Deer or Lion

After sitting for two hours, Joffrey finally concluded what was the first royal council he had ever attended.

There is only one evaluation.

How boring.

Under the feudal system, trivial matters were handled by the local lords.

If they can't handle something, they'll seek help from the relevant duke.

Only matters of great importance, such as war, famine, or plague, would be brought to the king's attention.

Therefore, in the vast Westeros, the High Lord can only govern the lands directly under the King's Landing and the population of over 500,000 in King's Landing.

The reports came in either about a fight breaking out in a flea colony, resulting in two deaths, or about a ship that hadn't stopped properly and had run aground in the harbor.

Even if something serious happens, it's usually just a conflict between two minor nobles, with the loser running to the Iron Throne crying and complaining.

Their ultimate goal is always to get money.

After rambling on for quite a while, Robert finally managed to get rid of everyone present.

Finally, he said to Joffrey with a smile.

"Now you know why I hate these things."

After having lunch with Robert, Joffrey returned to Mega Tower, yawning, to continue his ability testing program.

The hound was already waiting at his door, but its expression was very strange.

"Is the matter settled?" Joffrey asked.

The hound nodded, then shook its head.

"Someone's looking for you." He then subtly winked at Joffrey.

Joffrey scratched his head and thought for a moment.

I pushed the door open and took a look.

as predicted.

His mother is inside.

Cersei was sitting by the window, gazing at the distant street with her face turned to the side.

She rested her head on one hand, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, gleaming like molten gold in the sunlight.

"Damn old man, he's really fast."

Joffrey pursed his lips and made an excuse to slip away early during the meeting.

He guessed then that the old man had gone to his mother to complain.

I just didn't expect it to come so suddenly.

"Joseph, what foolish thing have you done!" Cersei turned her head, her fierce eyes like those of an enraged lioness, and growled in a low voice.

"It took me a lot of effort to persuade that drunkard to appoint him as prime minister when your grandfather comes."

"Why are you bringing up that old wolf?"

Joffrey gently closed the door, went around behind her, and squeezed her shoulder.

"Mother, please don't panic, let me explain."

"Don't give me that crap." Cersei twisted her body. "First you were keeping vigil with that drunkard, then you were going to ask the Grand Maester about herbs. I really don't understand what you've been up to lately."

"Mother, I am doing this for the sake of the Lannisters' situation in King's Landing."

Joffrey considered his options for a moment, then chose a safer approach: "Don't you find it strange that Father suddenly agreed to this?"

Cersei frowned. "What are you trying to say?"

Joffrey leaned down and lowered his voice: "Father has never liked Grandfather, but today he asked for his opinion in front of everyone. This is not like him at all."

"I think my father wanted to take this opportunity to test how many people in the court actually supported the Lannisters."

"How could that drunkard possibly think of so much?" Cersei said dismissively, but her voice was no longer as sharp as before.

“He never imagined that someone would give him advice.” Joffrey shook his head. “Octopus, Littlefinger, and my two uncles are watching our every move.”

"If Grandpa really becomes Prime Minister, we'll immediately become the target of everyone's criticism!"

Cersei wanted to retort, but her lips only moved and no sound came out.

"So we need a shield," Joffrey continued. "Edward Stark is the best choice."

"This person is rigid by nature. Having him stand in the spotlight can shield us from most of the open and covert attacks."

Joffrey lowered his voice again: "Moreover, such a person has obvious weaknesses; his actions are predictable, and he values ​​family and honor."

"As long as we don't cross his bottom line, we will actually become a stabilizing factor, and we can guide him when necessary."

Cersei remained silent.

Then he stood up and walked to the window.

"Then why did you provoke Paisell?" Her back to Joffrey, gazing at the streets of King's Landing, her tone now calm, "And why did you inquire about the Tears of Rhys?"

Joffrey sighed.

"I'm investigating Jon Arryn's death," he said frankly. "His illness came on so strangely that someone will definitely be asking about it."

"Mother, what you're doing isn't safe. If someone finds out, they'll use it against you."

Cersei whirled around, her eyes wide. "What do you mean... Paisell! That old bastard!"

Joffrey poured a glass of golden wine from Greenwood and handed it to Cersei: "This isn't something he said on his own initiative; it's what I deduced."

Then he sat down and asked very sincerely, "Mother, could you please tell me how much you were involved in this matter?"

"Why are you deliberately preventing the Grand Maester from treating him? Is Lord Jon Snow threatening us?"

Cersei scrutinized him carefully with her emerald green eyes, and after a long while, she slowly spoke, her tone carrying a complex emotion.

"You've grown up, Joe. Much faster than I imagined."

She returned to Joffrey's side, her demeanor regaining its usual languidness and arrogance, but a hint of unease lingered deep in her eyes.

"Don't pry any further into Jon's affairs," she finally said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Some quagmires, once you step in, are impossible to get out."

Cersei reached out and gently stroked Joffrey's blond hair.

"Remember, you are the future king, and everything I do is so that you can eventually sit securely on the Iron Throne."

"I am willing to sacrifice everything for this."

"Even... even your uncle, in my heart, is not even one ten-thousandth as good as you."

Joffrey lowered his head.

"Yes."

"Mother."

Cersei gave him one last look, her gaze deep and unfathomable.

He turned and drifted away.

The door closed.

Joffrey sat quietly in his chair for a while.

Finally, he slowly exhaled.

Being caught in the middle is really tough.

His dad loves him.

His mother loves him.

But the goal is to mend the rift between these two, like having Mom and Dad reconcile.

It's harder than getting them to kiss a White Walker's ass.

After silently drinking two glasses, Joffrey sorted out his thoughts.

The confrontation went more smoothly than he had anticipated. Although Cersei was assertive, she accepted his explanation and tacitly approved of his plans for Eddard Stark.

However, no in-depth discussion was conducted in order to coordinate with each other in the subsequent actions.

The reason for this is his age.

He is only twelve years old now.

After pondering for a while, Joffrey put these trivial matters aside for the time being.

He shouted loudly.

"Dog! Come in!"

Sandor slowly walked into the house, but awkwardly put his hands behind his back and looked at the corner of the wall.

Seeing this unusual behavior, Joffrey deliberately put on a stern face: "You were at the door just now, you heard everything?"

"No, no," the hound shook its head.

That means you heard it.

Thank goodness.

The three people knew what had just happened, so they could not constitute grounds for eavesdropping.

Who knows where the eunuch's little bird might be nestled, searching for secrets everywhere.

Joffrey stopped pursuing the matter and returned to the original topic he and the Hound had discussed.

He wasted a whole day, and his abilities still hadn't been tested.

"How's the medicine working?"