The City Watch wore black chainmail.
Even the officers only added a single decorative breastplate with four golden disks on the front.
They were called the Gold Cloaks purely because of the thick, eye-catching golden wool cloaks they wore over everything.
Especially when they patrolled the streets and alleys with spears and swords in hand.
As the standing force of the royal capital, their numbers dwarfed any castle guard in the realm.
Two thousand men strong.
And under the brilliant leadership of Lord Janos Slynt, the ranks had swelled with all kinds of talent pulled straight out of Flea Bottom—thieves, thugs, and desperate men drowning in debt.
Pay the enlistment fee and you became a proud servant of the king.
So when Joffrey wanted to dabble in something less than respectable, the commander of the Gold Cloaks was the perfect man for the job.
Janos Slynt sat across from him, licking his thick lips and stealing glances at the Hound standing by with his hand on his sword. He plastered on an extremely obsequious smile.
"Your Grace, what orders do you have for this humble servant?"
Joffrey simply picked up the ornate silver flagon on the table and poured Summer Red for both of them.
"You must be thirsty after the walk. Wet your throat first."
Janos accepted the cup with visible delight. Only after watching Joffrey drink did he take a large gulp himself.
"The tourney begins in a few days," Joffrey set his cup down, speaking unhurriedly. "Besides the usual knightly duels, there will be the melee, the trial of seven, and dozens of smaller events. All told, over a hundred matches."
"It'll be exciting, but after sitting in the stands for hours, people get tired of just eating pies and drinking ale. They'll want something more entertaining."
He looked Janos in the eye. "That's why I called you here—to discuss how we can work together."
The hand that had been pouring wine froze in mid-air.
"Your Grace… that sort of business has always existed in King's Landing," Janos's voice tightened. "In the alleys, in the taverns—everyone understands how it works."
"I know," Joffrey smiled. "And the man who runs the biggest, most stable operation is none other than our beloved Master of Coin, Lord Petyr Baelish. Correct?"
A loud gulp echoed in the room.
Sweat beads broke out on Janos's forehead, glistening in the candlelight.
"Lord Baelish does have some… business interests. Everyone knows a little about it," he tried to keep his words vague.
"But you are the Commander of the City Watch," Joffrey took a sip of wine. "So I imagine you know quite a bit more than 'everyone.'"
"But Your Grace!" Janos's voice rose. "Lord Baelish looks friendly and always has a smile, but if he finds out someone is touching his business…" The fat under his chin wobbled as he shook his head. "I don't even want to think about the consequences."
"Consequences?" Joffrey gave a cold laugh and set his empty cup down with a clink. "Lord Janos, tell me—who pays the wages for your two thousand Gold Cloaks every month?"
Janos opened his mouth but no sound came out.
"Lord Baelish, right?" Joffrey answered for him.
"Then where does that money come from?"
"From… from the royal treasury," Janos mumbled.
"Exactly," Joffrey spread his hands. "I, Joffrey, simply want to add a few fun little games to my own nameday celebrations. To keep everything safe and orderly, I'm asking the City Watch to help maintain control and keep out troublemakers."
His smile deepened, but his eyes stayed cold. "So tell me—why would our dear Lord Baelish cause trouble for you… or for me?"
"Every golden dragon he spends is my family's money."
Janos sat there stunned, his expression shifting rapidly.
After a few breaths he suddenly grabbed his cup and drained it in one long gulp. The alcohol quickly flushed his cheeks and gave him a burst of courage.
"Then why doesn't Your Grace just go to Lord Baelish directly?" Janos asked cautiously. "He'd surely be happy to set up a private book for you. Whatever you win or lose stays with you—easy and safe."
Joffrey shrugged. "If someone else handles everything, where's the fun in that?"
He didn't waste more words. He pushed a rolled parchment across the table. "These are some simple rules I drafted, plus a few ideas to attract customers. Take a look."
Janos clumsily unrolled the sheet and squinted at it.
Just from the awkward way he tried to hide his struggle, Joffrey could tell the man was likely barely literate—probably only able to recognize his own name.
"It seems Lord Janos is very busy with official duties and doesn't have time to read it carefully," Joffrey said kindly, taking the parchment back. "Here's what we'll do. When you go see Lord Baelish, tell him that I'm young and impulsive and came up with some ideas, but I'm worried they might have flaws. Ask the Master of Coin to kindly review them for me."
Janos nodded blankly, then immediately denied it as if burned. "Why would I go to Lord Baelish?"
"Your Grace sees clearly—I only have official dealings with him. We have no private relationship."
"Yes, of course you don't," Joffrey nodded smoothly. "And I certainly have no special relationship with 'that person' either."
Janos blinked his small eyes, his limited brain working overtime trying to figure out who "that person" referred to.
Joffrey didn't give him long to wonder. He leaned back, relaxed.
"During the tourney, curfew will be extended. The Gold Cloaks will need to keep order on the streets and at the arena during the day."
"But whether you want to put in some overtime at night in a different location… that's entirely up to Lord Janos to arrange."
"As for the profits," Joffrey raised a finger and moved it slowly, "we can split it two ways… or three ways. That's also up to you to decide."
Janos looked back and forth between Joffrey's calm face and his own sweat-soaked hands.
Finally, he grabbed the flagon and drank straight from the spout. Dark red wine spilled down the corners of his mouth, running from his double chin onto his fine tunic.
"Your Grace," his small eyes gleamed with reckless greed, "during the tourney, you can do whatever you want. I guarantee no one will dare cause you the slightest trouble."
Janos puffed out his fat chest, trying to look solemn. "The City Watch's primary duty is to ensure the royal celebrations run smoothly and successfully!"
Joffrey smiled and nodded without saying anything more. He simply gestured that Janos could leave.
Janos gave an awkward bow, snatched up the parchment, and hurried out the door with quick steps.
The room fell quiet again.
Joffrey glanced at the thirsty-looking Hound and silently finished the rest of the wine in the flagon.
He had no intention of accidentally poisoning his loyal guard and friend.
As for Littlefinger…
It seemed his infiltration and control over the City Watch ran even deeper than Joffrey had expected.