When the sun rose again early in the morning, the streets and alleys of King's Landing were already plastered with notices.
There were two proclamations.
The first was an indictment: Grand Maester Orwyle had poisoned the king, forged a testament in conspiracy with Princess Rhaenyra, and plotted treason. The Seven Above had watched, and by their grace the conspiracy was uncovered.
The second was a coronation announcement: on the morrow, Aegon the Second of His Name Targaryen would formally ascend the Iron Throne.
The notices bore the king's seal and the seal of the Small Council.
Guildhall officials stood on high platforms, straining their voices to read aloud to the illiterate citizens. The crowd swelled, their murmuring like a hive of bees.
"King Viserys, truly poisoned!?" An old fishwife covered her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.
The guild official cleared his throat and declared loudly, "Princess Rhaenyra, aggrieved that Viserys the First changed the succession, conspired with Orwyle to poison him. But by the grace of the Seven, the plot was uncovered!"
"They say it was Princess Rhaenyra..." a smith's apprentice muttered.
A fat baker beside him snorted. "Princess Rhaenyra was the kingdom's delight. How could such a thing be?"
"Delight of the kingdom?" A sharp-faced woman curled her lip. "She bore three bastards and showed no shame. What else might such a shameless princess do?"
"Seven Above, that woman belongs in all seven hells!" A pious old man fell to his knees and traced the seven-pointed star with trembling fingers.
"But the notice says maesters of the Citadel were involved in the kingslaying?" someone questioned.
"The Faith supports Prince Aegon's succession," another pointed toward the distant spires of the Great Sept. "I saw the High Septon's carriage enter the Red Keep yesterday."
"Who knows the truth of it? All this royal business..." A middle-aged man shook his head. "We common folk should mind our own affairs."
Suddenly, a rasping voice rose from the crowd: "I heard a rumor that His Grace was killed by his own son, Prince Aemond."
The air froze.
All heads turned toward the speaker—a ragged man with a scarred face.
The man seemed to realize his mistake and tried to push his way out of the crowd.
"Who said that! Seize him!"
Captain Frey happened to be patrolling nearby on horseback. His face changed at the words. He pointed at the man who had spoken; a dozen soldiers quickly surrounded him.
All fell silent.
Frey slowly pressed through the crowd, his riding boots ringing on the cobblestones. Captain Frey wore a smile, but it was a cold smile.
"Slandering the prince, are we? No one steps forward to confess? Very well."
He reined in his horse and looked down at the dozens of commoners. "Cut out his tongue!"
The crowd erupted.
Behind him, a dozen soldiers drew their swords and formed a ring.
"My lord, mercy! It wasn't us!" The tailor who had been standing beside the man was frantic. "It was him! My lord! He spoke the treasonous words!" He pointed at the vagrant, who was trying to flee.
Frey nodded.
Two soldiers ran forward, hauled the man out like a chicken, and dragged him to the high platform. The vagrant struggled, shouting, "I only repeated what others said..."
"Shut your mouth!" Frey kicked him in the stomach.
The vagrant curled on the ground, groaning in pain. Frey planted a foot on his back and shouted to the crowd.
"This man is a spy from Rhaenyra's intelligence network, deliberately spreading rumors to slander the prince! The kingslayer is Princess Rhaenyra!"
He nodded to a soldier. "Give me his tongue!"
Two soldiers stepped forward. Instead of knives, they used the most brutal method—the way one might butcher a chicken. One grabbed the vagrant's head, another pulled out his tongue, and they pressed together.
Snap!
A muffled cry—the vagrant let out a piercing scream as blood gushed from his mouth. Half a tongue fell to the cobblestones, still twitching. The man went limp.
Women in the crowd screamed. Someone covered a child's eyes.
Frey watched with satisfaction, his gaze sweeping over the commoners who had been near the vagrant, now trembling with fear.
"Why did none of you report him at once? Or are you traitors too?"
"My lord, we knew nothing! That bastard spoke nonsense!"
"He was beside us! We were taken by surprise, my lord!"
"Treasonous silence! Complicity with traitors!" Frey's eyes gleamed with calculation—these commoners could always be squeezed for coin. He smiled, squinting. "Take them. I shall give them a proper trial!"
The soldiers began arresting people. The unfortunate tradesman who had been nearest the vagrant dropped to his knees before Captain Frey.
"My lord! I can inform! I can be a loyalist too! I have two gold dragons—I am prepared to redeem my sin!"
Captain Frey's eyes lit up.
"Bring him here. Take the rest!"
Cries and pleas for mercy mingled together. No one dared resist.
At the street corner, several men who looked to be wealthy merchants exchanged glances and quietly slipped into an alley.
"War may be coming," one merchant whispered to his companion. "We must stockpile food."
"The harvest in the Reach was poor this year, and the Riverlands are uncertain," the other shook his head. "Grain prices are up thirty percent."
"Then buy from the Reach. So long as you have coin, there is always a way."
They hurried off. The guildhall officials were still proclaiming in the streets.
Captain Frey returned with a full load—he had earned good coin today, gained political merit, and would still turn a profit. More than thirty suspects were chained and shuffled toward the Guildhall, beside which stood the largest prison in King's Landing.
Those with clear heads had already begun moving, rushing to buy grain, flour, salted meat, and chickpeas from the markets. Only those commoners with less wit still argued in the taverns.
"If you ask me, Princess Rhaenyra must have been wronged!"
"Nonsense. A woman ruling? Never happened in the history of the Seven Kingdoms!"
"But the old king named her heir..."
"That was before! He changed it! His Grace has the right to change his mind! And the male primogeniture is the law—it has stood for thousands of years!"
"You're so worked up—are you a noble or something?"
"The septon says if you follow the Faith and keep the Seven's teachings, you may be reborn a noble..."
Arguments there were, but no one dared speak too loudly. More soldiers patrolled the streets than the day before, their gazes harder. The people of King's Landing dared not cause trouble now. According to orders passed down from the Master of Laws, these were times of repression: small crimes were treated as grave offenses, grave offenses punishable by death. The City Watch had been kept busy these past days.
Upon the walls of King's Landing, the original three-headed red dragon on its black field had been replaced by the Green Party's standard: three golden dragons on black, snapping in the morning wind.