"The Storm. Damn the Storm. May the Others take him." Tyrion Lannister cursed as he looked over the chaos. All of it came down to hunger.
The Riverlands had already been ravaged, The Reach could not ship grain in, and castles in the Crownlands such as Rosby had been swept clean by the Crackclaws.
Tyrion felt a pang of regret. All these starving mouths should have been sent north. It seemed the Night's Watch had been far too cautious.
"How many riots is this now?" Tyrion counted. This was already the third. The first two had been armed petitions at the Red Keep, while the third had become outright fury and fire in the city. If there was a fourth, Tyrion hardly dared imagine how bloody it would be.
"Cursing won't help, Lord Hand," the lanky Bronn said. "But the man you're facing does know what he's doing. He's trickier than Robert and more popular than Stannis."
"Does he mean to starve us to death?" Tyrion thought in alarm. What if the enemy stopped advancing? What if they simply meant to starve them out?
The mob in King's Landing had already roasted a baker. Roasting a king and a Hand of the King was not so impossible after that.
Lady Tanda came over, the terrified old woman asking after her foolish daughter. "Where is my daughter? She is the only one I have left."
The heirs of Lady Tanda and Lord Gyles had both been captured by the Crackclaws, and their castles had been plundered.
"Never saw her," the Hound said, frowning as he looked around the courtyard. "Where's my horse? If anything happened to that horse, someone's going to answer for it."
"My daughter," Lady Tanda sobbed. "Please, sers..."
"It followed us for a while," Tyrion Lannister said, "but I don't know what happened after that."
"Fire!" soldiers shouted from the walls. "My lords, the city is burning! Flea Bottom is on fire!"
Tyrion was exhausted. He had not expected one piece of bad news to follow another, but collapsing under setbacks was not his way. He had to keep going. Send men. Send Bronn and the Hound to put out the fire.
Men had to be sent to protect the water carts. If necessary, Flea Bottom could be abandoned, but the fire must not be allowed to spread to the Alchemists' Guild.
"You three, take the heralds and declare martial law. Order every commoner back home. Once the last evening bell has rung, anyone still on the streets is to be killed on sight." Tyrion then gave the order to the three white knights. The three white knights were less than eager to go. They feared their white cloaks would provoke the mob, and they were even less willing to leave the safety of the courtyard.
Ser Meryn Trant, Boros, and Ser Mandon Moore had all seen how terrifying the mob could be. None of them could forget that screaming human tide.
"But our duty is to protect the king."
Only after Cersei cursed the three cowards viciously did they finally set out.
Then Tyrion remembered the more urgent matter. Beyond the fire, beyond martial law, there was his little lover. He had to protect Shae.
Tyrion rose and went to the Tower of the Hand, where his clansmen guarded the place. He sent someone to wake Shagga.
"I've placed Shae in a large house in the wealthy district near the Iron Gate. I want you to go there at once and protect her. Whatever happens, make certain she is safe," Tyrion ordered Shagga.
Even after night fell, chaos still hung over King's Landing.
"My lord, the fire has been put out, and most of the wandering mobs have been scattered," Bronn told Tyrion.
"How I long for Shae's arms," Tyrion thought. But he could not. Giving in to feeling was one of his greatest weaknesses, and yet Tyrion desperately longed to be cherished by someone.
Just as Jaime's regard had always made him grateful, Shae's sweet words were something Tyrion found hard to resist.
...
On the other side of King's Landing lay the Street of Steel, where most of the city's smiths worked. It began at a market by the River Gate and climbed up Visenya's Hill. The farther up one went, the finer and more expensive the goods in the shops became.
Gendry had once trained at the finest smithy there, until he ran away.
Master Armorer Salloreon's shop was not as grand or towering as Tobho Mott's at the very top, but it was still spacious and ornate. He wore a splendid brocade coat trimmed with silver, with a fox-fur cloak over it.
Salloreon stood on the rooftop balcony and raised a Myrish lens. Through it, he could see the chaos below, and the flames still dancing over Flea Bottom.
Fire, shouting, confusion. Part of King's Landing had become a single mass of disorder.
Standing with Salloreon were several wealthy merchants and craftsmen. Smiths, cloth merchants, grain dealers, and more.
On the stone wall behind the crowd hung a small golden stag banner.
On a field of gold, a crowned stag leapt forward. House Baratheon's history might be brief, but the stag banner had flown for thousands upon thousands of years. "Ours is the Fury!"
"My friends, do not forget why our Antler Men were founded," Salloreon said.
"To destroy the false Lannister king and return King's Landing to the Baratheons."
"Long live the Baratheons!" Salloreon said softly, looking back at the banner.
"Long live the Baratheons!" The others raised their arms as well.
"The Father, the Warrior, and the Smith once lit King Robert's path. Now they shine upon the king's heir, the Storm. The little demon will never understand the meaning of Ours is the Fury. Ours is the Fury means rising against all injustice, fighting like a warrior, fearing nothing like a king," Salloreon said in a deep voice. "We all know Joffrey is the bastard born of the Kingslayer's incest with his sister Cersei. He is not the true lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and he will never have a king's heart. He is a second Kingslayer, not a second King Robert."
"We may be smiths, clothiers, grain merchants, and men without names, but we all lived through the days when King's Landing lay under Aerys's tyranny. We lived through the days when the Lannisters sacked the city in a surprise assault. We also lived through King Robert's golden age, when there was still high summer, peace, and splendid tourneys. King Robert was brave, fearless, and generous, and the golden war banners once shone over all." Salloreon's tone shifted. "Now King's Landing has become a hell. King Robert's hunting tapestries have been thrown into the cellars, and Lannister red banners are everywhere. A blond whelp who kills as he pleases, a whore of a Queen Dowager, and that twisted little demon monkey. End Lannister tyranny. The throne belongs to the Storm."
"That's right, and there are the debts we owe the royal house. Once King's Landing falls, we'll rise up, welcome the Storm, and wipe out the Lannisters. Then that money won't have to be repaid," a grain merchant said eagerly.
"The fury is burning through King's Landing, and the Weeping Sword shines in the heavens, lighting the Storm's path," Salloreon said, raising his strong arms.
"Lighting the path," the others nodded.
Salloreon looked over them with satisfaction, watching the fear in their eyes give way to resolve as they answered the true king's call together.
"Our numbers are few. That is our weakness. The Antler Men must also beware the eunuch's spies, so every move must be made with the greatest care. But when it comes to supplies, we have enough," Salloreon said. "In my cellar, I still have longswords, armor, and shields that have been oiled and dried in the sun."
"I have oil," said a cloth merchant.
"The Gold Cloaks outnumber us many times over. Even if half of them are useless fools, they still have the advantage in numbers. But King's Landing is huge. They are scattered among the gates and the Red Keep. To be safe, we must choose a moment of riot or a secret hour in the dead of night. And with our strength, once the war begins, we can only charge once, break through one gate, and answer Gendry and Stannis."
The others nodded.
"I have another proposal," a wine merchant said. "Perhaps we can make use of the prophets and the mob as well. People are openly nostalgic for King Robert's reign now, and some are hinting that the good days will return if Gendry sits the throne."
"How would we use them?" Salloreon asked.
"The prophets hate the Lannisters, and they are using the signs in the sky to preach at full blast. The mob hates the Lannisters too, because they are hungry," the wine merchant said. "The people of King's Landing have already rioted three times. If the prophets are willing to spread such words, we may well see another great riot."
"That makes sense," Salloreon said. "But caution is essential. The taverns are full of the eunuch's spies. They may follow the trail back to us. Once His Grace's army arrives, those prophets will act on their own."
"Exactly!"
"Exactly! But where is His Grace's army now?" someone asked.
"The Storm is marching at speed through the Kingswood."
"Prince Gendry commands like a god of war. Once he reaches the walls of King's Landing, those rebels will lose all courage."
"My friends, may the gods above bless us and light Prince Gendry's path. The throne belongs to the Baratheons. By law, by faith, and by the will of the people. Our cause is just. May the Father and the Warrior protect us."
"Let me fight for you one more time, King Robert, for the glory of the Baratheons." Salloreon was the first to pray. He was no longer young. His youth had slipped away like sand through his fingers. This would be his final battle, and he missed the bustling, lively King's Landing of old. The master armorer seemed to see the young King Robert again. Robert wore his antlered helm and carried his warhammer, his golden surcoat blazing like fire. Mounted on his horse, he was like a horned giant. Salloreon heard Robert's laughter and saw those blue eyes, clear and bright as mountain lakes.
The Antler Men prayed silently together, for the hard battle to come, and to welcome the king in their hearts.
...
Gendry intended to make camp by Blackwater Bay, within sight of King's Landing. Being near the river mouth would allow movement by water between both sides, the knights of the Vale and the knights of the Stormlands.
"King's Landing's current defenders number around six or seven thousand," Gendry said. "Aside from the six thousand Gold Cloaks, the rest are sellswords and wildlings."
"There may be six thousand Gold Cloaks, but that toad who bought and sold offices tripled the City Watch in one stroke. Only a third of them are any good. There are honorable men among the new recruits, but there are far more thugs, drunks, cowards, and traitors than anyone would expect. They are poorly trained, undisciplined, and have no loyalty to speak of. Once we break through the walls of King's Landing, those soldiers will collapse," Ser Barristan said.
"Those walls will not be easy to break," Gendry thought. If wildfire was laid to the north and south, neither the Stormlands knights nor the Vale knights would have an easy time charging in.
"But the Imp drove out the toad, and Ironhand is a good man," Lothor said. "Even so, he is only forcing control over King's Landing for now. The riots are growing more frequent, and the water in the pot is about to boil over. Thieves and murderers are roaming the city, and everyone fears for their life. Besides that, the Red Plague is spreading through the poor districts around Stinking Bay. Food can no longer be bought with coppers or silver. Talk of rebellion, once whispered only in Flea Bottom, is now being preached openly in guildhalls and markets."
"That must be the Spider's idea. The Imp didn't know the city well before," Ser Barristan said. "That means the Gold Cloaks will not come to the Kingswood to stop us. Only Tyrion's pets will come."
"We'll deal with the small raids first," Gendry said. "The Deer-Catchers of the Kingswood can handle that."
"What worries me is our men inside King's Landing. The longer they make their plans, the easier it is for word to leak," Gendry said. In a city the size of King's Landing, it was only natural that some men would support the Baratheons. The problem was that the Spider had too many eyes.
"The Spider has been entrenched for far too long. I also feel the man is unfathomable. He knows the tunnels and channels of King's Landing, and he has served on the Small Council longer than anyone but me," Ser Barristan said. "Our march is swift. If we arrive suddenly, our men inside may have a better chance of surviving if they act early."
"The best outcome is for them to see my banners and move on their own. Aerys's tyranny was inseparable from the Spider. He must die," Gendry said. But catching the Spider would require careful planning.
"Keep cutting the grain roads and keep deepening the hunger. Once we reach the walls, we won't hurry to attack. I want to see how many hearts the Lannisters still have." Gendry looked down at the map of King's Landing before him. The road ahead was long. Under maximum pressure, could Tyrion truly feed a city full of starving people?
"I doubt he has many left. I never expected the Imp to have such ability," Ser Barristan said with a sigh. He had once thought little of that little demon monkey as well, yet Tyrion, relying on his wits, had managed to hold on.
"The Lannisters are not loved in King's Landing. Many still remember the story of Tywin sacking the city after Aerys opened the gates. In private, people say the gods' punishment and the fury of the heavens and the people all come from the Lannisters' endless crimes. The Kingslayer murdered King Aerys, Tywin butchered Rhaegar's children, and King Joffrey executed Eddard Stark and carries out savage judgments day after day," Lothor Brune said. "The hearts of King's Landing are there to be won."
"I hear the people of King's Landing hate the Imp most?" Gendry asked.
"That's right," Lothor nodded. "They do hate him most, though in truth Tyrion is the one doing the most to support the Lannister cause. The king is still a child, and the rumors in the streets all say wicked ministers are ruining the realm. Cersei was never loved by the smallfolk, and as for Varys the Spider, there is no need to mention him. But the one they resent most is the Imp, because during King Robert's reign, the golden age the people speak of, Cersei and the eunuch were already here. The Imp was not."
"Then let the Imp drown in his troubles. Soon enough, I'll bring him more." Gendry clenched his fist.
***
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