6
Chapter 6: Part VI
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Disclaimer: I own nothing, just borrowing for a while.
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"A Lannister always pays his debts… but I'm only half Lannister and you made the mistake of backing the wrong side, so perhaps you'd like to take the opportunity to return to my good graces and accept only half the debt you are owed by the crown as settlement?"
King Joffrey to Tycho Nestoris of the Iron Bank of Braavos – 301 AL
"If we're quoting unofficial mottos at each other then I would remind you that 'The Iron Bank will have its due' King Joffrey, and if I wanted to be rude I might add that according to the rumours you're twice as much Lannister by blood as the rest of your family so on that basis we should perhaps double the amount owed not half it. As a gesture of goodwill however the Iron Bank agrees to waive interest payments on the debt in the interests of cordial relations going forward… and the fact we're not sure you could keep up with them anyway."
Tycho Nestoris of the Iron Bank of Braavos to King Joffrey – 301 AL
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Tournament Grounds - King's Landing – 298 AL
Although never a great aficionado of the games back home Octavian had attended them enough to consider Westerosi jousting tournaments a very much watered-down-wine version of a martial spectacle. So far only one participant had even died, and that was only by misfortune when Gregor Clegane, the brother of his bodyguard Sandor, had accidentally killed the recently knighted Ser Hugh of the Vale during a joust.
Frankly it was all a bit boring, if he had to watch sports give me gladiators fighting condemned criminals or even a good chariot race, Octavian thought to himself, as he tried not to ponder with dismay just how much this effete competition was costing to run.
King Robert had outright refused to cancel the tournament despite the requests to do so not only from his son-and-heir but also the new Hand of the King whose appointment the event was intended to celebrate. A few more years of this level of financial mismanagement and even Lannister gold wouldn't be able to keep the realm afloat, Octavian realised, wondering at what point the Iron Bank would foreclose and seek to auction off the Red Keep.
"Enjoying yourself Clegane?" Octavian asked his ever-present companion as they wandered around, stopping to watch a pair of swordsmen practice their art for that part of the tournament later.
"Bunch of posing wankers playing at war" the tall man with the burn-marked face responded flatly, still trying to get used to being called his actual name instead or 'Hound' or worse 'Dog'. "In a real fight at least half of these poofs would piss themselves, drop their swords and run away" he said, sneering back at one of the practicing swordsmen who had turned to glare at him in response. "Talking of poofs Loras Tyrell should be jousting soon" he reminded the Prince.
"Against your brother" Octavian noted. "I suppose you want to be there to support your family?" he reasoned as he set out in the direction of the jousting arena.
Clegane's expression darkened. "I'll be cheering on the poof" he muttered to himself as he followed on behind.
With popularity as a spectator sport beyond merely the aristocracy that participated in the games King's Landing had seen an influx of people from all over Westeros eager to watch the tournament, and if it wasn't for everyone with sense steering well clear of his massive bodyguard Octavian might have had to push his way through the crowds in order to each the seated area set aside for the nobility. Given that even the runner-up to the joust would some receive twenty thousand Gold Dragons in prize money, a sum that was perhaps an order of magnitude or two beyond even the dreams of most ordinary people, it wasn't really surprising that so many spectators had turned up to watch.
Indeed the throngs who had come to King's Landing had so increased the chaos in the city that at the last meeting of the Small Council the commander of the City Watch had requested extra funds to recruit the additional men needed to keep order in the streets and taverns. A city much the size of Rome, with a population near half a million, it was difficult enough to maintain control in King's Landing in normal times but currently it was a near Sisyphean task.
The City Watch charged with this unenviable duty was fairly unique in that it recruited from all walks of life and tended to promote men based on merit and ability rather than background. More than a few illegitimate sons of minor houses unable to find employment had ended up within its ranks and the current Commander of the Watch was supposedly the son of a butcher Octavian had learned, thinking that perhaps Arya's friend Mycah had a similar chance to make something of himself.
Already some two-thousand strong, and directly answerable to the King through the Master of Laws rather than belonging to one of the Great Houses, Octavian considered that the City Watch likely represented his best chance to quietly construct the core of a professional army. If he gradually increased their number, and only slowly shifted the emphasis of their duties and training from policing to a more directly military role, Octavian reasoned he could build up a fighting force man-for-man far superior to most Westerosi armies without incurring too much opposition or suspicion from the Lords Paramount, or further bankrupting the strained economy. Once that was accomplished men from the City Watch acting as drill-instructors and sergeants could be used to whip the peasant-levies of the rest of the Crownlands into some kind of shape.
It would require the right kind of men though. Roman Centurions, the backbone of the legions, weren't just required to be good fighters hardened by battle experience, they simply couldn't get promoted to that rank if they weren't also literate men with something between their ears. Lucius Vorenus for example, former First Spear Centurion of the 13th Legion, had been more knowledgeable of Roman politics and history than Octavian had ever expected from a man of plebian background and it was likely his brains as much as his superior fighting ability that made the man so formidable. Octavian's uncle, Julius Caesar, had made sure to know not only the name of every centurion under his command but also a few personal details about each one realising that it was those men that made Rome strong not the knightly equestrian classes.
Perhaps if I offered premium pay to any sellsword joining the City Watch if they were literate men I might obtain the caliber of men I'm after, Octavian pondered as he neared the seating area for nobles.
While the joust itself wasn't too interesting when they got there, although the 'Knight of the Flowers' inventively cheating by riding a mare in heat to put his opponents stallion off form was a creative ploy, the subsequent beheading of said stallion by the incensed loser Gregor Clegane followed by what could have potentially been a fight-to-the death between 'The Mountain' and his brother made Octavian feel almost at home. Animals being hacked to pieces and mortal combat between skilled warriors in front of a crowd, now that was proper entertainment he thought, although his intended bride-to-be appeared horrified.
After King Robert's command abruptly ended the fight and Gregor Clegane had stormed off in a rage Octavian first checked that his bodyguard was uninjured then approached the King to loudly remark that it seemed the wrong brother was a knight because the one without a title acted more like a knight should, having drawn his sword to defend the helpless Loras Tyrell and then having stopped fighting immediately when his King commanded.
Already embarrassed at having Loras thank him for saving his life, and the cheers and applause which followed. Sandor Clegane was practically mortified by Prince Joffrey's commendation, although to his great relief the boy didn't go so far as to suggest King Robert knight him then and there.
Not enjoying the attention whatsoever, even if it was people singing his praises not staring at his scars or trying to pick a fight for once, Sandor Clegane was almost starting to almost wish that he had let his psychotic sibling kill Tyrell by this point and it only got worse when Lord Stark's pretty young daughter handed him the rose that the ever-charming Tyrell had given her before the joust.
"That's a new look for you" Octavian told him, extremely amused at how uncomfortable Clegane now looked, the man still awkwardly clutching the flower after Sansa had departed.
You still look the same, Sandor Clegane thought to himself looking at his charge, but everything else about you is different.
Which wasn't to say it wasn't a big improvement. Joffrey had always been a right prick.
Notes:
Note from the author:
What qualified as family entertainment in the Late Roman Republic was a tad bloodier than the mock combat of a medieval tournament. To Octavian's eyes it's all going to seem rather bland.
King's Landing and Rome from Octavian's day are about the same size (very large for a pre-industrial city) and both are prone to riots and disorder. The City Watch tries to keep a lid on things but doesn't always manage.
Loras Tyrell was taking a hell of a risk when he cheated a bit to beat Gregor Clegane in a joust, crossing The Mountain is hazardous to your health. Sandor Clegane isn't exactly on good terms with his brother Gregor.