Chapter 82

Jamie felt that, even though last time he had lost a hand, Thus include Character: Thus include Character: Huzilacha, with a weary and sickly face, was no more disheveled than this return to the capital. Last time he had entered through Gods Gate, with Ludovic's several dozen guards protecting him; it wasn't splendid, but at least upon entering the city he also attracted attention.

This time, he could only wear a robe stained with dirt and blood, riding alone on a frightened northern warhorse, carrying a sword full of nicks, returning to the capital.

His robe was torn and ragged, already thrown away; the leather armor underneath was scratched and covered in scars, his thighs and arms everywhere dotted with dried bloodstains. He even smelled the foul odor emanating from his head and beard.

Thank goodness, that smell at least was better than the rotting hand a goat had placed on his neck.

Damn it, goat, I thought I could bring your head back to make a wine pot!

Damn it, she-wolf...

He abandoned over a thousand troops on land not far from the king's domain, and also lost three hundred heavy cavalry, the king's personally granted banner representing the royal house—embroidered with a roaring lion and a crowned stag—along with countless noble knights.

Marblan, are you still alright? Stay alive, stay alive, even if I have to sell Thomas's crown I will redeem you.

He wanted to enter the capital discreetly through Mud Gate, then properly change clothes and return to White Sword Tower. Cersei despises losers, and she despises dirty losers even more.

Unfortunately, with the news of the fall of Harenburg and the crushing defeat of the frontline troops, the capital has reinstated its previous gate restrictions; aside from Gods Gate, which lies almost a full circuit away from Mud Gate, all other gates have been sealed shut.

He had no choice but to ride his horse around the city walls from Mud Gate to Gods Gate.

Gods Gate was packed with refugees fleeing from all over—old people, children, women, each disheveled and clothed in rags. The gold-robed were nervously maintaining order, leaving narrow passages for VIPs needing to pass, while strictly guarding against anyone of unknown identity.

Some people holding various makeshift weapons and wearing tattered robes stood off to the side, silently guarding a camp before the city, the camp enclosed by a crude wooden fence, from which wisps of cooking smoke drifted, as the famished came and went in solemn order.

Jamie noticed that some people were holding broken shields engraved with a seven-pointed star.

"What the hell are these people?" Jamie shouted from horseback.

"They call themselves sparrows." A tall old man with tattered but clean clothes replied, "Those carrying axes and broken wooden spears are the sect's armed wing."

"Damn it, this is Cersei's stupid move!"

"That's the queen dowager's name." He looked at Jamie, his blue eyes full of melancholy; if not for his gray-white hair, he might not be called an old man, "She has done many other things."

"What could be more stupid?" Jamie couldn't help doubting the man's identity. From his speech, he certainly wasn't a country bumpkin.

"I heard the queen dowager refused to repay the iron treasury's debt." He sighed, "Sir Jamie, will you join me in entering the city?"

"Who the hell are you, exactly?" Jamie asked. The old man before him recognized his down-and-out appearance, yet Jamie had no recollection of him. Jamie knew he never bothered to remember nobodies, but having just arrived in the capital and being recognized by a stranger would strike anyone as odd.

"Sir Jamie, when I was somewhat younger, I once crossed lances with you at the tournament in Lannisport," he chuckled, "You not remembering me is normal, but I remember losing three gold dragons to you." Seeing Jamie show no reaction, he couldn't help shaking his head, "I am Deng Ken Xishan of Flame's Keep, once a mercenary knight, but after all these years I can't even afford armor, and without armor I'm no longer a knight."

"Never mind armor, you don't even have a horse." Jamie sneered.

"I originally had a horse," Duncan said, "but when I passed through Rosby, I ran into bandits who took my horse, kindly leaving behind a lone old man. Perhaps it was because the old man had a sword in his hand."

"Damn it, when did bandits start appearing between Rosby and the capital?" Jamie eyed him curiously, "Damn it, don't you know how to ride a horse and flee?"

"Probably around the time you, sir, suffered defeat," he spread his hands, "I did it to protect fellow travelers, to keep them from getting hurt, and only after discussion did I send the horse away."

"You're actually a good knight." Jamie looked at him, "What is a mercenary knight from the West doing in the capital?"

"I've long been accustomed to wandering. Now I serve Lawrence Hog, entrusted by him to present a petition to the Iron Throne."

"Hog? Hog from Pig's Snout?" Damn it, ever since he passed Pig's Snout, nothing has gone right. "What business do the people of Pig's Snout have coming to the capital to petition?"

"Sir, that's how it is," he stroked his neatly trimmed white beard, "His nephew's mother is the sole daughter of the former treasurer, Gayle Rosby's sister. According to the kingdom's law, after Lord Gayle Rosby's death, Rosby should rightfully inherit to my employer's nephew. Yet I hear many claim they have a right to inherit Rosby. Sir, that is mistaken; only my employer's nephew is the foremost heir."

"Damn it, can't your employer's nephew come to the capital himself to petition?" Jamie lost all patience with this; if he were to govern, these messy affairs would drive him mad. But at least he summed it up in a single sentence.

"Sir, that won't do," he replied with a smile, "My employer's nephew is only five years old; he probably couldn't endure such exertion."

"Once this five-year-old obtains Rosby's inheritance, won't people discover he fell from an upper floor?" Jamie mocked.

"Perhaps, my lord, but I assure you I certainly didn't push him," he chuckled, "After all, what makes me a knight if I have neither horse nor armor?"

Jamie only felt nauseous.

"Aren't you supposed to enter the city?" Jamie interrupted the conversation, "Come on in then!"

"Of course, sir," Duncan said, "With you here, entering the city is convenient."

Having said that, he stepped forward, pushing aside the crowd blocking the way, shouting loudly, "Make way, make way!" determined to make everyone notice him.

"Make way! Quickly make way, make room for the lord!"

The merchants and mercenaries blocking the road, like obedient children, all gave way, allowing Jamie to ride his horse through the passage.

Jamie looked at him approvingly; at least he hadn't shouted Jamie's full name.

"Captain of the Royal Iron Guard Sir Jamie, return to the city, open the gate quickly!" He strode to the main gate of Gods Gate and shouted at the two gold-robed gatekeepers.

Hearing this, several gold-robed and the nearby townsfolk all turned to look at him.

Jamie had no choice but to speak up, "Open the gate!"

"Yes, my lord!" the gold-robed only stared in surprise for two seconds, then fumbled to open the gate; Jamie felt that at least one of those seconds was spent looking at his severed limb.

Duncan trotted ahead of his horse and followed him into the city.

Jamie spurred his horse into the long, narrow passageway of Gods Gate, entering the capital's main thoroughfare.

"Sir Duncan, how come you're also entering the city?" Jamie asked mockingly.

"Sir Jamie, I'm not your lackey!" he laughed heartily, "Just a bit older."

Jamie burst out laughing at those words, rode past Duncan, and returned to the Red Keep on horseback.

When he returned to White Sword Tower, washed up, dressed, and arrived at Maegor's Hold with mixed feelings, Master Pycelle had already intercepted him.

He wore grey robes and had grey hair, lacking only the scholar's chain; otherwise his attire was that of a scholar. His hair was neatly combed back, he wasn't handsome but his features were distinct and clean, which alone made him superior to the Grand Maester—no wonder Cersei favored him more.

"Sir, you've returned at just the right time." he said.

"You mean it's just the right time to lose, then?" Jamie snapped, his golden hand gone, unable to slap and knock out half this man's teeth.

If the Grand Maester's words are correct, this man also played a part in Cersei's absurd actions.

"Her Royal Highness the Queen Dowager went to the Great Sept yesterday afternoon and never returned." He bowed, "The Hand of the King Ottermaraweiss left a resignation letter and last night fled the city with his wife Tannia, returning to his lands."

"Damn, how did I not know she'd become so pious?" Jamie sneered, "What does that have to do with Ottermaraweiss leaving? Damn, has he finally realized how useless he's been?"

"Sir, I doubt that's the case," Pycelle said smoothly, his movements graceful, also unaware of what evil experiments he conducts in the dark dungeons, "I've heard she's been imprisoned by the Faith Militant; unfortunately, my little birds cannot enter the Great Sept."

"The Faith Militant daring to imprison the reigning Queen Dowager is absurd." Jamie didn't believe it, but the sight of the poor gathering outside the city also made him uneasy.

If the Grand Maester's account is true, the church now commands at least several armed forces.

What does he have with him? Apart from several thousand timid gold cloaks and a few useless Iron Guard, he has nothing. The Lannister army of King's Landing has been taken to the Stormlands to besiege Storm's End; what remains is a group that, with the remnants of King's Landing's fleet, is besieging and clearing the area around Dragonstone, still consisting of lords loyal to Stannis. As for the few remaining people, he has dumped them all in the Riverlands.

"I'm worried, the Sparrows have such gall." He said respectfully, "Ser, I suggest you immediately convene a council of high officials and recall the Stormlands army."

"Tommen, how is King Tommen doing?" Jaime suddenly thought of the king.

"His Majesty Tommen is praying for Queen Margaery."

"Is Queen Margaery sick?" Jaime realized that he himself had suffered a major defeat in the Riverlands, yet in the Red Keep no one cared.

"Queen Margaery has been confined by the Sparrows. She is charged with adultery and treason, awaiting trial in the Great Sept of Baelor."

"Damn it, is this Sparrow sick?" Jaime felt like he wanted to stomp his feet; arresting the queen mother wasn't enough, he even dared to arrest the current queen, at the same time offending the Westerlands Lannisters and the Reach Tyrells...

"Ser, this High Septon was obscure before; as far as I know, he has been wandering the mountain backroads, preaching and giving alms to the people, performing marriages, doing very ordinary work." Maester Coben gave a mocking smile, "I don't understand how such a person could win the election by the faithful and defeat the High Septon."

"What's unclear about it? At least he doesn't visit prostitutes. If the rumors are true, he also recites sutras and gives people blessed water." Jaime felt a headache, "According to what you say, he should be a... how could he be so crazy?"

"A righteous monk, Ser?" He smiled again; that smile, in Jaime's eyes, looked like a weary, dim sarcasm. "Who knows? In the current atmosphere of the Seven Kingdoms, such a person could succeed in being promoted, likely relying on supernatural power."

"What supernatural power?" Jaime felt that his whole self felt unwell.

"Supernatural power is magic, after all, Ser."