The Battle of the Blackwater Rush, which had decided the realm's fate, was over. As King's Landing entered a new day, history turned to a new page.
The power vacuum left by the death of King Robert Baratheon had now been filled by new forces. These lords and knights from the Stormlands, the Crownlands, Across the Narrow Sea, the Vale, The North, and other places had won the Battle of the Blackwater Rush, and together they formed the new center of power.
The new lords and knights stood straight and proud, rising to fasten their sword belts. Then came rewards for the common folk who had contributed. The guides and hunters of the Kingswood were also granted rewards, a new set of clothes and the right to hunt within the Kingswood.
Once the ceremony for rewarding merit was complete, the prisoners were brought in.
First came the results of the Battle of the Blackwater Rush: the surviving old nobles, slave masters, and wealthy merchants of Volantis and the Three Daughters. Then came the great nobles of Meereen, including the Great Master Hizdahr zo Loraq, and the aged Grand Marshal of Yunkai, Yurkhaz zo Yunzak. The old man was far too advanced in years, yet he was the only sensible man among the Yunkai'i. Hunched over, his face covered in wrinkles and his teeth all gone, he was dragged in by two freed slave soldiers.
Few of the other Yunkai slave lords had survived. Little Pigeon, Malazza, Yellow Whale, and the three Clanker Lords were already dead. As for Astapor, its slave masters had suffered the worst fate of all. They had been wiped out completely. The captains of Elyria and Tolos lowered their heads, looking utterly out of place in this hall.
The people of King's Landing felt an inexplicable confidence. The Storm had subdued enemies from across the whole world.
"We have already swallowed the bitter fruit of this war. The gods did not grant us the glory of victory. Long live the Storm!" The Grand Marshal of Yunkai quickly dropped to his knees and begged for mercy. "I am willing to offer you my eunuch singers and my gold, as atonement for my war crimes."
"So am I," the Meereenese Hizdahr zo Loraq hastily added.
At once, the praises of the Volantene coalition swelled into a great chorus, as the slave masters begged for mercy one after another.
"Don't think this is over, boy," a Lysene noble warned. "The Goddess of Love protects Lys. You have offended the old nobles of the whole world, Volantis, Lys, Qarth, and Slaver's Bay. When the time comes, no amount of armies or schemes will save you."
Gendry looked at the Lyseni man, surprised that a few of them still had some backbone. Then he waved his hand.
Lothor Brune looked at the cursing Lyseni man. "Your time has come."
Several former Volantene Unsullied in ornate cloaks entered and dragged the Lyseni man away to be executed.
The Lyseni man had only just been pulled out when another Volantene with a stern expression, dressed in a tiger-skin robe, shouted, "Blasphemer! You are a blasphemer! The Baratheons are descended from blasphemers. You want to destroy the whole world, to destroy Volantis, Lys, and Slaver's Bay. The Red God, the Goddess of Love, the Pale Lady, all the gods will spit upon blasphemers and those who recklessly free slaves. The sacred fire will sweep away all evil! The Red God's iron whip will scour the earth!"
"You have said enough," Gendry said softly. "Now you can go meet Malaquo."
Grey Worm stepped forward and thrust his spear through the Volantene man's body, the spearhead sinking into his chest.
"Blasphemer!"
Red blood splashed out, and all the surrendered prisoners trembled. None of them dared say another word. They only kept praying for forgiveness.
"Anyone else?" Great Lord Stannis rose. "I hope you think carefully. Come forward, confess your crimes, and beg for forgiveness. If you truly wish to continue this farce, step forward now."
Great Lord Mace looked at these eastern barbarians with disgust. "These slave traders truly stink."
All the prisoners from Slaver's Bay were dragged away. Today, they would be sent to the military camp on the north bank of the Blackwater Rush, which might actually be a quieter place for them.
Next came the prisoners from King's Landing. At the front were two Lannisters, Tyrion and Lancel. Behind them came Grand Maester Pycelle, the sellsword Bronn, Ser Swann of the white knights, and others.
Tyrion had only been roughly bandaged. A long wound cut across his face, and an arrow had struck his arm. As for Lancel, his injury was even more serious. The wound was on his arm, and it seemed bad enough that it might require amputation.
Tyrion looked up at Gendry in the high seat, then at Stannis wearing the Hand's chain, and truly felt as if the world had been overturned.
"I am guilty. I confess my crimes to Prince Gendry and all the lords here." The smooth-tongued sellsword Bronn immediately stepped forward and shouted. "Tyrion paid me a great sum to obey him and defend King's Landing. My sins are too great. I beg for forgiveness."
"Bronn, you?" Tyrion was startled, though this did seem entirely in keeping with a sellsword's nature.
"We lost, my lord. Please forgive me. The Lannister ship has sunk, so let me change ships. I loved your gold and your women, sure, but I only have one life. I'm a sellsword, not a saint. Damn it, I'm not like your brother."
"You're that afraid of him?" Tyrion whispered.
"Of course the Storm is frightening. Did you see the size of him? Strong as anything, endless arm strength, quick and agile, and the man never seems to tire. And let me tell you, for someone that tall, his speed makes no sense. Add in those long arms and legs, and his reach is huge. Ordinary men are nowhere near his match in a fight. I don't want to end up like those horse-stinking khals, or your unlucky brother," Bronn said in a low voice.
"You really are a scoundrel who turns with the wind," Gendry said, looking at Bronn. "But scoundrels have their uses. Go guard the city gates."
It took wicked men to deal with wicked men. Against the reckless mobs of King's Landing, a slick and cunning man would help keep the rabble in check.
"Thank you for the praise, Storm." Bronn immediately stood aside, having escaped disaster.
The elderly Pycelle suddenly widened his eyes and stepped forward, tears and snot streaming down his face.
"I confess. Because of my cowardice and incompetence, I witnessed many absurd sights, even standing by as bastards defiled the Iron Throne.
"I confess. When King's Landing fell all those years ago, I deceived the Mad King into opening the gates. At that time, I did it only for the peace of the Seven Kingdoms, not out of selfish desire, but I never imagined Tywin would murder children. I confess. Because of my negligence, the royal bloodline was defiled, and I turned a blind eye to the Lannisters' adultery. I confess. When Lord Jon lay dying, I drove Maester Colemon away out of fear. I confess. When King Joffrey beheaded a false Lord Eddard, I was unable to stop him."
Pycelle's words rang through the hall like a stone dropped into a still pool, stirring countless ripples. Some of these matters were already known, but the effect was entirely different when spoken aloud by someone involved. But had Eddard not been beheaded by Joffrey back then? Had they used a false one?
Roose Bolton's pupils widened. Even to him, this news was shocking, especially the part about Eddard.
Tyrion's head buzzed. He should have dealt with this old man properly back then. The first one, the second one. Any of these people could betray him, but he alone could not betray himself.
"Pycelle!" Stannis demanded sharply. "You knew Tywin murdered children. You knew about the royal bloodline. You knew Lord Jon was poisoned. You knew the truth about the real and false 'Eddard.' And yet you said nothing."
Pycelle collapsed where he stood. "Yes, yes. I said nothing."
"Heh." Tyrion gave a cold laugh. His cousin Lancel was still feverish and muddled. This was a wonderful performance, with Gendry as the director, Pycelle pretending to be the finest actor, and a hall full of clowns applauding and shouting.
"Where is Lord Eddard? The real Lord Eddard," Great Lord Mace asked hurriedly. "Is King's Landing always this full of strange tricks?"
"He was in the black cells all along. Varys may know some clues. But now Cersei, Lord Eddard, and Varys have all vanished," Pycelle stammered. "Varys is a chameleon, and in truth, he and I were never on good terms. I never saw through him, just as I never saw through Littlefinger."
Gendry fell into thought. The three of them were bound by a chain of suspicion. The old maester, Varys, and Littlefinger, three men full of schemes, each loyal to a different master. He had men tracking Varys, and the rat-catchers were now being put in place. If Eddard had not yet left, there was still a chance of finding him.
A wave of murmurs burst through the hall, buzzing like a rising tide. Pycelle's answer, as an important witness, had every minister pricking up his ears for the gossip.
"Silence." Gendry found a steadier place on the Iron Throne and still looked calm and composed.
"Please forgive my cowardice. In truth, I should have presented that great book to the King long ago. The seed is strong, but at first I did not study it. House Baratheon, no, House Durrandon from the very beginning, has always been marked by black hair and blue eyes, unchanged through the ages. The bloodline of Durran Godsgrief holds great power. Ever since Lord Orys, black of hair, black of eyes, and black of beard, married the last daughter of Storm, every generation of House Baratheon has produced children with black hair and blue eyes. This includes a certain illiterate Great Lord, the Laughing Storm, the Uncrowned Queen, and King Robert's three brothers." Pycelle's voice trembled as he spoke.
"You mean Maester Malleon's The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, With Descriptions of Many High Lords and Noble Ladies and Their Children," Great Lord Stannis said.
"That is the book. Only after Lord Jon's death did I examine it and understand the secret of gold and coal," Pycelle said, nodding, his white-haired face full of piety. "Every one of King Robert's bastards had hair black as night and eyes blue as the sea, without exception. Malleon recorded the last union between stag and lion more than ninety years ago, when Tya Lannister married Gowen Baratheon, the third son of his house. Their only child was a nameless infant boy who died young. Malleon described him as 'large, with a good appetite, and a full head of black hair.' Thirty years before that, a Lannister man took a Baratheon woman to wife. She bore him three daughters and one son, all black-haired. Coal-black never yields to gold."
Tyrion closed his eyes, unable to keep watching this miserable scene. This time, the Lannisters had been stripped bare.
The mood in the hall shifted at once, and more shouts rose.
"The seed is strong!"
"We do not want the Kingslayer's bastards and whores!"
"We want the true king!"
"Long live the Storm!"
"Long live the Storm!"
Great Lord Mace led the shouting.
The guards, Unsullied, and knights of Crackclaw Point maintained order, while everyone else shouted like they had been trained for it, lords, knights, notables, and squires alike.
But Pycelle's performance was not yet finished. Tears streamed down his face. "The truth is as clear as broad daylight, yet our King Robert was too simple-hearted, and that was why he was so terribly harmed by that adulterous pair. That wanton woman Cersei, after the Kingslayer, became entangled with her cousin Lancel as well. King Robert often said when he lived that Joffrey did not seem like his son, that he had not a trace of martial spirit and was instead cruel by nature. That was the truth. Joffrey once cut open a wildcat, shot animals with a crossbow, and even shot starving people. Now this is divine punishment, for the gods cannot tolerate adultery. And then there are our good lords Jon and Eddard. If the Prince and the Hand wish to know more, they may question the Queen's attendants and servants. They know much about these matters. In the past, they were deceived by golden dragons and threats. Now they will surely be willing to tell the truth."
Gendry listened with deep satisfaction. The old man truly bit hard when he turned on someone. Unfortunately, he was too old and had offended too many people. His end would be the Wall, or a clean beheading.
"It seems Cersei has a special fondness for Lannisters," Tyene said softly.
The red priestess smiled but did not answer.
"Strip Pycelle of the title of Grand Maester. You ought to be beheaded, but since you have revealed so much truth, go and write your statement and your histories properly. Once you are done, you may decide whether you prefer the Wall or the axe. Do not meddle too much in politics," Gendry said.
"Get out of here," Stannis snapped.
"Yes." Grand Maester Pycelle, tears and snot still running down his face, quickly scurried aside, having saved his life for the moment. He was old enough already. Who knew how long it would take him to finish writing?
"Gods above, let the truth return to the world. May the Father guide justice for us and judge the wicked and adulterous Lannisters," the High Septon hurriedly prayed, and the faithful began putting on their pious faces.
"You are guilty as well, Tyrion," Stannis said loudly.
"Of course I am guilty." The dwarf looked at the towering Stannis and at the even taller Gendry seated on the throne behind him. He saw the men who had surrendered, the courtiers, Timett, Bronn, that hateful Pycelle, the half-dead Lancel, and his own claws being torn away one by one. "My only crime is being a Lannister and losing this war."
"I testify that Lord Lannister has indeed committed treason." A girl hurried out from the crowd.
Shae ran forward. "I am Lord Lannister's lover, or rather, his little whore. Lord Bronn knows this."
"No, you whore! Your clothes, your house, your guards!" Tyrion roared at Shae. "I should have known you were a vulgar woman. I should have strangled you, cut your throat with a golden chain."
"What are you here to prove?" Stannis asked.
"That Lord Tyrion intended to blow up Prince Gendry and Lord Stannis. He arranged wildfire on the river and at the Old Gate. He had Ironhand train the Gold Cloaks, and he prepared sellswords and wildling scouts. He even said he was a giant." Shae looked at Tyrion, her voice timid. "My lord, please forgive me. I want to live too."
"How splendid. The dwarf's little whore," Mace said with a grin.
"Very well. Your testimony is finished," Stannis said coldly. "Give this girl a few gold coins for her words. Then give her a few slaps for her shamelessness. Get out of King's Landing, child. This place is not for you."
"Yes." A gold-cloaked knight immediately led Shae away.
"The evidence is conclusive," Stannis said.
"Do as you like. Let me die like a lion. I know I have lost this war."
"No. Your crime is not being a Lannister, but your stupidity. You love the Lannisters, but do the Lannisters love you?" Gendry said coldly. "Your treason is proven, but you are also a muddle-headed fool. You should choose between the Wall and the axe."
"What do you mean? I am the fool?" Tyrion's face went pale.
"Cersei abandoned you," Gendry said, looking at Tyrion.
Tyrion said nothing.
Lancel heard the name through his fever and mumbled, "Cersei is a fool. Tyrion was right. Cersei told Joffrey to return to the Red Keep, and then the Gold Cloaks rioted, the mob rioted, and Joffrey was torn to pieces."
"Yes," Tyrion answered.
"You know how she left, don't you?" Stannis asked.
"I don't. And even if I did, she is my sister." Tyrion gritted his teeth. "Just as I loved that little monster Joffrey."
"Very well. The charge of treason is proven." Great Lord Stannis stroked his chin. This crime could not be forgiven.
"You were married once, weren't you?" Gendry looked at Tyrion.
"I..." Tyrion's eyes widened. This was the deepest secret in his heart. How could this be possible?
The great and lesser nobles all looked at the dwarf in noisy confusion. They had never heard of this. Tywin had always tried to arrange marriages for his son, but not one had ever succeeded.
"You... how do you know that? It was only a game." Tyrion stared at Gendry, trembling all over.
"It was not a game. Your brother Jaime lied to you, and your father Tywin lied to you as well. That girl was not a whore," Gendry said. "Before you are executed or put on the black, I hope you become a little wiser. You were deceived by lies."
"No!" Tyrion roared. "That is not true."
Tears fell down the dwarf's face, again and again, until he finally collapsed completely.
"I hate them. I hate power."
Like the wind of his youth, the roars of soldiers, the girl's cries, and his father's cold voice.
From beginning to end, he had been nothing but a poor wretch.