In the middle of the large chamber stood a long table made of dark varnished wood. At its head sat Tommen, who, instead of being his usual meek and scared self, was now sitting straight and looking with not a small degree of confidence. A golden kitten of unnaturally large size was curled on his lap. Not even a yard behind him stood two large men clad in white close to the size of the Hound. He was quick to recognise them-Sers Lyle Crakehall and Tytan Brax. At least they were leagues better than what Robert had picked for his kingsguard, so that was a relief.