Chapter 160: Legends Take the Stage
Dawn was fast approaching.
Both inside and outside the city, those who had risen early to pass through the gates—either to enter or leave King's Landing—began to congregate. Because the bustling Blackwater docks lay just on the other side of the wall, the River Gate ranked first among the seven gates in terms of daily cargo volume and foot traffic. The capital of the Seven Kingdoms closed its gates after dark, but ships arriving at the mouth of the Blackwater after sunset would not wait until morning to dock. Over the course of the night, several more ships had moored in the harbor, unloading goods and passengers who now lined up before the River Gate in the early morning, ready to enter the city.
The eastern horizon first began to pale, diluting the crimson wash the red comet had painted across the sky. The comet's brightness was no match for the sun; the blood-red hue was suppressed without suspense. While the comet's core retained its original color, the surrounding sky bled out into a faint pink, like red dye dropped into a water butt. As the sun neared the horizon, that pink was quickly replaced by the magnificent colors of daybreak. Complemented by the comet, the clouds, and the surface of Blackwater Bay, the junction of sea and sky suddenly resembled a dyer's vat, revealing a myriad of wondrous shades: gold, red, purple, black, white, and blue.
The light shifted continuously, as if a dynamic magical play of light and shadow were being performed on the horizon. This act lasted until the true protagonist appeared—the sun leapt from beneath the sea. The brilliant lead finally set the tone, its radiant flames dispelling all stray colors and gilding everything it touched in gold. Its reflection on the waters of Blackwater Bay made it seem as though two suns were shining in the sky.
No one stopped to admire this magnificent scenery. Those in the harbor who had worked through the night were heading to bed, while those who had just woken up were starting their daily struggle for survival. The pressures of reality were so heavy that no one had time to marvel at a sunrise.
Outside the River Gate, the crowd seethed. A dense mass of people and wagons blocked the entrance entirely. Laborers waited to enter the city to work and feed their families, while merchants were anxious to get their wares inside to turn a profit. People grumbled with dissatisfaction, shouting and urging the gates to open.
The River Gate, which normally opened at first light, remained tightly shut even after the sun had risen. This caused the long queue to stretch further and further. The twenty or so Gold Cloaks stationed at the harbor outside the walls did their best to maintain order but could do little else—though they belonged to the River Gate garrison, they lacked the authority to open the gates from the outside. They, too, had to wait.
...
"Look at all these people," Dormy remarked. "But these southrons are lazy. The sun is up, and they still haven't opened the gates."
"It's so warm in King's Landing; it's not like the Wall where you're frozen awake every day. Maybe the gatekeepers are still tucked in their beds."
"Who needs a bed in this place? You wouldn't freeze sleeping in the street. Being a beggar here is more comfortable than being at the Wall."
"Stop the idle chatter. We are here on a mission; act like soldiers!" Alliser Thorne barked in a low voice. "Form a circle around the wagons. It's too crowded here; don't let anyone get near the cage!"
The crowd didn't need to be driven away; people instinctively kept their distance from this group of Night's Watchmen. This wight-escort team, a mix of Black Castle rangers and Eastwatch sailors, had only arrived in King's Landing the night before and hadn't secured summer clothing. At the moment, they were either bare-chested or draped in sweat-stained black wool brought from the Wall. Even the natural stench of King's Landing couldn't mask the scent they radiated... not to mention they were all armed and grim-faced, looking like men not to be trifled with.
"Ser, it looks like there's another group in black up ahead. More of them than us, too. I thought no one but the Watch wore that?"
Alliser Thorne knit his brows in irritation—were all the men from Eastwatch this talkative? "Maybe someone in their family died. Stay in line and stop asking questions like a highborn's page on his first trip to the city!"
"But I am a highborn's squire on my first trip to the city," Dormy argued with a grin. "Not like you, Ser. You defended King's Landing before joining the Watch. You've drunk every wine and had every girl."
"Shut your mouth. No one will take you for a mute if you stop talking!"
Though there was no direct chain of command, the Master-at-Arms of Castle Black held superior rank. His authority eventually carried weight, and the group of Watchmen fell silent, waiting quietly in line.
...
However, the group of others also wearing black ahead of them noticed them. After some whispering, a few of them pushed through the crowd and squeezed over to the wight-escort team.
Black met black. One group looked like a motley collection of peasants, swindlers, and thugs; the other appeared solemn, lean, and held themselves with an upright, military bearing. Ironically, the former were the true men of the Night's Watch defending the Wall, while the latter were merely the security force of the Logistics Department guarding grain and supplies—at least for now. Furthermore, a dwarf stood among them, accompanied by a Lannister guardsman in a red cloak. This bizarre meeting was truly beyond description.
"Ser Alliser Thorne, what are you doing here!" Tyrion Lannister's eyes widened in shock. "Did Commander Mormont send you to receive goods, or are you here to supervise Egger's work? And what is that you're hauling in the wagon?"
The Master-at-Arms looked down at the dwarf and gave a disdainful snort. "A wight. Lord Mormont commanded us to bring it to King's Landing to present to His Grace, to petition the Iron Throne for large-scale support for the Wall."
"A wight?" Tyrion curled his lip. "The Night's Watch industries have done everything possible to provide supplies; are you still not satisfied? To bring a thing out of Old Nan's stories to try and swindle us! King Robert loves his wine, it's true, but he's no fool."
Alliser stared down at the dwarf for a moment. He didn't look provoked or nervous at being "exposed" as Tyrion had expected. Instead, he jerked his head toward the rear. "Pull back the cloth. Let our Lannister 'giant' see for himself."
"Ser, it's easy to pull it off, but getting it back on isn't so simple."
"Stop talking and obey the order."
Tyrion, followed by a few of the fake Watchmen from the logistics security team, circled to the cargo at the back of the wagon, waiting with interest for them to uncover the contents. The covering was black and extremely thick—double-layered canvas by the look of it. Two Watchmen carefully untied the ropes and loosened the cover. Gripping the corners, they gave a sharp heave, revealing what lay beneath.
It was a cage. The wooden frame was reinforced with iron bars, and the gaps between the slats were minimal. Inside was a ragged figure chained to the floor of the cage, huddled motionless against the bars.
As if stimulated by the light, the person suddenly whipped its head around, lunged toward the side of the cage, and hissed, clawing toward Tyrion: "Hrrr-aaaah!"
...
Despite the safe distance, Tyrion scrambled back two paces before stopping. He was caught by his squire, Jakken, preventing him from falling flat on his back. His slightly deformed short legs trembled; without someone propping him up, he would have been unable to stand.
The surrounding crowd likewise surged back in a great wave, instantly creating a clear circle ten meters wide around the wight-escort team.
Alliser flashed a triumphant, mocking smile, while the other Watchmen around the cage chuckled softly. Tyrion admitted to himself that he had been startled, but he suppressed the annoyance of being publicly embarrassed. Standing straight, he rubbed his nose and scrutinized the creature in the cage: it was draped in tattered beast pelts, its hands were black, and its exposed skin was a ghostly pale, marked with large patches of rot and ulceration. It was indeed nothing like a normal human.
"Many things can cause such a condition. Greyscale, rabies, even various diseases of the mind. I am no maester, but to cart a sick man around in a cage to scare people into believing he's a legendary wight... I find it beneath you, Ser Alliser."
"Exactly! Don't drag a sick man around. What if he's contagious!"
"Give him the mercy, for pity's sake. Don't bring him out to terrify people."
"Mercy?" Alliser Thorne glanced at the seething crowd. With a shing, he drew his steel sword, sending the crowd back another step. "Let me show you what mercy looks like!"
The Master-at-Arms stepped to the cage. Staying just out of the wight's reach, and before the eyes of the multitude, he slowly drove the tip of his longsword into the center of the creature's chest until the point emerged from between its ribs at the back. Then he withdrew it and thrust again. He withdrew it and thrust a third time. He stabbed three times in total: left, center, and right.
At the first thrust, a woman's scream pierced the air. At the second, men's sighs and murmurs rose. After the third, everyone waiting at the River Gate turned their eyes toward the scene. That shabby, one-horse cart, rented in haste after disembarking, had become the most prominent stage at the entrance to King's Landing.
Alliser withdrew his sword and held it out to Tyrion. "Care to check if the steel is real?"
Tyrion frowned and shook his head, stepping away from the gleaming blade. He was speechless. Three sword wounds that would have been fatal to any man seemed to have no effect on the living thing in the cage. Throughout the ordeal, the wight hadn't bled a single drop, nor had it uttered a cry of pain. It merely shifted its attack from Tyrion to the closer Alliser, its black-purple claws reaching straight for the Watchman, missing him by a hair's breadth. It made one fear for his safety.
"North of the cold and terrible Wall, thousands of these things—even more horrific than this—threaten the people of the Seven Kingdoms. Yet in the warm and safe south, you dream of prosperity, convinced that wights and White Walkers are nothing but legends from Old Nan's stories!" If necessary, show the wight to the residents of King's Landing. That had been Mormont's instruction before they left. Alliser hadn't understood what "if necessary" meant. The Night's Watch was fighting the enemy of all mankind and had finally secured proof; why hide it? He held his gleaming officer's sword, not yet sheathing it, raising it as he announced to the crowd: "A cold wind is blowing, and Winter is Coming. We must hold the Wall, and for that, we need support!"
...
The locked River Gate provided the Master-at-Arms with hundreds of attentive spectators who had nowhere else to go. Aided by the wight's performance, he successfully became the focus of every eye for hundreds of yards around.
And on the other side of that wall, inside the gate, another drama—starring another officer of the Night's Watch—was finally coming to its conclusion.
Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/MistaQuartz
On Patreon, you can explore Extra Chapters in advance!