Morning in King's Landing, the largest city in Westeros by river and sea, was cold and clear, yet full of life and no less grand for it.
The harbor of King's Landing was still a ruin. The Blackwater Rush was choked with broken wooden piers and burned, sunken warships in utter disorder. But laborers and soldiers had already begun salvaging the wreckage and clearing the river. Besides their wages, the laborers were allowed to take some scraps of wood for their own use. The ship prows and carved ornaments, however, were collected as trophies for the King's Landing Veterans' Home.
On the walls of King's Landing, the newly formed city garrison watched the golden storm surging outside The King's Gate. The new Gold Cloaks were built around loyal soldiers from Crackclaw Point and the Crownlands, with some "Winter Wolves" who had chosen to remain added in. Their style was completely different from the old Gold Cloaks.
Golden silk battle standards streamed beneath the open sky, the sun lending them an even brighter splendor. Knights in gold cloaks and black armor moved like proud charging stags, their armor shining, their lances like a forest. A white falcon circled high above the formation, its sharp cry echoing through the sky like a whistle.
"Toot, toot, toot, toot, toot, toot!"
A horn sounded from within the ranks, followed by the beat of war drums.
Hearing the horn and drums, the white falcon flew back down, diving onto the arm of Gendry, who wore a gold cloak and black armor. Glory was the new name Gendry had given the falcon. As high as glory, as high as power. This falcon had once been a gift from King Robert to Hand of the King Jon, and now it had come into Gendry's hands.
"You had better be careful." Gendry stroked the white falcon's head. It was a clever, spirited falcon, worth no small sum. But the black dragon Balerion was a violent Dragon, and Gendry was worried the dragon might roast the falcon in one bite. Among beasts, only Direwolves, Kraken, Dragons, and the like truly carried something extraordinary in their blood.
The soldiers began to sing.
"We are the Guard, brave to lead the way. We are the Guard, brave and always victorious... Let the fiercest fury burn like flame... We are Storm soldiers, riding the wind to Casterly Rock... Kill old Tywin, then gut the stinking Ironborn fish."
Beside Gendry, Garlan Tyrell listened to the soldiers' cheerful song with mixed feelings. Power was power, and victory was victory. Gendry had led these soldiers to victory in battle after battle, so naturally their morale was high. They dared to charge, dared to fight, and knew how to win.
Where does the army of The Reach fall short? Garlan asked himself.
He soon found the answer. They lacked that air of invincibility, the confidence born of victory and hard tempering. Like the Conqueror, like the Storm of Laughter and Robert, like my ancestor Leo, like the Storm.
The Reach had a vast army, but its true striking force was limited. It was simply the land that could support the most knights. Set aside the finest elite troops, and those farmers and small merchants in the rear would pack up and run the moment the war turned against them. Even if they truly fought, who could be sure they could stand against the Storm? The Storm's attacks were as fierce as fire, and his cunning was like a fox's.
"In the light of the sun, the stars are only stars." Garlan composed himself and accompanied Gendry into King's Landing.
Rumble!
The newly painted and repaired oak-and-iron gates of The King's Gate swung open.
The gold-cloaked knights filed in one after another. The guards of King's Landing automatically split to either side, gripping their lances and staves as they watched the streets and alleys. The people of King's Landing had long since grown used to it. These days, troops were always leaving at night and reentering the city by day to carry out repairs.
Once inside King's Landing, Gendry caught that faint, lingering stench. The Three Hills were better, at least, since they stood high above the city, and the Red Keep was close to the sea and the Blackwater Rush, where the air was cleaner.
After entering the city, the knights restrained themselves. Like a silent golden forest, their boots and hooves passed over the ground of King's Landing. The gold-cloaked knights no longer laughed and joked. They were imposing, moving as one body, like a single long sword.
"How did you do it, Prince?" Garlan could not help asking. "These guardsmen look as if every one of them could fight ten men."
"Selection of the vanguard, Ser Garlan. Choose the elites from the army and assign them to legions," Gendry said. The Wolf Pack, the Free Company, the Second Sons, the most elite Guard legion, the Astapor Unsullied legion he had recently taken into his hands, and the Storm Legion. The rule of a legion lay in selection: through training and screening, the strongest were chosen.
"King's Landing is now a city inside a military camp." Gendry looked at Garlan. South of the Blackwater Rush was Gendry's camp; north of King's Landing were the camps of the "Winter Wolves" and some of the Crackclaws; west of King's Landing was the camp of The Reach.
"For now, Prince," Garlan said with a bow. The golden rose on green flew behind the golden quartered banner, and some of House Tyrell's household troops followed behind the golden Guard.
"Soldiers cannot be left idle. Since they are already here, they may as well help repair the damage throughout the city," Gendry said.
"Prince." After the Guard entered the city, Ser Boggs, the Lord Commander of the Gold Cloaks, rode forward, followed by a group of maimed veterans from Crackclaw Point. "Ser Lothor has obtained the prey we wanted from the Spider. He is now organizing the encirclement to make sure no one escapes."
Gendry nodded slightly, satisfied with Lothor's actions. King's Landing needed a thorough sweeping, especially the Red Keep. The Spider had worked in King's Landing for far too long. His claws might still be hidden in every corner.
"How are the repairs to the gates and the Flea Pit coming?" Gendry asked.
"The gates were badly damaged during the Battle of the Blackwater Rush and the riots in King's Landing. We are repairing them as quickly as possible. As for the former gate officers, they have all been dealt with," Ser Boggs said in a deep voice. "Varys did not use much wildfire, so the damage was fortunately limited. The fires in the Flea Pit have also been put out."
Once King's Landing is repaired, the stragglers on the roads will be next, Gendry thought as the great host marched into the city.
A forest of bright golden armor poured into King's Landing, passing along its shifting roads, some broad avenues, some crooked little lanes. The common folk watched this army as they always did. They already knew the most elite troops belonged to the "Guard," the Storm's strongest vanguard.
After the dust of war settled, the people of King's Landing had gained a new understanding of the war. The Lannisters, who had ruined the realm and brought misery to the people, had drawn divine punishment and caused famine. Now the city had returned beneath the glory of the rightful king. Merchants and Sellswords, whose ears were always sharpest, openly praised this invincible army and its handsome, composed commander.
"Savior!"
"Long live the Storm!"
The bolder commoners occasionally cheered. At the very least, they had already learned what the Storm's soldiers were like. This army's discipline was extremely strict.
After victory, the High Septon and the Grand Maester will argue my case for me, Gendry thought. Then he continued on in haste, entering the Red Keep atop the High Hill. The High Septon had become a flatterer, while Grand Maester Pycelle, now writing his memoirs, sang Gendry's praises every day.
In the morning light, the lion-and-stag banners above the Red Keep had long since been torn apart or taken by laborers for their own use. Only the golden banner flew there now, the most original gold.
Gendry entered the Red Keep.
The Hour of the Stag.
The red priestess, acting as palace steward, and Septa Tyene were already waiting there. The soldiers followed in their steps.
...
In the courtyard, Varys's torment was finally nearing its end.
"You know what we want, and you know there is a secret passage in there. Speak. How did you summon the little birds?" Lothor stared at Varys.
"I..." Varys nodded. In truth, he could barely speak anymore. Every one of Varys's fingers had been struck with a small hammer until he finally could not endure it.
"My room... my..." Varys spoke of his little room. Varys, tortured until he no longer looked human, truly could not hold out any longer. "My bedchamber. The secret passage is in the bedchamber..."
"How do you call them?" Lothor asked.
Varys pointed at his mouth, then drew a small bell on the paper. That bell was beneath the floor of his bedchamber.
"Ring the bell, and the birds appear?" Lothor asked.
Varys nodded, then shook his head.
"There is more?" A cold light appeared in Lothor's eyes.
Varys nodded again. This time, the drawing on the paper became several pieces of candy. The sound of the bell, and candy.
Following Varys's directions, the soldiers found a hidden lever that slid aside a stone slab, revealing the stairs behind it.
"Put him beside the desk." Lothor did not speak further, merely pointing at the desk, but the soldiers understood his order.
Varys wore a moth-eaten brown robe and looked much the same as usual, his hood hiding his pale face. His cheeks were even whiter from the abuse he had suffered. He was placed weakly in an oak chair.
The soldiers holding crossbows stared intently at the pitch-black opening, as if looking into the dreadful throat of a monster. None of them knew how many monsters might come from beyond. They could only wait.
According to Varys's confession, candy was placed at the foot of the stairs, and the bell rang.
Crossbows were loaded. The soldiers hid in the corners beyond Varys's desk, staring intently at the secret passage.
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