The Iron Bank's Pressure at the Red Keep's Small Council
The morning mist over King's Landing had not yet fully dispersed, but the atmosphere in the Red Keep's council chamber was already tense.
Cersei sat on the iron throne, her black velvet gown trailing on the cold stone steps, the golden lion embroidered on her cuffs gleaming coldly in the candlelight.
Her fingertips unconsciously caressed the sharp points of the throne's armrests—spikes she had personally ordered to be sharpened, to remind every visitor that anyone who defied her would have their heart pierced by these thorns.
On either side of the hall stood her core power base: Maester Qyburn, dressed in dark grey robes, holding a rolled parchment, his eyes bearing their usual obsequiousness; Mandon Moore, Captain of the Kingsguard, gripping his longsword, the bloodstains on his armor not yet wiped clean—remnants from the execution of "White Walker rumor-mongers" last night; and several Lannister lords, their expressions stiff, clearly discontent with Cersei's recent high-pressure rule, yet daring not to show an ounce of it.
"Your Majesty, representatives from the Iron Bank are waiting outside the hall," Qyburn's voice broke the silence, as he looked down at the parchment.
"They are here this time to urge you to repay the military expenses borrowed previously—the funds used to hire the Golden Company and forge wildfire, which have been overdue for three months."
Cersei's eyes turned cold, and she raised a hand to brush back the golden hair falling over her shoulder: "Let them in.
I'd like to see what terms these gold-obsessed fellows dare to propose to me."
Soon, two men in black suits, wearing silver chain pocket watches, entered the hall—these were the Iron Bank's representatives in Westeros.
Their cuffs were embroidered with the Iron Bank's anvil crest, and their faces were devoid of any expression, like two cold statues.
The leading representative walked to the center of the hall, not kneeling, but merely bowing slightly: "Your Majesty Cersei, we are envoys from the Iron Bank, and we are here to discuss your kingdom's overdue military debt of three million gold dragons."
"Three million gold dragons?" Cersei sneered, rising from the throne and descending the stone steps one by one.
"I recall I already mortgaged a portion with the spice trade rights of Slaver's Bay, and the rest, I will naturally repay once I eliminate Daenerys and those northern traitors."
"The spice trade rights of Slaver's Bay are no longer valuable, Your Majesty," the representative's voice remained flat, yet carried an undeniable firmness.
"Daenerys freed all the slaves in Slaver's Bay; those spice plantations are now uncultivated, and the Iron Bank cannot accept collateral that cannot be realized.
We require you to re-mortgage with King's Landing's tax revenues, or the mines of the Westerlands, otherwise, the Iron Bank will cease all support for you, including future mercenary hiring fees."
Cersei's fingers clenched suddenly, her nails digging deeply into her palm.
She knew the Iron Bank's power—Tywin's ability to stabilize the Westerlands back then relied on the Iron Bank's support; and Stannis was able to raise an army because he received a loan from the Iron Bank.
If the Iron Bank ceased its support, her wildfire fleet and the remnants of the Golden Company would quickly collapse due to lack of military funds.
"King's Landing's tax revenues are already used to support the army, and the mines of the Westerlands are managed by Jaime; I cannot make decisions on my own," Cersei tried to stall for time.
She looked at Jaime, who stood in the corner: "Jaime, you tell them, how many gold dragons can the mines of the Westerlands be mortgaged for now?"
Jaime stepped out of the crowd, his armor dusty, evidently just returned from the military camp outside the city.
He looked at Cersei, a hint of complexity in his eyes: "Due to rumors of White Walkers, many miners have fled the Westerlands, and production has plummeted.
At most, it can only be mortgaged for five hundred thousand gold dragons, far from enough to repay the Iron Bank's debt."
Cersei's face grew even uglier; she hadn't expected Jaime to "undermine" her at this moment.
She glared at Jaime, then turned to the Iron Bank representatives: "Give me one month; I will find new collateral.
If you dare to cease support, once Daenerys captures King's Landing, your losses will be even greater than now."
The representatives exchanged glances, and the leading representative nodded: "We can give Your Majesty one month, but if there is no result after one month, the Iron Bank will have no choice but to take 'necessary measures'—including supporting Daenerys, or Jon Snow of the North."
With that, the two turned and left the hall, leaving behind a profound silence.
"Jaime, why are you helping them?" Cersei's voice was filled with rage.
She walked up to Jaime, almost pressing her face against his: "The mines of the Westerlands could clearly be mortgaged for a million gold dragons, yet you deliberately said half that amount!"
"I am not helping them, Cersei," Jaime's voice was weary.
"The miners in the Westerlands are indeed fleeing; many have heard that the White Walkers are coming and want to take their families south for refuge.
If we force them to stay, it will only spark a rebellion."
He paused, then added, "Moreover, mortgaging the mines of the Westerlands to the Iron Bank is tantamount to handing over the legacy Tywin left behind.
Do you truly want to do that?"
Cersei froze; she had never thought of these things—in her eyes, as long as she could retain power, anything could be sacrificed, including Tywin's legacy, and even Jaime.
She took a step back and said coldly: "I don't need you to tell me what to do, Jaime.
You just manage your army, hold Blackwater Bay, and don't let Daenerys's fleet approach King's Landing.
The rest is none of your concern."
Jaime looked at Cersei's cold eyes, a chill rising in his heart.
He remembered when they were children, Cersei would hold his hand and say they would protect Lannister Family together; now, Cersei's eyes held only power, only hatred for her enemies, and none of the warmth of yesteryear.
He silently turned and left the hall, for the first time beginning to doubt: was following Cersei right or wrong?
2. The Undercurrent of Church Remnants in the Streets
The streets of King's Landing were even more oppressive than the Red Keep.
Kingsguard soldiers in red armor patrolled the streets with spears, every passing commoner subjected to searches, and any slight resistance would lead to arrest—this was Cersei's order to suppress "White Walker rumors," but it only intensified the commoners' panic.
"Did you hear? The Wall has been breached by the White Walkers, and many of the Night's Watch have died!" a commoner in coarse clothes whispered to his companion at a street corner, clutching a crumpled flyer.
Written in charcoal on it was, "The White Walkers are coming, the Queen of Fire (referring to Cersei) will destroy King's Landing."
"Quiet!" his companion hastily covered his mouth.
"Old Tom from the Smithy was beheaded in the square by the Kingsguard yesterday for saying that, and his body is still hanging on the city gates as a warning!"
As the two spoke, hoofbeats echoed in the distance—a troop of Kingsguard rode towards them.
They immediately hid the flyer and pretended to be buying bread.
The Kingsguard captain scanned the street, his gaze stopping on them: "What were you just saying?"
"N-nothing, my lord," the commoner's voice trembled, and the bread in his hand fell to the ground.
"We were just discussing today's bread prices."
The captain bent down to pick up the bread, but then discovered the flyer on the ground.
His face immediately darkened, and he waved his hand: "Arrest them!
Take them back for interrogation and see how many others are spreading these rumors!"
The commoners struggled as they were led away, while other commoners on the street lowered their heads, daring not to look.
And not far away, on a rooftop, a man in a brown robe watched it all—he was a remnant priest of the Faith, named Marcus.
After the High Sparrow was blown up by Cersei, he narrowly escaped and had been secretly organizing the remaining forces of the Faith, spreading news of the White Walkers, attempting to overthrow Cersei's rule.
Marcus jumped from the rooftop and slipped into an alley.
In the alley, a dozen or so followers of the Faith were waiting for him, holding crosses, their eyes filled with firm belief.
"The Kingsguard have arrested two more commoners," Marcus's voice was low.
"Cersei's suppression is getting stricter, but we cannot give up—the White Walkers will soon reach King's Landing, and if we don't overthrow Cersei, everyone will die."
"But we have no weapons, how can we fight the Kingsguard?" a young follower asked, his voice tinged with worry.
"We don't need weapons," Marcus pulled out a stack of flyers from his In my arms and distributed them to the followers.
"Our weapon is the truth.
As long as more commoners know about the threat of the White Walkers and Cersei's madness, they will stand with us.
Once the commoners rise in rebellion, Cersei's rule will naturally collapse."
The followers took the flyers and nodded in agreement.
They split into several groups, heading down different streets, slipping flyers into commoners' hands or pasting them on walls.
Soon, King's Landing's streets were filled with "The White Walkers are Coming" flyers, and the commoners' panic grew more severe, some even beginning to pack their belongings, preparing to flee King's Landing.
Inside the Red Keep, Qyburn, holding a flyer, rushed into Cersei's bedchamber.
Cersei was sitting at her dressing table, letting a handmaiden comb her hair.
Upon seeing the flyer, she violently threw the comb to the ground: "These remnants of the Faith dare to cause trouble in my domain!
Qyburn, order the Kingsguard to search the entire city; anyone wearing brown robes is to be arrested and killed on sight!"
"Your Majesty, doing so might cause even greater panic," Qyburn said cautiously.
"Currently, the commoners are already unsettled by the White Walker rumors; if we conduct mass arrests, it will only make them think you are covering up the truth, and they will believe the Faith instead."
"Then what do you propose?" Cersei's voice was impatient.
"Are we to let these flyers be everywhere in the streets, letting the commoners rise up against me?"
"We can issue a proclamation stating that the Faith's flyers were forged by Daenerys's agents, intended to disrupt King's Landing's order," Qyburn suggested.
"At the same time, we can distribute food to the commoners, making them feel that under your rule, they can safely weather the crisis.
This way, the commoners will not believe the Faith's rumors."
Cersei thought for a moment, then nodded: "Do as you say.
But if anyone continues to spread rumors, no matter who they are, they will be executed.
I will not let anyone disrupt my plans."
Qyburn left upon her command, and Cersei looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes growing increasingly fanatical.
She knew that the remnants of the Faith were only a minor nuisance; the real threats were Daenerys's fleet and Jon's northern army.
She had to quickly resolve King's Landing's internal issues, then focus on external enemies, otherwise, her iron throne, her Lannister Family, would be destroyed in an instant.
3. the imp's Former Subordinates Secretly Contact Dragonstone
In a dilapidated shack in the slums of King's Landing, a dozen men gathered around a wooden table, examining a map by faint candlelight—this was a map of King's Landing's troop deployments, with red marks indicating Kingsguard garrisons, wildfire cache locations, and the Blackwater Bay fleet's anchorage.
The leading man, named Tim, was once Tyrion's guard when he served as Hand in King's Landing.
He was fiercely loyal to Tyrion, and after Tyrion's escape, he remained in King's Landing, secretly contacting former subordinates loyal to Tyrion, awaiting an opportunity to overthrow Cersei.
"According to our intelligence, Cersei has three wildfire caches, located beneath the Red Keep, in King's Landing's West Port, and in the fortress outside the North Gate," Tim pointed to the red dots on the map.
"Each wildfire cache is guarded by fifty Kingsguard, and contains at least a thousand barrels of wildfire—enough to burn all of King's Landing to ashes."
"We must send this intelligence to Dragonstone, to Lord Tyrion and Queen Daenerys," said a former subordinate named Ben, who had been Tyrion's scribe and was familiar with King's Landing's intelligence network.
"If Cersei uses wildfire when Daenerys attacks the city, the consequences would be unimaginable."
"But how do we send it out?" another old subordinate asked. "Cersei has people searching at every gate in King's Landing. Anyone leaving King's Landing is subjected to strict inspection. Our intelligence simply cannot be sent out."
Tim was silent for a moment, then took out a bronze badge from his In my arms — the badge was engraved with Tyrion's crest, a imp holding a wine glass. "I know a captain named Grey, he is from Braavos and frequently travels between King's Landing and Dragonstone, transporting goods for people," Tim said. "He owes me a favor, and he might help us send out the intelligence. But we need someone to contact him, and this person must be clever enough to avoid the search of the Kingsguard."
"I'll go!" Ben volunteered. "I used to often run errands for Lord Tyrion at the docks, so I am familiar with the situation there, and I haven't been registered by the Kingsguard, so they won't recognize me."
Tim nodded, rolled up the map, sealed it with wax, and handed it to Ben: "Be careful. Grey's ship is at Pier 3 in the West Port and departs every evening. If you encounter danger, swallow the map, don't let Cersei's people find it."
Ben took the map, hid it in the lining of his clothes, then changed into ragged clothes, pretending to be a beggar, and walked towards the West Port. On the streets of King's Landing, the Kingsguard's patrols were more frequent than usual. They carefully searched everyone who passed by. Ben narrowly avoided being discovered several times by pretending to beg.
In the evening, Ben finally arrived at Pier 3 in the West Port. Grey's ship, "The Eagle of Braavos," was docked at the pier, and the crew members were busy loading cargo. Ben walked towards the ship, but was stopped by a Kingsguard: "Stop! What are you doing?"
"I... I'm here to find Captain Grey. He owes me money, and I'm here to collect a debt." Ben's voice trembled, but his mind was calm — he knew that once he showed a flaw, not only would he die, but the intelligence would also not be sent out.
The Kingsguard looked him up and down, saw that he was shabbily dressed and did not look like a spy, so he waved him through. Ben quickly walked onto the ship and saw Grey standing on the deck directing the crew. He immediately walked over and whispered, "Captain Grey, I am Tim's friend. I have important intelligence to send to Dragonstone, and he said you would help me."
Grey was stunned for a moment, then recognized Ben — when Tyrion was Hand, Ben had accompanied Tyrion to the ship to inspect goods. He pulled Ben into the cabin and closed the door: "Is Tim doing well? Cersei's people have been looking for him. How dare he let you out to deliver intelligence?"
"Tim is doing well; he's been hiding in the slums." Ben pulled out the map from his lining and handed it to Grey. "This is the troop deployment map of King's Landing, and also the location of Cersei's wildfire cache. It must be delivered to Lord Tyrion as soon as possible. If Cersei uses wildfire, all of King's Landing will be doomed."
Grey took the map, opened it, and looked at it, his expression becoming solemn: "I understand. I will personally deliver the map to Dragonstone. But you all must be careful. Cersei's people have been searching the docks very strictly recently. After I leave, they might search your residence."
"I know. After delivering the intelligence, I will hide," Ben said. "Thank you, Captain Grey."
Grey patted him on the shoulder: "No need to thank me. I owe Tim a life; helping him is what I should do. Moreover, I also don't want Cersei, that madwoman, to destroy King's Landing — my family is still in Braavos, and I don't want them to be implicated by Cersei's madness."
By the time Ben left the ship, it was already dark. He walked back along the alley by the dock, a sigh of relief in his heart — the intelligence had finally been sent out. Lord Tyrion and Queen Daenerys would soon know Cersei's plan and could prepare in advance.
However, as he reached the corner of the alley, he saw several Kingsguard standing there, led by the captain who had been arresting people on the street that morning. "You're the beggar who delivered something to Captain Grey, aren't you?" The captain's voice was cold, and he held a longsword in his hand. "Come with us; Her Majesty wants to interrogate you personally."
Ben's heart sank abruptly; he knew he had been exposed. He turned to run, but was blocked by the Kingsguard, and a longsword was placed at his throat. "Don't resist," the captain sneered, "otherwise, I'll kill you now."
Ben was escorted towards the Red Keep, his heart filled with despair. He knew that Cersei would surely use torture to force him to reveal the whereabouts of Tim and the other old subordinates, and he, rather than die, would not betray Lord Tyrion, nor betray those who trusted him.
Four, Dissent and Decision Deep in the Red Keep
In the dungeons of the Red Keep, it was dark and damp, and the air was filled with the smell of blood and decay. Ben was tied to a rack, his body covered in wounds — the Kingsguard had already used half an hour of torture, whips, branding irons, saltwater, every conceivable punishment had been used on him, but he never opened his mouth, only gritted his teeth, enduring the intense pain.
"Speak! Where is Tim? How many more people are secretly opposing Her Majesty?" The interrogator held a branding iron, bringing it close to Ben's face, the flames on the branding iron making Ben's skin burn.
Ben raised his head, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, yet a smile appeared: "I won't say anything... Cersei, that madwoman, will be overthrown sooner or later... Lord Tyrion will return, Queen Daenerys will return... None of you will come to a good end!"
The interrogator angrily pressed the branding iron onto Ben's shoulder, making a "sizzle" sound, and a smell of burning permeated the air. Ben screamed and fainted.
Meanwhile, in the council chambers of the Red Keep, Cersei was looking at the intelligence handed to her by Qyburn — it stated, "the imp's old subordinates attempted to contact Dragonstone; one person has been apprehended and is currently being interrogated." Cersei's eyes turned cold, and she said to Qyburn: "Tell the interrogator to intensify the methods; he must be made to reveal the whereabouts of Tim and the other old subordinates. Additionally, order a lockdown of the slums, search house by house, and anyone who has had any association with Tyrion is to be arrested and executed publicly."
"Your Majesty, wouldn't this be too drastic?" Jaime walked into the hall, just hearing Cersei's order. He frowned, "There are tens of thousands of commoners in the slums. If we search house by house, it will only trigger a large-scale rebellion. Moreover, many people associated with Tyrion are just ordinary commoners; they don't have any intention of opposing you."
"Ordinary commoners?" Cersei sneered. "In my eyes, anyone associated with Tyrion is a traitor and deserves to die! Jaime, don't forget, Tyrion is our brother, yet he killed our father and betrayed Lannister Family! You are still speaking up for him now; are you also like him, wanting to betray me?"
Jaime's face turned pale as he looked at Cersei, his eyes filled with disappointment and pain: "Cersei, I am not speaking for Tyrion, I am speaking for the common people of King's Landing, for the future of Lannister Family! What you are doing now, what is the difference from The Mad King? The Mad King wanted to destroy King's Landing with wildfire, and now you want to rule King's Landing with wildfire and torture. Do you really want Lannister Family to be known as 'mad'?"
"I am not like The Mad King!" Cersei's voice rose a few octaves. She walked up to Jaime and pointed at his chest, "Everything I do is to protect Lannister Family, to protect the iron throne! If you hadn't let Tyrion go back then, how would he have pledged allegiance to Daenerys? If you hadn't indulged those traitors time and again, how would King's Landing have become like this?"
Jaime took a step back, his heart filled with a sense of powerlessness. He knew that Cersei would no longer listen to any advice; she was blinded by power and hatred, turning into a madwoman he no longer recognized. He thought back to his days in King's Landing, when he was "the Kingslayer," a traitor despised by all, but he had never thought of harming innocent commoners; now, Cersei, to retain power, was going to execute thousands of commoners, which he could not accept under any circumstances.
"Cersei, if you insist on executing those commoners, I will not agree," Jaime's voice was firm. "I will bring my army and stop you. I cannot let you become a second Mad King; I cannot let Lannister Family be destroyed in your hands."
Cersei was stunned; she hadn't expected Jaime to threaten her with an army. She looked at Jaime, her eyes filled with disbelief and anger: "Jaime, you are actually going to betray me? We are twins, we grew up together, and you are actually going to betray me for those commoners?"
"I am not betraying you, Cersei," Jaime's voice was weary. "I am saving you, saving Lannister Family. If you continue like this, you will only be abandoned by everyone and end up like The Mad King."
Cersei did not speak. She turned and walked towards the iron throne, sitting on the cold throne, her eyes staring blankly at the great hall's door. She knew that Jaime was right; she was now abandoned by everyone. The Iron Bank was putting pressure on her, the Faith was stirring up trouble, the imp's old subordinates were secretly resisting, and even Jaime was going to oppose her. But she could not give up; she had already paid too much, lost too much, and she could not let her efforts go to waste.
Just then, Qyburn rushed into the hall, his face panicked: "Your Majesty, this is bad! The commoners in the slums have risen in revolt because of our search; they are carrying farm tools and stones, charging towards the Red Keep! Also, a representative from the Iron Bank has sent word that if you cannot provide a collateral plan within three days, they will officially announce their support for Daenerys!"
Cersei abruptly stood up from the throne, her body trembling slightly, her eyes filled with despair and madness. She looked at Jaime, at Qyburn, at everyone in the hall, and shouted loudly: "Give my orders! Have the Kingsguard use wildfire to disperse the commoners! Have the fleet in Blackwater Bay prepare in advance; they will depart tomorrow morning to ambush Daenerys's reinforcements at Dragonstone! I will not lose, I will absolutely not lose!"
Jaime looked at Cersei's mad appearance and finally made his decision. He knew that he could no longer follow Cersei; he had to stop her, otherwise, all of King's Landing, all of Westeros, would be destroyed in her hands. He silently turned and left the hall, walking towards his chambers — where his longsword and armor were kept. He would gather the soldiers loyal to him, to stop Cersei's mad plan, to protect those innocent commoners.
Outside the Red Keep, the shouts of the commoners grew closer, and the sound of the Kingsguard's horses' hooves and clashing weapons intertwined. King's Landing was plunged into chaos. Cersei stood on the iron throne, looking at the firelight outside the window, a mad smile curving her lips. She knew that a great war was about to begin, and she would fight until the last moment, even if she was crushed to pieces, she would hold on to her iron throne, and hold on to her Lannister Family.
As night fell, the flames of King's Landing lit up the sky, like a burning behemoth roaring across the lands of Westeros. Meanwhile, on Dragonstone, Illyrio's main forces were crossing the Riverlands; in Winterfell, Arya had reunited with Jon and Sansa, preparing to fight the Others; at The Citadel, Sam was poring over ancient texts, searching for a way to defeat the Night King — everyone was preparing for the coming great war, and this chaos in King's Landing was merely the prelude to that war; the real test was yet to come.