22: “Master, don’t do anything rash.” Brienne’s hand rested on her sword hilt as she lowered her voice.
“That’s the royal fleet of House Baratheon.
The ships are full of gold cloaks.” She knew Rek’Sai.
His only way of solving problems was violence.
“You think I’m a mad dog?” Rek’Sai rolled his eyes and leaned his broad back against the gunwale.
“I’m not some demon who kills everyone he sees.
Of course, that’s on the condition that they don’t come looking for me.” Then he added very quietly: “And if they don’t have anything I want.” More than ten nautical miles ahead, three warships lay across the channel.
The rams at their prows flashed cold light.
The decks were packed with soldiers of the City Watch wearing golden cloaks.
The two-masted sailing ship of House Tarth slowly lowered its sails and approached.
“Tarth vessel!
Drop anchor!
Move aside and stop!” On the opposite warship, a gold-cloak officer stood at the prow and roared.
The captain hurriedly ordered the sailors to drop anchor, then ran to the edge of the deck covered in sweat and shouted: “My lord!
We are a ship of House Tarth, heading for King’s Landing!” “Stay where you are and behave!” The officer waved dismissively without any politeness.
“The channel is sealed today.
No one is allowed near the main channel of Blackwater Bay!” Rek’Sai raised an eyebrow.
He closed his eyes.
Mana surged.
Eagle Eye activated.
In mid-air, Blackfeather let out a clear cry.
Through the raven’s eyes, Rek’Sai looked farther across the sea.
At the edge of the visual field, an enormous and extremely ornate galley was cutting through the waves toward them.
This was “ornate” in the true sense of the word.
The hull was painted a bright yellow.
Enormous crowned stags were embroidered on the black sails.
Even the prow was carved into a lifelike golden stag.
Sunlight striking the ship made one’s eyes swim.
“Quite the spectacle.” Rek’Sai opened his eyes and cut the shared vision.
“What’s happening?” Brienne asked.
“A big shot is coming from behind.” Rek’Sai twisted his neck, producing a series of cracking sounds like popping beans.
“No wonder even the gold cloaks came out to clear the way and play watchdog.
Just wait.” The Tarth sailing ship could only drift outside the blockade line.
About half an hour later, the bright yellow galley finally appeared on the horizon visible to the naked eye.
It did not slow down.
It simply passed through the gap left by the three warships and sailed arrogantly into the depths of Blackwater Bay.
The gold-cloak warships immediately turned and followed on either side of the galley like escorts.
“Blockade lifted!” The officer opposite shouted.
“Tarth ship, follow behind.
Don’t get too close!” “Raise the sails!” The captain let out a long breath and wiped away cold sweat.
The sailing ship set out again, following far behind that fleet as it entered Blackwater Bay.
The sea wind gradually died.
The outline of King’s Landing continued to grow larger in their sight.
The Red Keep on Aegon’s High Hill looked like a dark-red giant beast overlooking the entire city.
Seven enormous drum towers stabbed into the clouds.
The seven crystal domes of the Great Sept of Baelor refracted piercing light under the sun.
When the sailing ship truly approached the docks, what rushed to meet them was not the majesty of the capital, but an indescribable stench.
Shit, urine, rotting fish, vegetable refuse, and cheap perfume mixed together and drove straight into the nose on the sea wind.
“Urgh—” Rolf leaned over the gunwale and dry-heaved.
Tick frowned and covered his mouth and nose with a cloth strip.
“So this is King’s Landing?” Rek’Sai took a deep breath of the turbid air and grinned.
“Glamour and stench living side by side.
The place with the most gold dragons and the most whores, I suppose.” The ship docked.
The docks outside the Mud Gate were unusually crowded today.
Thousands upon thousands of commoners were held back on both sides of the road by gold cloaks with spears.
Everyone stretched their necks toward the main dock.
Rek’Sai was in no hurry to disembark.
He sat on a wooden crate on the deck and ordered the two attendants: “Tick, Rolf.
Go ask around.
Find out exactly what’s going on.” The two men immediately accepted the order and slipped into the crowd down the gangplank.
Rek’Sai’s size was simply too large.
If he pushed into that kind of crowd, it would definitely cause unnecessary trouble.
Pig was still sleeping in its iron cage in the hold; there was no rush to move it out yet.
A quarter of an hour later, Tick dragged Rolf out of the crowd and ran back onto the ship.
“We’ve found out, my lord.” Tick caught his breath and spoke rapidly.
“It’s Lord Renly Baratheon of Storm’s End who’s arrived.” “Renly?” Brienne froze for a moment.
As a noble of the Stormlands, she naturally knew this younger brother of King Robert.
“Yes.
I heard Lord Renly just turned sixteen and has come of age.
King Robert specially summoned him to King’s Landing for his coming-of-age ceremony.” Tick swallowed and added, “Everyone on the docks is saying the king intends to appoint him as Master of Laws.” “Master of Laws at only sixteen?” Rek’Sai gave a short laugh.
“Truly an intoxicating thing, power.” At that moment a deafening cheer erupted from the front of the docks.
“Lord Renly!” “The Knight of Flowers!” The waves of sound rose higher and higher, almost enough to overturn the seagulls.
Rek’Sai stood up.
His massive body easily rose above the heads of the crowd, giving him an unobstructed view of the main dock.
The ornate yellow galley had already lowered its gangplank.
Two young men walked down side by side.
The youth on the left wore a set of extremely form-fitting dark-green velvet robes embroidered with gold thread on the chest.
He had glossy black curls and a face of flawless handsomeness.
A smile that could make anyone feel as if bathed in spring breeze hung at the corner of his mouth.
As he walked he frequently waved to the crowd.
The boy walking on his right was slightly shorter—about thirteen or fourteen.
His outfit was even more exaggerated than Renly’s.
He wore a silver-white silk surcoat embroidered all over with rose patterns, and a gem-studded longsword hung at his waist.
Brown hair fell over his shoulders.
His face was so beautiful it almost looked like a woman’s.
Walking together, the two of them looked like a pair of glowing peacocks.
The young women and little wives on the docks were already screaming themselves half to death.
“Tsk tsk.” Rek’Sai rubbed the rough stubble on his chin and turned to look at Brienne beside him.
Brienne was staring at the two youths.
Rek’Sai leaned in and teased in a low voice: “Disciple, do you think Lord Renly is particularly handsome?
Want to go attend his coming-of-age ceremony?
I can wait a few days for you—right here in the whorehouses of the Red Keep.” Brienne withdrew her gaze.
She turned her head and looked at Rek’Sai.
Her eyes traveled from his terrifying height, across the swelling chest muscles, the arms thick as tree trunks, and finally settled on the Arcanite Reaper.
“Master, do you think he could take one of your punches?” Brienne asked seriously.
Rek’Sai froze for a moment.
Brienne looked back at Renly and Loras waving to the crowd.
Her brows tightly furrowed.
There was not the slightest admiration in her eyes—only undisguised disdain.
“That waist is thin as a stick.” Brienne curled her lip, a trace of coldness in her voice.
“His footwork when walking is completely floating—no root under his feet.
That one called Loras doesn’t even have a single callus on the back of his hand.
People like that holding a sword… they probably couldn’t even kill a wild boar from the Rainwood.” She paused and delivered her final evaluation: “Just two sticks of firewood wearing pretty clothes.
Not even worth one of Master’s slaps.” Rek’Sai’s mouth opened slightly.
Then he suddenly threw his head back and laughed.
The laughter made the wooden barrels on the deck hum.
“Good!
Well said!” Rek’Sai slapped Brienne hard on the shoulder, nearly making the strong girl stumble.
“This is my disciple!
All those fancy tricks aren’t even worth a fart in the face of absolute strength!” Brienne steadied herself.
The corner of her mouth also pulled into a stiff smile—she couldn’t help it being stiff; it hurt.
The old her might once have yearned for those knights who seemed to have stepped out of poems.
Those empty knightly dreams had long been smashed to pieces by the aesthetics of extreme violence.
Only strength was real.
“Enough.
The monkey show is over.” Rek’Sai wiped the smile from his face and waved a hand.
“Tick, Rolf.
Go find some people to help move Pig’s cage out.” The cheers on the docks gradually faded into the distance.
Renly and Loras, under the escort of the gold cloaks, rode tall warhorses toward the Red Keep.
The crowd slowly dispersed.
Tick and Rolf directed several sailors to use a system of pulleys to laboriously hoist an enormous black-iron cage onto the deck, then push it down the gangplank.
The cage was covered with a thick waterproof canvas.
Dull grunts occasionally came from inside.
Rek’Sai, Arcanite Reaper on his back, strode down from the ship.
Brienne followed close behind.
The four of them pushed the wheeled iron cage containing Pig along the uneven dirt road toward the nearest Mud Gate.
Eight gold cloaks stood at the city gate.
They held spears and were inspecting the merchants entering the city one by one.
“Halt!” When Rek’Sai’s massive body approached, the leading gold cloak instinctively took a step back.
He tightened his grip on the spear, eyes warily scanning back and forth between Rek’Sai and the enormous iron cage.
“City entry tax—calculated per head.” The gold cloak swallowed hard and pointed his spear at the canvas-covered iron cage.
“This thing has to be counted too.
What’s inside?” “My mount.” Rek’Sai’s face was expressionless.
“Bullshit!
What kind of mount needs an iron cage this big?” The gold cloak frowned and stepped forward.
“Lift the canvas!”