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Near the Mud Gate tower in King's Landing, hundreds of ragged laborers were carrying or hauling stones and earth, repairing the gate and walls destroyed by wildfire.
"Pull harder!"
More than ten laborers were dragging a thick rope together. The middle of the rope was fixed to a broken section of the wall, while the other end was tied around a boulder weighing several thousand pounds, swaying as it hung in the air.
Perhaps the thick rope had been used too often. The section fixed to the wall suddenly snapped from wear. The dozen laborers pulling it lost their grip and fell backward in every direction, while the boulder in the air dropped straight down with a howl.
A laborer happened to pass underneath carrying stones. When he suddenly noticed the huge shadow above him and looked up, he only had time for terror to appear on his face and to let out one short scream before the several-thousand-pound boulder crushed him beneath it.
Fresh red blood flowed out from beneath the boulder. The stunned laborers around him suddenly reacted and rushed over, wanting to rescue him. But the blood pooling beneath the stone already told them the laborer was beyond saving.
Standing on the platform once built for Joffrey's speech, Tywin, dressed in fine clothes, happened to see the scene. He frowned and spoke to the tall, strong, gray-haired Gold Cloak beside him. "Lothor, the Mud Gate is being repaired too slowly. Recruit more laborers. Double the number."
Ser Lothor Brune had once been a landless knight in Littlefinger's service. Because of his merits in the battle two months earlier and certain bargains between important men, he had been promoted to captain of the Mud Gate guard in the City Watch.
Hearing Tywin's order, his face tightened. After hesitating briefly, he still told the truth. "Double the number of laborers? Lord Tywin, too many laborers have died over the past two months. No one is willing to accept recruitment anymore.
"Unless we raise the wages a little more..."
"Hmph. Raise the wages? No, no. I will reduce them instead."
Hearing Lothor's words, Tywin gave a light laugh, turned to stare at him, and rejected the idea.
Under Tywin's stare, Lothor felt a chill crawl over him. Hearing this, he thought his tampering with the laborers' wages had been discovered. Cold sweat immediately broke out along his back, and he did not know how to answer.
"Take the Gold Cloaks to Flea Bottom now. As long as they are grown, seize them all as laborers, men and women alike. Try not to kill people. They are precious labor."
Seeing Lothor fall silent, Tywin inwardly despised this commander of Gold Cloaks who knew only corruption, then spoke directly.
"Force people from Flea Bottom to serve as laborers? Lord Tywin, will that not provoke outrage? After all, they only recently caused a riot."
Seeing that Tywin did not seem to have discovered his small tricks, Lothor relaxed. Even so, he still had some doubts about Tywin's order.
"Of course not. Flea Bottom has always been a tumor within King's Landing. It has already affected the lives of other citizens. When they see you remove the tumor, they will only praise you for it."
Tywin shook his head and spoke with absolute certainty.
"You are right, Lord Tywin. I will do it now."
Watching Lothor nod and leave, Tywin stared at his back and murmured, "If the people riot again because of this, then it was you who seized them as laborers without permission.
"The Vale has Tyrion leading troops in support. The rebellion should have been pacified long ago, yet the fighting continues even now. Hmph. It is also time to knock Littlefinger back into place."
After inspecting the repairs at the Mud Gate, Tywin took his personal guards back to the Red Keep's throne room.
"Lord Tywin!"
"Father!"
The moment he stepped into the throne room where council was being held, everyone hurriedly bowed to Tywin in respect. Cersei and Jaime also immediately rose from their seats to greet him.
Hearing the greetings, Tywin nodded slightly. Removing the leather gloves from his hands, he walked to the steps beneath the Iron Throne and looked expressionlessly at Joffrey, who sat on the throne without a word.
"Joff, get up and greet your grandfather!"
As Tywin's gaze drew the focus of the entire throne room onto Joffrey, Cersei immediately taught him in a low, anxious voice.
Step. Step.
Seeing Joffrey stubbornly purse his lips and look elsewhere, Tywin slowly walked up the steps. The sound of his leather boots on the stone was especially sharp in the silent throne room.
Hearing Tywin approach, Joffrey's face revealed helplessness. He could only turn to his mother for aid.
"Father, please sit here. Your Grace Joffrey, Lord Tywin has been fighting bloody battles outside all this time. Hurry and rise to greet and thank your grandfather."
When Tywin reached the final step, Jaime stepped forward and gestured toward the Hand's seat. At the same time, he turned to Joffrey.
Finally given a way out, Joffrey hurriedly stood and saluted Tywin. "Thank you, Grandfather, for fighting the traitors. You have worked hard."
"It is what I should do, Your Grace."
Tywin first glanced at his son, then answered Joffrey with icy politeness and a cold expression. But he bit down rather heavily on the two words Your Grace.
After speaking, Tywin turned and sat in Jaime's Hand's seat. Joffrey let out a heavy breath. After exchanging a glance with Cersei, he slowly sat down as well.
"Father, Lord Varys just reported intelligence purchased from the black market. The traitor Robb Stark has raised twenty thousand men from Winterfell and is marching toward Moat Cailin."
Standing beside Tywin, Jaime immediately relayed Varys's report.
"We can only buy northern intelligence from the black market now? It seems the wolf pup cleaned out the spies in the North quite thoroughly.
"Twenty thousand men? The North cannot possibly gather that many more soldiers. Most of them should be Westerlands smallfolk they carried off."
Hearing Jaime's report, Tywin lifted his right hand to the armrest and supported his chin, speaking slowly.
"Yes. That is what I thought as well. So I believe these recruits are not combat strength, but a burden.
"If we can learn their specific situation, we may be able to make them turn to us on the battlefield."
Jaime nodded and stated his thinking.
"Good. Handle that matter according to your idea. How is the army in King's Landing being prepared?"
"Everything is largely ready. The Stormlands nobles have mostly sworn loyalty to the Iron Throne. Their nearly twenty thousand elite soldiers can be thrown into battle at any time.
"I have also called up nearly seven thousand household troops from the Crownlands nobles. With the remaining troops from before, we can make up ten thousand men."
Hearing Tywin's question, Jaime immediately explained the army's recent preparations.
"Mm. Addam."
Tywin nodded to Jaime in satisfaction, then called down the steps.
"Here, Lord Tywin!"
From the gathered council, the cavalry commander Addam Marbrand, dressed in bright armor, stepped out and saluted.
"I will give you five thousand cavalry: two thousand heavy cavalry and three thousand light cavalry, along with ten thousand Stormlands infantry. Take them to the Golden Tooth today.
"Before receiving my order, you need only hold the Golden Tooth. Ignore everything else."
After a brief moment of thought, Tywin gave Addam his order.
"As you command, Lord Tywin."
"Jaime, prepare the grain and supplies gathered recently as well. In two days, we depart for Harrenhal."
"Yes, Father."
After giving his orders, Tywin rose and nodded slightly to Joffrey. "Your Grace, I will take my leave."
He did not wait for Joffrey's reaction before walking toward Maegor's Holdfast behind the throne room.
Everyone in the throne room immediately rose and saluted again. After Tywin had walked some distance away, furious shouts could be faintly heard from the throne room.
"Why must I bow and greet him? I am the king! I am the king!"
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