Game of Thrones: Joffrey the Chosen

"You don't believe me?"

Joffrey's voice was tinged with grievance.

Arya stood on one leg on the edge of the spiral staircase, with the other leg raised high.

She waved her arms frantically like a windmill, struggling to maintain her precarious balance.

"I believe you, I believe you're a great person who always keeps his word, okay?" Arya quickly switched feet.

Taking advantage of the lull, she stuck her tongue out at Joffrey and made an exaggerated face: "Who would have thought you would actually get the King to persuade my father?"

The bald man standing nearby immediately shouted.

"Don't talk!" His accent was extremely heavy, with a regional accent from across the Narrow Sea.

"You're a tree now. Can trees talk?" The bald man held up a finger and slowly and authoritatively shook it. "You're punished to stand there for another ten minutes."

Arya's cheeks puffed up, looking like two large walnuts had been stuffed inside.

But she really stopped making a sound, only snorting heavily through her nostrils, and continued to maintain her ridiculous posture.

"Relax, Coach," Joffrey said gently. "She's just a little girl."

The bald man with a hooked nose glared at Joffrey.

"I don't care if he's a man or a woman." He stated it as if stating an ironclad rule. "I'm her dance teacher, and here, everything is up to me."

"Syrio Forreil served as the chief swordsman for the Sea King of Braavos for nine years, so he knows how to teach these things."

"Little Prince, stop talking."

Joffrey obediently raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

Then he slowly retreated to the wall and watched quietly.

This "water dancer" was indeed a brilliant choice.

The light and unpredictable swordsmanship of Essos was far more suited to Arya's physique and temperament than the knightly skills of Westeros.

But how did this person suddenly appear?

This question lingered in Joffrey's mind.

He had long ago asked people to inquire around King's Landing, hoping to recruit this water dancer, but in the end he came up empty-handed.

As a result, Eddard had only been in King's Landing for a few days when he quietly invited people to the Prime Minister's Tower.

However, this is for the best.

Joffrey glanced at the large nose beneath the bald head.

Cyrio Forrell is at least far more controllable than some Faceless Man who calls himself "someone".

Jaqen H'ghar is far too dangerous; he's probably currently huddled in some dark cell beneath the Red Keep.

He'll have to find a good opportunity to search for them properly and then personally get them out.

We absolutely cannot let others benefit from this.

Seeing Arya sway and struggle for a few more minutes, Joffrey bent down and picked up the long cloth bag that was placed against the wall.

As he stepped onto the spiral staircase and passed the girl, he deliberately flicked his wrist, causing a corner of his cloth bag to loosen.

A section of the sword hilt, covered in dark leather, was visible.

"This is for you." Joffrey winked at her.

Arya's eyes widened instantly: "A sword!"

"But I already have..."

"No talking!"

The bald, big-nosed coach started baring his teeth and yelling again, "Ten more minutes!"

A triumphant smirk flashed across Joffrey's face.

Arya quickly covered her mouth.

Upon arriving at his study on the top floor of the Prime Minister's Tower, Joffrey nodded slightly to the Northern guard standing at the door.

The sunlight streaming through the window fell on Ed's angular face.

The newly appointed prime minister sat behind a large desk, looking distressed, pinching his nose as he read a massive book in front of him.

That book was so thick it could be used as a shield.

Moreover, the name is very long, called Seven Kingdoms Family Genealogy and Lord Aba Aba.

Although Joffrey could recite the key passages by heart, namely the parts about hair color genetics that he had personally altered.

But that doesn't stop him from still not remembering the book's complicated full name.

"Such a thick book?" Joffrey strolled to the table, his tone a mixture of surprise and teasing. "It seems Lord Ed has a rather easy job, with plenty of free time to delve into scholarship."

Ed looked up, and the bloodshot veins in his eyes were clearly visible.

"Your Highness, please don't tease me. The 'serious matters' His Majesty the King has assigned me are already giving me a headache."

"I'm afraid," Joffrey said, unwrapping the cloth bundle, "there's something even more troubling for you, sir."

"This is a gift that my father asked me to give to Arya."

This was the very short sword that Robert and he had chosen a few days earlier.

The sword blade has been re-polished, and the scabbard has been replaced.

"Father said: The little girl has trained hard and deserves a reward of a decent fellow," Joffrey repeated in Robert's voice.

Ed's lips twitched.

Joffrey could even hear the faint sound of him grinding his teeth.

But the upright duke ultimately swallowed his profanity in front of the children.

He managed to squeeze out a few words through gritted teeth.

"Your Majesty's efforts are truly appreciated."

Joffrey pretended not to notice the frustration and helplessness in his words.

He put down his sword, straightened his back, and adopted a slightly more formal expression.

"At the same time, on behalf of the Royal Family, I would like to extend my sincerest greetings to you."

"My father will be hosting a banquet at Maegor Tower tonight to celebrate the good news of Bran Stark's awakening."

"Lord Ed, this is truly exciting news." The last sentence was spoken by Joffrey in his personal capacity.

"May the gods protect us." Ed rubbed his face vigorously. "Thank you for coming all this way, Your Highness."

"I will be there on time."

Joffrey nodded, but did not leave immediately.

His gaze naturally fell on the open, massive book.

"Ronald Erin and Celeste Tully," Joffrey read softly from the page, "had a son and a daughter... large, with good appetites, and blond."

His head slowly lowered.

"Joanna Arryn and Giles Tully had a son who died young, and he had a full head of red hair..."

After watching for a while, Joffrey's smile became even more innocent and harmless: "Lord Ed, it seems I underestimated you before."

"Not everyone can have the patience to read such a boring book."

Ed closed the book with a calm expression: "After all, you've just taken over Lord Jon's position, so it's always good to know more about the past."

"That's true." Joffrey nodded understandingly. "Then why don't you just ask the people around him?"

Ed raised his eyes alertly, but seeing that Joffrey just looked relaxed, he relaxed a little.

"Didn't Lady Lysa take everyone back to the Eyrie?"

"How could that be?" Joffrey said matter-of-factly.

"Lord Jon has been in King's Landing for so many years, there must be some who have taken root in the city and are unwilling to leave."

"At least Sir Hugh didn't leave."

Ed's gaze sharpened: "Sir Hugh?"

Joffrey shrugged. "He's Lord Jon's squire, a few years older than me. He used to come visit me a lot back in the Red Keep."

"But all they want is for me to say a few good words for him in front of Lord Jon," Joffrey chuckled.

"After all, he really wanted to be a knight."

"Of course I didn't agree. He's far from good enough."

However, Joffrey changed the subject again, his tone becoming somewhat wistful.

"However, before we head north, it will be time to find you in Winterfell."

"In memory of Lord Jon, the King made an exception and knighted him."

Ed tapped the table lightly with his hand: "Then why was he the only one who stayed in King's Landing?"

"He borrowed a lot of money to buy a set of armor on credit, just waiting to participate in that damn competition."

"What else can we do in this stinky place?" Joffrey said casually.

He stopped abruptly at this point.

Ed also looked up, and the two began to stare at each other.

Then they all burst into laughter.

"It was His Majesty who organized this martial arts tournament for the two of us, a tournament between the Prime Minister and the Prince."