Chapter 169: The End or the Beginning
"Ser Barristan." Egger, having shared a moonlit conversation with the White Knight in the past, took the initiative to greet him.
Ned also nodded to the newcomer. "Barristan, is everything settled?"
Yesterday, upon receiving news that Cersei was plotting treason, Ned and Robert were forced to move against House Lannister ahead of schedule". This was a matter of gravest importance. Unable to determine which way the high officials and nobles living in the Red Keep might lean, Ned chose the most direct and effective method to eliminate any hidden threats: before dawn, he sent men to restrict the movements of all residents and their servants within the Red Keep, ordering them not to leave their rooms today.
Once this chaotic day passed and everything was settled, those found innocent would regain their freedom; those labeled as Lannister loyalists or found colluding with them would face immediate arrest or dismissal. The Seven Kingdoms could not afford instability; this strike against the Queen's family had to be a clean, swift cut.
The man executing this task was Barristan Selmy, using Stormlands soldiers requisitioned in the King's name. This not only prevented the Queen's potential lackeys from assisting her in revolt or escape but also forestalled any move by Renly Baratheon, the King's brother, who might eye the Iron Throne amidst the chaos. It was a move that killed many birds with one stone.
"It is done." Barristan approached Ned, whispering with concern. "But Robert would not listen to my counsel. He insisted on confronting the Queen personally to give her a chance to confess her crimes before we acted. He had already departed by the time I finished the tasks you assigned. By now, I imagine they are raising hell in Prince Joffrey's chambers."
"Confess her crimes? I told him to wait until the City Watch entered the Red Keep! Is Robert playing the fool himself, or does he take everyone else for one?" Ned said irritably, his voice rising significantly. "Did he take men with him?"
"He took them all," Barristan replied. "Never mind that—what is happening here? When will the City Watch arrive?"
"As long as he took men, it's fine. The City Watch should be here soon." Let Robert have his way; as long as the Gold Cloaks marched into the Red Keep, the situation would be secure. Ned gestured toward the cage on the wagon. "Look, Mormont has sent me something... interesting."
As the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard turned his gaze toward the wagon, a cold sweat suddenly broke out across Egger's back: Jaqen H'ghar had been thrown into the black cells months ago precisely because Barristan had caught him red-handed in the Royal Library. How could he have been so careless as to bring a Faceless Man into the Red Keep and let the two of them meet?
"A madman?" Barristan looked at the cage, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening. "What is interesting about this?"
"Look at this instead."
The Lord Commander turned his head again. Fortunately, Jaqen had already returned the severed hand to Ned's guard. Combined with his altered appearance and clothes, he went unnoticed among the group of black-clad brothers.
Barristan looked at the severed limb, then at the man in the cage, finally noticing the abnormality: the madman had one arm hacked off, yet no blood sprayed from the wound. He continued to lunge at the bars as if crazed, posturing to attack everyone. If that wasn't enough... the vigorous grasping of the severed hand was truly too eerie for words.
"What in the Seven Hells is this?" The old knight instinctively reached for his sword hilt.
"What it is doesn't matter," Ned said with a grim face. "What matters is that Mormont tells me there are thousands upon thousands of these things north of the Wall, and they are everywhere."
"This—" A look of shock flashed across Barristan's face. He understood immediately what this meant. As a Northman, this matter was likely as important to Ned as dealing with the Lannisters. "But my lord, the Wall will not fall if the Watchmen wait a little longer. We can finish what we are doing first before discussing how to handle this creature."
"I understand the priorities, of course. But my guards are all stationed at the Red Keep's gates. I am here alone without soldiers or commanders. If I go to Cersei now and that woman goes mad, wouldn't I be giving her the chance to take out both the King and the Hand in one go?" Ned shook his head, frowning. "Ser Alliser, Egger, whichever of you... tell me more about the White Walkers. Aside from the different ways of killing them, how do they differ from wights?"
On this subject, Egger finally had the floor. He stepped forward and began to explain the difference between the Great Other's elite subordinates and their cannon fodder.
Barristan stood there for a few seconds, realizing Ned was right to wait for the City Watch for safety. However, as the Lord Commander, he should be with the King; that was his duty. Having worked out the logic, he turned and headed toward Maegor's Holdfast.
At that moment, the rhythmic sound of soldiers jogging finally echoed from the main gate. A moment later, Jory Cassel appeared. The newly appointed acting Commander of the City Watch wore a gold cloak to help his unfamiliar subordinates identify him. He led a large contingent of Gold Cloaks, breathless, toward Ned. A sea of dark gold halted before the Hand. "My lord, as you ordered, I have brought most of the soldiers from the Iron Gate, Aegon's High Hill, and the River Gate. Including myself, there are three hundred and forty-six men."
The captains of the three divisions stepped forward. "Lord Eddard, the City Watch awaits your command!"
"Good, you've come at the right time." It was actually much slower than Ned had hoped, but it wasn't the fault of the men before him. Had it not been for Janos Slynt's treachery last night, the Watch wouldn't have been delayed so much. He had originally planned to deal with Slynt after House Lannister was settled... looking back, that was a grave error. He would settle the score with that fool Slynt later. "Friends of the Watch, please wait here for a moment. I must handle some other business first."
Seeing this display, the members of the wight escort—unaware of the true situation—thought Ned was staging a coup. They didn't dare object and simply nodded, watching the Hand lead the massive force toward Maegor's Holdfast at the heart of the Red Keep.
At the last moment when his sword snapped, Jaime had leaned back to dodge the direct impact of the warhammer. Finally, with nowhere left to retreat, he slumped to the ground, his back against the wall.
If this were a tourney ground, he could have dodged left or right or rolled away to find another weapon. But in this room, facing Robert—fully armored and wielding a long hammer—the battle was over.
(I lost. Lost because I was distracted in a life-or-death struggle where I should have been focused. Lost because I thought of capturing him alive while facing a man no weaker than myself... Perhaps, deep down, I lost to that pointless sense of honor. Facing the one I swore to protect, I could never exert my full strength.)
"Heh... Kingslayer, it seems your sword has more honor than you. It knew it was fighting the King it was sworn to protect." Robert panted heavily, the battle having exhausted his own stamina completely. With a cruel, triumphant grin, he approached Jaime step by step. "You didn't give your all, but a trial is a trial. There are no second chances. Now, I, Robert of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, hereby sentence you to—death!"
Robert was smiling, but his teeth were still clenched in fury. Having delivered the sentence, he slowly raised his warhammer, intending to deliver the final blow.
Though his body had not yet sustained a fatal wound, Jaime—with only half a sword in his hand and his back against the wall—had nowhere to run and no desire to struggle further. He closed his eyes.
"No—"
"Your Grace, look out!"
Accompanied by Cersei's scream and the cries of the two Kingsguard, along with the sound of breaking pottery, the fatal blow failed to descend. Instead, Robert let out an annoyed grunt. Jaime reopened his eyes to find his executioner had turned around. The armor on the King's back was soaked, and the floor was covered in liquid and shards—at the final moment, Cersei had smashed a water pitcher against Robert.
Droplets splashed onto the Kingslayer's face, and he suddenly snapped out of it. What am I doing? Closing my eyes to wait for death? Is this what Jaime Lannister does?
Jaime felt as if he had just woken from a dream, the conscious mind suppressing the murmurs in his soul. Recalling the entire fight, he felt as if he had been possessed, muddled and entranced. He hadn't been entirely himself; some mysterious force had interfered with his judgment and behavior, forcing him into unnecessary thoughts and nonsensical tactics...
The feeling was familiar. Months ago in Winterfell, when he was with Cersei in the old tower and startled the Stark boy into falling, he had briefly experienced this trance-like state before the incident. That time, the state nearly exposed his affair; this time, it nearly cost him his life!
There was no time to ponder what had just happened. Robert had already turned back, his left hand seizing Cersei—who had somehow produced a pair of scissors—by the throat. He exerted his strength, lifting her off the ground by her neck. "You woman, you truly seek death! I, in the name of the King, hereby strip you of your title as Queen and sentence you to death!"
(Robert, you fool, couldn't you have killed me first before dealing with Cersei?) Moments ago, Jaime was ready to accept the King's judgment, but he simply could not watch someone harm the woman he loved. No longer caring how this would end, he threw away the broken sword, drew the dagger at his waist, and ignoring the aching pain, sprang from the corner to lunge at Robert.
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