At the King’s Gate, thick smoke from burning pitch engulfed a large section of the city wall. The flaming red heart banner flapped violently atop the battlements, torn and tattered from repeated arrow strikes, but it still clung defiantly to the top of the pole… just like the defenders holding the line below.

Beneath the wall, corpses lay scattered, blood running in rivulets through the rubble. The stench of blood and charred flesh mingled, forming a strange and nauseating atmosphere.

Stannis stood atop the tallest tower, fully armored, though he did not engage in the fighting himself. Surrounded by trusted guards, he observed the battlefield and dispatched reserve troops to reinforce the most critical points as needed.

The Stormlanders, waving the crowned stag banner, launched charge after charge against the walls, but each one was shattered and repelled like waves crashing against rock. The only siege soldier to climb onto the battlements was immediately swarmed and hacked to death by the reinforcements Stannis had stationed for such a contingency, before he could even dream of becoming a lord.

The fighting raged from noon until sunset. Hundreds of soldiers from the Stormlands died at the gates of King’s Landing. When the last batch of hastily constructed siege ladders was thrown into the fray and failed to yield any results, the rear commanders finally gave the order to retreat.

The attacking soldiers, having long lost hope of breaching the walls, turned and fled toward their camp the instant they heard the long-awaited retreat horn, like desert travelers glimpsing an oasis.

The defenders were also weary and spent, but their losses were far fewer than the blood-soaked dead strewn outside the gates. Those who paid attention would notice the casualty ratio exceeded 3 to 1. At this rate, even if Renly threw his entire army into the assault, the defenders would not lose even half their strength—especially since they could keep recruiting more citizens to help man the walls.

But before the weary defenders could catch their breath, a new command came down: all who could still walk were to assemble at the gate, prepare to exit the city, and pursue the enemy.

…

Everything was going according to plan.

…

…

Stannis stood atop the battlements, narrowing his eyes in disdain at Renly’s soldiers retreating like the receding tide. He silently calculated the distance in his mind: he would order the gates to be opened and give the attack signal when the retreating infantry reached the midpoint between the city wall and Renly’s camp. Then Barristan would lead the cavalry charge… As long as they seized the moment, the cavalry would drive the enemy foot soldiers straight into their own camp like a herd of ducks. Stannis would then lead the remaining infantry out of the city and strike the entangled Stormlanders from behind.

If this move succeeded, even if Renly escaped, Stannis would still slaughter half the army outside the King’s Gate and shatter their siege morale. Then… all he would need to do was sit tight in King’s Landing and wait calmly for the arrival of reinforcements from the crownlands and the three northern territories. Once that happened, the Iron Throne would be his for good, untouchable by anyone.

He counted the time on his fingers, but a panicked voice shattered his focus. A soldier from Dragonstone, disheveled and out of breath, rushed up the wall and cried, “Your Grace, something terrible has happened. The guards at the Old Gate… and the auxiliary troops recruited from the noble houses in the crownlands have mutinied! They’ve opened the north gate and let the enemy inside!”

“What?!” Stannis turned his head so sharply that his neck bones cracked. “Where are the city’s reserve troops? Send them to the north gate immediately and take it back!”

“I’ve already given the order… But, Your Grace, now that the Old Gate guards have turned, we can’t guarantee the gold cloaks at the Dragon Gate, the Gate of the Gods… or even the Red Keep won’t also betray us. I beg Your Grace to retreat to the Red Keep at once, defend against danger, and make plans accordingly!”

Stannis was shaken, then suddenly realized: Eddard Stark had gathered all the families of the lords into the Red Keep not only for their protection but also as hostages, to force their respective troops to commit to the defense of the city. If the traitorous garrison and the Stormlander vanguard that entered the city first made for the Red Keep… the consequences would be unimaginable!

“Leave a hundred men to continue holding the gate. Send word to the guards at the other gates to fall back and reinforce the Red Keep. Barristan! Take the cavalry with me. We ride to crush the rebels inside the city!”

—

At the gate of the Red Keep, Aegor stared at the dozen gold cloaks pointing spears at him, trying to figure out which side they were on. Should he turn and flee into the castle, or force his way out into the city?

He quickly realized that either choice would have terrible consequences and shatter the hard-earned neutrality of the Night’s Watch. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to take a risk: “It’s me! Don’t shoot!”

(The garrison soldiers in front of him were strangers.) Aegor raised his head high and rode toward the roadblock as if nothing were wrong. Looking around, he realized this wasn’t good—these people didn’t seem to recognize him. Before he could think of a way to intimidate a group of unfamiliar gold cloaks, someone called out to him.

“Aegor West? What are you doing here?”

He glanced at the speaker and instantly recognized him as the captain of the Old Gate, a member of House Buckwell, one of the Night’s Watch’s major investors. He had recommended younger relatives to the Earl of Harthorne for investment in the Watch. He was also on Aegor’s list of post-Tyrion contacts… But why was he here at the Red Keep instead of guarding the northern gate?

Of course, this was not the time to ask such questions. From their perspective, a Night’s Watch officer showing up at the Red Keep was even more suspicious. “Uh… Ser Buckwell, greetings… I came to see the Master of Coin and report our recent accounts. I noticed the gates were open and unguarded, so I came in to check… What happened here?”

The man before him was a respected figure in his house, an important business partner, and practically the god of wealth to many factions. Ser Buckwell stared at Aegor for a few seconds, hand resting on his sword, then decided it wasn’t worth opposing money. “Leave it alone, Ser Aegor. Whatever happened here doesn’t concern you. Go home, shut your doors, and when the chaos ends, open up again and rake in the gold.”

Aegor met his eyes and gave a calm nod. “Understood. Arya, we’re going home.”

…

Arya often ran about the city and regularly used the King’s Gate to visit the Night’s Watch industrial park. Aegor now feared she might be recognized. But thankfully, the worst didn’t happen. Arya had never passed through the Old Gate and was now dressed in black like a boy. The garrison’s focus was on Aegor, and they assumed the black-clad youth riding beside him was just his attendant. At their commander’s signal, they lowered their spears, opened the gate, and let them through.

Suppressing his nerves, Aegor rode with the girl past a dozen fully armed gold cloaks and exited the Red Keep before chaos could catch up.

Having many friends really does pay off in critical moments.

“Master… wha-what’s happening?” Arya was still shaken from seeing her slain guard and stammered, “Sansa… is still in there. Are we… are we just going to leave her?”

…

What happened? As if he needed to ask. A portion of King’s Landing’s garrison, the same group of noble-affiliated troops behind the Night’s Watch or its financial backers, had betrayed Stannis and opened the Red Keep while Renly was attacking from outside. They had cut off the new king’s most vital fallback point.

Cold sweat soaked Aegor’s back. If not for the Night’s Watch’s deep ties with several crownland houses, and the fact that the officer he ran into today happened to be one he had worked with before, he—the Watch’s chief quartermaster—would’ve been killed by Arya before knowing what hit him. Coup leaders were always the most brutal. In a moment like that, who would care that you wore black and claimed neutrality as a brother of the Night’s Watch?

The coup surprised Aegor, but on reflection, it wasn’t unreasonable. One could even say it was inevitable the day Stannis claimed the throne. When both his brothers raised banners and marched on the capital, rumors swirled through the city that the new king planned sweeping reforms—shutting down brothels and gambling halls, banning pornographic literature, severely restricting tourneys… Whether true or not, it sounded exactly like something the uptight Stannis would do.

Being “decent” was all well and good, but not when you trampled others’ profits. How many of the city’s brothels and gambling dens weren’t owned by noble families? The Night’s Watch’s risqué books were turning a tidy profit for many. And if no one from the court stepped forward to deny the rumors, what would those with a stake in the current system think?

These reforms might not have seriously harmed noble interests under ordinary circumstances. But on the eve of Renly’s assault, how many waverers on the fence between the Baratheon brothers would switch to Renly’s side?

…

Looking back at the Red Keep, Aegor saw that the gold cloaks who had staged the coup weren’t giving chase. They even closed the gate behind him. He exhaled slowly, his heart settling back into place, and glared at Arya. “You and Sansa are Starks. If those soldiers are helping Renly take the throne, they wouldn’t hurt you unless they were mad. But now that you’re with me, if they recognize me, I’m in deep trouble!” He had just escaped death and was now clear of the Red Keep’s shadow. His fury finally broke loose. “Not another word. Go!”

No matter how much he tried to stay out of the fight, no matter how much he cherished the Night’s Watch’s neutrality, Arya still called him Master. Though he had initially befriended her for strategic reasons, people weren’t stones. Feelings formed over time. Aegor might have been able to accept her being seized by the rebels and falling into Renly’s hands. But he couldn’t watch her be dragged away while she was with him. The outcome might look the same, but the meaning was entirely different. Everyone had a line they couldn’t cross.

On the way back, Aegor saw Stannis, clad in armor, leading a cavalry charge back toward the Red Keep… One look at their bloodshot eyes and desperate faces was enough to make him abandon the idea of turning Arya over to their custody. He even laughed bitterly at himself. Why is it that no matter what disaster strikes King’s Landing, he always seems to get involved?

(To be continued.)

***

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