56.
Jory, Theon, Ser Rodrik, Benjen and Tyrion outfit themselves. Tyrion does so very, very slowly; badly hung-over, he looks like day-old death as he turns to Benjen:
TYRION If I get through this without squirting from one end or the other, it’ll be a miracle.
A few yards deeper into the courtyard, Ned sits on a bench, strapping a leather-and-steel vambrace to his forearm. He seems preoccupied and careworn as King Robert steps up behind him and gives him a friendly shake of the shoulders.
ROBERT You as good with a spear as you used to be?
Ned smiles, hiding his worries from the happy king.
NED No. But I’m still better than you.
Robert laughs. As one of the king’s squires kneels beside Robert and begins lacing padded half-greaves onto the king’s legs, Robert squeezes Ned’s shoulder.
ROBERT I know how much you love it up here. Coming south with me, serving as my Hand-- I know it’s not what you wanted. You’re a loyal friend. You hear me? A loyal friend. The last one I’ve got.
Ned stands. The two men clasp hands.
NED I hope I’ll serve you well.
ROBERT You will. And I’ll make sure you don’t look so fucking grim all the time.
Ned smiles and looks to the hunting party.
NED I hear the southern boars are twice as nasty as the ones up here.
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