"Your Grace!" — a voice called out behind me.
I didn't stop — just turned my head slightly, forcing the speaker to catch up and walk beside me.
"Lord Baelish, I'm very busy. What is it you want?"
"My prince, troubling rumors have reached my ears..."
"They reach you quickly," I interrupted, making it clear I knew exactly why Petyr Baelish had sought me out.I had done little so far — aside from arresting and interrogating Janos Slynt — so there wasn't much to choose from when it came to rumors.
"I try to stay informed about the major events of Westeros," Littlefinger smiled. "May I ask what charges led to the arrest of the Commander of the City Watch?"
"He hasn't been arrested, Lord Baelish — you're speaking to him right now. By royal decree, I am now Commander of the Watch. Slynt was arrested for treason."
"Treason?"
"Theft of royal funds, extortion, bribery, protection of criminals, abuse of power... The list is long. And all of it was committed in collusion with certain, as yet unidentified, individuals."
"And do you have proof, Prince?"
"For proof, speak to Lord Stark. I'm sure Jon Arryn's records contain more than enough. Besides, Slynt is currently dictating those very proofs to Ser Ilyn's assistants — naming both himself and his accomplices. But tell me — why are you so concerned with his fate?"
"Well, as you said yourself — he's accused of embezzling funds. And anything to do with the royal purse is my responsibility."
I stopped sharply, and Petyr took two more steps before realizing I was no longer beside him.
"Tell me, Lord Baelish," I asked slowly, locking eyes with him, "Slynt won't name you as one of his accomplices, will he?"
"That would be a monstrous lie on his part," Petyr said carefully, keeping a pleasant expression. "But — to my shame — I must admit that in the past, Slynt and I didn't get along very well. So I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to drag me down with him."
"Indeed. Criminals often slander honest men to save themselves."
"Exactly, Your Grace! Very well said!"
Baelish was afraid, though he did not show it.To him, I was a storm — something wild and unpredictable that had just crashed into his ordered little world. And worst of all, he wasn't prepared for me. The real Joffrey would be off amusing himself somewhere. But I was seizing power — and that frightened him. Which could only mean one thing: he was somehow tied to Janos. Not surprising, really. And he hadn't had time to cover his tracks — otherwise he wouldn't be this nervous.
Was this an opportunity to eliminate Littlefinger?Unlikely. He had served as Master of Coin for years, and Robert valued him highly — Baelish always provided him with the gold he needed for his drink and his whores.
But was this an opportunity to gain something from him?Most certainly.
"It would be dreadful if anyone were to hear of the vile slanders Slynt might be spreading about honest and respectable lords. Perhaps... I could choose to ignore some of his confessions, so as not to tarnish the reputation of noble men in the realm."
Petyr Baelish's expression changed. Now he was looking at me seriously.Because before him stood Joffrey — but not the Joffrey he used to know. This was Joffrey speaking the language of the Game of Thrones — the game of betrayal and intrigue that the nobility played to grow their power and influence.The old Joffrey would never have spoken like this.
And Littlefinger understood that perfectly.Along with understanding came confusion — how could this be? From Joffrey, whom everyone knew like the back of their hand — those kinds of words? Who had taught him? Who was behind him? I could almost see the gears turning in Baelish's mind, whirring away as he calculated the possibilities, weighing who might be using Joffrey as a piece in their own game.
I was nearly certain he'd settle on either Cersei or Varys.Lord Stark was too noble.Lord Renly — too naïve.Stannis — too straightforward.Pycelle — too old.And Robert? He couldn't care less, so long as his wine cup stayed full.
That left Cersei and Varys — two dangerous players, either of whom might plausibly be using Joffrey as a convenient front for actions against Baelish himself.
It would take time before Littlefinger would come to consider the most unlikely explanation — that Joffrey had changed — as the only one left. And I wouldn't rush him. Let him believe I'm following someone's orders.
"I believe," Petyr said slowly, "that the noble lords of the realm would be most grateful for such... discretion, Your Grace."
Got him.Now I'd have the funds for reorganizing — and, if the gods were kind — expanding the City Watch.I was even curious now: what would Janos reveal about Littlefinger?Hopefully something very dirty — I needed as much gold as I could get.
King's Landing was home to half a million people, at the very least. And for all of them, there were only two thousand guards. That came out to one guard for every two hundred and fifty citizens — not a bad ratio, I'd expected worse.
Unfortunately, the reality of Westeros was such that I'd need to raise the number of City Watchmen to at least ten thousand if I hoped to have the strength to deal with any rebellious lord — or even a great lord — without relying on others.
Each region of the kingdom could muster an army of at least twenty thousand; some more, some less. The Reach, for example, had a force at least twice the size of any other. And against armies like that, two thousand guards were hopelessly outmatched. I'd need far, far more.
But here I ran into the most banal obstacle in the world — money.
Maintaining a standing army was no cheap affair. One had to understand — men who devote their lives to military service don't farm, build, or work the land. They must be paid, fed, and housed entirely by the state. In essence, it is the economy created by the labor of common folk that feeds the army. The more soldiers — the stronger the economy must be to sustain them.
The hard truth was this: the royal treasury could barely support the two thousand men it had now. Any attempt to increase that number — even by a mere ten men — triggered endless debate in the Small Council. I needed gold. And the more, the better.
I'd made a modest estimate — to re-equip, retrain, and reorganize the existing two thousand guards would cost only fifty thousand gold dragons. That was nearly half of what Robert was planning to spend on some ridiculous tourney!Gods be damned, I might as well enter the tourney myself...
Holy Seven, that's actually a brilliant plan!
I could be the damned champion — I was just the right age for it. And it would help my reputation too! How much had Stark said the champion received? Forty thousand? And I could shoot, too! Dragomir hadn't practiced archery much since the war with the Yellow Dogs, but surely it wouldn't take long to regain the skill? After all, true talent never rusts — and never drinks itself away.
All told, I could earn sixty thousand dragons in a single tournament. Perfect — more than enough to get started. Enough even to hire professional mercenaries to train the guards — proper units who practiced fighting in formation, shield to shield, with pikes and crossbows.
Inspired by this sudden flash of genius — a plan that could, at least for now, solve my financial hunger — I stormed into the Red Keep barracks, the ever-loyal Hound at my back. There, seven officers of the City Watch awaited me in a rather anxious state.
Ser Jacelyn Bywater, captain of the River Gate, especially caught my attention. The oldest and most seasoned of the group. Even the loss of his right hand hadn't diminished him much — he was still among the finest warriors in the Watch. Thanks to his efforts, the castle dungeons were full of thieves and cutthroats.
I'd spoken to many of them myself — in secret, of course, hiding my identity and asking questions about the guards. And of Ser Jacelyn they all spoke with equal contempt: a bastard, a son of a whore, a piss-stain, a cocksucker, and other such colorful phrases. After hearing it all, I became convinced: he was the kind of man I needed. Not a single prisoner had said a kind word about him — which spoke volumes of his honesty and integrity.
Humphrey Waters also deserved my attention. His name, too, came up — always with malice — but again, only from the same prisoners. His absolute honesty could be questioned, certainly, but he at least deserved a chance.
Present too was Allar Deem — Janos Slynt's right hand — and he looked the palest of them all. He had good reason to, though I had to admit he had guts for not having already fled the city.
I pointed silently to the cowering Deem, and two gold cloaks grabbed him by the arms. He didn't even manage a squeak before he was gently escorted to join his beloved commander — who, even now, was still enthusiastically confessing to every crime imaginable.
Some of those confessions I had already read. And what I read made my skin crawl in the most sensitive of places. That's how rotten the City Watch had become under Janos Slynt's guiding hand.
And that was precisely why the other five officers held no interest for me.Buying their positions, extortion, corruption — the usual list.One more nod — and a dozen red cloaks, Lannister guards, led the scowling officers away to join Slynt.A sorry state of affairs, let me tell you.
In a single minute, I had stripped my proud "army" of nearly all its senior officers.And yet, the two who remained looked quite pleased.
"Ser Jacelyn, Ser Humphrey," I nodded to them, "allow me to thank you sincerely for your loyal and unblemished service to the realm, in the name of King Robert — and my own."
"Glad to serve, Your Grace!" they responded in sync, sharp and military-like.
"As you may have noticed, the City Watch is now temporarily without part of its officer corps. For the time being, their duties will fall to their lieutenants. But I want each of you to present me with two candidates for the vacant positions by tomorrow evening. The only requirements: honesty and loyalty. I trust you can handle it."
"It shall be done, Commander," Humphrey replied as proper.
"This morning, I had expected to conduct a much more... ceremonial introduction. But circumstances are beyond my control. We'll postpone the proper introductions and the discussion of the Watch's future for another time."
Throwing a feast — a long-standing tradition, even in Westeros — was customary for any significant appointment. My own experience told me how vital it was, especially in a company of men, to occasionally sit down over a few casks of Dornish wine to establish trust and working camaraderie.Sadly, that would have to wait. Maybe tomorrow — and perhaps we'd "baptize" the new captains too.
"Your Grace," one of the red cloaks approached me, "the Queen wishes to see you in her chambers."
Why are they all named after their cloaks, anyway? Red cloaks, gold cloaks, white, black... There's an unhealthy obsession with cloaks in this kingdom — especially considering how useless they are in battle. They just get in the way, offer no real function. Shame I couldn't just rip them off the guards — they're symbolic, after all. Tradition.
The walk to my mother's quarters was short. Her room was empty, and I left my guards outside the door.
"You wanted to see me, Mother?" I asked as I approached.
The Queen really was a beautiful woman.Some even claimed she was the most beautiful in Westeros.And frankly, if this body weren't her son's... I'd have made a move.To be honest, I still might — but I doubt she'd appreciate the idea of incest.Even if in Westeros, marrying close relatives had been a noble tradition for centuries.An inescapable problem of the aristocracy, clinging to its precious "blue" blood.
"Joffrey, what's happening to you?" Cersei asked bluntly, pulling me to sit beside her.
What's happening to him?He's still whimpering somewhere deep in the shadows of his own mind. You could say he's the most stable man alive — nothing about his state has changed.And his body? Healthy and strong — it'll last a very long time, at least until I get bored.
As for me — I was exhausted from the day.All this running around the castle, the stress, the constant decision-making…I had more to deal with than the king himself.
"I'm perfectly fine," I smiled.
"Don't lie to me! Ever since we left Winterfell, it's like you've been replaced! You started drinking, sleeping with whores, going hunting with your father! You never used to do any of that!"
"I've just grown up, Mother."
"And today you threw the Commander of the City Watch into the dungeons and tortured him!" Cersei snapped, as if she hadn't even heard my previous words.
"Was that Ser Ilyn who told you?"
"Spare me your jokes! You're becoming as unbearable as the Imp! Is he behind this?"
"Uncle Tyrion has nothing to do with it. The wine, the whores, the hunts, the torture — that's all me, Mother."
"But why?"
"Because I enjoy it. Isn't that reason enough?"
"Joffrey, I don't recognize you anymore..."
"Mother, if this is all you wanted to talk about, I'll be going. I'm the Commander of the City Watch now — I have a great deal to do."
"No! I want to know what's happening to you!"
How could such a small mortal creature be so utterly infuriating? Her pale neck looked so delicate and close — all it would take was a slight stretch of the hand, a gentle squeeze — and the problem would solve itself.
What made it worse was that, in truth, Cersei had no real place in my plans.Worse than that — she might even interfere with them.But still... shouldn't I feel at least some small gratitude toward her — for giving birth to Joffrey, who had become my vessel?
"Mother," I said as gently as I could, placing my hands on her shoulders, "I'm fine. Truly. You don't need to worry. It's been a long day. I'm tired.If you don't mind — I think I'll go get some sleep."
Without giving her a chance to respond, I leaned in, planted a quick kiss on her cheek, and slipped out before she could say another word.