[Chapter Size: 1200 Words.]
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Afterwards, Tyrion lay in Shae's arms, pondering his next move.
Two successive Hands of the King had died in office, and Tyrion could not afford to be careless. After all, their status and influence had been far greater than his own.
"Don't go running around, or my sister won't let you leave. This place is far too dangerous. I should never have brought you here."
"But you still brought me," Shae replied softly. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of myself."
Hearing her words, Tyrion felt slightly relieved.
The next day, Tyrion took Bronn and Reed into King's Landing, not for leisure, of course, but to observe the situation among the refugees.
As they entered the city, Tyrion noticed the influx of people who had flooded into the capital. Most were crammed into the slums, where they could be easily roused or manipulated by hostile forces.
"There's nothing we can do. That's war," Bronn remarked.
Tyrion knew this well, but he feared that such a mass of desperate people might be stirred to action when Stannis attacked.
Just as they were about to return to the Red Keep, Tyrion spotted a man standing on a stone, preaching to the gathered crowd.
"What's this? A rebellion in the making?" Tyrion asked Bronn with a wry smile.
Reed answered instead. "They're one of the sects in the slums. Many have sprung up here. They pray to the Seven to end the war and rain down loaves of bread."
At this, Tyrion's smile faded. "A simple, desperate wish," he muttered, his voice heavy with unease.
"Let's take a closer look," he told the others.
They pushed to the edge of the crowd and listened.
"None of this is just! We may live in humility, we may swallow our anger, but they cannot grind us into the dirt like worms!"
"This war is a vile game, played by vile men, while we are nothing but insects beneath their feet! Look at the filth we live in, the streets filled with waste, while those in the Red Keep gorge themselves in luxury."
"Do you know how many gold dragons they squander on bread and milk each day? Five hundred thousand gold dragons! Enough to fill wagons!"
The preacher raised his hands. "Only the great Sun God, Apollo, can save us!"
At his signal, several men carried out heavy crates. When opened, they revealed loaves of black bread.
The crowd's eyes lit up with hunger. Some men rushed forward, only to be struck down where they stood by the preacher's guards.
Watching calmly, the preacher, Schiller Andolf, spoke again: "The Sun God is merciful, but that does not mean you may act like beasts. Form an orderly line if you wish to receive bread."
At this brutal sight, Tyrion narrowed his eyes and quickly withdrew with Bronn and Reed.
Once clear of the slums, he muttered, "There's no doubt they have powerful backing. Most likely Stannis. He has a fire priest at his side, this must be connected to him."
"We need to seize control of the Gold Cloaks immediately and stamp out this Sun God cult before it spreads."
Bronn gave a curt nod.
Reed added, "There are two great sects in the slums: the Cult of the Sun God, which we just witnessed, and the Cult of the Sparrow."
The Sparrow Cult was much weaker, for the Sun Cult could distribute a little black bread to the people every two days.
However, the Sparrow Cult had many members, because the rules of the Sun Cult were strict, and only the most devout believers could join the Knights of the Blazing Sun.
"What? The Knights of the Sun? Gods, they even have a knightly order?" Tyrion exclaimed.
Reed looked shocked. "Yes, at least fifty fully armed knights. That's no secret in the slums."
"And their infantry?" Bronn asked.
"Every member of the sect would dare fight the Goldcloaks with nothing but a stone. They have at least two thousand members, not counting those who have yet to be sworn in."
"Seven hells, there are tens of thousands of refugees in King's Landing. If they manage to grow stronger, perhaps Stannis could retake the city from a pack of lunatics," Bronn joked.
At that moment, a small group of knights suddenly appeared and rushed to surround them. Bronn and Reed immediately drew their swords, shielding Tyrion behind them.
"I am the Hand of the King in King's Landing. Who are you?" Tyrion declared at once.
One knight dismounted, removed his helmet, and stepped toward Tyrion. "Lord Hand, the High Septon wishes to see you. He has matters to discuss."
"Oh, I don't think the slums are a proper place for important discussions. Perhaps we could go to the Red Keep instead," Tyrion suggested.
The knight glanced toward the imposing castle and replied, "Those are all your sister's people. Perhaps the slums are safer."
Tyrion frowned, realizing this was no simple matter.
What the knight said was curious indeed: everyone inside the castle belonged to his sister, and the slums, oddly enough, were the safest place.
In the end, Tyrion nodded and agreed to meet the High Septon in the slums. The situation was urgent; otherwise, he would still have believed the Red Keep to be the safer choice.
Soon, Tyrion met the High Septon inside a crumbling house, the same man who had preached upon the stone.
As Tyrion approached, the man put down his quill and said, "Welcome, Lord Tyrion. The surroundings are humble, but I hope you will not mind."
"No, I felt the sun shining the moment I stepped inside," Tyrion replied seriously. "What do you want from me?"
The man waved his hand, signaling the guards to withdraw. Seeing this, Tyrion also gestured for Bronn and Reed to wait outside the door.
Once they were alone, the man introduced himself: "My name is Schiller Andolf, Baron of the Iron Islands, and I serve under His Grace, Theon."
"Wait! Lord Theon?" Tyrion interrupted. "You're one of Theon's men? Theon? The King of the Iron Islands?"
"Yes. His Grace sent me to tell you that we may cooperate."
"Gods! That fool already went to Riverrun, and now he wants to meddle in the affairs of King's Landing. Tell me, how exactly can we cooperate?"
"The sect will provide armed forces and help you reorganize control of King's Landing. In return, you must provide us with food, weapons, and legal status."
Tyrion said bluntly, "Food and weapons are in short supply, how about I give you status? Otherwise, forget it."
"Done!" Schiller agreed at once. His true goal was always legal recognition. Food and weapons would be welcome, but without them, it was no great loss. After all, Tyrion was not a man easily deceived.
"We will also require a tract of land. This slum will do," Schiller added.
Tyrion nodded. "Wasn't this already yours?"
"That won't suffice. We want a legitimate and formal charter."
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