Chapter 86 — Final Authority of Interpretation
Odin stepped into the heart of power of the Seven Kingdoms, and in an instant, every gaze in the hall converged upon him.
He was dressed in finery—lavish enough to harmonize perfectly with the gilded splendor of the throne room.
Though [Presence Lv.3] was not deliberately activated, he nonetheless walked calmly through this sanctum of authority, unhurried and composed.
At that moment, the young king seated upon the Iron Throne frowned. Joffrey Baratheon squinted at Odin for a few seconds, then suddenly pointed at him.
"Wait… you're that… that—what was it again?"
Odin very nearly rolled his eyes.
They'd chatted so happily before. Promises of knighthood, lands, titles—
and now the king couldn't even remember his name?
Still, his expression did not change. He inclined his head slightly, respectful without servility, and answered in a clear, steady voice:
"Odin, Your Grace."
"I'm honored that you remember me at all."
"Oh! Right—Odin!"
Joffrey finally looked enlightened. Just as he was about to ask something further—likely about the fighting pits—a cold voice cut in first.
Tywin Lannister spoke.
"Your Grace, the Small Council is currently adjudicating the case of Captain Swyft Rosby's death."
"Ser Addam Marbrand has testified that Ser Jaime Lannister acted only after Rosby accepted bribes, abused his office, and violently resisted lawful authority."
"Lord Gyles Rosby disputes this account."
He turned his gaze fully upon Odin.
"You were the commoner illegally detained by Captain Rosby. State what you saw and heard—truthfully."
The words were brief, but the pressure behind them was unmistakable.
Give an answer that protects House Lannister.
Every eye in the hall locked onto Odin once more.
So that's it…
Odin glanced toward the sickly old lord standing nearby and finally understood why Tywin had summoned him.
He had not been present when Jaime struck Rosby down—but he had heard everything afterward, and he had prepared accordingly.
"Your Grace. My lords."
Odin lifted his head, his gaze calm as it swept across the chamber.
"My knowledge of the late Captain Swyft Rosby comes solely from what I personally witnessed."
"If my account should offend certain ears, then that discomfort stems only from the fact that the truth itself is enough to stain any upright conscience."
Before explaining anything, he framed his testimony.
It was a declaration of loyalty to Tywin—and a muzzle for Lord Gyles, preemptively cutting off hysterical obstruction.
Then Odin continued.
"On that day, Captain Rosby led men into the Blood Cellar under the pretense of investigation."
"In truth, he was using his badge as a tool for extortion."
"He falsely accused my companion and me of being fugitives. Worse still, in broad daylight, he fraternized openly with criminals implicated in slave trading, murder, and fraud—addressing them as brothers."
"His words and conduct utterly betrayed the oath of the Gold Cloaks to uphold the law and maintain order."
"This was not mere dereliction of duty."
"It was outright collusion."
His tone was measured, his logic clean—but every fact had been sharpened, polished, and pushed just far enough to cut.
"Bullshit!!!"
The shrill outburst shattered the air.
Lord Gyles Rosby's face twisted with rage and desperation, veins bulging at his temples as his composure finally collapsed.
He immediately pointed at Odin and shouted:
"My House of Rosby is filthy rich! How could Swyft possibly—!"
"Please do not interrupt the witness, my lord."
The Minister of Laws, Kevan Lannister, spoke in time, pressing him down with a raised hand.
Though Kevan was Tywin's younger brother and had governed the Westerlands at his side for decades, he was, by nature, a man who respected order and procedure.
Even if Swyft Rosby had truly committed crimes, the question of whether Jaime Lannister had the right to kill him outright was not something Kevan could simply wave away.
With that in mind, he fixed his gaze on Odin and asked gravely:
"What we need to know is this—were you present when Ser Jaime Lannister struck down Swyft Rosby?"
Disappointment flickered across several faces as Odin shook his head.
"I'm sorry, my lord. I was not present at the scene."
Kevan frowned.
If this witness had not been there, then the only remaining testimony was that of Addam Marbrand, and that alone was clearly insufficient to convince Lord Rosby.
At that moment, Odin spoke again.
"Your Grace. My lords."
"Whether Ser Jaime Lannister is guilty depends, to a great extent, on one question."
"Did the Kingsguard possess the authority to intervene directly—and even use force—in the internal affairs of the City Watch?"
"That…" he paused slightly, "…touches upon the legal traditions of the realm."
The instant those words left his mouth, not only did Joffrey Baratheon look even more confused, but several members of the Small Council turned to stare at Odin in surprise.
A commoner—opening his mouth with legal tradition?
Yet Odin remained perfectly calm, ignoring the astonished looks as he continued, sounding like a maester debating at the Citadel.
"According to the White Book, in the year 233 AC, Ser Duncan the Tall of the Kingsguard encountered a royal tax collector abusing his authority—torturing smallfolk and extorting coin."
"After ordering him to stop and being ignored, Ser Duncan subdued the man by force and delivered him for judgment."
"King Aegon V Targaryen later ruled that Ser Duncan's actions constituted 'a necessary act to uphold the justice of the Iron Throne,' and did not consider it an overreach of authority."
He had chosen his precedent carefully—Ser Duncan the Tall, a moral icon and a beloved folk hero of Westeros.
The hall fell into silence.
At last, Kevan spoke again, measured and cautious:
"But that case involved subduing the offender, not killing him. And furthermore… whether Aegon V's ruling had firm legal codification remains unclear."
"It did, my lord. It did."
Odin smiled, confidence unshaken.
"That incident sparked considerable debate among the maesters of the time. The eventual consensus was this: the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard sits upon the Small Council, and the Kingsguard swear to protect the royal house from harm."
"When conduct threatens the dignity and authority of the Iron Throne, the Kingsguard may, in extreme circumstances, take necessary action to halt such wrongdoing."
"Such action is considered an extension of the king's will—not private interference."
Odin laid out the argument smoothly, building a framework that sounded not only reasonable, but inevitable.
"Applied to the case of Captain Swyft Rosby," he continued, returning to the matter at hand,
"his alleged crimes—accepting bribes, abusing force, conducting unlawful arrests, and openly defying the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard—clearly fall within the category of actions that damage the prestige of the Iron Throne."
"After repeated warnings were ignored, Ser Jaime's execution of Rosby may therefore be understood as the king's will, enacted under a state of urgent necessity."
With that, Odin fell silent and returned to his place, hands folded, posture composed.
The throne room grew even quieter.
The councilors stared at him in disbelief.
A commoner—standing before the Iron Throne—citing years, kings, precedents, and legal reasoning with such clarity and confidence?
Absurd.
Odin, however, remained unmoved.
Since arriving in King's Landing, he had known that his background would forever be a handicap in this game of power. And so, whenever he had the chance, he studied.
With Jaime's help, he devoured books—dry royal chronicles, noble genealogies, obscure legal commentaries, even the White Book recording the lives of the Kingsguard, which he had read more than once.
He absorbed knowledge like a sponge—not to become a maester, but to learn how to use the rules.
On the Iron Throne, Joffrey listened with a blank expression, understanding little—yet feeling that it all sounded rather impressive.
But when he heard the phrase "an extension of the king's will," he instinctively straightened his back, clearly pleased.
Kevan studied Odin anew, surprise flickering in his eyes.
Varys's smile grew subtly more playful, as though he'd stumbled upon an unexpected variable.
Even Tywin Lannister spared Odin a brief, measuring glance, reassessing the man's intellect and eloquence.
Only Pycelle continued to doze, eyes half-shut—likely exhausted after a long night of conversation with young ladies.
"Lies!!!"
Lord Gyles finally snapped back to himself, pointing at Odin and sputtering again:
"He's lying! All of it!"
"There is no such law—it's fabricated nonsense!"
Kevan, snapping out of his own astonishment, glanced at Gyles and then cleared his throat.
"Grand Maester Pycelle."
"Hm? Ah?"
Pycelle opened his eyes, looking momentarily dazed, then slowly stroked his snowy beard and spoke in a voice aged, authoritative, and perfectly steady.
"The account given by Lord Odin regarding Ser Duncan the Tall is indeed recorded in the White Book."
"When I assisted in compiling the Compendium of Major Royal Judgments, I personally reviewed the original text."
"Ser Duncan was a paragon of knightly virtue, his actions shining with justice and unwavering loyalty to the Crown."
He spoke smoothly, without the slightest trace of drowsiness—clearly having heard every word.
Then he continued:
"After 234 AC, there are multiple instances in which members of the Kingsguard invoked this precedent when confronting extreme and urgent violations of law, bearing what scholars later termed the 'duty of emergency correction.'"
"Though never formalized into a single statute, it is nonetheless recognized within the common law traditions of the realm."
"It reflects the wisdom of our forebears—that the king's law must be applied flexibly, always in service of preserving the Presence of the Iron Throne."
"As the maesters of the Citadel often say: 'He who sows poisonous weeds shall reap bitter fruit.'"
"And Ser Jaime," Pycelle concluded mildly,
"merely happened to be the one forced to pluck that fruit."
A masterstroke.
Pycelle had not only confirmed Odin's claims, but elevated them to the level of customary royal law, perfectly aligning with Tywin's interests and appealing neatly to Joffrey's fragile sense of authority.
In other words—
the final authority of interpretation belonged to Pycelle.
Impressive. Truly impressive.
Watching the old man finish speaking and then promptly half-close his eyes again, Odin couldn't help feeling a flicker of admiration.
Pretending for a day is easy. Pretending for a lifetime—that takes real skill.
Tywin did not give Joffrey any chance to voice another brilliant idea.
"The facts are clear," he declared coldly.
"Swyft Rosby accepted bribes, abused his office, and openly defied the Kingsguard, severely damaging the dignity of the Iron Throne."
"Ser Jaime Lannister, as Lord Commander, exercised emergency authority. His actions may be controversial, but their purpose was to uphold royal power and the sanctity of the law."
"I have spoken."
"Those in favor. Those opposed."
Tywin's gaze swept the chamber. No one dared meet it.
Except one man.
"I object!"
Lord Gyles refused to yield, his resentment boiling over.
"Seven save us—cough, cough—what justice is this?!"
"If the Hand of the King were still Lord Jon Arryn—!"
"He would never have issued such a biased judgment based on one-sided testimony!"
"The Warrior would never condone such cowardly compromise! The Father's judgment will fall upon you all!"
His voice cracked and trembled, invoking the Seven and Jon Arryn again and again.
The temperature of the throne room seemed to plunge.
Joffrey merely looked irritated.
Pycelle lowered his head and began softly snoring.
Varys smiled, unchanged—but somehow sharper.
Kevan frowned, as though he'd foreseen exactly this outcome.
Odin stood quietly to the side, watching Lord Gyles drown himself in his own righteous indignation.
His gaze was calm, detached—
the look one gives a dead man walking.
Only one judgment echoed in his mind.
Idiot.