Chapter 97

The Sewers of King's Landing was a maze of catacombs, cisterns, tunnels, cellars, and ruins. Honestly, it was lucky that our strike force had a map because I very much doubted we would be capable of doing this without the aid provided by that. There were dangers down here that had nothing to do with the ongoing Civil War, and I wasn't just talking about getting lost either.

The Mad King had stored various caches of Wildfire down in several chambers, some of which had begun leaking fumes from over a decade and a half of neglect. Had we blundered into one of those chambers, a single errant spark could have destroyed an entire section of the city. Not only that, but some sections of the sewers had partially collapsed over the years, walkways giving way and plunging down into darkness in a fall that would kill anyone. Then there were the more living dangers.

The Sewers were the home of various undesirables that the Iron Throne sought to sweep clean of the streets. Normally, such smugglers and underworld organizations would be easy enough to deal with, especially with Bronn having laid the groundwork for our foothold in the Criminal Underworld of King's Landing. However, due to the recent food riots, and the subsequent heavy crackdowns by the Iron Throne, many rioters and looters had fled the streets of the Capital for the Sewers to avoid being caught up in the crackdowns.

Aside from that, there were the less intelligent dangers, the various beasts that made parts of the tunnels their home. Oh certainly there weren't any Sewer Alligators, like Urban Myths from back on Earth would claim inhabited the sewers of larger cities, but that didn't mean the sewers were empty of dangerous animal life. Bronn's map had marked out a couple of different spots as animal dens, apparently, a bear had made its den in a rundown guardroom under a Vacant Manse near the Iron Gate, while a room under a Manse on Street of Sisters was simply labeled 'Warning: Manticore Hive Nearby'. I would love to hear the tale that led to that being an issue, but we simply didn't have the time.

No, instead, I led thirty-two hand-picked men on the safest, most expedient route to the Red Keep. Myself, Ser Maric Seaworth, and Ser Clarence Pincer would be in command of three squads of ten men from my own forces, with me in overall command. Each squad was equipped with Arsenal Steel Equipment, a brace of three snaplock pistols, and a weapon of their choosing. Ser Maric and Ser Clarence had decided to forgo the pistols in favor of their favored weapon, the axe, though, in Ser Clarence's Case, it was a Cracklaw Point Sparth Axe, while Ser Maric preferred to use a Boarding Axe and shield.

We made our way through the sewers after entering via a hidden passage between the Old Gate and the Dragon Gate. We'd passed under the Street of Silk, moving under the Dragonpit, where Bronn's Men had waved us through with a friendly nod, as our control over Flea Bottom and the Dragonpit meant Control over the Sewers underneath them as well. Now we were making our way up into the sewers under Aegon's High Hill toward the Red Keep.

"I wonder why we haven't seen anyone down here?" Questioned Ser Clarence.

"You think the Lords up in the Red Keep give a shite about the sewers? I doubt half the Royal Court even washes their own arse." Scoffed Ser Maric.

"No, but Ser Clarence is right, I'd have expected some kind of guard. At least under Aegon's High Hill. Cersei and her spawn aren't clever enough to think of an assault like this, but there's no way the Spider didn't figure out at least part of how we smuggled Ned Stark out of the Black Cells. If he kept that information to himself, then he has a reason for it." I mused.

"Milord?" Queried Ser Maric.

"If the Spider is playing games of his own, then I have a feeling that this may not be over even after taking the Capital." I frowned.

"How do you figure?" Asked Ser Clarence.

"There are rumors going around that Varys is a Blackfyre Bastard. If that's true, he may not be the only one, and if that's the case, the Spider may be striking out on his own." I answered.

"You mean he's going to let us depose the Lannisters then try and swoop in with a Blackfyre Bastard to claim the throne from the weakened victor?" Questioned Ser Maric.

"Wouldn't you if you were in that position? It's the easiest way to pull something like that, isn't it?" Queried Ser Clarence.

"Exactly." I nodded.

Of course, I knew that Faegon was likely still waiting in the wings, but this was a good way to introduce the topic to everyone else. At the very least, my two former squires seemed to be chewing over the prospect of a potential Blackfyre claimant coming in out of nowhere. As we made our way through the sewers and they mulled that over, however, there was a booming noise from nearby, and dust falling from the roof of the sewer tunnels as if something had just smashed into the streets above at speed.

"What was that?" Asked Ser Clarence.

"It sounded like cannonfire." Offered Ser Maric.

"It was cannonfire. The Distraction assault has started, we need to pick up the pace!" I commanded.

Fortunately, we were almost to the Undercroft of the Red Keep already. As we hustled to make it through the last stretch of tunnels, more booms echoed out as cannons from the Army outside the walls fired again and again, slamming their shots into the walls, streets, and buildings above. Dust showered down on our party on several occasions, but we managed to make it up into the Wine Cellar of the Red Keep. A cunning mechanism from Aegon the Conqueror's time was triggered by pulling on a torch sconce as part of the wall slid away to reveal an entrance into the wine cellar disguised behind a wine rack. The wine rack swung aside and let our assault group into the Red Keep.

"Come on, we need to seize control of Joffrey, Cersei, and as much of the Small Council as we can manage. Let's go!" I ordered.

I led the charge past barrels of ale, casks of wine, racks of bottles of various spirits, and up a stone staircase. We exited into the Granary next to the kitchens, finding a number of fleeing servants running for the stairs to the wine cellar or for cover from the bombardment. Most of them veered away to another hiding place as they spotted my group emerge, but one of them, a Girl of no more than fourteen with dirty-blonde hair and a split lip almost ran right into me as she scrambled for cover. Fortunately, I caught her and held her in place.

"Easy! I'm not going to hurt you!" I called out as she tried to twist out of my grip.

"You're attacking!" Hissed the Girl.

"I am, but I've got no interest in killing servants." I insisted.

"Promise?" Demanded the Girl.

"You have my word. Now, can you tell me where the Queen is? Or Joffrey? What of the Small Council or Myrcella?" I questioned.

"The King's in the throne room spitting mad!" Frowned the Girl, hand going for her lip.

Clearly, she'd been the subject of Joffrey's Ire at being assaulted. That actually boiled my blood just a bit. Noblesse Oblige was a motto I tried to live by, which meant not hitting the servants when things didn't go your way like some sort of spoiled brat.

"I see. He won't hurt you anymore. What about the others?" I queried.

"Do we really have time for this, Milord?" Asked Ser Maric.

"We need intel on everyone's whereabouts if we're going to capture them, Maric." Pointed out Ser Clarence.

"Don't mind them, just tell me what you know." I pressed.

"The Queen is with her Brother, the Acting Hand, Lord Tyrion. They're in Maegor's Holdfast. Princess Myrcella's in the Maidenvault along with some of the Ladies of the Court. Grand Maester Pycelle is in his tower in Maegor's Holdfast tending to the Ravens, I don't think anyone's seen Lord Baelish or the Spider since the day before the siege started, Lord Westerling is with the Gold Cloaks on the Walls, and Lord Farman's with the Fleet in the Blackwater Rush." Informed the Servant.

"What of the Kingsguard?" I questioned.

"Ser Balon Swann is with the Queen and Lord Tyrion, the King has Ser Mandon Moore with him, Lord Commander Lannister went with Prince Tommen, though I don't know where, while Ser Preston Greenfield is Guarding Princess Myrcella in the Maidenvault. The Others are on the field." Answered the Servant.

"How do you know so much about all this?" Queried Ser Clarence.

"Aye, what sort of job do you have that you've been able to get this much information?" Asked Ser Maric.

"I'd like to know that too." I added.

"Grand Maester Pycelle. He favors me if you catch my meaning, Milords." Responded the Girl.

"Pillow talk then?" I questioned.

"Aye, the Grand Maester talks in his sleep too." Nodded the Girl.

Then another boom heralded another volley of cannonfire and there was no more time to delve into things. The information we'd gotten would have to be good enough for us to complete our mission. I let go of the serving girl and gestured to the Wine Cellar.

"Right, get in the wine cellar and find some cover. There's like to be blood in the Red Keep before too long." I nodded.

"Thank you, Milord, I'll keep my head down." Agreed the Girl.

"Right, we need to divide responsibilities if we're going to capture everyone in one fell swoop. The Great Hall is just next door with the Throne Room, so we'll take the King Together. After that, though, we'll need to split up. Ser Maric, you'll take your squad to the Maidenvault to capture Myrcella, Ser Clarence, you and your men hold the Throne Room against counterattacks. If our plan fails, the tunnels in the Wine Cellar are our exit and we can't lose access to them. Meanwhile, I'll head for Maegor's Holdfast to take Cersei, Tyrion, and Pycelle." I ordered.

"Right, let's get to it, then, shall we?" Queried Ser Clarence.

"I'm right behind you, Milord. As always." Nodded Ser Maric.

Then, with that, we burst out into the Great Hall of the Red Keep from the Kitchens. Inside, Joffrey was ranting and raving to a dour-looking Man in white plate armor with Pale, Grey, Lifeless Eyes. Ser Mandon Moore of the Kingsguard was indulging his liege's ongoing temper tantrum. At the same time, several Lords were in the Great Hall, including the Veteran Gold Cloak Commander Ser Jacelyn Bywater, the Elderly Lord Gyles Rosby, and the burly Ser Gareth Gaunt. There were also another twenty Guards of the Red Keep garrison in here.

As we entered the Great Hall, Joffrey turned to us, fire burning in his eyes like madness. His face was etched into an unhinged, snarling, growl as if he were more beast than man, his blonde hair was disheveled as if he had just rolled out of bed, and his armor was spotless save for the single smear of blood on the back of his right gauntlet from where he had busted open the lip of the Serving Girl from earlier with a backhand slap. He had clearly lost the plot thanks to how everything seemed to be going against him.

"Traitors! I'll have your heads for this, but not before I kill you slowly! You'll be begging for death by the end, I swear it!" Ranted Joffrey.

"Surrender now and I promise to speak on your behalf to King Stannis!" I offered, knowing it was pointless and that Joffrey was too far gone.

"My Uncle is no King! He is a traitor and he will die a traitor's death! You will die with him!" Snarled Joffrey, spittle flying from his mouth.

"We have no time to try and reason with a madman, Milord!" Reminded Ser Maric.

"Aye, Ser Maric's correct." Agreed Ser Clarence.

"Right, then. Take him!" I commanded.

"Kill the Traitors! Kill them all!" Demanded Joffrey.

Then battle was joined in the Throne Room of the Great Hall of the Red Keep as both sides clashed. My men knew better than to waste their limited ammunition for their pistols on Red Keep Guards, especially as we had them outnumbered. As Ser Gareth Gaunt moved into the fight, however, it seemed that discipline was put on the shelf as I heard one of the pistols go off with a crack and Ser Gareth fall to the flagstones of the Throne Room with a pained cry, a pistol ball lodged in his thigh.

I didn't have much time to watch that, however, because as I thrust my Valyrian Steel blade through the breastplate of a Red Keep Guard in an overhand Imbrocatta thrust, I was stopped from moving on by Ser Jacelyn Bywater, who lashed out with his ball-headed mace at my head, forcing me to duck. A punch from his iron prosthetic right hand smashed into my helmet, the sheer force of the blow rattling my teeth behind the visor of my helm and splitting my lip. However, I managed to roll with the blow in a reverse somersault, instead of allowing it to knock me on my arse. In the process, I kicked out with my legs at Ser Jacelyn's knee. The tassets and fauld of the breastplate over mail he wore weren't as protective as cuisse, greave, and poleyn would have been, and my kick to the side of his knee sent him down on one knee to the floor.

As I popped up, I was forced to duck a slash from a Red Keep Guardsman, cutting out in a horizontal Tondo Cut from left to right with my sidesword that cut the Guardsman's legs out from under him. He fell to the ground and I grabbed Ser Jacelyn's fallen mace in my off-hand rising up and bringing it down on Ser Jacelyn's helmeted head as I did so. The steel head of the mace, smashed into the top of Ser Jacelyn's helmet, denting the steel with a thunderous clang. Ser Jacelyn's eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed unconscious from the blow, bleeding from his scalp, and with a hurt knee, but alive.

I moved on as Ser Maric took out a trio of Red Keep Guards protecting Lord Rosby with his axe, marking out a circle of death in such a way that the two Guards rushing to Lord Rosby's aid lost limbs trying to reinforce the Elderly Lord. The aged, wrinkled, face of Lord Gyles Rosby seemed stunned for a moment, before he put his hands up in surrender, yielding to Ser Maric. Meanwhile, Ser Clarence was directing our forces to finish off the Red Keep Guards in the Throne Room, having them effectively pin the remaining Guards up against the wall for easy killing or capture. That left the route to Joffrey and Ser Mandon Moore open to me.

Ser Mandon snarled, drawing his arming sword as he stepped forward to challenge me and stop me from reaching Joffrey. He had to know this was suicide, and that Joffrey wasn't a king worth dying for, but he clearly didn't care. It seemed he had something of a personal grudge against me.

"I've been looking forward to this!" Snarled Ser Mandon Moore.

Then he slashed out with his Arming Sword in a deceptively quick strike, forcing me to parry instead of dodge. He'd clearly been training, but as I parried his follow-on reverse slash, I realized that he hadn't been training enough to beat me. Ser Mandon switched to a low cut at my leg which I hopped over, only for him to let out a shout and shoulder-check me while I was in mid-air. His pauldron connected with my breastplate in a crunch that rattled my ribs and bruised my chest slightly before sending me tumbling to the flagstones with an expelled breath and a grunt. On instinct, I rolled to the side almost as soon as I landed, avoiding the downward stab of Ser Mandon's blade that he hoped to use to kill me. As I popped to my feet, taking my guard up again, I nodded at Ser Mandon, giving respect where it was due.

"You've been practicing." I intoned.

"All the better to end you with you little shit." Sneered Ser Mandon.

"I wouldn't get cocky. You've gotten better, but you're still a ways out from beating me." I taunted.

"Is that a fact?" Asked Ser Mandon.

"Indeed it is." I grinned.

"I'll show you otherwise, then!" Snarled Ser Mandon as he bulled forward.

Large arcing slashes pressed me back as Ser Mandon Moore attempted to maneuver me into a corner with his attacks. He must have studied my duels and fights, or at least read up on water dancing. He understood the essence of water dancing was mobility, always dodge when you could parry, always parry when you could block. His strategy was working well enough as he pressed me back halfway across the Throne Room toward a corner. However, he didn't seem to take into account that just because my style favored dodging whenever possible, that didn't mean I relied solely on it. In fact, with my Valyrian Steel blade, parrying would be even more effective than normal.

As I switched my strategy up and began to parry instead of dodging, I seemed to have caught Ser Mandon off guard. A high slash aimed at taking my throat was parried by my Valyrian Steel blade, taking a chunk out of the edge of Ser Mandon's Arming Sword as the edges made contact. That happened again with a low cut at my right knee, and again as Ser Mandon thrust for my visor, the high-low-high combo expertly parried by my flashing Valyrian Steel blade.

Over and over again I parried his cuts, until, two more attempted combinations later, a screech of tearing metal sounded out from Ser Mandon's arming sword as my Valyrian Steel blade cut right through the abused weapon. Two and a half feet of chipped castle-forged steel was sheared off Ser Mandon's sword, leaving him with just the hilt. That, he threw at me as he attempted to draw a dagger that hung off his belt. I slipped aside from the thrown hilt and charged Ser Mandon, crouching down in a skidding kick at his legs that sent him reeling to the floor.

I drew my own dagger as I straddled Ser Mandon's torso, even as Ser Mandon's own dagger cleared its sheath. I was quicker on the draw, however, and before Ser Mandon could thrust his dagger through the gaps in my armor, my own dagger plunged down into his visor, punching through his eye and into his brain. Ser Mandon Moore convulsed once, twice, and then stilled, dead on the floor.

However, before I could do anything, I felt something slam into the side of my breastplate, bruising my torso but failing to penetrate. I turned to see Joffrey snarling as he threw a crossbow aside and drew his sword. The bolt had failed to penetrate my armor, or even dent it, lying broken on the stone of the floor as I stood up, grabbing my Valyrian Steel blade from where I had dropped it next to Ser Mandon's corpse and took up a stance. As I did, I noticed Joffrey's own sword matched mine in materials and consistency.

"So you noticed? You may have gotten that Traitor Ned Stark out of the Capital, but he had to leave his Valyrian Steel Blade behind! Mother had Tobho Mott melt it down and forge two blades out of the Valyrian Steel, this is one. It's called Hearteater! Now I'll use this to carve out your heart and show it to you, just like the name implies!" Spat Joffrey.

He lunged for me with the Valyrian Steel Arming Sword he held, but his thrust was clumsy and slow. I parried it with ease, along with his follow-on cut, the form of which was sloppier than I was used to. I backpedaled out of the way of a slow, disemboweling, strike and realized that Joffrey was a mediocre swordsman at best. He'd spent too long hiding behind his Royal Prerogative when matched against people in the yard who could fight him on even terms and had spent the rest of his time training bullying swordsmen who were even weaker than he was, like Samwell Tarly. The result of that was that he'd never really improved his skill with a blade.

"Stand still! I'll kill you!" Snarled Joffrey, thrusting his blade out again.

"Not like that you won't!" I taunted, parrying.

"Damn you! I am your King you traitor!" Insisted Joffrey, coming back in with another thrust.

"You're no King!" I retorted, parrying his thrust with my sidesword before briefly winding and binding, entangling our blades together for a brief moment. Then with a pull, I ripped Hearteater out of Joffrey's grip, sending it flying to the ground near Ser Maric, who stepped on the blade and readied his axe and shield to defend it from any attempt Joffrey might make to regain it.

"Damn it! This wasn't supposed to happen! Mother said I was supposed to be the Perfect King!" Whined Joffrey.

"As I said, you're no King. You're nothing." I intoned.

"Damn it! I am the King whether you like it or not! I'll see you all dead for this, do you hear me?" Ranted Joffrey.

"We don't have time for you to keep embarrassing the Lad, Milord." Warned Ser Maric.

"Aye, judging by what I'm seeing outside, half the gates have already fallen." Added Ser Clarence.

"Right. Let's wrap this up here and move on." I agreed.

Joffrey never saw the pommel strike I sent into his temple coming. It wasn't enough to kill him, but he'd have a massive headache when he woke up. Of course, when he woke up, that was likely to be the least of his troubles. All told, taking the throne room had largely been a breeze, we'd taken a few minor injuries and one more serious casualty from an unlucky blow by a Red Keep Guardman's sword that had cleaved into the arm of one of Ser Clarence's Men and would require stitches, bandages, and a poultice, plus time to heal. In response, we had captured Joffrey, Lord Gyles Rosby, Ser Jacelyn Bywater, and Ser Gareth Gaunt, and killed twenty Red Keep Guards plus Ser Mandon Moore.

Now it was time to move on. As commanded, Ser Clarence set up his men in the Throne Room, securing the prisoners with Rope scavenged from one of the storerooms in the Granary Section of the Kitchens. Meanwhile, Ser Maric and I headed out of the Great Hall and into the Courtyard with our Squads. There were another sixty or so Red Keep Guards milling about in the courtyard, waiting for orders. They were between us and our goals, so they had to go.

I aimed one of my brace of pistols, as did Ser Maric and all of our men, then with a crack of thunder, sparks, and a plume of smoke, twenty-two snaplock pistols fired into the group of Red Keep Guards to begin the Courtyard Fight, cutting down their number by almost half right at the outset of the battle. My own shot took out what had to be a Red Keep Guard Officer, judging from the plume on the helmet and the fact that his kit was nicer than the others. My pistol ball smashed into his face as he spotted us, killing him before he could order his men into formation.

As we charged forward into the disorganized mass of Red Keep Guards, I caught one with a Mandritto Squalembrato cut, slashing out diagonally from right to left and opening the Hapless Guardsmen up from ear to knee. He fell dead to the ground as my dagger found the armpit of a second Red Keep Guardsman via an off-hand thrust, punching into his lung and sending him to the ground. I ducked a slash from a third and came up with a cut of my dagger slicing into his jugular, even as I parried another attack from a Fourth Red Keep Guard with my Blade. My blade's pommel smashed into the one's throat, crushing his windpipe and forcing him to fall back, stuttering and choking.

Then the remaining Red Keep Guards in the Courtyard began to flee. Between the shock of our attack, the disorganization of the Guardsmen, our alpha strike with pistols, and the following charge, we'd killed or disabled forty-nine Red Keep Guardsmen in the courtyard in just a few moments. That brought our total number of kills for this part of the Battle up to seventy, over twice the number of forces we were assaulting the Red Keep with, suffering only minor injuries and a pair of more serious wounds in the process, as one of Ser Maric's men had his leg stabbed by a dagger in the charge.

That wasn't too shabby even for a day's fighting, and the day wasn't over yet. Ser Maric and I split up, then, with him and his squad heading for the Maidenvault to capture Myrcella and me and my men heading for Maegor's Holdfast to take Cersei, Pycelle, and Tyrion. Fortunately, the idiots had left a way to get across the moat via the drawbridge. I supposed that with Tyrion and Cersei taking an active hand in commanding the siege, and them being holed up in Maegor's Holdfast, they needed some way to send messages to various field commanders, hence the drawbridge being down. While the gate was still shut, I had a plan for that.

I had prepared a petard, just in case we had to explode a way into Maegar's Holdfast. There were tunnels we could have taken, of course, especially if the defenders had raised the drawbridge across the moat, but that would take time, time during which Cersei could decide that if she couldn't keep control of the Capital, nobody would get to have it, and send someone to blow the Wildfire in the City Undercroft. We couldn't afford to have that happen, so this was what we had to do.

As I lit the slow-burning matchcord fuse of the petard after nailing it to the iron-banded oak gates of Maegor's Holdfast, I realized this was it. If we took Maegor's Holdfast and the Maidenvault, the fall of the Capital would effectively be assured. I retreated to a safe distance, and shortly afterward, a loud roar echoed through the early morning air as the gates to Maegor's Holdfast were blown open in a cacophony of flames, smoke, iron rivets, and oaken splinters. Pointing my Valyrian Steel blade at the now open gateway, I called out to rally my men for another push.

"The Prize is in there, Lads! Let's get after it!" I roared.

A Cheer went up from the squad I was leading as the smoke cleared, revealing the way into Maegor's Holdfast. Then, I put my words into practice rushing for the entrance we'd made with my petard. The Squad followed after me, morale high. One way or another, this battle would end here.

I hoped to make it end in our favor. . .

XXXX

AN: All right, so here's the first part of the assault on King's Landing. At the risk of quoting a meme here, Ser Few of House Goodmen is putting in some decent work today. Already Joffrey's been captured, and it looks like Myrcella, Cersei, and Tyrion are about to be captured too.

Of course, Joffrey has gone completely unhinged. Not just sociopathic, but he's become a raving lunatic. Cersei is likewise paranoid, and you can expect Maegor's Holdfast to have more than the Twenty Guards and one Kingsguard Member that were guarding Joffrey. Of course, that's the thing about incest, it doesn't make for stable kids. Lest we forget that Tywin was married to his first cousin, which is arguably the reason that Tyrion is a Dwarf and Cersei is the way she is. Incest isn't just a Jaime and Cersei thing in the Lannister Family if you stop and think about it.

At any rate, the next chapter will be an interlude showing some of the non-Ricasso parts of the battle. Then we'll be back with Ricasso for the assault on Maegor's Holdfast.

Stay tuned. . .