A scream made Loren spin, his hand dropping to his knife. The six guardsmen around him and were immediately in a defensive formation, protecting him and his wife. Alysanne pulled in close to him. "What was that?" she asked.

Loren drew the knife. "Roger, Alam, Deveth, Lucan, take my lady back to our rooms, stay there."

Alysanne didn't object. "Be careful!" She said as the four guardsmen hurried her away.

He drew the knife, flipping it around in his hand. "Let's go," he said. Forley and Koss fell in beside him and they hurried in the direction of the scream. They found a servant huddling against a wall, one of the castle maids. She had a hand over her mouth and was breathing heavily. Beside her, a door hung open, the room beyond fell into darkness. He knelt down beside the servant, reaching out and touching her shoulder. "What is it, what happened?"

"M-my lord," she pointed rapidly at the open door. "There's a body in there."

He nodded. "Wait here." He looked in through the door, but in the darkness he could barely see anything. "Where is it?"

The servant came through shakily. "It's over there," she pointed into the darkness. "Koss, bring my some light." Koss fetched a brand from a nearby wall bracket and lit it. "Maybe I should go first, my lord." Loren nodded, feeling the absence of his sword. Not that Koss was any better, with only the royal guards permitted weapons in the keep.

"Forley, stay out here." He followed Koss into the cellar, keeping a tight grip on his dagger. The light spread from the torch, glinting off boxes, crates, and deeper within, dragon skulls. He stopped Koss with a touch, the floor had gone from the dusty red of the Red Keep's stones to an altogether more familiar red. A few steps later the torch cast its light on a body. He called back to Forley to raise the alarm and knelt just beyond the pool of blood. He examined the body as best he could. The man was wearing what looked like a servant's garb. His skin was white as snow, apart from his visible hand which was black, and his lips were blue. His eyes were wide, and a line of blood went down his one visible cheek. The blood was thick around a deep cut in his neck, and a hole in his side.

He slipped off one glove and dipped his finger in the blood. It was thick and cold. "He's been dead a long time," he said, as a clanging rang out from above.

"My lord, we should leave," Koss said. He was glancing furtively into the darkness, and Loren knew he was feeling surrounded by it.

"I hardly think the killer will have lingered so long that the body went cold." But he got to his feet and followed Koss out anyway.

The servant seemed to have recovered a little and he held out his hand to help her up. "Do you know who that is?"

She shook her head, then caught herself. "No, my lord."

"And why are you here?"

"The rookery is running out of raven scrolls, we keep more of them down there."

Loren nodded as the sounds of running feet approached. "Alright, just stay calm, you're alright now.

Before long they were joined by royal guardsmen who sealed off the corridor. Kevan arrived not long afterward and took over command from Loren, who had set some of the guardsmen to lighting and securing the entire cellar. They confirmed the killer wasn't there. But soon Kevan's command was taken by Ser Mandon Moore

When Loren asked why the Kingsguard were taking a personal interest in this given their reduced numbers, he replied. "The Kingsguard are in charge of all murders in the Red Keep. Since the murder of the High Septon, the Kingsguard have full authority on these matters."

"You can't think that they're related?"

"I'll judge that, my lord." Ser Mandon passed Loren and walked down into the cellar without a word. Loren followed closely and watched as Ser Mandon knelt in the cold blood. He lifted the corpse's head and pointed at the blood streaks going down his cheeks. "They're related."

He didn't say anymore so Loren left him to continue the investigation.

When he entered his room Alysanne stood up from the table and turned to him, a look of worry on her face. Tyrion, sat across from her, looked equally concerned. "Are you alright, my lord?" She asked.

"We heard there was a body," Tyrion added.

Loren nodded. "One of the servants been murdered in the cellar."

Alysanne gasped, putting her fingers to her lips. "Murdered?"

"How?" Tyrion asked, his tone and expression dark.

"He was stabbed and had his throat cut."

Alysanne sat back down quickly. "Did he have streaks of blood down his cheeks?"

"Yes, Ser Mandon seemed to think there was a connection to the death of the High Septon."

Tyrion nodded. "That's how we found the High Septon's corpse, one of the Kettleblack brothers as well."

"You think that was the same murderer?"

"It would seem so. The blood streaks are on all of them."

"Do we know that?"

"Do you have another explanation?"

"If the first murder left such a mark, maybe someone saw a chance to get away with a murder of their own, by passing it off as the same killer as the previous murder, for whom you have either an alibi or no motive. Gods alone know half of this court wants to murder the other court."

"Does that go down to the servants?" Tyrion shook his head. "Beside, we never spread any details about the bloody tears."

Alysanne spoke up. "But surely people would have seen."

"Only a few people," Tyrion said.

She frowned. "So either we have a killer targetting everyone from servants to the High Septon, or anyone and everyone who wants to commit murder has a way to do it without punishment." Loren poured himself a drink and said nothing.

"Maybe the Kingsguard will find something." Loren hoped that might reassure Aly, but she didn't look reassured.

Instead, she got to her feet.

"Is everything alright?" Loren asked, concerned.

"Yes. I just feel the need to check on Lelia."

"I'll come with you," but as he started to get to his feet, she waved him down. "No, you and lord Tyrion have matters to discuss."

"Well take guards at least."

"I will."

When she was gone, he turned back to Tyrion. "You have something you want to talk about?"

Tyrion nodded. "I have some good news for you. We have someone to officiate the wedding."

That was good news. "So the Most Devout have decided on a new High Septon?"

His brother laughed. "Oh gods no. No but the oldest of them, Septon Talman has decided to drop out of the race, and the Most Devout have empowered him to officiate the wedding. He won't be the High Septon, but he'll have all the appropriate powers to officiate this."

Loren didn't like the sound of that. This was meant to be the crowning start of the new Lannister-Tyrell-Baratheon coalition that would rule the Seven Kingdoms for the next three generations at least. Beginning it with a fake HIgh Septon performing the royal wedding boded ill. "Better than nothing, I suppose."

"Yes, now we just need him to make it to next week."

"You think he won't?"

Tyrion wobbled his hand in the air. "I can't be sure. But I suspect the reason he pulled out of the running for High Septon is that he didn't think he would live to see that."

Loren asked the next question carefully. "How old is he, exactly?"

"Exactly, I can't be sure, but I would guess he was an acquaintance of Pycelle's father."

"Sweet father above."

"At least we only need him for one ceremony. He can't have more than one or two left in him."

"The small mercies."

Tyrion made to get off his chair, but Loren interrupted him. "What is it?"

"We need to talk."

"What about?"

"You."

Tyrion raised his eyebrows. "Me?"

Loren nodded. "Harrenhal. You were granted it after the Blackwater, but we haven't spoken of it since the Treaty of Yore."

Tyrion shrugged. "We lost the war, Harrenhal is no longer ours to give. We escaped with our lives and our power still. That's enough."

"Perhaps, but you do still deserve a reward, especially now you're not on the council." And if the Hand sent Tyrion to Braavos as Loren recommended, then it would be yet another service Tyrion fulfilled.

"Are you going to give me one?"

"I can't give you a castle, only Cersei and Sebaston have the power to do that now," Loren said. "But perhaps there are other ways."

"I can think of many."

"I'm talking of lands and titles."

"You just said you can't give me a castle."

Loren nodded. "But I am the head of House Lannister. I can negotiate marriages."

"You want to marry me off to someone?" Tyrion asked, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. "How would that give me lands and titles?"

"I would look for an heiress for you. Many fathers and sons have died in this war, I'm sure there are plenty of eligible daughters. If you like I can find a match for you."

Tyrion sat back, expression sombre. "You think that an heiress would want to wed me, or that they would ever be happy with being saddled with me if such a match were arranged?"

Loren looked at the door that Alysanne had gone through. "Alysanne and I started our marriage poorly. Now look at us."

"With all dearest respect, Loren, you are not me."

Loren held up a hand. "If you do not wish to wed, I will not make you. You may remain a bachelor at the Rock, I'll make sure you want for nothing. But if you do wish me to look for a bride for you, I will. If not, I will fight your corner once the Stormlands are subjugated. There are still rebels to be attainted and lands to be redistributed. Though nothing on the scale of Harrenhal."

"There's always Storm's End," Tyrion said. Loren could tell he was forcing a lightness to his tone.

"I think that will be going to the King or Tommen, they have the blood claims to that castle after all." Tommen would be best, in Loren's mind.

"Well it was worth asking," Tyrion said, hopping off his chair. "But there are other matters that I am needed for, by your leave."

Loren dismissed Tyrion, knowing that he wanted to end the conversation there. He was no longer on the council, what business could he possibly have.

When night closed in on the city, Loren locked his rooms and made his way out to the courtyard. After the murder of the servant, he wanted to make sure that Alysanne and Lelia were safe tonight. But halfway across the courtyard a voice called out to him and he turned to see Prince Tristan approaching him. Mercifully, his wolf was not here. "Prince Tristan, how are you this evening?"

"Not as well as I would like to be, my lord," he replied. "But I'm glad I caught you, I have a question for you if it's not too much trouble."

Loren shook his head. "What do you need? Are your quarters not up to standard?" Ordinarily that would be a matter for the regent or the Hand, but if he could make the prince's stay more comfortable, that might be a chance to ask about Joanna.

"My quarters are fine, it's another matter I wish to discuss with you. You were named Hand of the King after my father's mu-death, weren't you?"

This didn't sound good. "My father was Hand of the King, I was only the acting Hand, but I suppose I was the first Hand in King's Landing after Lord Eddard's passing."

"Then you should be able to help me. Does the name Jeyne Poole mean anything to you?"

He thought back to his time as acting Hand. "I'm afraid not. Should it?"

In the gloom, he saw Tristan scowl. "She was the daughter of my father's steward, Vayon died when my father's household was purged, but Jeyne was taken alive and separated from Sansa. She is of the north, and I want her back."

"That must have happened before I returned to the capital," Loren replied. "I never met a Jeyne Poole I'm afraid."

Prince Tristan cursed.

"Does Sansa remember who took her, was it my sister?" Loren asked.

"Yes, although she passed Jeyne on to Lord Baelish. I haven't been able to speak with either of them."

This was his chance. If he could get the Poole girl back to the Starks, then that would give him an opening to ask for Joanna's return. "Let me see what I can do. I can speak with both of them and find out for you."

Tristan looked surprised at the offer. "You'd do that?"

"Of course. I'll see if I can get her back to you."

Tristan bowed his head. "If you could, I would be in your debt."