"Bwoooom! Bwoooom! Bwoooom!"
The horns rang out like sharp swords cutting through the silence, their sound echoing into the sky.
Gendry rode first through the thin mist, his warhorse carrying him beneath golden battle banners that snapped in the wind. Close behind him came the white knight, Barristan Selmy.
Anguy, Harrold Hatton, Lothor Brune, and Jon Snow rode at Gendry's side as his standard-bearers. The four knights came from the Stormlands marches, the Vale, Crackclaw Point of the Crownlands, and The North. The five men each looked entirely different, but all were generally young and full of vigor.
There was "Storm" Gendry, black-haired and blue-eyed; Anguy, the red-haired, freckle-faced marksman; foolish Harry, with sandy-gold hair, blue eyes, and a hooked nose; Lothor, with his flat nose, square jaw, and dull gray hair; and Jon, brown-haired and gray-eyed, with the long face inherited from the Starks.
Behind them came the great figures of the realm, men from the Stormlands, The Reach, the Vale, and Crackclaw Point. Among the procession were also two mysterious hooded women, the red priestess and the Dornish envoy, Tyene Sand. With their hoods up, they drew little attention.
The vanguard spread out behind them, moving slowly like a forest of spears, banners, and lances. The knights' cloaks and shields often bore the arms of their houses or their lords. More troops followed after them.
The vanguard was made up of the finest soldiers. At its head rode Gendry's personal guard, clad in black armor and golden cloaks, their lances standing like a forest and their greatswords broad and heavy. Next came the knights of Crackclaw Point and the Stormlands, led by Ser Boggs and Ser Guyard Morrigen. The famed Knights of the Vale wore silver armor, great eagle helms, and sky-blue cloaks, with Robert Royce leading them. The knights of The Reach wore silver or black armor and green cloaks, led by Randyll Tarly.
Great Lord Stannis Baratheon, Lord Roose Bolton, and Ser Garlan Tyrell, the commanders of the force that had broken into the city, waited outside the King's Gate to welcome them. Great Lord Stannis's face was like iron, and he let Roose speak first.
"Prince, the situation in King's Landing has been secured. We killed a number of vermin and captured some traitors," Roose Bolton explained after dismounting and bowing. His pink woolen cloak was speckled with blood. His eyes were as cold as dirty ice, making him look truly frightening. Yesterday, Roose had led the Northmen in a slaughter through King's Landing, and the flayed-man sigil of "Bloody Bolton" had terrified the people of the city. "We captured two Lannisters in the Red Keep. Both were wounded, but we failed to catch the traitor Cersei or Varys the Spider. The usurper Joffrey died during a mob riot on Aegon's High Hill, and Ironhand, commander of the Gold Cloaks, died in last night's Gold Cloak mutiny. My men also captured the traitorous Grand Maester Pycelle of the Small Council, along with several troublemaking 'prophets' and bandits. All have been executed."
With that, King's Landing's original Small Council had nearly been wiped out.
"So Ironhand is dead after all?" Ser Barristan felt a trace of loss. The man had counted as one of the few decent men among the Gold Cloaks, neither corrupt nor drawing pay for empty posts, yet he had died in a riot. Still, a man died for those who valued him. In that sense, it was a fitting end. The Imp had trusted and promoted him, and he had died for it.
In this noble society, it was still difficult for men of the lower and middle ranks to rise. War was their best chance.
"What about the two Lannisters?" Gendry asked.
"Tyrion Lannister and Lancel Lannister," Roose Bolton said with some shame. "The Gold Cloaks say Tommen has already been sent to Tywin's camp, while the girl Myrcella was sent to Braavos."
"That clever little Imp. This was my mistake. But once King's Landing is lost, a homeless lion is no different from a stray dog. Lord Roose has rendered great service. He will enter the city with us," Gendry said calmly. Cersei's escape was not necessarily a bad thing. She was the sort who did more harm than good. If the Lannisters could gather a few more traitors for him, so much the better.
"As you command!" Lord Roose said, his face unchanged, though he was in a good mood. A generous and open-handed ruler was exactly what he hoped for. Winter was coming, and The North could not do without support from the rest of the realm, whether grain, supplies, or money.
"Enter the city!" Gendry waved his long, powerful hand. After removing his great-horned helm and visor, he revealed a handsome, youthful face and gestured to the people of King's Landing.
His face was clean and well-groomed, his eyes clear and captivating, which immediately brought him closer to the people of King's Landing. Besides, many knew that this new king had once been a Smith from King's Landing. By that reckoning, he was practically one of their own poor brothers.
"Long live the Storm!"
The people of King's Landing waved their hands and cheered without end, while women shouted for the Storm's handsome face. The people of King's Landing had suffered badly in recent days. By comparison, even that brute Robert seemed good to them now. After all, Robert had never starved them, and the people of King's Landing had never liked the Lannisters much to begin with.
They had once loved the young and handsome King Robert. After the King grew fat, they had loved the handsome Renly. Now King Robert and "King" Renly were both gone from the world, one in the grave and one in The North. The people of King's Landing quickly gave their hearts elsewhere, falling for this approachable, handsome warrior while conveniently forgetting that it was Highgarden and Gendry's blockade that had starved them into famine.
Varys, do you see this? Gendry looked at the smiling faces of the people of King's Landing. One face, a hundred faces, a thousand faces. Do you see me in all this glory? Can you still endure it? Most of these people still looked sallow from hunger. Not long ago, they had been crying out from starvation, yet now they had turned with the wind and become loyal subjects.
Stannis clenched his teeth. He had never received cheers like this, smiles like this, praise like this. Only Robert had ever possessed that kind of charm. Renly had copied some of it, but imitation was not true steel.
"Long live the Storm!"
As the army marched in, the people of King's Landing cheered loudly from rooftops and balconies, welcoming them with great enthusiasm. Pretty girls waved and shouted, and perhaps by tonight, King's Landing would have no shortage of new romantic tales.
Compared with savage northern barbarians and the half-wild men of Crackclaw Point, the people of King's Landing still preferred knights from the green lands.
Soldiers positioned in advance lined the road and lowered their spears in salute. There were few Gold Cloaks to be seen. Some were dead, some were wounded, and the force had already collapsed.
Enjoy your triumph for now.
Hidden in the crowd, Varys watched everything unfold. Disguised as a foul-smelling beggar, he had been driven aside in disgust. From a corner, Varys watched the proud and glorious Gendry, and watched the cheering procession move away.
...
The Red Keep had become a joyful sanctuary, and the throne room was a sea of jewels, furs, and bright tapestries. The brutal war was over. At last, there was time for a peaceful sleep and a chance to eat one's fill.
"Long live the Storm!" Gendry arrived in his loyal King's Landing, and the lords and ladies of the Crownlands were all beaming, as if they had long awaited the arrival of Gendry's army and had spent ages longing for the king's forces. Not long ago, they had cursed him as a bastard and usurper. Today, they changed their tune and called it the will of the Seven above, the Smith and Warrior descended to earth, the savior of King's Landing.
The great oak doors stood wide open. Once yesterday's blood and chaos had been cleared away, the Red Keep was again adorned with flowers and smiling faces. The heroes would pass through the massive oak doors into the hall, and each time one entered, brass trumpets would sound a bright fanfare in tribute.
The master of ceremonies loudly announced their names and deeds. The lords, knights, and ladies gathered at the back of the hall beneath the high windows cheered wildly, jostling one another like spectators beside a fighting pit, or fishmongers on the docks.
"Let us welcome the King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, eldest son and heir of Robert I of House Baratheon, First Lord Governor of Myr, Tyrosh, the Disputed Lands, and the Stepstones, Commander-in-Chief, Breaker, favored of the Seven, savior of King's Landing, Dothraki Khal, Magister of the Three Daughters, Lord Governor of Volantis, shatterer of the crowns of the Great Masters of Slaver's Bay, Prince Gendry Storm!"
The master of ceremonies shouted with all his strength. It was no small feat to get through such a long string of titles.
Gendry rode his warhorse across the hall until he reached the foot of the throne.
He wore black armor, simple yet powerful. Black and red crystals on the breastplate formed the shapes of a stag and a dragon. His great twin-horned helm was even more dazzling, with rubies for the eyes of the roaring demon dragon and black gems for the eyes of the leaping stag. The golden cloak over his shoulders, embroidered with a lion and a dragon, was not especially heavy, but the designs upon it were lifelike.
Gendry rode all the way beneath the throne. His black steed was obedient enough, at least, and did not take the chance to leave a pile beneath the Iron Throne. But a great victory needed a splendid performance, especially when no one knew whether the spider hiding in the dark would come to swallow the bait.
The more arrogant Gendry appeared, the more Varys would likely burn with rage.
"What an ugly iron chair." Gendry handed his helm to Anguy. He looked at the Iron Throne, covered in thorns and blades, then sat down on it naturally. To tell the truth, sitting on a spiked iron chair felt awful. Perhaps it ought to be reforged with dragonfire. But he sat firm and steady, his instincts and wariness allowing him to master the Iron Throne.
The lords and knights below marveled. To have such bearing the first time he sat upon it. It seemed the Iron Throne had chosen the true king.
"I appoint my uncle, Great Lord Stannis Baratheon, as Hand of the King," Gendry announced. This was his first order after entering King's Landing. At another time, it might have seemed inappropriate, but now it was autumn, and winter would be harsher still. Harsh times called for harsh men.
Gendry laid Tiger's Roar upon Stannis's shoulder. It was a broad sword, and the golden ripples along its blade declared it extraordinary.
"I accept, Prince. I shall serve you all my life, offer honest counsel and absolute obedience, protect your rights and your realm, fight beside you no matter how perilous the road ahead, care for your people, and punish your enemies."
"Rise."
Great Lord Stannis stood, and Gendry personally fastened the Hand's chain around his neck. Great Lord Stannis then took his seat beside the council table.
"Ser Barristan, for your tireless service, you will remain Lord Commander of the white knights and be responsible for choosing new white knights."
"I will devote myself entirely and become your sword and shield." The old knight knelt on one knee before rising again. In truth, his heart was filled with emotion. How many kings had this made now? Yet he hoped he could offer his remaining fire to this young king.
After that came the heroes, entering one after another. Each arrival drew fierce cheers.
First came the Great Lords of the Stormlands, the Vale, Crackclaw Point, and The North. Then came the Tyrell father and sons of The Reach, all three changed into green velvet robes trimmed with purple sable.
"You are all loyal servants of the dynasty. Your courage has upheld the realm," Gendry said.
Mace's thoughts raced. Under normal circumstances, this would be the moment to ask Gendry for a place on the Small Council. But The Reach had performed too poorly this time, and he felt too embarrassed to speak.
"Governing a realm involves countless affairs, and capable men must be chosen. At present, the Small Council is lacking in hands," Gendry said loudly.
Mace's face immediately flushed bright red. Garlan, standing beside him, tugged at his father's sleeve. It was not time for a performance yet.
"In view of the Small Council's current state, I appoint Great Lord Mace Tyrell as Master of Coin, Lord Yohn Royce as Master of Laws, the maester of Dragonstone as Grand Maester, and Lord Selwyn Tarth as Master of Whisperers.
"In addition, I appoint Lord Bryce Caron, Lord Roose Bolton, Lord Jack Crabb, Ser Boggs, Lord Grafton, Lord Leyton of the Redfort, Lord Mathis Rowan, Lord Paxter Redwyne, and Lord Randyll Tarly as advisors to the Small Council."
Gendry announced a long list of names. Selwyn's post as Master of Whisperers was mostly nominal. A good man's service needed to be rewarded, while the great matters and finer work were being maintained by Qyburn.
"There is no greater honor than serving the Prince. With this humble body, I shall advise the Small Council and gladly give my life if needed."
Mace dropped to his knees with a thud, his backside raised high, faster than everyone else. It was truly impressive that he could move so nimbly.
Mace felt the glittering office beckoning to him. As for the long list of names afterward, he had not really heard it clearly.
Garlan's mouth opened, then closed again. The tide had turned with a single gesture. These rewards had been personally granted by the King's heir, not requested by Great Lord Mace on behalf of his own men. That made the meaning entirely different. These men would look past their own lord and remember Gendry's recognition.
"Prince, there is another great matter that must be advanced," the High Septon said hurriedly. "Your coronation cannot be delayed either."
"With my great vengeance still unfulfilled, this matter..."
The High Septon immediately objected, speaking breathlessly. "Prince Gendry, the gods certainly watch over marriage vows, but when the late King, King Robert blessed by the gods, married the traitor Cersei Lannister, House Lannister had already shown signs of treason. The late King was deceived again and again. The gods will not recognize such a marriage, and the traitor Cersei and those bastards are not tolerated by the gods. Now that House Lannister's deeds have been exposed, their crimes are monstrous, hated by gods and men alike, and anyone may put them to death. Moreover, in his final will, the late King declared that the marriage was void from the beginning, and that the right of succession belonged to the late King's lawful eldest son. Prince, in the name of the gods, I hereby declare that the alliance between House Baratheon and House Lannister was void from the beginning, and the marriage was invalid!"
Gendry looked at the High Septon. The High Septon was also a generous man, and a master at arguing on his behalf.
"We want Gendry!"
"We want Gendry!"
Great Lord Mace suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs. They had to hurry up and crown him, so his own office could be confirmed by decree as well.
The noble knights in the hall took the lead and shouted along like well-trained hounds.
"No traitor queen! No sinful bastards! Give us the Storm! Give us the Storm!"
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