Chapter 162

The onlookers inside and outside the River Gate had just finished watching two separate spectacles—the "goldcloak infighting" and the "wight inspection"—leaving them either exhilarated or stunned. No one expected that once the gate opened, the two groups of "actors" would converge at the gate and deliver an even grander performance together: the goldcloaks arresting Night’s Watch members and Tyrion Lannister, only for a white knight to charge in midway and pin the goldcloaks’ leader to the ground.

Jaime Lannister spurred his horse forward, galloping half the length of the street before plunging into the ranks of the City Watch. He brought his steed to an abrupt halt, leaped from the saddle, and drew his sword in one fluid motion. Before the soldiers could react, he had seized Janos Slynt by the collar and forced him to his knees, the gilded lion-hilted blade flashing coldly as it came to rest against Slynt’s throat.
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As a Kingsguard, Jaime was resplendent in his white cloak and armor, meticulously polished to a brilliance that outshone his six sworn brothers—perhaps because it was actually new. His pristine white cape, fastened with silver clasps, billowed behind him like freshly fallen snow. The ornate, lacquered armor gleamed under the sunlight, making the goldcloaks around him appear dingy and yellowed, as if smeared with filth by comparison.

Everything happened so quickly that the crowd had barely shifted their attention to this newly arrived figure—a Kingsguard who seemed to carry his own spotlight—before he had already performed a feat like a warrior out of legend, capturing the notorious commander of the City Watch as if plucking a general from amidst an army. Jaime’s striking appearance and fluid, fearless actions left the crowd in awe, prompting gasps and cheers to erupt.

The dashing and gallant white knight, contrasted with the greasy and sinister-looking middle-aged man kneeling at his feet, created a stark dichotomy. Without needing any knowledge of the backstory, the onlookers instinctively decided who was the hero and who was the villain.
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Jaime leaned in close, his icy expression unwavering. “Lord Slynt, I’m curious—what gave you the gall to arrest a Lannister? My brother?”

It wasn’t until the blade’s chill pressed against his neck that Janos Slynt recognized his assailant. “S-Sir Jaime…” He clutched the arm holding the sword, trembling as he tried to keep himself from losing control of his bladder. Kneeling on the ground, he stammered, “This… this is a misunderstanding! I merely wanted to invite your brother back to assist with an investigation!”

“When a Lannister wants to assist, they will. When they don’t, it’s not your place to ‘invite’ them!”

“I… I was wrong! I’ll release him immediately!” Slynt thought bitterly, The Lannisters are already on the brink of disaster, and yet you still dare act this high-handed? Just wait until that sword is off my neck!

“Ser Jaime, please calm yourself. Let me handle this.” Jaime’s companions finally arrived—a mixed entourage of red-cloaked Lannister guards and gray-cloaked Stark retainers. Dismounting quickly, they urged Jaime to de-escalate. “Release Lord Tyrion at once!”

The surrounding goldcloaks exchanged bewildered looks. Why were Stark retainers speaking on behalf of the Lannisters? The Hand’s men didn’t have the authority to command the City Watch, but with their commander on his knees and a Kingsguard’s blade at his throat, there wasn’t much they could do.

“The Hand of the King has issued an order: Arrest Commander Janos Slynt of the City Watch and detain him in the dungeons of the Red Keep. Jory Cassel will temporarily assume command.” One of the Stark retainers unrolled a document and presented it to the remaining officers of the Watch. “Jory Cassel—Captain of Lord Eddard Stark’s household guard… or rather, former captain. Now acting Commander of the City Watch.”

The officers, having heard rumors of Slynt’s downfall, read the document with no hesitation. Nodding in understanding, they instructed their men to carry out the new commander’s orders. “Sir, what about the orders to surround the River Gate barracks and arrest the Night’s Watch Quartermaster and his workers?”

“All canceled.”

“Yes, sir!”
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The spectacle of the goldcloak infighting had finally come to an end.

Inside the River Gate barracks, Aegor had been closely following the developments outside. He hadn’t despaired despite being surrounded and seemingly out of options. From his past life, he had learned a crucial lesson from games: sometimes, the winner isn’t the stronger player but the one who can hold their ground. As long as you avoid a fatal mistake and endure until your opponent slips, victory is yours.

By adhering to this principle, he had won countless games from disadvantageous positions. And while being hunted and cornered wasn’t a game, today his patience had paid off. Victory had come, though the unexpected nature of his rescuers was almost comical.

Jaime Lannister would never willingly ally with the Starks, nor could he have foreseen Tyrion’s predicament. His timely arrival alongside the Stark retainers suggested only one possibility: Jaime and the Stark men had departed the Red Keep together, intending to leave through the River Gate, coincidentally passing by on their way out.

Aegor dismissed the coincidences. With Slynt apprehended and the crisis resolved, he finally exhaled in relief. “Let’s go. We’re free to leave.”
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The River Gate stage had seen one twist after another. Tyrion had barely regained his freedom when it was nearly snatched away again. The Night’s Watch guards, meanwhile, found themselves released almost as abruptly as they’d been detained, many too bewildered to comprehend what had just happened.

At Jory’s urging, Jaime finally lowered his sword and released Slynt’s collar.

“This can’t be! The Hand of the King can’t arrest me!” Slynt staggered to his feet, his knees weak, and shouted desperately, “I have secret orders from the king himself! Robert needs my men for an important mission. Arresting me is sabotaging the king’s plans!”

“You don’t need to worry about that anymore, Lord Slynt,” Jory replied coldly. Turning to the goldcloaks, he issued a second command: “Seize him. Gag him. Take him to the Red Keep.”

“Wait.” Jaime raised a hand, frowning. “Janos Slynt, what mission did the king need your men for?”

“I… mmph—!”

Jory didn’t allow Slynt to speak further. A quick nod to his men, and two Stark guards promptly gagged the man, dragging him off as he continued to struggle. “Just the ramblings of a condemned man, Ser Jaime. You have the king’s mission to see to—best not delay, or you’ll miss your ship to Dragonstone.”

“Tyrion! You’re as timely as ever,” Jaime turned, grinning at his brother. “I was just thinking about you, and here you are!”

“Sorry, Tyrion,” Jaime interrupted, his expression darkening. “I just remembered something I left behind in the White Sword Tower. I need to fetch it.”

Without further explanation, Jaime mounted his horse and, with two red-cloaked guards, rode swiftly back toward the Red Keep.

(That idiot Slynt—one sentence from him, and the Hand’s plans are all in disarray.) Jory glared after Jaime, annoyed. But without the authority to detain a Kingsguard, Jory knew his priority was securing control over the City Watch. He quickly focused on issuing orders: “Assemble and count the men! Leave a detachment to guard the barracks and await further instructions. All other units, return to your posts. No loitering! The River Gate’s captain—what’s his name? Ironhand, wasn’t it? Get him and his men here immediately!”