In front of The Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing.
"Come one, come all! Everyone, look over here!"
"Look over here!"
"Come here quickly!"
"..."
King Joffrey Baratheon had the Gold Cloaks shout loudly to the people of King's Landing at the entrance of The Great Sept of Baelor, gathering the commoners together. Today, he intended to do something significant.
It had been three or four days since the recruitment notices posted by Ser Jeslyn Beesbury went up. Although many citizens of King's Landing knew about it, not a single person had come forward to sign up.
They were skeptical of the lavish rewards. The notice clearly stated that even commoners could earn titles and monetary rewards through military merit, and His Majesty the King would even grant them their own lands and make them lords.
Although the granted lands would require paying taxes to the state, for commoners, the mere idea of obtaining land was already a pipe dream.
They had heard that the Gold Cloaks inside The Red Keep hadn't been paid for a long time, and no one knew who had embezzled the wages.
"I am Joffrey Baratheon I, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. I solemnly promise here that every word I say today shall be honored."
With that, Joffrey Baratheon waved his hand, and four or five Gold Cloaks came forward carrying a thick and heavy log.
As the heavy log was thrown onto the ground, it emitted a low, dull thud, kicking up dust everywhere.
Joffrey pointed at the log and said with a smile, "Whoever can carry this log once around The Great Sept of Baelor, I shall reward him with a thousand gold dragons!"
After speaking, Joffrey pointedly shook the large purse in his hand, and the sound of countless gold coins clinking together emanated from within.
Hiss—
The onlookers all gasped. A thousand gold dragons—that was more money than they could earn in a lifetime of labor.
"Is this for real? A thousand gold dragons!"
"Could the words of His Majesty the King be false?"
"Hard to say..."
"He's standing right there; would he lie to trick you?"
"But even if he actually pays up, I can't lift that thing."
"True, I can't lift it either."
"..."
The crowd buzzed with discussion, everyone hoping a strongman would step up to show them something spectacular.
In truth, everyone felt that King Joffrey himself could surely lift it, as they had seen the Hand's Tourney not long ago; the warhammer Joffrey had held then was much heavier than this log.
Even Varys, who had accompanied Joffrey, was somewhat puzzled. He knew Joffrey wanted to establish an image of integrity among the people—that 'an Emperor's word is worth a thousand gold pieces.'
Buying integrity for a thousand gold was quite a grand gesture.
However, what left Varys speechless was the sheer weight of the log. Could anyone actually carry it? 'My Majesty, couldn't you have found a lighter one?'
But seeing Joffrey's smiling, confident expression, Varys felt that the King must have some profound meaning that was difficult for him to fathom.
In reality, Joffrey didn't have any profound meaning; he had simply misjudged the strength of the common people.
Now that no one dared to step forward to carry the log, he was feeling a bit stuck.
He looked at the sun in the sky, thinking that if no one could move it by noon, he would declare it over and bring a lighter log tomorrow.
Just as he was thinking this, a bare-chested, strongly built young man suddenly stepped out from the crowd.
His muscles were bulging, his shoulders broad, and his physique could even be compared to 'The Mountain,' Gregor Clegane. Furthermore, his height appeared to be nearly two meters.
As soon as this man appeared, the commoners began to cheer; it seemed he was quite popular among them.
"Duncan, it's Duncan!"
"Isn't that the butcher from the slums? Can he do it?"
"Did the butcher eat your rice? I think he looks quite capable."
"..."
Ignoring the chatter of the crowd, Duncan glanced up at the King, took a deep breath, and stepped forward. Reaching the log, he hoisted it onto his shoulder without a word and began to walk.
Though his face turned bright red under the weight of the heavy log and his steps were heavy, he adjusted his breathing and began to circle The Great Sept of Baelor.
Step by step, drenched in sweat, his pace became increasingly difficult.
By the halfway point, his calves began to tremble and his breathing grew ragged.
Yet, with a spirit of never giving up, he stubbornly carried the log for an entire circuit.
When he finished, he slammed the heavy log onto the ground. He collapsed, gasping for air, his sweat having completely soaked him through.
"Duncan!"
"Duncan!"
"Duncan!"
"..."
The commoners were truly impressed, continuously shouting his name: Duncan.
Joffrey's eyes lit up, thinking to himself: 'Good heavens, I've found a treasure!'
Joffrey Baratheon laughed and tossed the purse containing a thousand gold dragons to him. Although Duncan lay exhausted on the ground, his right hand suddenly shot up, catching the purse firmly.
Joffrey couldn't help but feel a desire to recruit such talent and asked the man, "Is your name Duncan?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Work for me from now on. You shall be my guard."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
...
"King's Landing is just the same as ever. I wonder if my old haunt is still open."
Tyrion Lannister sat in a carriage, swaying as it entered King's Landing. He poked his head out, eyeing the various taverns and brothels on the streets.
"What old haunt?"
A pair of fair hands reached out from inside the carriage and pulled Tyrion back in. Tyrion Lannister took the opportunity to slip his right hand into her bosom for warmth.
"The battlefield where I've fought for many years, of course."
Tyrion Lannister looked at the woman before him, his heart stirring.
This woman's name was Shae. She was a girl Bronn had found for him after the Battle of the Green Fork. Tyrion had fallen for Shae the moment he saw her and had been inseparable from her ever since.
In truth, the main reason was that he found in her the shadow of his first wife.
While he and Shae were being intimate inside the carriage, Tyrion suddenly heard someone shouting loudly outside. Why did the voice sound so much like his dear nephew, Joffrey Baratheon?
Puzzled, he poked his head out once more and looked toward the higher ground.
He saw a crowd of commoners gathered in front of The Great Sept of Baelor, and his nephew Joffrey was standing on the steps, calling for people to help him move a heavy log.
The mercenary Bronn, riding a tall horse beside the carriage, chuckled. "Tyrion, what is our King up to now?"
Tyrion tilted his head and said, "A promise worth a thousand gold. I'm surprised he could think of it. Who could possibly carry such a massive log?"
Bronn's eyes gleamed as he looked at the purse in Joffrey's hand. He said regretfully, "A pity. Had I known, we should have brought that monster 'The Mountain' Gregor Clegane along."
"Do you think the Mountain, Gregor Clegane, could lift it with one hand?"
Tyrion spoke crossly. Seeing Bronn's money-grubbing look, he truly feared Bronn might suddenly scurry off to follow Joffrey.
"You reminded me, the Mountain's left arm still can't move freely, can it? Was that the work of our elegant and easygoing King?"
"Yes, my dear nephew was born with divine strength, just like my pig of a brother-in-law. Do you want to go and test him?"
Tyrion Lannister knew perfectly well that Joffrey was the seed of his own brother, Jaime Lannister, but he couldn't understand where Joffrey's divine strength came from.
Could it be that living in King's Landing for too long caused a genetic mutation?
"Better not. Your promise to let me live in a brothel hasn't been fulfilled yet. I'd rather die on a woman's belly."
Bronn gave a light laugh and shrugged; he was a man who lived carefully.
"Fine, fine. Stop the carriage by The Great Sept of Baelor. Let me see how my dear nephew governs the realm. Then you can leave me and head for your bed of roses."
"My little dwarf friend, you must believe that even if I'm working hard in a brothel, I will still love you, and you will be in my heart."
"Go, go, go! Don't disgust me!"
"Hahahahaha!"
...
Just as Tyrion Lannister stepped off the carriage intending to go and mock Joffrey, he saw a strong man hoist the log and walk away.
Tyrion froze instantly. Where did this monster come from? King's Landing is truly full of hidden talent!
Just then, he spotted a man in the crowd with a tall build, ornate armor, and hair that was half-white and half-red.
He seemed to remember this person was called Jaqen Hghar. Back when he was still in King's Landing, he had seen this man being taken to the black cells by the Gold Cloaks. Why had he been released now?
Mainly, this man's suit of armor was far too conspicuous among the crowd of commoners, piquing Tyrion Lannister's interest as he walked forward.
However, Tyrion also cherished his own life, so he specifically had several strongmen from the Mountain Clansmen accompany him.
At that moment, after the young man named Duncan finished his circuit with the log, a thunderous cheer erupted from the people of King's Landing.
They continuously shouted: "Duncan!"
"Are you Jaqen Hghar?" Tyrion Lannister asked as he pushed through the crowd to reach the man.
"Yes, Lord Tyrion. A man's current name is Jaqen Hghar." Jaqen Hghar answered Tyrion very candidly.
"You know me?"
Tyrion was somewhat surprised, not catching the oddity in the man's phrasing. For while Tyrion had seen Jaqen Hghar with his own eyes, Jaqen Hghar had never seen him.
"Short of stature, ugly of face, one eye black and one green—a man thinks the Seven Kingdoms could find few such people," Jaqen Hghar said.
"Were you arrested back then because your words offended someone?"
Tyrion Lannister's face fell, somewhat speechless. Although he knew what he looked like, it was another thing to have it pointed out. Fortunately, he was nearly used to the world's prejudice.
"A man was arrested on the charge of stealing a valuable item, but someone paid a man's ransom, so a man was released," Jaqen Hghar said.
"Then why haven't you left? I recall you aren't from King's Landing?"
"A man always pays his debts. Although that person paid some ransom, he still owes a man the final payment for some work. A man must go to him to collect the debt."
"Well said. We Lannisters also make a point of always paying our debts. I've come this time to collect a debt as well, though mine isn't about money. Speaking of which, people who owe debts are truly detestable."
Tyrion Lannister involuntarily thought of the Master of Coin, Petyr Baelish, 'Littlefinger.' He definitely had a score to settle with him.
"Who says otherwise?" Jaqen Hghar spread his hands, replying with great empathy.