The Mountain of Ice and Fire

Chapter 340: Eve of the Storm: The Threat in the Throne Room

(If we get 250 or more new recommendation votes today, I'll add an extra 4,000-word chapter tomorrow.)

*

Early in the morning, the crossroads in Flea Bottom where brown soup was sold began to fill with refugees. These refugees arrived family by family, some from the Riverlands, some from the Westerlands, some from the Stormlands, and some from the Reach.

Every time the realm was embroiled in war, the people of the Seven Kingdoms would flock to King's Landing for refuge.

King's Landing's high walls offered them protection, and because of the presence of the royal family, the people psychologically believed that the army's strength was also at its greatest. The royal family would also occasionally distribute bread in the streets, just like today.

A few days ago, a rumor had spread among the refugees throughout the city that on the eighteenth, the King and Queen Mother would personally come to the crossroads in Flea Bottom to distribute bread.

Many refugee families were looking forward to this day. Early in the morning, the number of people gathered in Flea Bottom exceeded a thousand, and more were still gathering there.

The Hound and the Deputy Commander of the City Watch, Yarwyck Dymm, received news of the inexplicable gathering of refugees in Flea Bottom and led a company of spearmen to investigate.

As soon as the refugees saw the gold cloaks approaching in two columns, cheers immediately rang out: "Long live Joffrey! Long live the King! Long live the Queen Mother!"

They believed that since the gold cloaks had arrived, the King and Queen Mother would surely follow.

The starving refugees were full of anticipation, waiting for the King and Queen Mother to bring out the golden bread. Everyone began to line up consciously, although curses, pushes, and beatings occasionally broke out, the situation was still relatively stable.

The Hound, riding on a tall horse, pressed his hand tightly on the hilt of his sword. He sensed something was amiss. The way people looked at him was filled with a kind of fervent desire.

The Hound reined in his warhorse, and the gold cloaks beside him also reined in their horses. Wherever the spearmen's spears pointed, people retreated, clearing a path.

"Ser Yarwyck Dymm, go ask them why they're gathered here," the Hound said.

"Yes, my lord," Yarwyck replied arrogantly. His title was higher than the Hound's, and many courtiers had suggested promoting the Hound to the Kingsguard and letting Yarwyck Dymm become the Commander of the City Watch.

The Hound was not liked by the royal courtiers. As Commander of the City Watch, he didn't give any face to any courtiers, which made everyone resent him.

Yarwyck Dymm, on the other hand, was brutal and ruthless to the people of King's Landing, but friendly and smooth to the noble courtiers, which made him deeply loved by the royal courtiers.

Yarwyck Dymm, riding on a strong warhorse, his gold cloak shining brightly, said, "You bastards, what do you think you're doing gathering here?"

The entire place fell silent. The densely packed refugees collectively fell silent. The fervent and eager expressions on their faces disappeared, and they cast unkind glances at the gold cloaks, including the Hound.

The atmosphere was rapidly changing. The Hound felt it, Yarwyck Dymm felt it, and the soldiers of the gold cloak spear company felt it.

Clang!

Yarwyck Dymm drew his longsword. "What are you looking at? Disperse! Anyone who dares to gather and cause trouble will be killed without mercy!"

"General, we're here to get bread. Even the black bread that the King feeds to his cats, we'd be grateful for," said a thin, shoeless old man. His beard was disheveled, and his hair was even more messy, looking like it hadn't been washed for many years.

"There's no bread! There's no bread here!" Yarwyck Dymm raised his voice and shouted, "What are you rabble thinking? How could the King and Queen Mother come here to distribute bread? Disperse! Get the hell out of here!"

"General, there was news that the King and Queen Mother would be here today to distribute bread," a mother shouted. She held a starving child in each of her hands. The two children had sunken eyes and sallow complexions, clearly malnourished and so hungry that they were deformed.

"There's no bread! Disperse quickly!" Yarwyck Dymm lost all patience. The eyes of the densely packed refugees made him feel slightly uneasy, but he quickly calmed down. He was covered in armor, and two companies of spearmen beside him pointed their spears at these commoners. He stood up straight, fearless.

The Hound shouted, "Yarwyck Dymm, let's go!"

Thousands of eyes watched as the Hound drew his longsword and led Yarwyck Dymm and two companies of spearmen to retreat slowly.

People fell silent again. The unkind gazes became gloomy and full of hostility.

"We've been deceived by the King!" someone said.

"Joffrey is not the King at all. He's an incestuous bastard," someone shouted in the crowd.

"That's right, the bastard Joffrey. He's not King Robert's son at all," someone began to echo.

"He's born of a whore, born of an incestuous whore," someone cursed viciously.

…………

Yarwyck Dymm was furious when he heard this and pointed his longsword at the crowd. "Who? Who's cursing the King? Step forward!"

"Ser Yarwyck Dymm, I order you to retreat!" The Hound had already retreated from the encirclement of the street crowd and shouted sternly.

Although Yarwyck Dymm looked down on the Hound, his title was higher than the Hound's, and the Hound wasn't even a knight yet, he didn't dare to disobey the Hound's order. This was strange. Where there was a knight, the knight was the highest-ranking officer, but this rule didn't seem to apply to the Hound.

Thwack!

A rotten cabbage fell from the sky and hit Yarwyck Dymm's head. He was furious and looked up. The residential buildings on both sides of the street and the balconies were filled with people. Everyone who looked at him had a gloomy look in their eyes, as if these people were ghosts, making people feel chilled.

"Who? Who threw that?" Yarwyck Dymm pointed his longsword at the people on the rooftops and balconies.

"Ser Yarwyck Dymm, if you don't retreat, I'll kill you!" The Hound said in a deep voice. The Hound was sensitive to the fact that this was likely a conspiracy. The King and Queen Mother hadn't said they were coming here to distribute bread, but the news had spread among the refugees. They had to be careful. More than several thousand refugees had gathered here. Once they lost control, these dozens of them would be torn to pieces.

Yarwyck Dymm had no choice but to obey and ride away!

Thwack, thwack, thwack! Several stones hit Yarwyck Dymm, bouncing off his armor!

The curses began to ring out. Whores, bastards, incestuous scum, and other foul words filled the air.

The Hound and Yarwyck Dymm led the spear company away like dogs with their tails between their legs, hurrying away.

This bloody conflict didn't happen, but the refugees' resentment was added to the next one. Undercurrents surged, and they would eventually erupt!

*

In the Throne Room, Joffrey sat on the Iron Throne, constantly shifting his body position. At thirteen years old, he was tall, with golden hair and blue eyes, and a handsome face, but he had no patience to deal with the people's petitions every day.

The Imp was handling government affairs at the Small Council's table.

With nothing to do, Joffrey's eyes caught sight of Sansa standing among the ladies-in-waiting. Sansa lowered her head, wearing the velvet pale yellow shawl that he liked, dignified and elegant. She had already had her first menstruation. The corners of Joffrey's mouth turned up, revealing a slight smile. Tomorrow was his name day. Early in the morning, he would go to the Great Sept of Baelor with his mother and courtiers to receive baptism, and then hold a jousting celebration. After it was over, he decided to take Sansa.

Joffrey had no interest in the government affairs that the Imp was in charge of. He basically didn't listen to a single word.

*

"Lord Petyr Baelish, could you please go to the streets of Flea Bottom and distribute a few thousand loaves of bread?" Tyrion Lannister said.

The Hound had returned and reported the incident of the refugees gathering in Flea Bottom. According to the latest report, the refugees were still gathering and had begun to smash and loot. Some people had set fires, but fortunately, the flames were quickly extinguished.

"There's no bread left, Lord Hand," Littlefinger stood up and said. He was wearing a well-tailored, high-end formal dress, with a silver mockingbird sigil on his lapel, standing straight, elegant and noble.

"Oh?" The Imp remembered very clearly that Petyr had guaranteed that he had secured the basic food supply for King's Landing through some personal connections and dirty promises.

"If we distribute a few thousand loaves of bread to the refugees, we'll be short of food. The grain secretly transported from the south was robbed by bandits in the Kingswood. Now the south is controlled by the Baratheon and Tyrell families, and we can't send troops to pursue the bandits in the Kingswood," Littlefinger said.

Murmurs broke out among the nobles in the hall.

"The grain coming from the north has also been cut off. Robb is attacking and plundering everywhere in the Westerlands. Refugees from the Westerlands have poured into King's Landing. Mountain bandits are appearing on the Gold Road. All the Westerlands nobles have been forced to go to war. No one cares whether we in King's Landing have food or not," Littlefinger said.

"What about the Riverlands? What about your secret channels with some of the Riverlands nobles?"

"After Lord Tywin was pinned down by Edmure at the Red Fork and couldn't cross the Red Fork to save the Westerlands, the adults ordered the burning of all the crops and villages that could be seen on the plains of the Riverlands. This also caused the Riverlands nobles who had channel contacts with me in secret to harbor resentment, and they stopped providing us with grain through all channels a few days ago. My lord, our King's Landing has no food sources. The current reserves are only enough for the royal family and nobles, and can no longer be distributed to the refugees."

The discussion in the Throne Room became louder. The nobles and ladies-in-waiting were very uneasy and talked a lot.

This was the strategy that the Mountain reminded Littlefinger of: 'If there are difficulties, go up; if there are no difficulties, create difficulties and go up!' The rumor of distributing bread was spread by Littlefinger. The interruption of grain was also deliberately done by Littlefinger. - If there are no difficulties, then create difficulties!

"If the refugees dare to cause trouble, cut off their heads," Joffrey suddenly said. It was as if he had suddenly woken up from a sleepwalking state on the Iron Throne. He stood up and looked at Sansa Stark in the crowd. "Sansa, come out."

Sansa Stark lowered her head and walked out.

"Traitor, raise your head and look at your King," Joffrey shouted sternly.

The entire place was silent.

Sansa slowly raised her head and looked at Joffrey, the prince she had once loved deeply.

"Your traitorous father fled to escape punishment, your brother led the Northern bandits to kill people everywhere, and attacked my grandfather's territory, committing heinous crimes. One day I will kill all the Starks. Your father's crimes, your brother Robb's crimes, and your sister Arya's crimes must now be borne by you, Ser Meryn Trant!"

The Kingsguard stepped forward.

"Go and strip the traitor's daughter of her dress and let everyone see her naked body. I want to humiliate the Stark family in front of the world."

"Yes, Your Grace!"

Meryn Trant didn't forget the Mountain's warning to him. When the Mountain left King's Landing, he warned him not to touch Sansa Stark, and Meryn Trant agreed. However, now the Mountain was not in King's Landing, and the King was the only master he was loyal to.

Meryn Trant walked up to Sansa, reached out with his two big hands, grabbed the front of Sansa's dress, and tore it apart twice. There was a tearing sound, and Sansa's dress was torn in half, revealing the silver knitted silk tube top inside. The little girl screamed and immediately covered her chest with both hands.

In the Throne Room, people let out incredible exclamations. Joffrey laughed loudly.

"Ser Meryn, strip her naked for me! Let everyone have a good look. This is the fate of the Starks who betrayed the King."

"Yes, Your Grace." Meryn Trant's face was like iron, his eyes cold and cruel. Sansa covered her chest with both hands, begging bitterly, and tears streamed down her face, but Meryn Trant was unmoved. He reached out and grabbed the hem of Sansa's skirt and tore it hard. Sansa's skirt was torn into two pieces, and Meryn Trant threw it away casually. The skirt fluttered to the ground.

Sansa screamed and squatted down.

"Stop! Ser Meryn!" The Imp, who had long been filled with righteous indignation, shouted. He walked out and came to the bottom of the seven steps, staring at Joffrey on the seven steps. "Nephew Joffrey, Sansa is your betrothed! Humiliating her in public is humiliating yourself."

Nephew Joffrey, not King Joffrey.

The Imp was stopping the King from the perspective of a family elder, not from the perspective of a vassal. From the perspective of a vassal, he was a subject, and Joffrey was the ruler.

The Imp didn't stop him at the first moment because he wanted to see how bastardly his nephew really was.

"She is my betrothed, and she is also the Stark family's abomination and rebel. I am the King, and I can do whatever I want to her."

"Aerys the Mad King thought the same way as you. He was the King, and he could do whatever he wanted, so do you know what his result was? He was spurned by the people, the dynasty was overthrown, and his head was chopped off. Have you always longed for the same wonderful result as the Mad King?"

Joffrey was so angry that he choked, and his face flushed red. He opened his mouth, speechless.

"Imp, you're not allowed to threaten my King," Ser Boros Blount of the Kingsguard shouted.

"Bronn!" The Imp shouted loudly.

The mercenary Bronn stood out from the ranks of courtiers and generals and walked to the Imp's side.

"I'm talking to my nephew, teaching him how to be a person. If Ser Boros Blount interrupts again, cut off his tongue."

"Yes, Lord Hand."

The Imp stared at Ser Boros, whose face had changed: "That's what you call a threat."

Boros didn't dare to retort!

The Imp walked up to Meryn Trant, reached out and picked up the dress that had been torn into two pieces from the ground for Sansa. He draped the dress over Sansa's body, covering Sansa's body squatting on the ground: "I'm very sorry, my lady. Please forgive my nephew Joffrey's rudeness."

Sansa grabbed the dress with both hands to cover her body and slowly stood up. The dress was very long, and the hem dragged on the ground.

"Imp, you want to interfere in the King's affairs? Don't blame my sword for being impolite to you," Meryn Trant shouted. His eyes stared at the Imp, cruel and ruthless.

"Shaka, Kahn!" the little devil shouted again.

Two strong men with giant axes on their backs walked out of the line, glaring at Marin Tran.

"I want to take this lady away. If this white-robed knight tries to stop me, cut off his hands and then chop off his head."

"As you command, Half-Man!" Shaka and Kahn replied in unison, howling strangely. With giant axes in their hands, they glared at Marin Tran, their eyes filled with a desire for him to make a move.

"Miss, please!" The little devil bowed, extending a hand. Sansa extended a hand and placed it in the little devil's hand.

The little devil led Sansa away. Boros Braun and Marin Tran, despite being members of the Kingsguard, stood stiffly on the spot, not daring to move.