine, wiped his mouth, and said, "It's a pity old Jon died so young; he won't get to enjoy this blessing."

"However, it's not good for the prime minister's position to be vacant; I need to find someone to fill it."

Robert turned his head and stared intently into Joffrey's eyes.

"How about letting your grandfather take the role?"