Chapter 124: Trial

As the first light of dawn cast its rays upon King's Landing, Nathalie's unease persisted, her face pale and her gaze unfocused.

"Sam, I'm scared…" she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

"Don't worry. This has nothing to do with you," Samwell reassured her, gently holding her icy hand.

"But… Ser Gerold just swore allegiance to me, and then… this happened," she said, her voice shaking.

"That was his choice; it doesn't concern you. As his liege, you'll only need to apologize to House Redwyne and express your condolences. Beyond that, it's out of your hands."

"And… and if House Redwyne doesn't accept my apology?"

"Then they're just being unreasonable. There's no law in the realm that holds the liege lord accountable for the crimes of their vassals."

Nathalie nodded, her face a shade less pale. Samwell gestured to the untouched food on her plate.

"Try to eat something. We'll need our strength for the inquiry."

Obediently, Nathalie took a bite of her bread, chewing slowly, then sighed, "So… they both died because of me, didn't they?"

He couldn't deny that she was right.

"Don't overthink it." Samwell patted her gently on the head. "None of this is your fault. Besides, plenty of knights have given their lives fighting for a lady's favor throughout history. Look at it this way: doesn't it just prove how irresistible you are?"

"But I don't want that…" Nathalie pouted, her cheeks flushed with frustration. She clenched her fists. "Next time, I'll refuse anyone who wants to fight over me. No more tokens for them! I should've just turned them down from the start!"

Samwell chuckled. "Good idea. That'll keep things simpler. Now eat up; we'll need to be ready soon."

Nathalie nodded, then picked at her breakfast, barely managing half a slice of bread, an egg, and a small glass of milk before pushing the plate away.

Breakfast finished, Samwell led Nathalie through the Red Keep's maze of corridors toward Maegor's Holdfast.

With a crime of such gravity in the heart of the Red Keep, involving two noblemen no less, an official hearing was inevitable to lay out the facts and assign responsibility.

The hearing would take place in the throne room.

As Samwell entered the grand hall, the heavy bronze doors opened by the gold-cloaked guards, he felt a chill at the sight of the Iron Throne at the far end of the room. This was his first time in the very center of power in Westeros.

A thick red carpet stretched from the door to the raised dais, upon which stood the Iron Throne. The towering seat, shaped from twisted swords, was cold and menacing.

The closer he got, the more he felt the chair's aura of danger and authority. Legend had it that this throne was forged by Aegon the Conqueror's dragon, Balerion the Black Dread, who melted down the blades of Aegon's vanquished foes.

And, true to its grim origins, the throne wasn't meant to be comfortable. Kings like Maegor the Cruel had even died upon it, slain by the very blades they sat upon.

"Ser Samwell, Lady Nathalie!"

Margaery Tyrell greeted them, momentarily blocking Samwell's view of the throne. Clad in a sleek black gown adorned with crimson teardrop-shaped crystals, her chestnut curls swept up elegantly, she looked both poised and solemn.

"I'm so sorry this happened," she said, embracing Nathalie, and pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek.

"Thank you, Lady Margaery." Nathalie managed a small, grateful smile.

Margaery took Nathalie's arm, guiding her further into the hall as she offered her reassurances. "Don't worry. The inquiry is presided over by Lord Renly, our Master of Laws. My brother Loras said that Renly believes the case to be fairly clear-cut. Ser Gerold Dayne killed Hobber Redwyne in the godswood, and when he tried to escape, he fell from the castle wall. Justice has already been served."

Nathalie nodded, visibly reassured by Margaery's words.

Samwell, too, allowed himself a slight smile.

The hall had already filled with nobles from the previous day's joust, each awaiting the hearing's start.

Near the front stood Horas Redwyne, arm bound in a sling and a fierce glare fixed on the Dornish nobles across from him. The Redwyne bannermen around him echoed his silent wrath.

On the Dornish side, Princess Arianne Martell stood quietly, her head slightly bowed, a display of restraint in the face of the Redwynes' simmering rage.

Yet conspicuously absent was Prince Oberyn Martell. Samwell figured he might be at the Great Sept of Baelor again. Somehow, he couldn't picture the Red Viper praying.

As Nathalie walked in, all eyes turned to her, many carrying complex expressions. It was hard not to see her as the unwitting cause behind this tragedy—after all, one of the men involved had sworn his loyalty to her.

Luckily, with Samwell and Margaery flanking her, Horas held back his temper. Nathalie kept her gaze down, clearly uncomfortable with the weight of everyone's stares.

When they settled, she realized she was standing amidst the Reach nobles. A brief hesitation showed on her face, as though she were tempted to move to the Dornish side, yet Samwell and Margaery remained beside her, subtly but firmly guiding her to stay.

They were, after all, sending a quiet but powerful message about House Dayne's shifting allegiances.

Seeing her side with the Reach left the Dornish simmering but resigned to their frustration.

As they waited, the Small Council members finally arrived, standing in front of the dais beside the Iron Throne.

Presiding was Lord Renly Baratheon, Master of Laws, clad in deep green velvet with the crowned stag of House Baratheon emblazoned over his heart.

He scanned the gathered nobles and spoke with an even tone.

"Ladies and lords, we are gathered here to review the tragic death of Ser Hobber Redwyne of the Arbor. Ser Janos Slynt."

Janos Slynt, commander of the City Watch, stepped forward and bowed. "Yes, Lord Renly."

Renly gave a slight nod. "Report what your guards found."

"Certainly, my lord. Around ten o'clock last night, one of my patrols heard the cry of a hawk coming from the godswood—"

"A hawk?" Varys, the spymaster, interjected softly. "Commander Slynt, hawks don't fly at night. Are you sure it was a hawk?"

"Um…" Janos faltered, thinking. "Maybe it was an owl?"

Samwell fought a smirk, realizing he'd left a minor clue. Still, he wasn't too worried. Varys might be a clever spymaster, but even he couldn't connect this tenuous detail back to him.

True to form, Varys simply nodded, gesturing for Janos to continue.

"The guards went to investigate and encountered Ser Gerold Dayne leaving the godswood. He looked shaken and had blood on him. When questioned, he claimed he'd stumbled and injured himself, then hurried off.

"Suspicious, the guards continued their search and discovered Ser Hobber Redwyne dead beneath an oak tree. I ordered a full lockdown of the castle and had Ser Gerold searched for. He was indeed trying to escape from the White Sword Tower but fell to his death. Seven have already punished the guilty," Janos finished grimly.

"He fell to his death?" Renly raised a brow.

"Seems so, my lord. He attempted to descend using a rope but appears to have slipped."

Grand Maester Pycelle added, "Upon examining Ser Gerold's body, we found several scratches consistent with hawk talons. Whether he was attacked in the godswood or on the wall remains unclear. If it's the latter, his death may not have been an accident."

"So there really was a hawk?" Varys murmured, half to himself.

"It would appear so." Renly shrugged, adding, "Perhaps the hawk was the Seven's messenger."

"Indeed, my lord," Janos agreed solemnly. "Given his crime, it makes sense that the gods intervened."

Samwell smiled discreetly, amused by their creative explanations.

For most present, the case seemed straightforward. The hawk's appearance fit well enough within the realm of divine justice.

"Good." Renly summarized, "This case is fairly clear. After losing a joust, Ser Gerold Dayne and Ser Hobber Redwyne crossed paths in the godswood, resulting in Ser Gerold's killing Ser Hobber. His subsequent fall was either an act of guilt or divine intervention. Does anyone have anything further to add?"

At this, Horas Redwyne took a step forward, his eyes gleaming with fierce intent.

"Lord Renly, is it possible that Ser Gerold acted under someone else's orders?"

Beside Samwell, Nathalie tensed, her hands twisting in her cloak. Samwell gave her a steadying look, silently encouraging her to keep her composure.

Easy, Nathalie. If I'm calm, you should be too.

Renly's gaze sharpened. "Do you have anyone in mind, Ser Horas?"

Horas pointed accusingly toward Arianne Martell, voice seething with anger.

"I suspect the Dornish were involved!"

(End of Chapter)