Chapter 29: For a Knight’s Mercy and Justice

For a Knight's Mercy and Justice

Red Keep, Maegor's Holdfast, third floor.

Jaime had been standing guard outside the door for nearly an hour.

This was the chamber Cersei preferred for confidential matters. The thick wooden door was soundproof—nothing from within could be heard outside.

For reasons even he couldn't explain, Jaime shifted as if to press his ear against the wood.

He stopped himself in time, giving a strained smile and shaking his head, mocking his own childish impulse.

Straightening up, he gripped his sword hilt with his right hand and flicked his white cloak with his left.

Another hour passed before the door opened and Gawen Green stepped out.

He nodded naturally toward Jaime. "Ser Jaime, thank you again for guiding me today. Farewell."

Jaime arched a brow and forced a dry smile. "Allow me to escort you."

No, please—Gawen wanted to refuse.

But before he could speak, Jaime had already turned and started walking. Gawen had no choice but to follow.

The two descended the stairs side by side, passed through the Queen's Ballroom, and exited Maegor's Holdfast.

On the way down, Gawen, ever perceptive, sensed Jaime wanted to say something.

He still didn't understand Jaime's faint hostility, but didn't see a reason to confront it. After all, persuading Queen Cersei had drained his energy. He pretended not to notice.

He gestured silently to Mandon Waters, who was waiting by the gate.

Mandon nodded blankly, patted his belly, and followed like a loyal hound.

Jaime finally slowed. "Ahem."

He cleared his throat deliberately and glanced sideways at Gawen.

Gawen turned to meet his gaze, a puzzled look settling on his face.

"What exactly is your plan?" Jaime asked. "You have my discretion."

Gawen didn't reply immediately, eyes drifting ahead.

"I understand what worries you, Ser Jaime. I don't enjoy killing," he said eventually.

Tyrion had mentioned that before. And Jaime, despite this being their first proper conversation, could sense it too—Gawen was not a man who craved blood. That was a knight's instinct.

Jaime gave a small nod.

It's not just some prejudice from reports about excessive violence, is it?

Enough—Gawen didn't want to keep guessing the cause of Jaime's strange hostility.

"Ser Jaime, try looking at this from another angle. If my plan succeeds—who stands to gain?"

Jaime's emerald eyes shifted.

"Her Grace. And the common folk."

"By cutting away the corrupt among them, their lives might at least become more bearable."

"This is governance. Flexible, just rule."

Gawen stopped walking.

"Ser Jaime, I'm still unfamiliar with King's Landing. But you—your name holds weight. If you're willing to help, my chances increase greatly."

Though Jaime's expression remained unreadable, something shifted. His impression of Gawen had changed—subtly but truly.

Still… words are wind. Let's see what you actually do.

He knew Cersei had already approved the plan.

For the first time, Jaime gave Gawen a genuine smile. "If it's for Her Grace, I'll support you."

Gawen's calm gaze grew solemn. "For Queen Cersei."

And without thinking, Jaime echoed him. "For Queen Cersei."

Gawen pressed his hand to his chest. "And for a knight's mercy and justice."

Jaime's pupils narrowed slightly. His expression turned serious without him noticing.

The Vale – Seagard, Lord's Hall

After hearing his men's report, Earl Graffson furrowed his brow.

"So you're telling me the only lead on the fire at Makar Estate is some… song performed in the harbor? What was it called again…"

A servant whispered in his ear, "Whispers Beneath the Crypts…"

"Yes, yes. That one. A half-wildling chant from the Crag Claw Peninsula…"

"The Cleggle family…"

"Right, House Cleggle. So they're the ones behind it? But can a song serve as evidence? The Red Keep will laugh at us!"

The town sheriff bowed. "Apologies, my lord. They vanished quickly and left no trace. We have nothing solid."

Graffson's maester added, "Everyone knows what this is—young Baron Cleggle is imitating old Tywin Lannister."

Graffson scratched his head. "Car… Carsta…"

"The Rains of Castamere."

"Right! This is revenge for his cousin. But like Tywin, he left no proof behind."

He tapped the table in frustration. "Maester, what would you suggest? Seagard has been humiliated—I can't do nothing. People are watching, waiting for me to fall."

The maester replied, "Have someone reach out to Lord Jon. Don't forget—there's a cadet branch of House Arryn here in Seagard."

"As Seagard's lord, it would be improper to accuse a noble without proof. But Lord Jon can handle it privately—as family."

"Now that is a good idea."

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