Sansa couldn't forget the mysterious note she had found; she wanted to take a gamble.
"If you want to go home, come to the Godswood tonight."
Sansa's heart pounded wildly; she had prayed so hard all this time, could this be the gods' answer to her?
Had the gods finally sent a true Knight to save her?
Perhaps it was one of the Redwyne twins, or the brave Ser Balon Swann... or even Baelon Dondarrion, the young lord with red-gold hair and a black cloak adorned with stars, whom her good friend Jeyne Poole used to be madly in love with.
In the stables of The Red Keep, the furious King Joffrey cursed loudly.
"These commoners of King's Landing, like insects.
If they're starving, they should go to a baker, what do they want with me?
Do they think they can come into The Red Keep for dinner?
I'll teach them a lesson."
"Why are they causing trouble?" the King asked.
"Someone couldn't keep their tongue, and word got out about the wedding feast being prepared for Young Master Tyrion Lannister, so those scum thought they should also attend the feast."
"Get me my armor!" King Joffrey shouted.
So Ser Preston stood by the stables, assisting Joffrey with his armor along with three other Kingsguard clad in moon-white cloaks.
"And my sword, my crossbow!" the King continued to command.
"Where's The Hound? Where's my dog?" the King asked, but no one answered him.
The Hound was the King's favorite guard, but he was absent now.
The Kingsguards exchanged glances; everyone knew that after the Mountain died, The Hound had become addicted to various hobbies, and he was probably drinking again at this time, but they dared not speak up, as they couldn't defeat The Hound.
Unable to wait for The Hound, the King, protected by the four Kingsguards and others, hurried onto the city walls; his red armor was as bright as blood.
"King Joffrey, we want bread!"
"We heard you're preparing a wedding feast? Why don't you give us a few bites?"
"Yes, our good King, give us a bite to eat."
The dark mass of hungry people began to shout below the castle, ragged and hideous, starved and emaciated, filled only with anger.
Unfortunately, these people only fueled Joffrey's rage.
"This is all I can give you!" Joffrey snorted and cursed, then tightened his grip on the crossbow.
That idiot was drunk, but he had the loudest voice.
"Whoosh!" The crossbow bolt pierced the air, then plunged into the petitioner's throat; red blood splattered out, like a blooming flower.
Then the man fell limp, and from then on, he would never be hungry again.
Joffrey was very satisfied; this was the effect of archery.
In the past, he had only shot kittens and puppies, but now he had shot a person.
"Tyrant!"
"Tyrant!" a woman cursed, barefoot, her face sallow, her hair like tangled grass...
The woman saw Joffrey's madness and casually threw a stone at him.
Joffrey furiously drew his bow again, but his aim was off this time, only hitting the woman's arm.
The woman immediately howled and quickly fled the petitioning crowd.
"Fire! Fire your arrows!" Joffrey commanded hoarsely, and a shower of arrows immediately rained down from the city wall.
The petitioning commoners saw that things were going badly and scattered in all directions.
As they left, they didn't forget to curse Joffrey a few times.
Only a few unlucky ones who had been shot lay on the ground, with no one to help bury them.
"You black-hearted worm, do you see the Red Comet in the sky? That is the will of the gods, and the gods will bring down punishment."
"You product of a fallen nation, fallen! May the gods open their eyes and see what kind of people are in our country?
A deformed Little Monkey, a product of incestuous desires between siblings, and a bastard King.
Damn it."
"Oh, Seven Gods, send down your power! Let a warrior appear and kill this tyrant!"
The ragged, starving sea of people, even as they fled, had to curse this King.
Even after they had fled, they didn't forget to throw a few stones.
"What are they calling me?" the King asked those around him.
The Kingsguards dared not speak, and the King angrily fired his crossbow randomly.
"Get back here! Get back here! I want your heads!"
The guards dared not speak, much less wade into this mess to chase the surging crowd.
These hungry people were like wild beasts, and they absolutely could not be offended again.
From an upstairs window on a nearby street corner, Littlefinger watched the scene clearly.
"Excellent, truly excellent!" Littlefinger clapped his hands, hearing the King's clamor and the people's anger, and watching the tide-like crowd disperse again.
He naturally had his own intelligence network and was aware of this matter.
Moreover, he was instrumental in fanning the flames, all for a larger plan, for the foolish girl and the knight's dream.
These hungry people, this city was now like a volcano, ready to erupt at any moment.
But what did such a force mean?
Could I benefit from it? Littlefinger asked himself.
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