"Captain Vylar," Tyrion called out, "By tomorrow, take these heads down and hand them over to the Silent Sisters for cleansing." Although re-matching heads with bodies was difficult, it still had to be done. Even in wartime, some rules had to be observed.
"This is the bottom line of the era. Nobles can lose the game, but they should avoid being arbitrarily humiliated, otherwise the game will become even bloodier. Moreover, many of them are innocent, merely servants and guards of House Stark. We don't need so many heads to intimidate the world. The Wolf Pack of the North is also marching south, and my task is to defend the city, not to let little Joff play around," Tyrion thought.
In the past, traitors were also nailed to The Red Keep, but only the ringleaders were killed. Joff's method of hanging a large group of people on the city walls would only make people think of tyrants like the Mad King or Maegor.
But Captain Vylar looked troubled. Vylar led a company of one hundred Red Cloaks Lannister guards personally sent to King's Landing by Lord Tywin, responsible for protecting Queen Mother Cersei and her children. Although The Imp commanded him, Vylar was actually very hesitant.
"His Majesty said to hang the heads of the traitors on the city walls until the last four empty spears also have heads on them," Vylar said.
"Let me guess, one is the blacksmith Gendry, one is Robb Stark, and the other two are Stannis and Renly, right?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Vylar, my nephew is only thirteen years old this year, please remember that firmly. Tomorrow I want these heads taken down, otherwise one of those empty spears will have something to hang. Do you understand what I mean, Captain?"
"Yes, my Lord, I will supervise it personally."
"Very good." Tyrion squeezed his legs, spurred his horse forward, and let the Red Cloaks guards behind him follow.
Tyrion rode into the streets of King's Landing. Before meeting Shae, he could truly see the city's appearance, which indeed reeked of war.
By the weaving street, Tyrion saw a naked corpse being torn apart by wild dogs. In the marketplace, people selling their possessions made it impossible to move; these people were in rags, and no one wanted their broken belongings. There were few farmers' stalls, and the few that existed had prices three times higher than before. When he reached Flour Street, Tyrion saw guards standing at every shop door.
However, Gold Cloaks were also everywhere, which somewhat reassured Tyrion. The order in King's Landing was still stable.
"The Gold Cloaks have tripled in size; I wonder how many ghost salaries that Toad has taken." Gold Cloaks guards, in pairs, wearing black ring mail, patrolled the streets and alleys, their iron clubs never leaving their hands.
Tyrion even saw vendors selling roasted rats; the famine had changed everything. Tyrion couldn't help but marvel at these people's business acumen.
"Could it be that no grain is being transported into the city?" Tyrion asked Vylar. A food crisis was no small matter, and Tyrion was very afraid that if the people of King's Landing starved, they would hate the King. Then what was the point of King's Landing, to feed hundreds of thousands of hungry mouths?
"Pathetically little. Both main roads to the west and south are blocked," Captain Vylar admitted. "You know the Riverlands are at war, and The Reach to the south seems to be tied up by Renly, or Lord Tyrell is observing the bigger picture and not keen on supplying us with grain."
"I need to find a way to manage all these mouths to feed." Tyrion felt a heavy weight in his heart. Food, intelligence, finance, military strength, and heirs—each of these five matters was crucial, but he needed to tackle them one by one.
Tyrion didn't know if his older sister was troubled by these things, but he certainly was. The master of whisperers Varys, the master of coin Littlefinger, and the commander of the gold cloaks Janos—these three were of paramount importance.
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