Chapter 88: Jaime

Early the next morning, Young Lu helped him don the crimson-gold armor and cloak.

What a fine Lannister lion.

He remembered how, when he first put on this armor, his uncle Jilian had described it thus.

His father, hearing Jilian's words, rarely showed a smile on his stern face—almost the highest compliment his young uncle could give him.

After he donned the white robe, this armor was hung high; servants often took it down to polish and wax it, and even after so many years it still looked brand-new.

This armor was the first piece specially made for him by Duke Tywin when he was nearing adulthood, at the time when he was in his prime and just come of age. When the scholar announced his physique had barely matured, Tywin promptly had this armor prepared for him.

The armor was gilt, its ornamentation intricate, with angry, mane-flaring lions distributed across it; around each lion, patches of red-gold glaze attested to its excellence.

Long before it was ever worn, it had been carefully designed and crafted from the finest materials approved by Duke Tywin. If Tywin was not deceiving him, the breastplate and gorget were coated with a thin layer of Valyrian steel, set within enameled gilt steel.

"As a commander, protection cannot rely on armor alone," Tywin said gravely, "but rather on those around you. Yet since you enjoy fighting as a soldier," Jaime knew this was affectionate criticism—he had shown a warrior's courage since youth—"I must therefore find you the best, the very best protection."

Afterwards he willfully donned the white robe, and this lion-covered armor could no longer be worn, for he no longer belonged to the Lannisters, nor to gold and red.

Now he can.

He had thought that after so many years, the armor forged for him as a youth would no longer fit, for he felt he had grown and endured too much—but there was no doubt he was wrong.

After suffering so many setbacks and defeats, he has grown lean again, and this ancient yet youthful armor miraculously fits him once more—on this armor, time seems to have brought no change.

What a fine Lannister lion.

He seemed to hear Tywin and his uncle Jilian whispering in his ear once again.

They are all dead.

That lion is now a cripple, unable to take up sword and fight.

Is a lion without claws still a lion?

"My lord, this armor fits you perfectly," Little Lu exclaimed after fastening the armor for him.

Jaime also thought it perfect.

He hadn't expected the armor from nearly twenty years ago to still fit him perfectly after all this time, as if the giver had foreseen his present state, knowing he had suffered many defeats and now lacked any usable armor.

Donning the armor made him feel like that vigorous youth again, as if the gods had granted him a second chance at youth—at the cost of his father Tywin's life and his sword-wielding right hand.

Tywin.

His brothers cannot escape his shadow, nor can his children.

Even the wisest Tyrion has suffered his torment.

"Parry, when you come of age I will also give you a suit of armor," Jaime said, adjusting his posture and moving slightly, feeling no hindrance, "Do you want the armor engraved with naked women?"

The Parry family's sigil is a naked woman dancing holding a white silk cloth.

"Thank you, my lord, one such sigil is enough," he replied embarrassedly, also seeming drawn to Jaime's armor, "My lord, just how many lions are carved on your armor?"

Seven hundred seventy-six. "I certainly haven't bothered to count."

"Together with the man wearing the armor, that makes seven hundred seventy-seven," Tywin remarked calmly to the family in the hall. Aunt Gina heard this and laughed aloud, clapping; he recalled that this remark had started their pleasant day.

Will it be just as pleasant today?

He drew five hundred men from the Gold Cloaks to maintain order around the Great Sept; the rest were posted on the city walls to guard against vagrants and church soldiers from outside.

Having settled everything, he mounted his warhorse and rode toward the location of the "great army."

"Mervyn, take the horse archers and block the road from the Great Sept to the square; if it cannot be done, serve as rear guard," he ordered.

"My lord, rest assured, not one of them will escape my arrows. Steady as a mark!" Mervyn said confidently.

Naturally he should be confident; the garrison left guarding the Red Keep is his finest, equipped with bows, horses, crossbows—even if the churchfolk outnumber them, they could never match professional soldiers in armor and shields.

His military career had made him fully understand this principle.

The scholars had, following his instructions, posted the order to evacuate the Great Sept on the walls outside the square. To avoid confusion, Jaime ordered the Gold Cloaks to cut off Steel Street, Muddy Road, Smoke Alley, and Nightshade Alley leading to the Great Sept.

"No one may enter the streets; if anyone forces their way in, cut them down without question; if any rioters break through, find the ringleaders and hack them to death. Archers, occupy the upper floors of buildings on either side of the road in threes, assist the Gold Cloaks in keeping order. Shoot down any agitators with volleys of arrows." As Jaime passed by, Humphrey Waters was already issuing these orders to the Gold Cloak officers.

Jaime nodded at him, then rode forth with a hundred Red Keep guards and three hundred Gold Cloak guards, pushing two clumsy catapults to the square before the Great Sept.

The congregants offered no resistance, and they proceeded unhindered to the square before the Great Sept.

"Topple the stone tower," Jaime ordered. If the catapults need stone, they should take it nearby.

Several Gold Cloaks immediately fetched ropes, climbed the stone tower, then hoisted iron chains with the ropes and lashed them tightly to the top.

Thanks to Tyrion, these river‑blocking chains, after being removed, had been kept in the Red Keep's armory and were now ready for use.

"Pull!" the Gold Cloaks operated the chain winch; the high tower toppled at once, the massive stones bore the force, falling in pieces with a dull thud. The guards stepped forward to lug the stones with difficulty to the side of the huge catapult.

The noise finally roused the Great Sept's guards. They numbered several hundred, with several dozen cavalry. If the rumors are true, these horsemen are the so‑called Sons of the Warrior.

"Shout!" Jaime ordered.

"Fall back! Fall back!" hundreds of Gold Cloaks and Red Keep guards shouted at the church.

The church soldiers drew their weapons—swords, spears, axes, halberds, even sharpened wooden staves—while the Sons of the Warrior mounted on warhorses drew their fine swords.

Perhaps this was their reply.

"Fall back! Fall back!" the soldiers continued to shout.

A Sons of the Warrior horseman rode down from the steps, halted slightly ahead of the ranks.

"Ser Jaime, this is the Faith of the Seven, the place where the Seven dwell—why are you mustering troops and making noise here? Is this not blasphemy?" he exclaimed.

"Don't you see my order to the Faith to fall back?" Jaime said scornfully. "Or are you just pretending not to understand here? And who are you, anyway?"

"I am Theodore of House Waters, appointed commander of the Sons of the Warrior by the High Septon." He had dark skin and wore a seven‑pointed star cloak and armor.

"Tell the High Sparrow to clear out the Great Sept at once, leave King's Landing, or bear the consequences." Jaime did not want to waste words with him.

"Ser Jaime, the Great Sept has been the seat of the Faith of the Seven for over a century, the very glory of the Seven—how can the Faith simply abandon it?" he said, riding up alongside.

"I don't care how you 'withdraw'," Jaime said, having come to force the palace, not to reason. "If the High Sparrow sends people to wear down my will and stamina, I've miscalculated. The Great Sept is the Iron Throne's property; now the Iron Throne orders the Faith to evacuate its people and return the buildings—you lot get out of King's Landing, go wherever you please!"

"Ser Jaime…" he still wanted to say.

"Get out!" Jaime roared. "I have no time to waste on you! If you don't leave, watch your head!"

Jam spoke, and dozens of sons of warriors, holding spears and shields, pressed forward.

Jam looked at the still-closed palace gate, feeling as if the arrow was on the bowstring.

They gritted their teeth, lightly waved their hand, and waited for the worst outcome to arrive.

"Archers!" Melon turned and shouted loudly, "Draw!" they yelled, "Loose!"

Like rain, arrows shot from behind them at the church guards and sons of warriors. The guards fell like targets; after being hit, they immediately went limp, arrows piercing their bodies with no resistance, one by one rolling down the steps.

The surviving sons of warriors then began to charge at them.

"Continue!" Jam said to Melon.

"Fire arrows!"

Another volley of arrows rained down; dozens of sons of warriors' mounts were hit, fell from the stairs, and the one that slid farthest came to a stop right under Jam's horse. The horse startled and stepped back.

The earlier warrior drew their sword and stabbed at the sons of warriors' backs.

Jam reached out to soothe the warhorse.

"Throw the corpses into the catapult!" Jam said.

"My lord?" Taitos asked them for confirmation.

Jam nodded slightly.

This is all because you forced me.

After receiving the order, Taitos led his own guard soldiers past the shield-and-spear guards, dragging the corpses of the approaching sons of warriors and church guards one by one to the catapult.

"Cut off the thighs and heads!" Jam heard Taitos give the order; Jam knew they thought the corpses were too long, which would affect the launch.

After waiting a moment, they heard the catapult emit a strange sound as it launched the corpses.

They saw the corpses fall one by one like kites onto the roof of the Great Cathedral; some slid down the ceiling, emitting heavy thuds, while others smashed the cathedral's roof, producing cracking and booming sounds.

They felt raindrops falling on their face, sticky, so they took off their glove and reached out with their left hand to touch it.

Sure enough, it was bright red blood.

Another round of launching.

More blood poured over them, soaking their red cloak and armor.

Ha, see that? The commander doesn't need to swing a sword themselves to be drenched in blood. They seemed to hear Duke Tayun whispering in their ear.

"Let them stop first!" they ordered.

Xiaozi Lu immediately dismounted, darting out from between the soldiers and running toward the catapult.

Two more corpses were launched. Blood like pouring rain soaked everyone's robes and armor.

"Stop first!" Xiao Gezi Lu shouted, "The sir's order……"

"Ah, damn it, I didn't even know the gods would really rain blood!" Petepeleng wiped their pants with their hand, "Taitos is a real bastard, my lord, didn't you have them cut off the heads before launching?"

"How many armed followers might still be inside the Great Cathedral?" Jam asked.

Petepeleng immediately fell silent.

"It won't be less than five hundred." Melon's face was already splattered with blood, but they seemed unfazed, licking the corner of their mouth with a cold smile, "Sir, your assault looks just fine!"

"Don't suck up." Pet scolded with a laugh.

At that moment, Taitos and Xiao Gezi Lu also returned to Jam's side and mounted their horses.

"Sorry, Sir, I didn't expect to get soaked in so much blood either." Taitos chuckled sheepishly, "The catapult operator told me the corpses' legs are too long; they might hit the arm brackets and strike our own people, so I had to shorten them." After a brief pause, they added, "I should have brought rope, but I was also worried the rope might snap during launch." Ah!

"Next time we build a catapult, we should definitely take this into account." Melon replied.

"Of course we should consider it. But you just said the assault is justified—what's the reasoning?" Pet listened to them speak and then asked further.

Melon pursed their lips, "Their numbers are not small; outside the city there are even more, at least several times the number inside, so they also have several thousand in the Capital." Melon looked at the still-closed palace gate, "But have you noticed these fellows don't even have a bow? I admit this is thanks to the Iron Throne's ban on bows and crossbows. They won't be able to find such weapons anytime soon, and even the arrows themselves, they probably can't find suitable materials. So, as long as we block them here, we can kill them off in batches, so this assault is correct. Of course, if they don't come out, then we'll have to use catapults or launch corpses to force them out!"

"After today, they will learn their lesson." Jam declared loudly, "So, since we've done it, let's not give them a chance to learn."

"Not bad, my lord." Melon said resentfully, "As for me, after today I swear I'll never come to the Great Cathedral to pray again."

Petepeleng seemed to suddenly recall something, then slapped their thigh, "My lord, you said the base price is three million gold dragons to sell the Great Cathedral—will launching corpses like this affect the price?"

Jam had no mood to listen to their jokes.

They had already given Da Que Ma a chance: they had overnight arranged scholars to send a notice to the cathedral, but Da Que Ma gave no response at all; they sent a notice to them, and they ignored it; a day ago they personally issued a threat, and they dismissed it outright. Even the recent pause was an opportunity for them to open the palace gate and come discuss, yet they still remained silent.

In that case, intimidation can only continue.

"Launch!" Jam gestured!

"Launch!" Taitos shouted at the catapult operator.

"Launch!" the guards shouted.

Jam turned to look at the size of the stones; several gold-robed individuals, under the catapult operator's arrangement, struggled to place the stones into the catapult basket. A few soldiers pulled the ropes and turned the winch. Jam heard the catapult emit a sharp squeak under increasing force.

"Fire! (Loose!)"

The whistling of the launched stones was clearly different from that of the corpses; it looked faster and seemed to reach farther.

One stone, launched with insufficient height, barely managed to pass through one of the seven towering pillars and struck the Great Cathedral's stained‑glass window. Together with the heavy frame and glass, it shattered instantly, forming a huge gap.

This will certainly affect the Great Cathedral's sale price, but Jam had never intended to sell it; unfortunately, the archbishop seems to think the same.

Another huge stone flew far past the front, soaring high and far, straight toward the rear of the cathedral; the Great Cathedral's top collapsed partially under its impact, apparently falling onto the cathedral floor, followed by the thud of the stone landing and the ongoing sounds of breaking and smashing.

"How much longer will that old bastard Da Que Ma wait before showing up, until the Great Cathedral is destroyed to what extent?" Melon said with a grim face, "This will cost a lot of money to repair!"

"This is their own fault," Jam said, tolerating their growing hatred of the Great Sparrow, "If it weren't for the queen dowager and the queen still being here, we should have used fire attack long ago!"

They clenched their fists, pressed hard against the saddle, and stared at the tightly shut palace gate.

"Wait a moment, then keep launching; no need for me to remind you again." Jam gritted their teeth and ordered.

Why would they want to destroy this beautiful cathedral?

They gazed up at the sky above the cathedral; the sky was overcast, as if snow were about to fall.

Winter is approaching—what are they doing?

At this moment, the Great Holy Hall began to ring its bells. All the bells of the seven towers were shaken and rang, clashing in a chaotic rhythm, as if the bell-ringers were competing in a bell‑shaking contest.

For over a hundred years, no matter what happened, the Holy Hall could never have produced such a bell sound.

"Da Que Ma, what are you trying to do?" Pi Te Pu Leng complained, "Could it be that you want to use the bell…"

Before he could finish speaking, a black shadow like a giant descended from inside the Holy Hall along the stone steps, crossing hundreds of steps in an instant, passing the shield‑bearing spearmen, wielding a black longsword as dark as molten spring, and charged straight… straight at him.

Zhan Mu clenched his teeth, lowered his visor, gripped his sword hilt, and stared fixedly at the black shadow.