Darry Town, along with the surrounding lands, was unadorned, located south of the Trident River, only half a day's ride from the river.
The liege lord of Darry Town was the trout, but back then, like Fountainhead, they fought to the death for the true dragon.
The royal entourage, uninvited, took up residence in Darry Castle, becoming the guests of Ser Raymund Darry, the lord of the castle.
Queen Cersei even wanted to search along the river for the Direwolf Nymeria, to get a wolf pelt for Joffrey, but King Robert angrily scolded her again, telling her to forget when she should forget and not to cause any more trouble.
Cersei now also began to argue with Jaime, because Jaime did not love his "family" and did not step forward to duel with the House Stark people.
For a time, the castle was filled with a foul atmosphere.
Although Ser Raymund pledged allegiance to the King, House Darry was one of the noble families that fought for the King under Rhaegar's true dragon banner on the Trident River; his three elder brothers all died there, and neither Robert nor Ser Raymund had forgotten this.
Now, The King's party, House Darry's retainers, and the forces of House Lannister and House Stark all crowded into the small castle, and the tense atmosphere was imaginable.
Adding to the tension was the previous fight between the lion and Direwolf children, which intensified the conflict between Stark and Lannister.
"Perhaps it was a mistake to bring only a hundred Attendants; there should have been more taxi soldiers," Eddard thought from the attic in Darry Town, those Lannister Red Cloaks in the castle were so conspicuous at this moment.
If it were in King's Landing, it would probably be even more like entering the lion's mouth of Lannister.
Jaime Lannister looked up, meeting Eddard's gaze from below the attic, his eyes full of amusement.
Jaime also wore a white cloak, but he was resplendent in gold from head to toe, wearing a lion-headed helmet and wielding a golden sword.
The two were certainly not friends, but Jaime had no mind to quarrel with Eddard now; he felt that Jon was still a knight.
"Darry is the dangerous enemy," Jaime thought, though he didn't plan to say it out loud, he still needed to be extra vigilant.
Tyrion had told him that these traitors still yearned for Targaryen, and the hidden enemies were far more terrifying than these foolish Starks.
When Robert traveled north for his visit, Tyrion discovered that tapestries depicting the kings of the Targaryen Dynasty had been taken down and hidden in the castle's cellar.
"Am I a foolish person?"
Thinking of Cersei's angry face and Jaime's amused expression, Eddard sighed.
He thought of his ancestor Cregan's journey south; sometimes swords brought justice, and he trusted justice too much.
Stannis also stopped writing to him, because the Green Lands were riddled with the eyes of spiders.
Eddard did indeed want to save money; winter was coming, and there was no need to bring so many people to King's Landing.
Mainly, House Stark's standing army wasn't that large, and it would take time to gather enough men.
Bran's injury further disrupted his plans, and he hadn't yet thoroughly studied Cregan's deployment.
After much thought, Eddard went to Jon's room in the attic.
It was a secluded, simple bedroom, but unlike common knights who slept in open spaces, it was at least a noble's accommodation.
"Child, perhaps I owe you an apology.
This is not Winterfell, after all, and I cannot do more for you," Eddard said, looking at Jon's face, feeling vexed by the arguments and compromises.
The cut from the sword tip, even after healing, would leave a scar.
"It's nothing, My Lord," Jon said, feigning nonchalance.
His shoulder still had thick bandages, and the wound hadn't healed yet.
But Jon felt very lucky that his sword-wielding hand and palm were not injured.
As for the scar on his face, it wasn't very long or deep.
Moreover, Jon was lean, with a long face, brown hair, and gray eyes.
He was just an extra bastard, and indeed not handsome or charming enough.
He couldn't rely on his looks for a living, nor did he have any need for a marriage alliance.
"These things, I think we still need them," Jon said to Eddard, pointing to the golden dragons on his bed.
Six hundred golden dragons, they were sparkling, a display of the Queen's generosity.
"Lannister sent them.
I haven't used a single coin."
"I do need them, but a Duke doesn't need to keep a Child's toys.
You keep them, Child," Eddard smiled.
"Damn Lannister, they are indeed generous."
"These gold coins will be more useful than anything else in King's Landing," Jon thought, deciding to save the gold for his father.
"My Lord, you must be careful of them; their people are everywhere," Jon whispered a warning.
A bastard must learn to read people and discern the joys and sorrows hidden in their eyes.
The King's party and the Queen's party, House Lannister's power and soldiers in the court far surpassed House Stark's, especially now that the conflict had escalated, and his father's dear friend Robert would now only compromise, indulging in wine and women.
Eddard looked at Jon; it seemed the bastard was indeed as precocious as rumored, Jon surpassed Robb in caution and meticulousness.
Eddard then began to worry about the children in Winterfell.
"We've come to the wrong place.
King's Landing is an even more troublesome place," Eddard said to Jon.
"You must learn to protect yourself."
Jon nodded, "I will protect myself, and I will protect Sansa and Arya."
"Arya, that Child is truly troublesome.
Sansa, sigh..." Eddard sighed.
Arya was wild, and Sansa was even worse.
These children had all been guided by Catelyn in a southern-style education, and Eddard had initially been very supportive, rarely interfering in household matters.
But now, looking at Sansa, she was already caught in a dream of becoming a crown princess.
Yet they were northerners after all; family, honor, unity.
Eddard felt that a northern wife might not have raised the children this way.
"My Lord, you must be careful, careful of those traitors.
King's Landing is a city of five hundred thousand people; the people of king's landing only care about gold, and southerners are very good at lying," Jon said, worried.
"traitors, lies."
Eddard chewed on these two words.
If traitors all wore it on their faces, it would be so much better.
Lord Arryn, he died at the hands of traitors, didn't he?
Lies?
Everyone has their own lies.
Just then, Jon's door was pushed open with a "thump-thump," and Arya, with swollen eyes, ran in.
"Father, you're here too," Arya said.
"What's wrong, Child, I came to see your brother," Eddard rubbed Arya's head.
"What is that?" Eddard exclaimed in surprise.
He saw the sword in Arya's hand.
"Give it to me."
Arya reluctantly handed over the sword, muttering to herself whether she would ever have a chance to hold it again.
Eddard turned it over and over in the light, examining both sides of the blade, then measured its sharpness with his thumb.
"This is an assassin's sword," he said, "but I seem to recognize the smith's mark; this was forged by Micah."
"I gave it to her, My Lord," Jon felt terrible and quickly stood up.
"Arya, you shouldn't carry it; this is not a Child's toy."
"I hate them.
Father, why don't you avenge my brother?" Arya said through gritted teeth.
"Who?" Eddard asked.
"That idiot Joffrey, and his mother with her nose in the air.
And Sansa, Sansa is a traitor."
"Enough, revenge is not a lady's word."
His father's tone was stern and firm.
"You never listen to the septa's teachings; heaven knows how much trouble you've caused that poor woman.
Your mother and I hired her to teach you to be a lady, but it's an impossible task."
"I don't want to be a lady!" Arya fumed.
"I want to pick up a sword and beat that idiot."
"I should just break this thing over my knee right now and end this farce."
"My Lord, don't punish my little sister," Jon stood up and said.
This matter was also his fault for not telling Eddard in advance.
"'Needle' won't break," Arya said defiantly, though she knew her tone was quite diffident.
Eddard sighed, "Ah, Arya, my Child, you have a special wildness.
Your grandfather called it the 'blood of the direwolf'.
Lyanna had a bit of it, and my brother Brandon had even more, and both died young."
Jon and Arya heard sadness in his voice; Eddard rarely spoke of his father and siblings, who had all passed away before they were born.
"If your grandfather had agreed back then, Lyanna probably would have also wielded a sword.
Sometimes when I see you, I think of her; you even bear some resemblance to her."
"Lyanna was a great beauty," Arya said, taken aback.
Everyone said so, but no one had ever used her to describe Arya.
"Isn't that right?" Eddard agreed, "She was both beautiful and willful, and as a result, she died young."
"Don't be too willful, my Child, this is not Winterfell."
Jon remained silent.
No one had ever called him handsome or charming, but everyone said he had a very "Stark" style.
His aunt Lyanna, that beauty who could topple kingdoms, perhaps like himself, possessed the characteristics of House Stark, yet was beautiful and moving.
As for the blood of the direwolf, Jon felt that a bastard could not be so wild...
In the courtyard of Wolf's Den, Gendry and Daenerys watched Brienne say goodbye.
"Are you really leaving?" Daenerys asked Brienne.
Brienne's eyes were large and blue, the eyes of a young girl, innocent and direct, but beyond that... her face was round and rough, her teeth protruded unevenly, her mouth was terribly wide, and her lips were fat like caterpillars.
Countless freckles were densely scattered across her forehead and cheeks, and her nose looked like it had been broken many times.
A formidable warrior, and also an ugly young girl.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness, Princess, I appreciate your generosity and courtesy towards me, but I am Brienne of Tarth," Brienne said awkwardly.
"I hope we meet again, and then we'll ride across the battlefield," Gendry smiled, not stopping Brienne from leaving.
Some people cannot be forced to stay.
Brienne was the heir of Tarth, and Renly had shown her kindness before, so she would certainly repay Renly first.
"It's a promise.
I have my own duty in the Stormlands, and I need to go back for a while," Brienne looked at the two.
She liked staying here; the taxi soldiers here didn't call her a freak, and there were no cruel jokes.
And His Highness and the Princess were sincere people, even more so than Renly's politeness.
Brienne felt that Renly and Gendry were very similar, but upon closer inspection, one wouldn't mistake them; the difference was obvious.
Gendry had Renly's eyes and hair, but a different physique.
Their eyes also held different emotions; Lord Renly's eyes were warm and enthusiastic, full of laughter, while Gendry's gaze had more of a warrior's steadfastness and confidence.
Lord Renly was tall and slender, not as strong and sturdy; Gendry had a wider jaw and thicker eyebrows.
Renly was delicate and elegant, while Gendry had thick shoulders and the strong arms characteristic of a warrior and blacksmith, a stronger version of Renly, more like Robert, who was known for his strength.
"Take this; Jaime and I will await your arrival," Daenerys said, holding a beautiful quartered sigil badge and handing it to Brienne.
Brienne turned and left, her figure decisive and neat.
"She's so unfortunate!" Anguy whispered.
"Look at that figure, that face."
"Enough, Anguy," Gendry patted his Attendants, telling him to say less.
"Not every woman has to live according to a man's ideas."
"She's very charming, isn't she?" Daenerys looked enviously at the departing figure, a female knight who could protect herself.
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