In just a short month, Tampa, once a place nobody cared about, had transformed. Through the songs of many a bard, it was now hailed as a vacation paradise far wilder and trendier than King's Landing.
With the town's rapid development, Jon knew it was time to address the growing needs of its visitors.
Taverns alone couldn't satisfy everyone.
For the sake of image and branding, the Baron had no intention of following Littlefinger's example by opening brothels outright.
Instead, his first choice was the lounge bar. Compared to the cheap, fleshy indulgence of a brothel, a place that sold ambiance and "mood" fit perfectly with the Golden Coast's development philosophy.
By this time, Jon's identity had evolved far beyond King's Squire, Secretary to the Hand, or even the Shadow Hand. He was now being crowned with a new nickname: "Little Duke Jon."
Of course, this didn't mean Jon was usurping the North or actually becoming a Duke.
It meant that everyone believed that when it came to the pursuit of pleasure, Jon was a natural-born king.
Even Robert Baratheon, the Usurper himself, couldn't compare.
So, to avoid offending King Robert, people affectionately (and quietly) dubbed Jon Stark the "Little Duke of Pleasure."
Jon didn't care much about these titles.
While he was busy introducing futuristic concepts to Tampa, he was already plotting a much larger game.
For this, he didn't mind exposing himself or diving into the deepest part of the power vortex.
No effort goes unrewarded; it's just a matter of scale.
So, when the news finally arrived that King Robert had indeed encountered a boar, the corners of Baron Jon's mouth couldn't help but curl upward.
---
A few days ago, on the edge of the Kingswood and the Stormlands.
After receiving Jon's warning, the King's retinue had swelled in size. The procession was so bloated that, even in the dense forest, the Usurper could hardly find a single rabbit, let alone a stag.
When Robert finally sobered up, he realized something was wrong.
With this density of guards, even a dragon would hesitate to approach, let alone a boar.
Desperate for some real sport, the King shooed away the annoying Gold Cloaks, keeping only his trusted Stormlands knights by his side.
Over the next few days, after switching hunting grounds and reducing the number of people, the game began to return.
However, Robert's favorite quarry—the wild boar—remained elusive.
In such a situation, any prey that did show up would likely be powerful and dangerous.
Fortunately, both Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Loras Tyrell had received Jon's warnings.
So, when a massive boar finally charged the King, plenty of knights were ready. Spears flew through the air as everyone tried to claim the glory of saving the King.
But what surprised everyone was that His Grace, usually agile despite his bulk, slipped at the critical moment. He missed his chance for a killing blow and was gored, tossed high into the air by the beast.
By the time the knights scrambled to kill the boar, King Robert's knee had been pierced by a tusk. He was unable to stand.
---
When Jon heard the details, his smile widened slightly. The situation was unfolding exactly to his satisfaction.
Compared to the other nobles who were merely curious, the Baron's reaction was measured, befitting a Shadow Hand who had seen it all.
Some young nobles commented that while King Robert was now a fat drunkard, he had never missed when hunting boars—just as he never missed when hunting women.
After the laughter died down, Jon stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"Perhaps His Grace indeed never misses... but surely his squire will be blamed. After all, who told him to keep the King's cup so full, for fear His Grace might go thirsty?"
After dropping that half-joke, Jon withdrew from the conversation. The group laughed again, then started pitying the gloomy squire, Lancel Lannister.
Every noble knew you could drink while hunting, but only after the kill. Getting drunk before the hunt was tantamount to suicide.
Of course, some listeners stopped laughing and grew thoughtful, clearly inspired by Jon's words.
Among them was Margaery Tyrell, who had been curiously observing Jon for some time.
Lately, the Rose of Highgarden had been studying the Baron closely.
There were many legends about the Shadow Hand, but the most famous one came from King Robert himself.
Rumor had it that the Usurper, in his cups, used to complain that Ned Stark wasn't a "true brother" because he'd gone off to have fun without him, fathering a beautiful bastard in the process.
Although Lord Ned insisted the mother was a common wet nurse named Wylla, Robert—based on later events—claimed that any woman who could catch Ned's eye must have been noble.
Hence the legend that the "Highborn Bastard's" mother was Ashara Dayne.
But years had passed, and the Dornish beauty had long since jumped into the sea, leaving no way to verify the story.
Aside from that, the Seven Kingdoms knew that Lord Ned treated his children with fairness, a reflection of his own honor.
Before Jon was legitimized (in the eyes of the public, if not by decree), no one doubted that this highborn bastard would one day claim what was rightfully his.
However, to the shrewd Margaery, these legends carried a different implication.
Although the Little Rose didn't care much for folklore, her training to become a Queen required her to read books others ignored.
Usually, this knowledge lay dormant in the back of her mind.
But when specific events occurred, her intelligent brain would retrieve the data, analyzing and cross-referencing it rigorously.
Margaery had never truly questioned Jon's parentage before. She had assumed, like everyone else, that he was simply the one stain on the honorable Eddard Stark's reputation.
But after seeing Jon engulfed in flames yet remaining unharmed... the memories buried in the minds of the Seven Kingdoms' nobility suddenly resurfaced, vivid and undeniable.
The War of the Usurper was over a decade ago. People had forgotten the Tourney at Harrenhal, the "Year of the False Spring," and the so-called rightful dynasty.
But as a member of House Tyrell, how could Margaery not know the key details?
Especially since she was preparing to become a substitute for Lyanna Stark, plotting to snatch the crown from Cersei Lannister.
The string of coincidences—Jon's looks, his behavior, and now his immunity to fire—aligned perfectly. Like scattered pearls being threaded together by logic, they formed a complete, terrifying conclusion.