The knights rested briefly in the Lannister mansion after a simple meal, preparing for their afternoon break. Sandor Clegane, known as the Hound, stood by the door, chewing on a sausage as a snack.
It was just past noon, and if all went well, they could leave the city before nightfall. Ever since entering King's Landing, the Hound's heart had been racing, wary of being discovered. He kept a vigilant eye on every servant, especially Lancel Lannister, who had emerged from Cersei's room earlier. To the Hound, Lancel was nothing more than a pet, a plaything! If it weren't for the fact that he was Ser Kevan's son, the Hound wouldn't have even acknowledged him.
Donnel had entered the bedroom and hadn't come out since. The Hound didn't dare barge in, so he instructed the maids to start packing their belongings. Growing increasingly anxious, he paced back and forth by the door until finally, the bedroom door opened. He rushed over.
"My lady, we must leave King's Landing at once!"
Cersei, now fully dressed, was chatting and laughing with Donnel, who followed closely behind her. She was visibly annoyed by the Hound's interruption and gave him a mocking smile. "Are you giving me orders now?"
"No, but staying in King's Landing is dangerous!" the Hound insisted. If it weren't for Tywin, he wouldn't have bothered dealing with her at all.
"If you're not giving orders, then step aside!" Cersei snapped, leading Donnel toward the balcony.
"Move!" Donnel deliberately brushed past the Hound, giving him a disdainful look.
At that moment, a dark thought crossed the Hound's mind: "If they're discovered, you'll be dead anyway. Why not just draw your sword and end them both? It'd be a quicker way out!"
Fortunately, the Hound's resolve held firm, and he pushed the thought aside. He hurried after them. "My lady, you have no friends here, no business to attend to. Why stay?"
"I'll stay wherever I please! Who dares to stop me?" Cersei retorted, her tone full of defiance.
It was all Varys' fault, and that fat oaf Robert's fault! The Red Keep should have been hers, the entire city should have been hers! Years ago, she had been driven out of King's Landing like a dog, forced into a fake death by her father Tywin. Now, with the king away, even the family's loyal hound was too scared to stay in the city?
"Coward!" she spat.
The Hound seethed internally. "The ones who should be worried about losing their heads aren't, while I'm running around like a fool!" He decided he'd had enough and turned to leave, determined to find a tavern and drown his frustrations in drink.
On the mansion's second-floor balcony, Cersei pointed to the Red Keep and the streets below, reminiscing with Donnel about her past glories.
"So, is the High Septon who presided over your wedding still alive?" Donnel asked.
"How should I know? I heard he's so fat he needs to be carried around now," Cersei replied. She suddenly remembered that her son would soon be fourteen, almost of marriageable age, and her mood lifted. "You'll be getting married soon too. Is there anyone you like?"
At the mention of women, Donnel's face twisted in disgust. "What's so great about women? They can't even keep up on a hunt!"
"You'll need to marry and have children. If there's no one you like, I'll find a suitable match for you," Cersei said, already considering which noble family had a daughter of the right age.
"What's so good about marriage? I'd rather train with Jaime than get married!" Donnel shot back. The memory of Jaime's wife, who had starved to death, still haunted him. The image of the woman who had cared for him for years, her agonized wails in her final days, flashed through his mind.
Cersei suddenly asked, "Do you not like women?"
Donnel answered firmly, "I don't like women!"
"Do you like men, then?" Cersei asked, a hint of concern in her voice. She had heard such people existed, though she didn't know any personally.
Donnel was shocked by her question. "How could I like men? I just don't want to get married yet!"
Her son didn't like women, nor did he like men! Cersei fell silent, studying Donnel closely. He was already as tall as she was, with golden hair and a face strikingly similar to Jaime's. She cupped his face in her hands and noticed that, despite being fourteen, he only had a few wispy strands of facial hair.
"Ah, I see now," Cersei said, finally understanding. She dropped the subject and moved on to other topics as they continued their conversation on the balcony.
Unbeknownst to the two on the balcony or the Hound, who had left to drink, three factions had already taken notice of them the moment they entered the mansion.
If they had been commoners or merchants entering the city, they might have gone unnoticed. But this was the mansion district. The Lannister mansion was officially owned by a merchant from the Westerlands, but for those in power, uncovering the true owner of the estate wasn't difficult.
Outside, a group of neatly dressed children playing in the street were Varys' little birds. Varys had taken in the poorest orphans, but there were still many children from struggling families or those born in brothels who had a place to call home. With a few coins, they could be persuaded to pass along information, and with Varys' methods, controlling these children was easy.
Several young men were chatting on the street corner. They wore tight-fitting pants, cheap longswords hung from their belts, and some had gilded chains around their necks. They were bouncers from entertainment venues or did work collecting loans for banks, gathering in twos and threes throughout the city, their eyes constantly scanning the bodies of passing women and the pockets of merchants.
Some of these shrewd individuals had business dealings with Stannis's casino, and naturally, they also had connections with Andrew Estermont, the head of intelligence in Tyrosh.
The third force was the Gold Cloaks in the city. Robert, in collaboration with Wright, conducted a major purge of orphans and criminals in King's Landing. Serious offenders were sent to guard the Wall, and minor offenders were sent to Tyrosh to serve in the navy.
Now that the city was too peaceful, the Gold Cloaks, having nothing better to do, deliberately stirred up trouble. Their favorite activity was sharing jokes about the adulterous affairs of the city's nobles, so many Gold Cloaks liked to wander around the mansion districts, calling it patrol.
---
King Robert's touring party stopped at Cider Hall in the Reach, the seat of House Fossoway.
The old Lord was bedridden and unable to move freely. Ser Edwyd Fossoway and his brother Bryen Fossoway were now managing the family affairs.
After the entourage had set up camp, Robert arrived at the castle gate and noticed that several people were missing from the welcoming line.
Robert greeted them with a hearty laugh and asked, "Where is your sister Leonette? Why don't I see her?"
Ser Edwyd smiled, but felt a pang of fear, "My sister has gone to meet her betrothed."
"Betrothed? I heard Leonette Fossoway is one of the rare beauties in the Reach, pursued by countless young men, yet she paid them no heed. When did she get engaged?" Robert's information network was quite extensive.
Ser Edwyd quickly explained, "Two weeks ago, I went to Highgarden on behalf of my father and arranged my sister Leonette's betrothal to Garlan Tyrell with Lady Olenna. Lord Mace also sent a letter agreeing to the match."
Robert turned to look questioningly at Lord Mace, who was sweating profusely.
After asking about the details, Lord Mace said to Robert, "Yes, I did send a letter back when we were in the Vale of Arryn two weeks ago."
"Then why didn't you tell me about it?" Robert was embarrassed at his failed attempt to find a woman and wanted to change the subject.
Mace wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. "Garlan is my second son. His marriage isn't a major affair, so I didn't mention it to Your Grace."
"Well, let's forget about it. It's not easy for us to meet, let's have a drink first!" Robert invited everyone into the castle, planning to start with a feast.
Bryen watched the King enter the banquet hall with his brother and whispered to Lord Mace, "Lord Mace, the King's hair?"
He then touched the hair above his own ear.
"The King is not young anymore, and he may have been under a lot of stress lately, so he's started to lose hair." Lord Mace touched his own bald head, recalling that he had started losing his hair in his thirties.
"It seems I need to be careful too." Bryen smiled and beckoned Mace to enter, but he still thought the King's hair loss looked unnatural. The King had deliberately grown his hair long to cover it up, but it didn't work. The hair above his ears looked like it had been gnawed by a dog, with patches missing here and there.
Meanwhile, his sister Leonette Fossoway, having been betrothed to Garlan Tyrell, had indeed been sent away and was now passing through the Stormlands on her way to the Stepstones.
King Robert's tour took him through his old home of the Stormlands, accompanied by a large entourage of state officials and attendants. However, he was not known to have handled any state affairs along the way, with the Small Council ministers taking care of everything. The King's most notable achievements were his numerous sexual conquests.
As Robert's scandalous behavior spread, the people of the Reach were not as enthusiastic about him as those in the Stormlands. To them, if the King sought one woman, she would be Queen. If he sought a few, they would be mistresses. If he sought more, they would be women of ill repute. Moreover, the news of Robert's many bastards had spread, making it clear that any daughter of theirs who followed Robert would have no status whatsoever.
Therefore, before Robert finished his tour of the Stormlands and entered the Reach, many nobles began to arrange marriages for their children, not wanting their daughters to fall into Robert's hands. The King's arrival triggered a flurry of marriage alliances among the Reach nobles.
A week later, the King's party entered Highgarden, where Robert planned to stay for at least a month.
Andrew Estermont, aboard a fast ship, bypassed the southern Dornish coast, sailed up the Mander River, and arrived at Highgarden to meet Robert.
The castle of Highgarden was filled with green plants and blooming flowers, and Andrew planned to take his time to admire it after finishing his business. As the Kingsguard led him towards the King's bedchamber, the meticulous Andrew noticed that the closer they got to the bedchamber, the more guards there were. It was normal for the King to have many guards, but their expressions were unusual. Had something happened to Robert?
Andrew became worried and shifted the wooden box in his hand to his left hand. His right thumb casually rested on his belt, positioning his hand close to the sword hilt, ready to draw his sword at any moment.
Absolutely! Here's the translation to English, incorporating the name changes as requested:
"Your Majesty, Lord Andrew Estermont has arrived."
"Let him in!" It was Robert's voice, sounding robust but a little hoarse. He seemed fine. Andrew nodded to the Kingsguard and pushed open the bedroom door.
The luxurious bedroom was filled with the scent of incense, a product unique to Highgarden made from processed dried flowers. Andrew had smelled this before; it was non-toxic. He carefully examined every detail of the bedroom.
In the center of the bedroom was a large screen, with several chairs placed in front of it. It was clear that the King wasn't seeing people directly, sometimes communicating through the screen.
"Your Majesty?" Andrew asked softly.
"I'm back here. Speak quickly if you have something important!" Robert's voice came from behind the screen, accompanied by the sound of other people's footsteps.
The King was still quite playful, enjoying this semi-public style.
Estermont smiled, his eyes narrowing, imagining some indescribable scenes. However, he immediately composed himself. "Your Majesty, Lord Wright sent me to deliver a confidential letter! The letter is in the box in my hand. How should I give it to you?"
Robert didn't appear. Instead, someone came from behind the screen to take the item.
"Grand Maester Pycelle!" Estermont was surprised to see who it was. If Robert was hiding behind the screen and not seeing people, and he was surrounded by a Grand Maester instead of women, something was definitely wrong. "Is Robert ill?"
"I'm fine! Just give the item to Pycelle!" Robert shouted again.
Robert was definitely up to something! Estermont didn't give the box to the Grand Maester. Instead, he began to wail loudly, "Cousin! King! You are the pillar of us Stormlanders. If anything happens to you, Lord Wright will tear my head off!"
Robert, behind the screen, was furious. "Estermont, shut your damn mouth!"
Grand Maester Pycelle also said, "His Majesty is only a little unwell, but his spirits are excellent, and he can eat and sleep."
"Impossible! Do you think I don't know my cousin's personality? Either let me in to see him, or I'll return to Tyrosh immediately and bring Lord Wright here!" As relatives, Estermont had to use this to determine what was really happening to Robert.
Robert sighed, resigned. "Grand Maester Pycelle, let him in."
Andrew went around the screen and saw Robert, who was sitting on a wooden stool, wearing only loose shorts, bare-chested, and gazing out the window.
Robert's fat arms, legs, back, and chest were covered with scars, left from his youthful training and battles, proving that he had once been a powerful warrior.
Besides these scars, his skin was covered with pustules. Some were newly formed, while others had burst and dried, leaving rough, small, round scars. There were also other red spots of varying sizes, some flat, some slightly raised, scattered all over his body.
Several assistant maesters were using thin needles to prick Robert's pustules, then cleaning them with water and white cloth. A maester from the Citadel was sitting nearby, healing the pricked wounds.
After a round of treatment, Robert, except for the red spots and a slightly hoarse voice, looked fine when he put on a high-necked shirt.
"Are you really ill? Have you seen a healer?" As long as he wasn't dead, Andrew had thought Robert might be missing limbs.
"There was a child of the forest from Highgarden who came to cast healing spells, but they didn't work. The healing maesters from the Citadel have clearly stated that magic can only alleviate the King's pain, not cure the disease." Grand Maester Pycelle held the necklace of disease resistance that Wright had given to the King. The maesters had confirmed it was a real magical item, and the child of the forest had said the necklace could resist ordinary diseases. However, the King often found it cumbersome and didn't wear it, so he contracted the disease.
Andrew asked Robert, "Is this disease serious?"
"Just a minor illness. Who hasn't had boils when they were young? Besides these things on my body, I'm in great spirits! Give me Wright's item!" Robert held out his hand, and Andrew handed him the wooden box.
Andrew looked at Grand Maester Pycelle, feeling that he hadn't told the King the truth about his condition.
Grand Maester Pycelle met Andrew's eyes and made a gesture, indicating that they would talk outside.
"Send for Varys!" Robert folded the letter and placed it on the table.
Soon, Varys, smelling of perfume, entered the bedroom. Andrew looked at this fat man who did the same job as him, his face always full of smiles.
But Andrew sensed a hint of ruthlessness in his eyes now, because Varys had a pendant on his chest, which, even though hidden under his clothes, could be seen in the outline as a human finger bone. This should be the finger bone of someone he was close to or hated. According to his information, this finger bone was most likely from his dead friend.