Game of Thrones : Winter Lord

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"Hey, Tyrion!"

The little man turned his head to see the pale face of his old friend.

Cole? How could he look like this?

Tyrion had just returned from the Red Keep. He'd been sent to patrol the riverbank. It was a terrible scene. It would cost a fortune in gold dragons to restore the port. Where could he find such money? Could he ask an alchemist to conjure it for him? Though those men's wildfire had proven useful, they couldn't turn lead into gold.

His father had ignored his honeymoon period and given him this burdensome task. It wasn't that Lord Tywin valued his dwarf son, but rather that he had no one else available.

His reliable and hardworking uncle Kevan had fallen ill.

Honeymoon—damn honeymoon—half the people in the castle knew that Sansa was still a virgin.

People looked at him with mockery, though he had long grown accustomed to those strange glances.

"Are you going out?" They met in front of the castle gate, Cole with his two sworn brothers.

"Just taking a walk through King's Landing," Cole replied.

They exchanged a few words at the gate.

Cole rode his horse into the street and descended the road from Aegon's High Hill.

"Lord Snow, where are we going?" Duran had visited King's Landing several times and knew it far better than Cole did.

"To the city wall for a look," Cole told them.

Duran led the way through densely packed roads where houses were scattered everywhere.

They entered a narrow path, just wide enough for horses to pass through, with muddy ground reeking of feces and urine.

The swords in their hands and their bright armor intimidated pedestrians ahead. Duran explained, "This is Flea Bottom. We can walk directly to the Iron Gate from here."

Mentioning the name, Duran's eyes showed disgust. Flea Bottom, notorious as King's Landing's slum, was famous for its chaos and filth.

Drunkards and disheveled prostitutes wandered everywhere. All appeared extremely dirty, their clothes stained with grime.

Children walked barefoot through mud and filth, laughing even when they fell to the ground.

Cole saw someone drinking a bowl of brown, suddenly noticing the person chewing some strange meat.

After walking this road, they seemed to enter a different place. Duran pointed to a bakery and said, "My lord, this is the Street of Flour."

Indeed, the aroma of pies and fresh bread wafted through the air.

Cats leapt across eaves and walls while pigeons flew overhead.

A man pushed a two-wheeled cart piled high with jam biscuits. He deliberately paused before Cole for a moment, shouting his wares loudly.

Finally, seemingly disappointed, he pushed his cart away.

They reached the city wall and walked along its length.

Jose and Duran didn't understand what their lord was doing, so they simply rode their horses and followed. They circled the outer wall of King's Landing until darkness fell.

Occasionally Cole would stop and survey the surroundings.

Several gates were tightly closed, with homeless refugees gathered outside the King's Gate and the Mud Gate.

They had set up makeshift tents in the corners of the wall for shelter.

Outside the city wall lay a chaotic scene—newly repaired walls and ruined docks.

Jon's ship was moored at a small dock outside the King's Gate, with broken timber and sunken ships floating on the river.

King's Landing was the second largest port in the Seven Kingdoms. Though it had no permanent fleet, trade had always flourished. Cole thought Aegon the Conqueror must have carefully planned when choosing this location for his royal city.

King's Landing sat on the Kingsroad. Materials from all directions could be transported here along the King's Road. The natural harbor allowed for the construction of a massive port where maritime trade could flow.

Unfortunately, like the Riverlands, such a castle had no natural defenses. Aegon the Conqueror had been confident that dragons would ensure his family ruled Westeros for generations.

How could he have imagined that dragons would one day become extinct?

In just three hundred years, Targaryen rule had ended, their line nearly vanished from the Seven Kingdoms.

Following the riverside road from the King's Gate, they soon reached another entrance to King's Landing, the River Gate, commonly known as the "Mud Gate," from which one could return to the Red Keep by climbing Aegon's High Hill.

Beggars surrounded the Mud Gate. When Cole first arrived, these people had caught his attention. He hadn't expected that the capital, King's Landing, would contain so many impoverished souls. From Flea Bottom to the Mud Gate, the largest population in King's Landing consisted of these chaotic, hungry people.

Though no longer surprised by such conditions in this era, he couldn't help but frown.

While Cole inspected King's Landing looking for weaknesses, Tyrion was summoned by his father to the Tower of the Hand.

Seven vows, seven challenges, seventy-seven dishes, seven singers. The king's wedding would be far grander than his dwarf uncle's had been.

Tyrion hadn't counted how many dishes were served at his own wedding feast, but there were certainly fewer than seven.

He'd tried to persuade his father to reduce the scale of Joffrey's wedding, but how could Lord Tywin be swayed? The Lannisters were known as the wealthiest family in the Seven Kingdoms, with the Tyrells' fortune second only to theirs.

As for the money issue, Lord Tywin had handed it to him—wasn't he now the Master of Coin for the realm? Gods, he couldn't shit gold.

"What's the matter with your marquis friend?" Lord Tywin asked him.

"What do you mean?"

"He wasn't Valyrian last time." Lord Tywin spoke in a heavy tone.

"I thought you didn't care," said Tyrion. "You should know there are several Targaryens on the Wall, father."

Lord Tywin merely looked at him with pale blue eyes.

"Bloodraven and Aemon Targaryen. He reminds me of Bloodraven. He was very thin when we first met."

"Have you seen Bloodraven?" Lord Tywin asked.

"If he could survive until now, I'd like to see him. Though I've never seen Bloodraven himself, I have seen Dark Sister, that Valyrian steel sword," Tyrion replied.

Tywin remembered Kevan telling him that the boy possessed a remarkably sharp blade.

"He's a Targaryen, a bastard. His surname should be Rivers or Waters," Tyrion continued.

Father, are you afraid of him? Tyrion thought silently.

Indeed, with Jon's abilities, he could easily become the next Daemon Blackfyre. If he made his identity public, coupled with his silver hair and purple eyes, multitudes would surely follow him.

"The problem right now isn't about some bastard, but that you should quickly plant your seed in a woman's belly. If the whores haven't taught you how to be a man, I'll have Moon Boy teach you."

Moon Boy was King's Landing's royal fool.

A Targaryen bastard seemed insignificant in Lord Tywin's eyes.

After the Lannister army entered King's Landing, and after Robert hammered Rhaegar to death on the Trident, the world had learned that Targaryens without dragons were no different from ordinary men.