Chapter 77 - Knowing King's Landing.
[Chapter Size: 2300 Words.]
Third Person POV.
Westeros.
...
...
King's Landing had its usual chaotic atmosphere as the guards at the gate watched people entering and leaving the city.
"Hey, you! What are you doing? Step back!"
A guard, like all the others, wore red clothing, marking him as one of the Lannister men.
"But sir, I am waiting in line..." an elderly woman said as she stood at the front of the queue.
"And I don't care!" the man immediately exclaimed. He didn't even bother to check if she was actually at the front or not; he simply didn't like the fact that she was slightly out of place. Scowling at her, he pushed her aside. With an important noble approaching, they had to clear the way and not have any dead weight blocking the path.
The woman groaned as she hit the ground, but the man didn't seem to care.
"Get out of the way immediately to make room for others to pass! A cart is coming this way, and I won't even care if you get crushed under it," he growled at the old woman, who was still trying to understand what had just happened while struggling to breathe after hitting her back.
"Hey, you should be more careful. If you wanted her to move, you didn't have to push her."
The guard almost jumped at the voice beside him.
"You!"
He immediately noticed a hooded man standing there. He hadn't even realized how the man had gotten so close—he could have sworn there was no one else nearby. None of the other guards or people in the queue had noticed him either; they were either looking at the old woman or simply surprised to see him suddenly beside the guard.
"Calm down. I believe this could grant passage for me and this woman without further questions, correct?" the man said, looking directly at him.
The guard didn't like that look—it sent a shiver down his spine. But when he felt two copper stags slip into his hand, he had no more objections.
"Yes... That is enough for you to pass," he said simply, seeing that he would profit from this and not caring about who the hooded man was as long as he got paid.
With that, Jon picked up the elderly woman, pulling her toward him. She was surprised, as she could barely walk after falling like that.
"Just stay quiet. We'll be through the gate soon," Jon said.
The woman simply let herself be carried as they entered the streets of the city.
"Clear the way! Clear the way! The Blackwell house entourage is arriving, make way!"
The guards on the walls began shouting as other guards on the ground became even more aggressive, shoving people out of the path. Jon, still carrying the old woman, stepped aside to let the group pass.
"Pride and Purpose!" the men carrying the house banners exclaimed loudly.
"Pride and Purpose!"
"Pride and Purpose!"
Shortly after, the closed carriages passed through as everyone made way for them. More guards, bearing the house's banners, followed closely behind, securing the convoy while the crowd continued to chant their rather ridiculous motto.
"These pompous nobles..." Jon commented, almost laughing at the scene.
"My lord..." the elderly woman finally spoke, looking at Jon with curiosity as he lost sight of the banners inside the city.
"Here."
Jon set her down.
"You... You paid that guard for our entry?" the woman asked, bewildered. Even from the ground, she had seen Jon hand silver coins to the guard.
Jon turned his attention to her. He had been wearing a hood the entire time, so no one had actually seen his face. Perhaps the guard had caught a glimpse of his violet eyes, but he doubted the man would remember after pocketing the coins.
"Don't worry about it. It's not my specialty, but I know how to move, blend in, and even steal. The coins I gave him were the ones I took from his own pocket without him noticing," Jon replied with a smirk.
"..."
The old woman looked at him in surprise before beginning to cough, still feeling the effects of her fall. She was already in a weakened state. When she turned back to thank the stranger for helping her despite everything...
He was no longer there.
He had simply disappeared.
Jon continued walking through the crowd. There were three directions he could take, and his first mission in this city, besides blending in and getting to know it, was to assess the current situation. He knew that his uncle had been injured by Jaime Lannister after an attack, which happened when he learned that Tyrion Lannister had gone to trial in the Vale.
There were several options: the Red Keep, Visenya's Hill, Rhaenys's Hill, the Port and the River of Tears, the Street of Silk, the Street of Weavers, and the Merchant's Quarter, in addition to the area he was currently in—the city gate.
He ended up choosing the Street of Silk, as it was the cheapest area in the city and the best place to start seeing what the common folk really thought of the kingdom.
He quickly moved through the streets, where guards patrolled here and there, shouting at people or inspecting merchants—likely checking if they were selling stolen goods. Some people glanced at him, but Jon's stealth skills allowed him to pass unnoticed, preventing anyone from watching him too long or approaching him due to his hooded appearance.
He moved deeper into the poorest district of the city, where he saw fewer and fewer guards. This was the most impoverished area in King's Landing, filled with beggars, criminals, and decaying taverns.
People here seemed more perceptive than the guards. They had learned to observe everything, always staying alert—survival was the law in this place.
He walked past more beggars and prostitutes. But Jon noticed the true state of decay—the people were starving, the city was poor, and the Crown was drowning in millions of debts. If war were to break out now, these people would undoubtedly rise against their rulers. It didn't matter who sat on the Iron Throne—if they didn't address this, they would face revolt.
"Hello... do you want to fuck? Only three copper pennies. I have a room," a prostitute approached Jon as he moved through the streets, still hidden beneath his tattered cloak. He looked like he belonged there, though he wasn't actually dirty.
"..."
Jon didn't answer and kept walking.
"Sir, do you have a coin... I am starving," a beggar—so thin his bones were visible—raised his hand to Jon in a plea for help.
But the Dragonborn walked past him without responding.
He continued further into the area, where more and more people like those he had encountered before began to appear. As he advanced, he saw people in alleys—some being beaten in real time, punched, or even having their throats slit. Others were being threatened, while some lurked in the darkness, waiting for an unsuspecting victim to enter their trap.
Even Jon received malicious looks, silent warnings. But he ignored them all and kept moving forward.
He saw people bathing or washing their clothes in a river that seemed to be part of the city's sewage system. It was a deplorable sight.
At that moment, he found a place where he could start gathering information.
The tavern was dimly lit. Even with one of the glass panes allowing sunlight to filter in, candles were still necessary to illuminate the room. There was all manner of people inside, drinking nothing but cheap liquor. Some sat in groups, while others remained silent, merely waiting for work or something similar.
After all, the place was full of mercenaries and criminals, ready to take on jobs ranging from assassinations to theft—even espionage. Many nobles sent men here to hire such services.
Jon entered without drawing attention, scanning the groups calmly from beneath his hood. He saw a few prostitutes, and even a severed body part resting on someone's lap. The girls weren't even older than sixteen.
This was the underworld of Westeros, but Jon didn't dwell on it. He had expected to find such things here.
He spotted an empty stool beside a man sitting at the bar and took a seat. He could feel his neighbor staring directly at him, but Jon didn't return the gaze. He simply waited for the bartender to acknowledge his presence.
"How can I help you?" the man finally asked after noticing Jon.
The bartender was a fat man, but his eyes were sharp and wary. He was clearly experienced in dealing with all kinds of men who walked through that door.
"Just a drink," Jon responded calmly, placing a few coins on the counter.
The man nodded and left after taking the coins.
"Northern accent," a voice beside him suddenly said.
Jon glanced briefly and saw the man smiling. He seemed a little drunk, but confident.
"But a little changed... and even strange... But you're certainly a Northerner. I recognize one when I hear them, no matter where."
Jon stared at him for a second, and the man quickly lost his smile. Under that intimidating gaze, he shrank slightly, understanding the silent message: Jon didn't want to talk to him.
"Here it is."
The bartender returned at that moment, placing the drink in front of Jon.
Jon, however, did not drink. He merely pushed a few more coins onto the counter, keeping up the act.
"I just arrived in Westeros. Can you update me on what's happening in the city?" Jon asked.
The bartender took the coins and leaned slightly closer to Jon, resting his elbow on the counter.
"What would you like to know?"
"Everything basic. After all, I only know a few rumors about where he might be. They say the Hand of the King was wounded... Jaime Lannister. I just returned from Essos as a mercenary," Jon responded in a neutral tone the entire time.
The man nodded. It was common knowledge, and then he began to speak calmly.
"The king fought with his Hand due to Lord Stark demanding more control over the Crown's expenses. This led to a heated argument, making Lord Stark abandon his Hand's brooch and step away from the position for a time. During this period, Jaime Lannister took the opportunity and attacked. But Jaime Lannister fled and is now out of the city, forced to escape."
Still, the situation was becoming increasingly dangerous. Strange rumors were circulating about Lord Stark coming to the city searching for the king's bastards, many of them from the very Street of Silk.
Jon listened to everything calmly, his mind working to understand what was happening. There seemed to be something hidden beneath all this. Not that Jon was inclined to help his uncle, but he was interested in knowing what it all meant.
"I see... Well, thanks for the information."
Jon spoke, placing a few more coins on the counter.
"You're being far too generous," the man murmured. "This is public information, but... fine, I'll take it."
"That settles it then. I'm leaving."
Jon said as he stood up.
As he left the tavern, he felt the gaze of the man who had been sitting next to him the entire time. He ignored it and continued walking through the streets, passing beggars and prostitutes until he entered an alley for the first time.
The man who had been sitting beside him in the tavern appeared shortly after, following him furtively. Jon noticed his approach but kept walking, pretending not to be aware. The man moved through the narrow corridor, his hand resting on a knife at his waist, ready to use it.
But the moment he turned between the buildings where Jon had entered, he suddenly felt his body being hurled backward. He was slammed against the wall with force, left stunned. His eyes widened in terror as he saw Jon standing there, lifting a hand toward him—holding him in place with an invisible force unknown to him.
"Let me guess..."
Jon said calmly.
"You saw me alone and thought I'd be an easy target to rob? Well, it was a good attempt."
The man tried to speak but couldn't—his throat was being crushed. His eyes reflected pure fear, unable to comprehend how someone could use telekinesis.
Jon observed him from beneath his cloak, his eyes cold.
"However, you were unlucky to try and rob me... You know, not even the gods would dare to do that."
With those words, Jon clenched his fist.
The dry sound of bones breaking echoed through the alley. The man's head twisted backward with a horrifying snap, and his lifeless body collapsed to the ground like a discarded puppet.
Jon looked down at the corpse and sighed.
"Well... Seems like it's not worth staying here any longer."
Then, he turned his attention to the alley entrance. In the distance, he could see the towers of the Red Keep rising against the gray sky, about a kilometer away.
"Let's see what's happening there."
For a moment, he considered heading to the merchants' district—after all, they were more trustworthy than the people in this part of the city. However, the bartender's story intrigued him.
Thus, he decided to move forward, slipping into the shadows as King's Landing was bathed in the night.
The Dragonborn entered the Red Keep like a ghost.
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Raccoon Here: I wanted to share a bit about King's Landing, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I do, showcasing the dark side of the city.
-------------Nexts Chapters ----------------
Chapter 82 - The Fall of Robert Baratheon.
Chapter 87 - It's Time to Bring Terror to This City.
Chapter 97 - The Terror of Encountering a Werewolf.
Chapter 106 - The Blood Eagle.
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