Bonus at 150 stones
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King's Landing, The City Watch Barracks.
The sun hung high in the sky, baking the dusty earth.
On the training grounds of the City Watch barracks in the northeast corner of the city, thousands of Gold Cloaks had gathered.
They were unarmored, dressed only in cloth tunics and leather coats, expecting a celebration.
Today was the day Prince Aegon and Lady Aelyn Rogar were to be betrothed.
By custom, the City Watch should have dispatched men to maintain order outside the Red Keep for the celebration and receive the cheers of the people.
But the orders that came were quite the opposite: except for essential sentries and patrols, the entire force was to assemble at the barracks to receive a reward.
"They say the Queen Regent is pleased and is awarding everyone a Gold Dragon," a scarred veteran muttered to his young companion.
"I've been guarding the gates of King's Landing for twenty years, from the time of Old King Jaehaerys until now, and this is the first time I've heard of a Prince getting married where the reward money requires the whole company to gather on the training grounds to collect it."
The young Gold Cloak rubbed his hands, his eyes darting toward the officers waiting on the high platform.
"The Commander's expression... doesn't look right."
The scarred veteran followed his gaze.
Ser Luthor Largent, Commander of the City Watch, a grey-haired but still upright old knight, stood at the front of the platform with his hands behind his back.
He wore the gilded breastplate of his office, without a helmet, his wrinkles appearing particularly deep in the sunlight.
He glanced toward the camp gates from time to time, his expression solemn.
"I heard Prince Aemond is coming to distribute the money himself," another soldier leaned in and whispered.
"That Prince..."
"Shh!" The scarred veteran glared at him.
More than three years had passed since the incident at Driftmark, but Prince Aemond, who had tamed Vhagar at twelve and later personally executed Vaemond Velaryon before the Iron Throne...
...and the dragon battle that had nearly broken out in the Dragonpit four months ago.
The Prince's name was shrouded in fear among these low-ranking soldiers.
"He's here," the young Gold Cloak whispered.
The camp gates were pushed open, no trumpets, no ceremonial guard.
First to enter was the Master of Laws, Jasper Wylde, known as "Ironrod."
This bald noble, usually smooth and smiling, had now withdrawn his smile, showing a business-like solemnity.
Walking beside him was Aemond Targaryen.
The Prince was dressed in black, his silver-gold hair tied back. He walked with steady steps, looking straight ahead toward the platform.
Following behind him were dozens of personal guards transferred from Summerhall.
They wore uniform white dragon-patterned armor, with the sharp lines of the Targaryen three-headed dragon sigil embroidered on their chests, the dragon heads fierce.
Behind their white helmets hung white horsehair crests.
These soldiers were all very young, the oldest appearing no more than nineteen, but their eyes were sharp, and their hands stayed on their sword hilts.
They moved in perfect unison, carrying an aura of lethal discipline quite different from the rowdy City Watch.
The Prince's appearance caused the low murmurs of the thousands on the training ground to suddenly cease, turning into a heavy silence.
All eyes were focused on the black-clad figure ascending the platform.
Ser Luthor Largent stepped forward and bowed slightly.
"Prince Aemond, Lord Master of Laws. Aside from the necessary guards and patrols, the remaining four thousand one hundred and sixty-five men of the City Watch have all assembled here, awaiting your orders."
The dozens of noble officers behind him bowed their heads as well.
Aemond did not respond immediately.
Standing at the edge of the platform, his deep purple eyes slowly swept over the dense crowd below.
Wherever his gaze fell, the soldiers involuntarily lowered their eyelids or looked away, avoiding eye contact with the Prince.
Jasper Wylde cleared his throat and spoke in his usual smooth voice.
"Everyone! Today is the joyous occasion of Prince Aegon's wedding. Queen Regent Alicent, in her joy and appreciation for your hard work in guarding the capital, has specifically ordered the Prince and me to come and distribute rewards!"
"One Gold Dragon for every man!"
As soon as he finished speaking, several guards carried heavy oak chests onto the platform.
Thud.
The chests hit the floor with a dull metallic sound.
The lids were opened, and even in the dim light, the stacked gold coins reflected an enticing and soft luster.
A wave of suppressed gasps and the sound of people swallowing hard immediately rose from the training ground.
A Gold Dragon was nearly two months' pay for an ordinary City Watch soldier.
For many Gold Cloaks from poor backgrounds, this was undoubtedly a huge sum of money.
Yet, Aemond remained silent.
He turned his head slightly and whispered to Jasper beside him, "Is everyone here?"
The flesh on Jasper's face quivered slightly as he whispered back.
"Your Highness, as you ordered, everyone who could be summoned is here. Ser Luthor was personally promoted by Prince Daemon back then. Many officers and soldiers in the City Watch have received favors from Prince Daemon."
"However," he hesitated slightly, "nominally, I am their superior. But Your Highness, as you know, the City Watch has always been an army that reports directly to the Crown..."
Aemond nodded.
At this point, Ser Luthor stepped forward again, respectful yet tense.
"Your Highness, since the rewards have been delivered, shall we distribute them by companies according to the roster?"
"No rush, Ser Luthor." Aemond turned to him.
"The rewards will certainly be distributed. But before that, there are some things that all who serve the Royal Family must understand clearly."
He looked back at the crowd below, his gaze making thousands feel uneasy.
The young man beside the scarred veteran couldn't help but whisper, "What exactly does he want to say?"
"Shut up and listen carefully," the scarred veteran growled, his eyes fixed on the platform.
Just as the silence was about to ferment into an uneasy commotion...
ROAR!
A dragon's roar tore through the clouds, exploding above their heads!
Everyone looked up in horror. A massive shadow swept over the camp, bringing with it a gust of wind.
It was a pure black dragon with a wingspan of over ten meters.
Its streamlined body was covered in obsidian-like scales that glinted coldly beneath the clouds.
It circled low over the training ground, its crimson vertical pupils looking down coldly at the ant-like crowd below, a threatening rumble rolling in its throat.
That was Morghul! Prince Aemond's second dragon!
"Dragon! It's a dragon!"
"Is it going to breathe fire?!"
"Run!"
Panic began to spread.
"Everyone! Silence!!" A young officer named Hal, beside Aemond, shouted sharply.
Then the Summerhall guards echoed in unison, "SILENCE!"
Their voices shook the training ground.
At the same time, the sound of heavy, rhythmic footsteps and the clanking of armor came from the camp gates!
Clank. Clank. Clank.
Squads of fully armed soldiers marched in.
There were about five hundred of them, wearing the same armor as Aemond's personal guards, carrying spears and shields, with some carrying crossbows on their backs.
This force moved swiftly and silently, quickly spreading along the edge of the training ground after entering the camp, forming a tight perimeter.
The crossbowmen quickly ascended the walls and watchtowers, their cold arrowheads all pointing toward the center of the training ground.
This was the Army of Summerhall, Prince Aemond's personal army.
By now, even the dullest Gold Cloak understood completely that today was by no means a simple collection of rewards.
This was a bloodless seizure of power. Or... a purge?
Everyone grew uneasy, looking at the platform with worry.
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