The Mountain of Ice and Fire

Chapter 341: Royal Riot (A) (Seeking Subscriptions and Recommendations)

(Two chapters today, each with five thousand words)

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On the King's Name Day, the bronze gates of the Red Keep opened, and a large procession slowly emerged. Their destination: the Rhaenys's Hill to the left of Aegon's High Hill – the Great Sept of Baelor and its seven crystal towers.

The Hound led the spear-bearers at the forefront, his fearsome dog-head helmet with the visor up, revealing an ugly and狰狞 face.

The Hound's expression was grim, his gaze cruel.

Gold Cloaks with spears cleared the way, with the King and Queen Mother riding horses behind them. Beside them were Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen.

The Queen Mother's three children: King Joffrey, Princess Myrcella, and Prince Tommen.

Princess Myrcella was born in the year 290 of Aegon's Conquest, making her nine years old this year, innocent and pure, a jade-like beauty; Prince Tommen was born in the year 291 of Aegon's Conquest, making him eight years old this year, with a serene face and an innocent smile.

Ahead of the King, Queen Mother, Princess, and Prince were the guards, flanked by the Kingsguard in their white cloaks: Ser Meryn Trant, devoid of any knightly honor, on the left, and Ser Boros Blount, with his bowlegs, on the right. Behind the royal party were the most handsome Ser Arys Oakheart and the most somber Ser Mandon Moore. The small Ser Preston Greenfield walked in his white cloak beside the courtiers.

A large contingent of courtiers followed closely behind the Queen Mother and King.

The Queen Mother's personal attendant, Lancel Lannister, followed her closely. She turned back to him from time to time, and they spoke and laughed softly, appearing intimate. Cersei, with her golden hair and blue eyes, was stunningly beautiful, her eyes as green as the emerald necklace around her pale neck. She laughed and joked with the handsome Lancel, as if no one else existed.

Bronn protected Tyrion, the Imp, walking in the middle of the courtiers. For this occasion, the Imp did not bring Shagga and Conn with their mountain clansmen to guard him, fearing they were too crude and ignorant of etiquette and might cause trouble.

Bronn escorted the Imp through the crowd, bringing him to the Queen Mother and her nephews and niece. Cersei acted as if Tyrion didn't exist, displaying her smiles even more enthusiastically towards her cousin Lancel.

The Imp watched Cersei flirt with Lancel and smiled.

The Imp had only been in King's Landing for a few days, but he had already unearthed Cersei's secrets. He understood Cersei, but Cersei did not understand him. In the sibling battle, the Imp gained the upper hand effortlessly. He and Littlefinger shared the same view: the King and Queen Mother were actually quite easy to fool, despite appearing strong, opinionated, and decisive.

Cersei currently had three lovers, one of whom was, of course, her cousin Lancel, who somewhat resembled Jaime. The other two were Osney and Osfryd, both from the Kettleblack family. Osney and Osfryd were brothers, both knights.

Every time Cersei had a rendezvous with these two brothers, she would use the excuse of visiting the Great Sept of Baelor, then change into a plain brown traveling cloak and sneak out to secretly meet with one of the hired knights: perhaps Osney, perhaps Osfryd, or perhaps both brothers together.

All of this was told to the Imp in detail by Cersei's favorite lover, her cousin Lancel. Cersei intended to use the Kettleblack brothers to buy off the Imp's mountain men and another group of mercenaries, including Shagga, Conn, and Bronn.

Watching his sister laugh and joke intimately with her cousin, the Imp smiled, while at the same time feeling heartache for his brother Jaime in the dungeons of Riverrun. Jaime loved Cersei very much, and of course Cersei loved Jaime very much, but Jaime only wanted Cersei, while Cersei used what was between her legs as a source of joy and a weapon. Besides Jaime, she wanted more.

The Kettleblack brothers were very pleasing to the Queen Mother, taking her money and promising her everything she asked for. Why not? Bronn would offer the same price, and not a penny less. Lancel, Osney, and Osfryd were handsome in appearance, amiable, noble, and elegant, but in reality, they were true scoundrels, far more skilled at deception than at fighting. Cersei had essentially bought herself three big drums; she could bang them as loudly as she wanted, but inside they were empty.

"Sansa!" King Joffrey suddenly stopped and called out, feeling unpleasant when he didn't see his pet for a while.

Sansa was in the procession of courtiers. Hearing the King frown and shout, she quickly spurred her horse forward, but there were so many horses among the courtiers, and her horsemanship was, to be honest, terrible. She also had no guards to escort her, which made her appear very slow.

"Sansa, do you miss Ser Meryn's iron fist again, daring to deliberately disobey your King by being so slow? The bruises on your face have indeed healed completely, but I wouldn't mind having Meryn Trant give you another one," Joffrey scolded his fiancée loudly.

"No, my respected King, I… I… I'm catching up as quickly as I can," Sansa tightened her grip on the reins and kicked the horse hard, but the horse remained slow.

Tyrion glanced at his sister. Cersei had stopped laughing and joking with Lancel. After all, they were on the way to the Great Sept of Baelor, and she couldn't just flirt with Lancel the whole way. She had now transformed back into a dignified Queen Mother, listening to the military commander Ser Balon Swann and looking serious and earnest.

Ser Balon Swann, a fierce general who emerged from the Hand's Tourney in King's Landing, performed well in the jousting competition, and only lost to one person in the archery competition: Anguy. After the tournament, Balon Swann was retained by King Robert and became a member of the Kingsguard as he wished. He came from Stonehelm in the Dornish Marches, and his lord was Renly Baratheon, who had already declared himself king.

The Imp glanced at his sister – was Cersei really so blind that she couldn't see what kind of person Joffrey was? The Imp was very puzzled. Cersei was foolish, but not so foolish that she didn't know what kind of monster Joffrey was. But she obviously didn't want to change Joffrey. Tyrion was confident in his intelligence, but he couldn't figure out why.

Sansa finally caught up with King Joffrey, but Joffrey had already lost interest in punishing her. He didn't look at her or speak to her, continuing forward on his own. Sansa had no choice but to follow him, in case the King suddenly remembered something and wanted to ask her, she had to be present immediately.

Along the way, more and more refugees gathered. People stood by the roadside, staring at these noble lords with gloomy eyes, full of hostility.

This made the Imp feel increasingly uneasy.

Because there seemed to be too many people gathered, and they hadn't even reached the Great Sept of Baelor yet. The Imp turned his head and saw Littlefinger Petyr Baelish among the courtiers. This guy was still very particular about his formal attire, holding his back straight, maintaining the nobility and elegance of an aristocrat.

Too much reliance on Varys for the income and expenditure of King's Landing's food and finances. The Imp reflected, I need my own intelligence sources, food channels. But I won't trust anyone, no matter who they are. Trust can lead to death.

Can I trust my father Tywin? He gave me an attendant, Podrick Payne. After various tests set up by the Imp, the Imp was convinced that Podrick Payne was loyal to him. For occasions like today, Podrick should have been accompanying him, it was Podrick's task, but the Imp left Podrick in the Red Keep. In public, having the slender mercenary Bronn serving him made the Imp more at ease.

As the refugees increased in the narrow streets, the procession had to slow down. The Hound and Yarwyck ordered the City Watch to split into two rows, using spears to block the crowd and clear the road in the middle.

The leading team was readjusted. Ser Jacelyn Bywater led the way, with a team of black-clad Gold Cloaks lancers. After him were Ser Aron Santagar and Ser Balon Swann, holding up the King's banners, with the roaring lion of Lannister on one side and the crowned stag of Baratheon on the other.

The Hound and Deputy Commander Yarwyck retreated to protect the Queen Mother and King.

King Joffrey rode a tall grey horse, wearing a golden crown on his golden curly hair, looking relaxed, looking down at his ragged subjects, his lips curled up, revealing his signature smile mixed with arrogance, mockery, and contempt.

Sansa Stark rode a chestnut mare, walking beside him, looking straight ahead, her thick auburn hair covered with a moonstone hairnet, draped over her shoulders. Two Kingsguard protected them on either side, the Hound on the King's right and Ser Mandon Moore on the Stark girl's left.

The City Watch and Kingsguard adjusted their positions and obviously strengthened the protection of the King, Queen Mother, Princess, and Prince.

Suddenly, there was an uproar ahead. The High Septon of the Great Sept of Baelor and a long line of Starry Septons came to greet the King and Queen Mother, which made the Imp feel even more uneasy. The more people there were, the easier it was to cause crowding. The soldiers could only use their spears to constantly push back the refugees on both sides, and once someone lost control, it would lead to conflict.

The Imp worriedly turned his head again. This time he saw Ser Horas Redwyne, Countess Tanda Stokeworth and her daughter Lollys Stokeworth, the exiled Prince Jalabhar Xho of the Summer Isles, Lord Gyles Rosby, and others. The end of the courtiers' procession was guarded by two rows of guards.

Behind the spears of the City Watch, dirty, unkempt, and unadorned people stared gloomily at the people riding horses with hateful eyes, which made Tyrion even more uneasy.

"Bronn, send twenty mercenaries into the crowd to prevent anything from happening," Tyrion instructed.

"Yes, Hand of the King."

For his safety, Tyrion had hired three hundred mercenaries in addition to the three hundred mountain clansmen. He feared that the mountain clansmen would not understand the rules on such formal occasions, but the mercenaries would. His mercenaries followed behind the procession, just in case.

Bronn went to carry out the order.

The Imp saw Cersei summoning her Kettleblack brothers, and then the two brothers also went to carry out orders. Tyrion estimated that his sister was also making the same arrangements as him.

But Tyrion felt that this would not be of great use: there were too many refugees, and there were more and more of them. The whole street was full of people, and the procession was moving slower and slower. We should turn around, Tyrion thought, we can't put the Queen Mother, King, Princess Myrcella, Prince Tommen, and himself in danger. If there were Renly's loyalists mixed in the crowd, or spies from the North, or Stannis's accomplices, if these people incited the crowd, a riot would break out.

Tyrion made a decisive decision. He called out to Bronn, but Bronn had not yet returned. He couldn't worry about that anymore. The King's Name Day celebration could be changed to be held in the Red Keep. Why did it have to be held in the Great Sept of Baelor? If anyone wanted to do something bad, they would definitely choose this day. All it would take was a spark, such as spreading rumors again that the King and Queen Mother were distributing bread in the Great Sept's plaza.

Tyrion came to Cersei's side: "Queen Mother, I suggest we return."

Cersei looked at Tyrion with surprised eyes: "We have the City Watch and the Kingsguard. I have already ordered the Kettleblack brothers to lead their men into the refugees."

"There are too many people. If there are spies among them, such as Baratheon's people, or loyalists from the Reach, or even if no one is secretly instigating, just a rumor, a public riot, and we will all be in danger."

Cersei looked at Joffrey in front, standing straight with a strange smile on his face: "We can't go back. The King will not cancel his Name Day celebration."

"It's not a cancellation, it's a change to the Red Keep. Let the High Septon and the Starry Septons all come to the Red Keep. The necessary ceremonies will not be reduced."

"Do you think you can convince His Majesty?" Cersei's tone was contemptuous.

"Perhaps it's time for you to show your motherly majesty and wisdom. The situation is urgent, Queen Mother."

"You are the Hand of the King, always thinking you are extremely clever. Shouldn't it be time for you to show your wisdom? Go, go convince Joffrey to change the location. I bet he won't listen to you at all."

The Imp saw through Cersei's thoughts. She, like Joffrey, had no intention of returning. She was too proud, thinking that the unarmed refugees were just garbage and could not threaten the noble Queen Mother and King at all. Perhaps she even rashly believed that they simply did not have the courage.

Tyrion had no choice but to go to the King himself, under the Queen Mother's contemptuous gaze, but the Kingsguard Ser Meryn Trant blocked him and his little pony, not allowing him to get half a step closer to the King. And his Bronn still had not returned.

"Your Majesty, I have something urgent to say," the Imp shouted.

Joffrey saw the Imp. The right corner of his mouth curled up, revealing a big mocking smile, then he looked straight ahead, arrogantly ignoring the Imp's shout.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!" the Imp shouted.

The Kingsguard, Queen Mother, Sansa, City Watch soldiers and courtiers' generals, the Hound and Yarwyck all looked at the Imp. The King held his head high and moved forward, as if the Imp did not exist at all.

"Your Majesty, the Hand of the King… may have something important to say," Sansa said to Joffrey. She was right next to Joffrey.

"Shut up, you daughter of a great traitor, sister of a heinous traitor, you are guilty. If you dare to say another word, I will have Meryn Trant give you a resounding slap," Joffrey roared.

Sansa's face turned red and white, her big eyes filled with tears. The Hound looked at her, squeezed past the Kingsguard Ser Mandon Moore beside her, and handed Sansa a handkerchief.

"Thank you!" Sansa took the handkerchief.

The King turned his head and saw the Hound with his gloomy eyes. He swallowed the harsh words that came to his mouth. The King could scold any of the Kingsguard or City Watch officers, but he would basically not scold the Hound. He ordered the guards, Kingsguard, or others to beat and humiliate Sansa, but he never ordered the Hound.

The Hound didn't buy that, even if he was the King.

The procession continued, beginning its ascent of Rhaenys's Hill towards the Great Sept of Baelor. As the young king passed, some cried, "Long live Joffrey! Long live! Long live!" but ninety-nine percent remained silent. The Imp suspected the High Septon of Baelor had deliberately arranged for those shouts of praise.

Finally, they arrived at the plaza of the Great Sept of Baelor. The sight before the Imp took him by surprise. Refugees had occupied the entire square, now a sea of ragged, starving people. The Imp could sense that beneath the calm surface of the crowd, a dark and suppressed tide of anger was brewing.

Thank goodness Bronn had returned in time.

Before the Imp, Cersei was laughing and joking with Lancel, but the Imp suspected her amusement was feigned. His sister couldn't possibly ignore the strange unease in the air; she simply liked to put on a brave face.

"See to my protection, Bronn," the Imp said in Bronn's ear.

Bronn returned a sly and roguish grin. Suddenly, a woman wailed as she pushed through two guards and rushed to the front of the procession, holding a dead infant high above her head, blocking the king and his companions. The corpse was swollen and bruised, grotesquely misshapen, but the most horrifying thing was the look in the mother's eyes.

"Bread, we need bread!" the mother shouted.

"Bread, bread, give us bread!" the crowd echoed, coalescing into a torrent of sound.

Everyone was shocked. Two negligent spear guards were at a loss. Their spears were pointed at the greater crowd. If they turned back to seize the old woman, more people would have an opening to rush in.

However, King Joffrey was not afraid. He reacted immediately, faster than even the Kingsguard. He roared, bravely kicked his warhorse, and the horse lunged forward, directly trampling the old woman in its path. The old woman dropped the child and screamed in agony. Sansa Stark, who was right next to Joffrey, didn't know where she got the courage, but she desperately tried to stop the king. Unfortunately, her strength and horsemanship were limited, and she couldn't stop the king at all.

A direwolf was a direwolf after all. Sansa knew what evil consequences the king's actions would bring, and she tried to prevent it. But the others, including the Hound, didn't move.

"Protect His Grace!" Cersei's face instantly paled. She shouted, "Kingsguard, City Watch, Hound, protect your king!"

Aside from the Queen Mother's voice and the old woman's screams, the entire scene was silent.

The Imp was stunned. What was Joffrey thinking, making such a crazy move in full view of everyone, amidst a sea of starving people?

Joffrey, riding his horse, trampled the old woman as if he had trampled all his enemies. He was very pleased with himself and laughed heartily.

Everyone, including the portly High Septon, was so shocked by the king's actions that they couldn't move.

It was only half a heartbeat, and then, the crowd erupted.

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