66. Renly's Banquet

She whispered to James, "Be careful with me. This isn't the Red Keep. It'll cause trouble if we're seen."

Ser James just shrugged, a casual grin on his handsome face.

Renly Baratheon, the host of the banquet, tapped a spoon against his glass. The sound rang through the air.

Hearing the noise, the lords and ladies stopped their conversations and turned to look at Renly. The music, singing, and laughter slowly faded, leaving only the king's loud chuckling. His face was red from drinking, and he waved his arms as he laughed.

Realizing he was the only one still making noise, King Robert stopped laughing and turned toward the person who interrupted him.

"Hey, Renly, what's the rush? Can't you see I'm enjoying a drink with these fine folks?" he shouted, his voice echoing through the garden.

Renly, used to his brother's antics, smiled awkwardly. "Alright, dear brother, why don't you take a seat and rest for a bit? I've got something to show everyone!"

Ser Barristan Selmy, the Captain of the Kingsguard, and Ser Meryn Trant helped the increasingly overweight king back to his seat on the high platform.

King Robert grumbled but sat down, knowing this was Renly's banquet and wanting to be respectful. After the crowd quieted, Renly stepped into the middle of the garden and clapped his hands. Servants appeared, carrying a table filled with wooden boxes. Inside the boxes were blocks of pure white soap.

"What is that?"

"Soap? Is that what Lord Renly was so excited about?"

"I've never seen anything like it…"

The nobles and ladies whispered amongst themselves, curious about the strange item.

Meanwhile, servants helped King Robert wash his hands and face, and he looked at Renly with growing interest. "Alright, Renly, what's this 'good thing' you've got for us?"

Renly sighed at his brother's impatience. "Can't you wait a moment, dear brother?"

"Stop stalling, Renly! Tell us already!" Robert shouted, paying no mind to his younger brother's frustration.

Renly, not daring to defy the king, held up a box. "This is a special soap from the far East. It can wash your hands, face, and even your body. It cleans better than anything we have, and after using it, your skin feels dry and smells like flowers. It's truly luxurious."

He continued, "They say only the royal family and nobles in that distant land use it!"

The word "soap" was unfamiliar to most of the nobles, and they grew even more curious.

"Sounds interesting, but how do we use it?" asked Petyr Baelish, also known as Littlefinger. His sharp eyes rested on the soap, a faint smile playing on his face.

Not far away, Varys, the master of whispers, stroked his bald head and chuckled. "If Lord Renly likes it, it must be something special."

the old Hand of the King, sat quietly with his wife, Lysa Tully, and their young son, Robin. Weary from his age and illness, Jon squinted to see better and muttered, "Renly always enjoys these fancy things. If only he put the same effort into his duties, my work would be much easier."

Lysa smiled at her husband's remark but kept her eyes on Petyr Baelish, her former lover. Every time she saw him, her resentment toward her father, Hoster Tully, resurfaced. He had torn her away from Baelish, destroyed their unborn child, and married her off to the much older Jon Arryn to secure an alliance.

If not for her father, she would've had a child with Baelish by now and lived happily. Lysa had never forgiven her father and hadn't returned to Riverrun since her marriage. She even vowed to never go back, not even if her father died.

But fate had brought her back into Baelish's life when she moved to King's Landing with her husband. Baelish was now the Master of Coin, and their old love rekindled. Recently, Baelish had started whispering in her ear that Jon Arryn was old and sick, and if he died soon, they could finally be together.

Unable to resist, Lysa often thought about Baelish's words, especially when lying next to her ailing husband.

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