Chapter 105 — A World Where Only Ser Meryn Loses
The moment Joffrey's accusation fell, the Kingsguard exchanged uneasy glances.
Their faces turned pale.
After all, they had focused entirely on protecting the king just now and had completely forgotten about Margaery.
If she couldn't be found, that old woman from House Tyrell would never let the matter go.
Even the Kingsguard might not escape punishment.
As for Odin, who had just been blamed for no reason, he didn't bother getting angry with Joffrey.
He knew the boy too well.
The folds of that brain were smoother than polished marble.
Nothing he said or did was ever surprising.
But beside him, Cersei suddenly let out a sob at the perfect moment, interrupting Joffrey's furious tirade.
"Oh, Seven save us!"
She covered her face, her shoulders trembling as if she were on the verge of tears.
Yet through the gaps between her fingers, Odin could clearly see the corners of her mouth curling upward.
"Lady Margaery… she must have already…"
"Oh, the poor girl! She's only sixteen!"
"If she ends up like that fool from House Stokeworth, what will become of her?"
"Even if we find her again… I'm afraid she could never become queen…"
She spoke so naturally.
So sorrowfully.
For a moment even Joffrey nearly doubted whether he had imagined seeing that push earlier.
But Odin merely shook his head.
What a stupid woman.
Just for a moment of satisfaction, she had been willing to destroy Margaery's purity.
She even seemed to hope the mob would kill her.
Didn't she realize that with Loras gone, Margaery was now the only link between the Tyrells and the Lannisters?
What she had just done was essentially pushing their strongest ally toward becoming an enemy.
The level of stupidity rivaled Robb Stark executing Lord Karstark.
Still…
None of that was Odin's problem.
If the Lannisters and Tyrells ended up tearing each other apart, that was for the old lion to worry about.
However—
while today's riot might fool Joffrey, it would never fool men like Tywin Lannister or Olenna Tyrell.
If anything really happened to Margaery, those two old monsters would definitely join forces to kill him.
Fortunately…
---
Just as Cersei was about to burst out laughing—
a series of hurried footsteps echoed from the alley.
Then a short, stocky man emerged with several others.
Rorge, the man with no nose, grinned.
His smile looked uglier than a cry.
In a strange way it mirrored Cersei's own expression—her crying face that looked almost like laughter.
But that wasn't important.
What mattered was the woman in his arms.
Margaery Tyrell.
Her pale-blue dress was torn and covered in dirt.
Her hair was disheveled.
Her face, smudged with grime, was streaked with tears.
But thankfully—
her clothes were still intact.
Disordered, but not ripped apart.
Her arms clung tightly around Rorge's neck, as though this grotesque man were the only source of safety in the world.
Rorge walked up to Odin and carefully set her down.
Then he straightened his slightly hunched back with immense pride.
A man who had grown up in Flea Bottom had never imagined that one day he would carry the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms in his arms.
His fingers twitched slightly.
The soft warmth of her body still lingered in his palms.
For a moment, he almost didn't want to let go.
Margaery's legs trembled, but she managed to stand.
She lifted her head.
First looking at Odin.
Then at Joffrey.
Finally—
she shot Cersei a fierce glare.
Her lips trembled as if she wanted to say something.
But she forced herself to hold back.
---
"Your Grace. Lord Odin."
Rorge's voice was loud enough for everyone to hear.
"We found Lady Tyrell in the alley."
"She was surrounded by several men."
"But luckily we arrived in time."
"She was not harmed."
The words struck Cersei like a slap across the face.
She turned her head sharply and glared at Odin.
Odin ignored her.
Instead he walked straight to Margaery, removed his cloak, and draped it over her trembling shoulders.
"You're safe now," he said calmly.
"Don't worry, Lady Tyrell."
For a moment Margaery's eyes flashed with resentment.
Then she staggered forward and threw herself into Joffrey's arms, crying pitifully.
"Oh, Your Grace! I'm so relieved to see you safe!"
She had expected the king to comfort her.
Instead Joffrey only nodded blankly.
Margaery was alive.
That should have been good news.
But somehow…
something about the situation felt strangely wrong.
Cersei had already regained her composure.
She stepped forward, pretending to embrace Margaery.
"My dear, thank the Seven you're safe—"
But Margaery stepped aside.
Cersei's arms froze awkwardly in midair.
Forced to recover, she turned and approached Odin instead.
"Thank you so much, Lord Odin."
"It's nothing."
Odin nodded solemnly.
"Protecting the king is the duty of every citizen of King's Landing."
"And Lady Tyrell is the future queen."
"If anything had happened to her, I imagine the Hand of the King and the Lord of Highgarden would be very… very angry."
He emphasized those last words heavily.
Even someone as foolish as Cersei could understand the implication.
She inhaled slowly.
Though resentment still burned inside her, she said nothing more.
"Your Grace."
Seeing her reaction, Odin turned to Joffrey.
"Although today's incident did not occur inside my district of Flea Bottom, I would still like to offer compensation."
"The rioters who attacked you—leave them to me."
Joffrey's eyes lit up immediately.
"Kill them!"
"Kill all those filthy peasants!"
"I want everyone on this street executed!"
The bound prisoners instantly glared at him with bloodshot eyes.
No one had expected that after barely escaping danger, the king would make such a "brilliant" declaration.
It was a miracle they hadn't already been torn apart before reaching the Red Keep.
Fortunately, Odin spoke again at the perfect moment.
"Rather than killing them," he said calmly, "I have a better suggestion, Your Grace."
"What suggestion?" Joffrey asked.
"Let them live."
Odin's voice was steady.
"But from this day forward, their lives will no longer belong to them."
"These people will work under my supervision for the king until the day they die."
"Every ounce of strength, every drop of sweat they produce will serve as payment for their crime."
"Until their very last breath."
He paused before continuing.
"That punishment is far crueler than death."
"Death lasts only a moment."
"But working until death… is a lifetime of suffering."
"And it will also show the realm the mercy of the Iron Throne."
"You have granted them the chance to live—"
"Even if that life is worse than death."
Hearing the proposal, Joffrey's eyes lit up.
This idea…
was brilliant.
If no one was executed, he wouldn't gain a reputation for cruelty.
But these filthy peasants would still suffer a punishment far worse than death!
And it sounded wise—like the kind of judgment a true king would make.
"Good!" Joffrey cleared his throat, trying to sound like a wise ruler.
"That's how we'll do it!"
"These people are yours now, Odin."
"I want them to work until they die—every minute spent in misery!"
"As you wish, Your Grace." Odin bowed slightly.
"Hehehe…"
Joffrey revealed a cruel grin.
What he failed to notice was that the bound prisoners were almost struggling not to laugh.
Work for Odin until death?
That was…
wonderful.
They were all poor commoners.
Before Odin came, most of them could barely find food.
The House of Order provided meals, lodging, and even generous wages.
This wasn't punishment.
It was practically a reward.
---
"Furthermore," Odin continued while Joffrey was still pleased with himself.
"To ensure such incidents never occur again, I request Your Grace's permission to strengthen security around Flea Bottom."
"I would like to form a peacekeeping force of about one hundred men."
"It will serve to demonstrate the authority of the Iron Throne."
"Of course, I will cover all the expenses myself."
"Good! Good!"
Joffrey agreed without hesitation.
Every suggestion Odin made seemed to benefit him.
If not for his fear of his grandfather, Joffrey might even have thought that someone like Odin should become Hand of the King.
"I will reward you, Odin!"
He excitedly slapped Odin's shoulder.
"I must reward you! The Small Council needs men like you—"
"Joffrey!"
"Your Grace!"
Before he could continue, both Cersei and Odin hurriedly interrupted him.
What a ridiculous idea.
Those seats were tightly controlled by the old lion.
If Tywin Lannister thought Odin had staged all of this just to gain a council position, things would become very troublesome.
And Cersei herself felt somewhat guilty.
After all, she had already caused Loras to disappear—and had nearly gotten Margaery killed as well.
---
"Lord Odin saved us today," Cersei said loudly, regaining control of the situation.
"That was an act of knightly bravery and deserves recognition."
She raised her voice deliberately so everyone nearby could hear.
"Therefore, I believe Lord Odin should be knighted."
Joffrey nodded vigorously.
"Yes! He should!"
"In that case, I will personally knight you—"
"Your Grace, that would not be appropriate!"
Seeing the boy king about to make another foolish decision, Odin quickly interrupted.
Joffrey frowned in confusion.
Odin looked at him sincerely.
"My birth is humble. I am nothing more than a farmer."
"How could someone of such low origin deserve to be knighted personally by a king?"
"Indeed," Cersei immediately added.
"Bloodline matters."
"But Lord Odin's actions today prove his courage, wisdom, and loyalty."
"So here is a better solution."
"Joffrey, you should command your great-uncle Ser Kevan Lannister to preside over the knighting ceremony at the Great Sept of Baelor."
"That way Odin's achievements are honored—without making the gesture excessive."
Her words sounded perfectly reasonable.
Each sentence flawless.
Joffrey, already confused, waved his hand impatiently.
"Fine. Then it's settled."
"Tomorrow morning, Uncle Kevan will knight you at the sept."
---
For the first time, Odin revealed a genuine smile.
As Tywin's hidden instrument, gaining a title directly from the old lion himself was nearly impossible.
He had to create an opportunity.
Fortunately, despite a few small complications, the plan had worked.
As for why Cersei had helped him so eagerly—
it was because Odin had reminded her of something important.
Even if Loras was gone, Tywin could still marry her off at any moment if it served his interests.
If she wanted a permanent solution, she had to cooperate with him.
So she had no choice but to play along with his little performance.
---
"Thank you, Your Grace. Thank you, Your Majesty."
With his goal achieved, Odin bowed slightly.
"Please allow me to escort you back to the Red Keep."
"This road… is still not entirely safe."
He mounted his horse.
The Dothraki warrior raised the banner of the Black Hand.
Three carriages, prepared in advance, rolled forward.
Joffrey climbed into one and collapsed onto the cushions, utterly exhausted.
He glanced out the window.
Odin rode beside the procession.
His back was straight as a sword.
Seeing that figure, Joffrey felt an overwhelming sense of security.
The procession slowly disappeared into the distance.
The dust settled.
The entire riot—from beginning to end—had passed quickly.
Almost no casualties.
Even the street where the conflict began had already returned to its usual neatness.
Only one thing was missing.
The body in white armor.
Ser Meryn Trant.
The only person who truly lost anything today.