GOT: Chapter 158/160

Chapter 158: A Night of Chaos (Part 3)

"You want me to give you your life? That's a bit much. Just stay in this building tonight and don't go anywhere. Have your men guard the door. Those black-cloaked lads are decent, but I can't guarantee there isn't a Slynt-loyalist in this garrison." Ser Ironhand glanced at Aegor's shoulder. "Tend to that injury quickly. I'll send word to Tyrion Lannister for you."

"A letter? He's outside the city right now. Didn't you just say it's a serious offense to send someone out in the middle of the night?"

"He's at the Night's Watch Industrial Park, I know." Bywater stood, picked up his helmet from the table, tucked it under his arm, and walked toward the door. "This is a serious matter. I have to let your partner know. As for how to send the message—sending someone out is indeed a felony, but throwing something over the wall isn't. Write the letter, tie it to a stone, and toss it over the city wall. My friend who lives down by the port will pick it up and deliver it to the Industrial Park."

Of course. As the long-serving captain of the River Gate garrison, Bywater had these kinds of skills and connections. Nothing surprising. "Please tell Tyrion not to act on impulse. Don't let him bring the security team into King's Landing and escalate things."

"Do I really need to remind him?" Ser Ironhand adjusted his prosthesis and opened the office door. "I can hardly imagine the little imp acting on impulse."

You're wrong, Aegor thought bitterly. Tyrion could remain rational most of the time, but the anger buried in his heart often surfaced. His small stature just made it harder for him to express it. Just like this time, if he hadn't insisted on taking down Slynt within three days, and they had handled things more subtly, perhaps this crisis could have been avoided.

Before stepping into the circle of power, King's Landing had seemed like a great place to do business. But once entangled in the Game of Thrones, the capital of the Seven Kingdoms became perilous.

Status, power, and influence truly are double-edged swords.


---

…

Janos Slynt had someone sneak into the Red Keep to report to Robert that the queen had tried to bribe him. Then he sat in the East Camp office for half a day. When he heard that the attempt to silence Aegor had failed, he was so furious he trembled.

"More than a dozen people, two crossbows, to kill one man! And you still let him escape, with several of ours dead? Are your friends all pigs?"

Yarral Dim lowered his head and murmured, "There were two of them, Ser. And… according to the survivors, the Night's Watchman's bodyguard is highly skilled."

"Skilled, my arse. Stop making excuses. Losers always have explanations. What's next? Are you going to tell me he knows magic too?" Slynt slammed his hand on the table. "Where is he now? Has he gone home?"

"According to reports… after returning home, he quickly left with his men and moved south. They had numbers on their side, so our men could only follow from a distance. They lost him in Flea Bottom," Yarral said, shrinking under Slynt's glare. "But just now, a brother from Mud Gate reported that the Night's Watchman entered the River Gate garrison."

"Wake everyone up. Gather all weapons. We're going to River Gate to take him."

Yarral looked up, startled. "But, Ser, didn't you say we shouldn't make any moves for the next couple of days?"

"Fool! There was an illegal street fight in one of the most upscale neighborhoods of King's Landing tonight. Three dead, three injured. In a case like this, I'm leading men to catch the killer. You call that random?" Slynt nearly struck him. "Move quickly. Don't let anyone escape. Send riders to all the city's camps and gather more men. Jacelyn Bywater is an old enemy of mine. He won't hand over the man easily… Damn it, if I'd known this would happen, I wouldn't have left it to you!"

…

All of King's Landing stirred. A rare mobilization of gold cloaks from East Camp poured down Muddy Street toward the River Gate. At the same time, messengers mounted swift horses and galloped toward the Seven Gates and the Three Hills, delivering orders to the city's garrisons.

Many already knew the "real reason" behind Slynt's imminent downfall, but he was still the commander of the City Watch. Under the guise of "capturing a murderer," his orders still had to be followed, at least on the surface.

So hundreds of soldiers were roused from their beds, dressed in full armor, and led by their officers to the commander's designated rally point—River Gate.

While garrisons across the city scrambled into motion, their counterparts at River Gate had already sealed the gates and bolted them, fully prepared to hold their ground.

…

It had been around the Eel Hour—between 8 and 9 in the evening—when Aegor was attacked. After all the fighting, it was now past midnight, in the Owl Hour. A long line of gold cloaks with torches stretched like a fiery serpent outside the River Gate garrison, surrounding it.

A soldier jumped down from the wall and ran to Ser Bywater.

"Ser, Lord Slynt is at the gate. He says there's a murderer in our camp who caused a bloody scene. He demands we hand him over for interrogation at East Camp."

"How many are with him?"

"Around a hundred."

Bywater snorted. "Ignore him. Post trusted men at the two gates. Wait for more to arrive."


---

King's Landing was vast, and River Gate sat at the city's southernmost edge. This meant the response times of the garrisons varied. Nearby camps arrived within ten minutes, while those farther out, like the Gods Gate or Dragon Gate, were leagues away.

Time passed. Dozens more arrived by foot or on horseback, torches in hand, gradually swelling Slynt's numbers.

When the number of gold cloaks outside River Gate surpassed four hundred, Slynt had someone issue an ultimatum. If Jacelyn Bywater did not surrender the suspect, they would storm the gates.

Knowing the time had come, Bywater climbed the inner wall with a torch and revealed himself to the soldiers outside.

…

"Brothers!" he called out from the platform, looking down on over a hundred assembled gold cloaks. "It's the middle of the night. We should be asleep in our beds. But because of what's happening here, you've all been dragged into this mess. I truly regret that, but I must make it clear. I will not back down on this matter tonight!"

The soldiers exchanged glances. Some night watchmen looked unfazed, used to staying up regardless. Those pulled from rest looked groggy until Bywater's next words snapped them awake.

"I'd like to ask—of all the brothers standing here for this so-called mission, how many of you are actually getting your full pay?"

At the mention of money, things stirred. Everyone in the King's Landing garrison knew the truth. Officers promoted by Slynt had to hand over half their pay. Regular soldiers usually lost twenty or thirty percent. Those lucky enough to serve under a powerful officer might lose less. Everyone knew this unspoken rule, but no one dared talk about it publicly. Speaking out got you transferred… or killed. What was Ironhand doing bringing it up now?

"Jacelyn Bywater!" Slynt shouted, stepping forward before things got out of hand. "Just before midnight, someone caused a bloody fight on the street between Steel Gate and the Dragon's Lair. Three dead, three injured. We now have proof the culprit is hiding inside your camp. Stop talking nonsense and hand him over!"

"Do you remember Herb and Ben?" Bywater ignored him, raising his voice above the commander's. "Last year, when Lord Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, began investigating bribery and embezzlement in the City Watch, those two brothers agreed to testify. Within days, the news leaked. Herb supposedly fell and hit his head on a rock. Ben drowned in a ditch. Do you believe that was coincidence?"

Is Ironhand mad, airing this in front of so many people? Slynt felt a chill and snapped, "That was an accident. The case was closed long ago. Stop spewing lies! Open the gate or I'll order it burned!"

"Two brothers died with no explanation. Now another man has come forward. He filed a formal report with Lord Eddard Stark, naming our commander. That man is in this garrison. And now, the man being accused is outside the gate, fabricating lies to force me to hand him over."

…

"Is this true?"

"No wonder we were dragged out here in the middle of the night."

"This is madness! What do they take us for?"

As the murmurs and outrage spread among the gathered gold cloaks, Slynt realized he'd walked into a trap. Panic and rage surged.

"Enough talk! Burn the door down! Open it with fire!"

(To be continued.)

Chapter 159: The Darkness Before Dawn

The garrison had fixed city defense weapons on top of the walls, but no mobile siege equipment. In desperation, Slynt could only resort to the crude method of a fire attack. A dozen soldiers from the East Camp were ordered to carry wooden barrels of oil and jog toward the gate of the River Gate barracks, torches in hand.

"Shoot!" Ser Ironhand, standing atop the wall, waved his left arm without hesitation. Dozens of defenders emerged from behind the parapets, and with the crisp sound of bowstrings drawing, a rain of arrows descended outside the barracks. The shafts arced through the night and landed a few meters in front of the advancing attackers. Some struck the ground and quivered in place. Others bounced off brick and stone, scattering wildly. One arrow struck a barrel of oil held by a gold cloak. With a muffled thump, the man dropped the barrel in fright. It cracked open, and dark fuel spilled across the ground. Fortunately, it wasn't wildfire.

Gasps came from the surrounding gold cloaks and the citizens of King's Landing who peeked nervously through windows or watched from nearby streets. Everyone could see that Jacelyn Bywater was serious. The first wave of men attempting to burn the gate was instantly "repelled" and scattered. All the gold cloaks carrying torches backed away at once. Even the East Camp soldiers loyal to Slynt failed to muster more courage under the threat of death.

The area in front of the River Gate was small, so no matter how they retreated, they remained within bow range. Fortunately, the defenders had no intention of killing anyone. After one volley forced the attackers back, they ceased fire.

"Useless! Fire! Fight back!" Slynt, humiliated by this clear slap in the face, shrieked, "Shoot that traitor down!"

Orders from commanders had to be followed, so the besieging soldiers released a half-hearted volley. Arrows flew sparsely, hitting the barracks walls or sailing harmlessly into the darkness. No one was injured. The message was clear—they didn't want bloodshed either.

Bywater ducked, raising his iron hand to shield his head, and called out the final line of his speech. "No need to guess, Janos Slynt. The man I'm talking about is you! If you've nothing to hide, wait until dawn. I'll send the suspect you're after to the Hand of the King. Whether he's a criminal or a whistleblower wrongly persecuted, the truth will come out then!"

"You're dreaming!" Slynt roared. If things had ended with words, it might have been fine. But now that they had publicly clashed, it was all or nothing. "Bring the ladders! Attack from all sides! Capture that traitor!"

Was the battle about to begin? In the darkness, hundreds of gold-cloaked men holding torches let out excited shouts, but no one moved. They looked at one another, but no one acted. Ser Ironhand had done what no one else dared tonight. The crowd was watching and murmuring. No one was willing to shed blood for Slynt by fighting brothers dressed in the same gold.

…

"What are you doing? Are you refusing orders?" Slynt tried to use his authority to force the soldiers around him into action. "Battalion commanders, step forward and begin the assault!"

"Lord Slynt, we believe in you. Ser Bywater must have been misled by rumors," the captain of the Gate of the Gods garrison spoke first. "But we've completely surrounded the River Gate. Not even a rat could escape. The man you want won't get out. Why risk our brothers' lives? Dawn is almost here. Why not wait and see what the Hand decides?"

"Yes, Ser. If we wait a little longer, daylight will break. When the King's men arrive at the Red Keep, Ser Bywater will have no excuse to shield the criminal any longer!"

Hearing support from several garrison officers and seeing that his numerical advantage was slipping, Slynt realized the situation was falling apart. He looked out at the sea of gold cloaks that surrounded him but were no longer his to command. Gritting his teeth, he backed down. "Fine. Then seal off the front and rear gates. Do not let the prisoner escape!"

He spun around, cloak flaring, and returned to the East Camp formation. Once he was far from the others, he leaned in and whispered to his confidant, Yarral Dim. "Tell our men to prepare. When that Night's Watchman appears at dawn, shoot him dead. Don't mess it up this time."

"But Ser, what if the River Gate brothers are hit—"

"I'll take responsibility!"

…

"I'll take responsibility." The words sounded resolute, but the man who said them was already beginning to fear. For the first time in over a decade, Janos Slynt began to regret and reflect.

Maybe, from the start, he shouldn't have set his eyes on a woman from the Night's Watch Industry. But there's no shame in loving beauty. His real mistake was insisting after hitting a wall, he should have known that if they dared to protect her, they had the means to do so.

As expected, they turned against him. They contacted allies and plotted against him. Common interests make strong allies, and the Night's Watch Industry was determined to bring him down… Even then, he still had a way out. If he had reported Cersei's plan for rebellion to Robert and helped suppress the Lannisters, his past offenses might have been balanced by future merit.

But yesterday, he got greedy. He decided to eliminate his enemies. He entrusted the task to the wrong people. One blunder after another had brought him to this deadlock. He couldn't touch the Night's Watchmen hiding in the River Gate barracks. He couldn't back down either. He was stuck in limbo.

If only he had more loyalty among the gold cloaks, or better control over the garrison. If only he had real influence. Then he might have resolved it all with one final, brutal move, storm the barracks, kill the Night's Watchman and Ironhand Bywater, then claim they were part of the Lannister rebellion…

But now? Now, it was too late. He had hesitated, given Bywater time to speak, and his credibility had crumbled. Bywater had exposed his past publicly. Now, as commander, he couldn't even order the garrison to fight. Step by step, he had walked himself into the worst possible outcome.

He knew he couldn't accuse a living Ironhand of treason. That damned Night's Watchman had allies, resources. If he didn't kill him tonight, the Night's Watch Industry would hunt him forever. There was no escape. His only chance was to kill Aegor and hope the storm that would soon erupt in the Red Keep would be big enough to cover up this fiasco.

The man he sent to inform Robert had returned with word: the King's secret command was for Slynt to bring two hundred of his most trusted gold cloaks to the Red Keep by noon to await orders. It was clearly a signal. There was no more time to waste. Once dawn broke and the Night's Watchman emerged, he must be killed at any cost. Then, Slynt would march straight to the Red Keep and await the King's will.

This time, he told himself, no more improvising.


---

Inside the River Gate barracks, Aegor watched the show unfold through the window.

He couldn't see Slynt's men outside the wall, but judging by the relaxed manner of the River Gate guards, Ser Bywater had been right. He was safe, at least for tonight.

The thought eased him, but the pain in his shoulder spiked. He sucked in a breath. "Hiss—"

"I'm sorry, Ser!" Nina immediately stopped. "Did I hurt you?"

After being wounded, he'd fled through the city without a moment's rest. The untreated wound had continued to bleed, soaking into his black clothes. The dried blood stiffened the fabric around his shoulder and arm. They had to cut it away. Watching the chaos that her pursuers had brought upon her hero, seeing Aegor nearly die because of her, Nina was devastated. She had done nothing herself, yet things had spiraled far beyond her control. After she cleaned and dressed the wound, the basin of bloody water nearly made her break down.

"It's nothing," Aegor said through gritted teeth. "You didn't hurt me. It'd be strange if it didn't hurt. Keep going."

The steel-tipped crossbow bolt had sliced open his shoulder, leaving a ten-centimeter gash, nearly to the bone. It wasn't life-threatening, but it severely restricted his movement. As a right-handed man, it was impressive he'd fought his way out of the ambush. If Jaqen hadn't kicked him aside at that critical moment, the bolt would've pierced his chest or lungs. He'd be dead now.

He was scared, no question, but seeing Nina so full of guilt, tears, and confusion, he forced himself to stay composed. "Don't overthink it. I've told you a dozen times, this isn't your fault. Apply the salve and stitch it up."

"Stitch it… like sewing cloth?"

"Yes. If you can't, have Ser Bywater find someone who can."

She came from a family of weavers. Sewing wasn't difficult. After trembling through the stitching, the girl stood helplessly, awaiting further instruction.

"There's nothing more you can do. Find a place in the next room and get some rest."

"I… can't sleep."

"Then lie down and close your eyes. Don't just stand here like a statue. Go."

"My Lord, what will you do in the morning?"

"What else? Wait here. Slynt probably still wants me dead. It's too risky to show myself before someone from the King or the Hand arrives."

After running for his life all night, after watching this absurd drama play out among the garrison, Aegor found he couldn't sleep. Outside the window, the sky had reached its darkest hour before dawn. This was the brutal world of the Game of Thrones. Chase death and you'll die. But avoiding it doesn't mean you'll live. The long night was finally coming to an end. It felt good to still be breathing, but as the sun rose… what would come next?

(To be continued.)

Chapter 160: Legend Takes the Stage

Dawn was approaching.

Inside and outside the city, early risers preparing to enter or leave King's Landing began to gather. Situated across from bustling Blackwater Port, the River Gate saw the highest volume of daily cargo and foot traffic among the seven gates of the capital. Though the gates closed at sunset, ships that arrived at the mouth of the Blackwater River after nightfall didn't wait for sunrise to dock. By morning, several more ships had unloaded cargo and passengers, forming a long line outside the River Gate, all ready to enter the city.

The eastern sky began to pale, washing out the blood-red tint cast by the comet. The comet's brilliance was no match for the sun, and its crimson hue quickly faded, leaving only the main body visible as a blot of color in a light pink sky. As the sun neared the horizon, pink gave way to an array of vibrant dawn shades. With the comet, the clouds, and the rippling waters of Blackwater Bay working together, the horizon became a spectacle of shifting colors—gold, red, purple, black, white, blue.

The brilliance transformed by the second, the edge of the world like a canvas painted anew with every breath. Then came the sun—leaping from the sea like a fiery god. Its flames wiped out the other colors and bathed the bay in golden light, turning the waters into molten mirrors. For a moment, it was as if there were two suns in the sky.

But no one watched this masterpiece. Those who had worked through the night were now sleeping. Those just waking had no time to admire the sunrise. Reality left no room for wonder.

Outside the River Gate, the crowd thickened. Carts and people waiting to enter the city clogged the road. Laborers itched to begin their day's work, merchants urged the guards to let them through so they could sell their goods. Complaints and shouts echoed through the gathering crowd.

The River Gate, typically opened at dawn, remained shut even after sunrise. The line outside grew longer, and the twenty-odd gold cloaks assigned to the port could do little beyond maintaining order. Though part of the River Gate garrison, they couldn't open the gate from the outside. They had to wait too.

…

"There are so many people," Domi muttered. "But these southerners are lazy. The sun's up and the gate's still shut."

"King's Landing is warm. Not like the Wall, where the cold wakes you every morning. Maybe the gatekeepers are still in bed."

"No blankets needed here. I could sleep on the street and not freeze. Being a beggar here is better than being a ranger up north."

"Enough chatter. We're on duty, not a pleasure trip," Ser Alliser Thorne growled. "Form up around the wagon. It's too crowded. Don't let anyone near the cage."

There was no need to force space. The surrounding crowd instinctively gave the Night's Watch a wide berth. This group of escorting rangers and Eastwatch sailors had just arrived in King's Landing the night before and hadn't changed into warmer southern clothes. They stood shirtless or sweating in heavy black uniforms. Not even the background stench of the capital could mask their wild aura. Armed and hardened, they were not to be approached.

"Ser, looks like there's a group ahead dressed in black. More than us. I thought only the Night's Watch wore black?"

Alliser frowned. Were all Eastwatch men this talkative? "Maybe someone died. Get back in line and stop asking dumb questions like some backwater yokel."

"But I am a yokel, Ser. First time in the big city," Domi said with a grin. "Unlike you, who used to serve in King's Landing, drinking wine and chasing skirts."

"Shut up. No one will think you're mute if you stay quiet."

Alliser's authority still carried weight. The Black Castle men fell silent and held their formation.

…

The group of "men in black" ahead had also noticed them. After a brief discussion, several pushed through the crowd toward the wight escort.

Black met black. One group looked like laborers, conmen, and street thugs. The other stood upright and disciplined. The former were the logistics security team of the Night's Watch. The latter were true brothers of the Watch, guarding the Wall. Among the "imposters" stood a dwarf and a red-cloaked Lannister guard, making for an odd sight indeed.

"Ser Alliser Thorne? What brings you here?" Tyrion Lannister blinked in surprise. "Did Lord Commander Mormont send you to inspect Aegor's work? What's in the wagon?"

The master-at-arms of Castle Black looked down at the dwarf and snorted. "A wight. Lord Mormont ordered us to bring it to King's Landing, to present it to His Grace and request support for the Wall."

"A wight?" Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "The Night's Watch has been given plenty of supplies. And now you're resorting to tales from Old Nan? His Grace enjoys wine, but he's not an idiot."

Alliser didn't respond. Instead, he turned his head. "Uncover it. Let our Lannister 'giant' see for himself."

"My lord, easy to pull off, hard to cover again…"

"Do as I said."

Tyrion and the fake Night's Watchmen from the logistics team circled around the wagon. The tarp was thick and black, double-layered. Two men untied the ropes, pulled back the corners, and revealed the cargo underneath.

It was a cage. Reinforced with iron, its bars were spaced tightly. Inside, a filthy, rag-covered man was chained to the floor, lying motionless.

The moment sunlight touched his skin, the man stirred. Then he lunged, crashing against the bars and reaching for Tyrion with a guttural roar. "Raargh!"

…

Though still at a safe distance, Tyrion stumbled back. His squire, Jack, caught him before he fell. His short, malformed legs trembled, and he would have collapsed without help.

The crowd gasped and surged back, creating an empty circle ten yards wide around the wagon.

Alliser grinned, and his brothers chuckled. Tyrion swallowed his fear and stepped closer, peering at the creature. The man wore shredded animal hides. His hands were blackened, his skin pale and pocked with rot. He was clearly not alive in any conventional sense.

"There are illnesses that do this. Greyscale. Rabies. Brain fevers," Tyrion muttered. "I don't know medicine, but locking up sick men and calling them wights? That's a low trick, Ser Alliser."

"That's right. What if it's contagious?"

"Have a heart, don't frighten people."

"Mercy?" Alliser barked, stepping forward with a clang as he drew his steel sword. The crowd recoiled again. "I'll show you mercy."

He walked to the cage, staying just beyond the creature's reach. Before everyone's eyes, he thrust his blade into the creature's chest. The tip came out the other side. Then he pulled it out and stabbed again. Then a third time.

A woman screamed on the first strike. Men muttered on the second. By the third, all eyes at the River Gate were on the small, shabby cart. It had become a stage.

Alliser withdrew the sword and held it toward Tyrion. "Want to check if it's real?"

Tyrion stepped back, frowning at the gleaming blade. Three fatal wounds. No blood. No cries of pain. The thing hadn't flinched. It simply switched targets, reaching past the bars for Alliser with blackened claws.

"North of the Wall, there are tens of thousands more like this. Ghosts, dead things, enemies of mankind," Alliser declared. "While you sit safe in the South, dreaming of golden ages, we fight for your survival."

These were Mormont's orders. Show the wight if needed. Alliser had no patience for secrecy. This wasn't myth. This was war. With steel in hand, he called out loud for all to hear, "The cold winds blow. Winter is coming. We must hold the Wall. We need support!"

…

The shut River Gate had created a captive audience. Alliser Thorne, with his sword and the creature in the cage, had become the center of attention for hundreds.

And just inside the River Gate, behind the wall, another performance, starring a different brother of the Night's Watch, was coming to an end.

(To be continued.)