Chapter 32: The Queen’s District Under Grinn’s Rule

Jaime couldn't stop thinking about who might be behind the looming threat. In his mind, everyone became a suspect.

Unable to hold back, he asked again, "Have you figured out who it is?"

But Grinn would never reveal the answer. Telling Jaime would only bring disaster.

A man ruled by his heart—Jaime would likely storm off and start hacking down enemies. And Grinn, the supposed manipulator, would be forced to tie himself even more tightly to House Lannister for protection.

For now, Grinn's reason for siding with Queen Cersei was simple: power and gold.

King Robert's method of tyranny could crush a bold young man like Lancel into a timid whisper, but such tactics had no effect on Cersei.

You may scold me, strike me, insult me—but I, Lady Cersei, do not fear you. I scorn you. And if you give me a chance, I will take revenge.

That icy defiance—her refusal to be broken—was one of her few redeeming qualities.

As long as Robert Baratheon and Lord Jon Arryn sat within the Red Keep, Grinn, once a model loyalist of House Targaryen, would always be wary.

He feared the day they might remember the young and rising Grinn and decide to squash him before he grew too strong.

Grinn's weakness was both his curse and his shield.

If Lady Cersei chose to protect him, no one in the Red Keep would risk angering the Queen over a man they saw as inconsequential.

Cersei, with her volatile pride, might even go to war over something petty—so better not to provoke her.

In this narrow crevice of danger and power, Grinn carved out his space to survive.

Jaime was Cersei's closest confidant, and his favor could not be taken lightly.

Grinn had once hoped Tyrion might influence his brother's opinion of him from afar.

But judging by Jaime's attitude at their first meeting, Grinn had to admit—his indirect maneuver had failed.

Going forward, he'd need to keep his distance from Tyrion. Cersei loathed the Imp, and too much closeness would only breed suspicion.

Fortunately, Grinn had patience. He was methodical in navigating every tangled relationship.

He was not boarding the Lannister ship—he was simply using Queen Cersei's boat to cross treacherous waters.

Grinn rubbed his brow and finally replied, "There's no proof. Everything is just suspicion, Ser Jaime. And if you act on baseless suspicion, Her Grace the Queen will find herself surrounded by enemies."

Jaime sighed with frustration. "You're right. I have to keep up appearances—otherwise, I'd be helping the enemy without meaning to."

Grinn nodded. "You already know a conspiracy is afoot. All that's left is to keep your eyes sharp. Once a plot is exposed, it loses much of its threat."

Jaime's face relaxed slightly. "You seem awfully good at uncovering conspiracies."

Grinn frowned inwardly. What kind of question was that?

He knew Jaime's nature—he hated schemes. Was he now judging Grinn for being too cunning?

But Jaime had simply misunderstood him.

He admired Grinn's insight, but worried that such brilliance might pull a young man too deep into shadow. As a seasoned knight, Jaime felt obliged to keep those he respected from walking down a darker path.

They simply weren't on the same page—and never would be.

Grinn, generous in spirit, chose to feign ignorance and smiled softly. "Perhaps it's just my upbringing. I've always had a keen sense of danger. My mother used to say I could sense threats before anyone else. When I was just a babe, she had to flee our ancestral lands with me in her arms. The road was perilous, and whenever danger drew near, I'd cry out loud enough to shame any sentry."

He chuckled and shook his head. "If not for Lord Eddard Stark speaking on our behalf, House Clyburn might have vanished long ago."

No doubt, Grinn thought, the future still holds a march north to fight the dead… But for now, it wouldn't hurt to remind Jaime of the debt House Clyburn owed the Starks.

After bidding Jaime farewell, Grinn got back to work.

The Queen's District had five main passageways leading out. Grinn split the Lannister guards Jaime had brought—fifty men in total—into five teams of ten. Each team was sent to barricade and guard one of the exits. That same day, Grinn ordered the district sealed off under the pretense of containing an outbreak.

The remaining Lannister guards, along with House Clyburn's own men, stayed stationed at Grinn's command post, ready for immediate orders.

Once the lockdown was secure, Grinn, in the Queen's name, declared mandatory quarantine and treatment for the sick.

To win cooperation, he offered free food and medicine to those within the isolation zone.

In truth, the number of infected was far lower than expected—just over four hundred. But Grinn inflated the number tenfold, announcing five thousand infected to spread panic throughout the Queen's District.

He gathered most of the local healers and brought them into the quarantine zone as well.

With a bag full of golden dragons and the gleam of drawn swords, the healers offered little resistance.

The steward Layton was tasked with managing the flow of information—Grinn's "atmosphere team," spreading fear at his command.

Soon enough, every soul in the Queen's District was afraid. Everyone felt threatened. Everyone felt watched.

With order established, Grinn imposed a curfew beginning the following night—no one was to be seen outside after sundown.

Day Five of Grinn's Rule Over the Queen's District

Grinn sat in his command post, brows furrowed, pondering a heavy decision.

Two hundred people had been found undeniably guilty. There was no injustice in their deaths.

What gave him pause was the scale of the execution. Would killing so many at once stain his name? Would they start calling him "the Baron of Skulls" or "the Headsman of the Queen's District"?

Grinn chuckled quietly to himself. Imagine that—I hesitate now for the sake of reputation?

His doubt lasted but a moment.

Let the heads roll. King's Landing would one day be his domain. Better to provide the people a service in advance—removing scum early so their lives might improve sooner.

Under Grinn's direction, a new constabulary was formed.

Frey, his captain of the guard, was named Chief Constable. Young Layton became the head scribe.

The former fifty officers who once enforced order had already been detained. None of them, Grinn believed, were innocent.

A hundred new constables were recruited, placed under Frey and Layton's command. Patrols resumed. Order returned.

If the Red Keep later recognized the legitimacy of this force without altering Grinn's appointments, then the Queen's District would, for all intents, be under his control.

And if the Red Keep refused to acknowledge it—so be it. Grinn wouldn't mourn it.

For now, he ruled through fear and disease, and it worked—but it would not last.

He lacked the manpower and time to truly reform the district. If he managed to control it even temporarily, it would be a happy accident.

Perhaps, in the end, the Queen's District was nothing more than a bargaining chip—one to be played when the time was right.

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