Creak!
The heavy gates were pushed open, and Galon led his troops into the city that reeked of rot and waste.
He did not head directly for the Red Keep. Instead, he reined in his horse on the street and issued a series of crisp commands.
"Lord Royce, take ten thousand Vale soldiers and secure all the entrances and exits of King's Landing.
Ser Waynwood, take the remaining Vale forces, strip every Golden Cloak, Lannister, and Tyrell soldier in the city of their arms and armor, and confine them where they stand.
Until King Gendry arrives, no one is permitted to enter or leave without authorization.
The entire city is under martial law!
Anyone who disobeys, regardless of who they are, is to be executed on the spot!"
Lord Royce and Ser Waynwood nodded in succession.
They jerked their reins, and amid the sharp whinnies of warhorses, countless Vale soldiers poured like a tidal wave toward every corner of King's Landing.
Galon turned his gaze toward Edmure and delivered his next order.
"Lord Edmure, take five thousand Riverlands men and seize control of all granaries, armories, the Alchemists' Guild Hall, the Iron Bank outpost, and any other vital points in the city.
Not even a mouse should be able to scurry out! Anyone who stands in your way is to be executed on the spot!"
Edmure nodded as well, promptly leading his Riverlands forces straight for the granaries and other strategic assets.
"Queen Asha, lead your allies from the Iron Islands and encamp at the Mud Gate.
Without my command, not a single sail sets out to sea. Anyone attempting to force their way through is to be executed on the spot!"
"As you command, my King-Protector," Asha said with a throaty laugh, immediately leading her Ironborn down the street toward the Mud Gate.
Once all this was arranged, Galon turned his head toward the visibly aged Tywin and the long-imprisoned Jaime standing beside him, speaking in a tone that brooked no argument.
"Lord Tywin, if you would be so kind as to lead me to the Red Keep."
Tywin watched Galon systematically take control of King's Landing, his expression deeply complex.
He bowed his head slightly. "As you wish, Lord Glover."
Tywin led the way.
Jaime followed behind his father with a heart like dead ashes, fully aware of the terms of surrender his father and Glover had reached.
Cersei... run... run away...
Whatever you do... do not stay in the Red Keep...
May the gods protect her...
Jaime felt immense fury and confusion over his father's decision to sacrifice Cersei and her children in exchange for the continuation of their house.
Yet given the dire circumstances, he was powerless. All he could do was silently pray to the gods to answer his desperate pleas.
Unfortunately, fate proved unmerciful.
When Galon led the Northern army into the Great Hall of the Red Keep, Cersei was stubbornly waiting before the Iron Throne, holding Joffrey and Tommen close.
"Cersei!" Jaime could not help calling out.
Cersei did not give him so much as a glance. Her eyes, burning with hatred, were fixed entirely on Galon, who was flanked by his men.
"Glover... you damned Wolfswood stray!"
"I should have killed you back in Winterfell!"
Galon paid no mind to her curses. His gaze swept across the hall.
Cersei stood on the steps before the Iron Throne, fiercely sheltering her children.
Joffrey sat upon the throne itself, his face pale with horror.
Tommen clutched at his mother's skirt, trembling all over.
The Imp, Tyrion, stood in front of Cersei, looking at his father and brother with conflicted eyes. His lips moved, but he could not utter a word.
Lady Olenna and the Little Rose, Margaery Tyrell, stood on the right side of the hall.
Their eyes met Galon's, filled with strange emotions and a fleeting spark of resentment.
Behind them stood twenty to thirty Tyrell guards.
Grand Maester Pycelle stood trembling on the left side, his head hung low so his face could not be seen.
Beside him were several members of Joffrey's small council, including the famous Red Viper, Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne.
As for Lord Varys, the Master of Whisperers, he was nowhere to be found.
"Grand Maester Pycelle!" Galon called out, scaring Pycelle so badly he jolted in place.
The old maester did not understand why Galon singled him out first.
Still, not daring to delay, he raised his head and replied in a quavering voice, "I... I am here, my lord. What are your commands?"
Galon got straight to the point. "Lord Stark's body and belongings—I assume you know where they are?"
Pycelle nodded hastily. "I... I know."
Galon immediately turned to Lord Rickard and instructed, "Take a few men and go with Grand Maester Pycelle to collect the Hand's remains and personal effects."
Lord Rickard nodded and shouted to Pycelle, "Lead the way, Maester!"
A wave of relief washed over Pycelle.
His trembling, frail body suddenly regained its vigor as he briskly guided Lord Rickard and his men out of the hall.
When Margaery saw that Galon's first order was neither to arrest the Lannisters nor to intimidate the crowd, but to recover the body of his liege lord, an innate sense of goodwill and admiration for him flickered in her heart.
However, she quickly realized she had assumed too much.
"Lady Olenna, please have your guards lay down their weapons," Galon said, shifting his gaze away from Margaery and locking it onto Lady Olenna.
"Hmph! What, is the grand King-Protector afraid of my handful of guards?" Lady Olenna countered, her tone sharp and mocking as she thought of her grandson's death.
"My lady, I will say this once more: order your men to disarm."
"This is not a negotiation. It is a command."
Galon's expression was cold and unyielding.
'The Queen of Thorns is no easy adversary,' he thought to himself.
'If I want to squeeze substantial concessions from her, I must press her down first.'
He watched her furious face as his mind worked rapidly.
Winter was here, and the long, freezing months would sweep across the North for years, perhaps even decades.
For a very long time, the North would reap no grain from its fields. On top of that, the wildlings and the Others were right at their doorstep.
With the great war looming, an immense quantity of food would be needed to sustain them.
If Galon wanted the North to survive, he had to secure supplies elsewhere. The South, rich and abundant in grain, was the absolute best choice.
Although the Tyrells had suffered a setback, their core strength remained largely intact.
Extracting a massive food supply from Lady Olenna required a firm hand and clever tactics.
'I need to put pressure on her, but I must not push her to the brink,' Galon reasoned.
'My objective is to use this opportunity to extort enough grain to see us through the coming winter.'
'If we tear down all diplomacy completely, it will ruin everything.'
To gain the upper hand in the upcoming negotiations, he held Lady Olenna in a sharp, piercing stare, forcing her to bow her head in submission.
Lady Olenna trembled with rage at Galon's disrespect.
Having commanded the South for so many years, she had never suffered such humiliation.
Yet the reality of the situation left her no choice.
She glared fiercely at Galon and snapped, "What are you all waiting for? Throw down your weapons!"
Clatter!
The Tyrell guards tossed their weapons onto the floor.
Galon commanded, "Escort Lady Olenna, Lady Margaery, and Prince Martell back to their quarters to rest."
"Without my express permission, no one is to meet with outside guests!"
The expressions of those named changed instantly.
Prince Oberyn took a step forward, letting out a cold laugh. "Glover, are you placing me under house arrest?"
Galon remained impassive.
"No. Merely taking a few small precautions before King Gendry arrives in King's Landing.
You need not worry, Prince Oberyn. His Grace will arrive in a few days.
I swear in my capacity as The Hand that once he arrives, you will have your freedom."
Hearing this, Oberyn's expression softened slightly. He let out a cold grunt and strode out of the hall.
Seeing this, Lady Olenna suppressed her fury and left together with Margaery.
Before departing, Margaery offered a slight, perfectly timed smile, nodding to Galon with refined grace.
Galon gave a subtle nod in response before turning his eyes back to the Lannisters.
After a brief pause, he instructed, "Escort Lord Tywin, Ser Jaime, and Lord Tyrion back to their chambers and see that they are properly cared for."
"No harsh treatment!"
He paused, then fixed his eyes on Cersei. "Lock up Cersei Lannister. Cast Joffrey and Tommen into the dungeons to await the King's judgment!"
As the words left his mouth, several fierce Northern soldiers lunged forward, dragging Joffrey down from the Iron Throne along with Tommen.
Tommen burst into tears on the spot.
Joffrey was utterly terrified, trembling as he screamed in a complete breakdown, "I am the King! Whoever touches me, I will have you all killed!"
"Get off me!"
"Get your hands off my children!"
"Jaime, what are you standing there for?! Kill this Wolfswood dog!"
Cersei shrieked, desperately trying to protect her sons, but the Northern soldiers dragged her away without mercy.
Jaime's eyes turned red, and he subconsciously made to rush forward, only for Tywin to hold him down with a iron grip.
"Father..."
"Silence! For the family!" Tywin warned him with a icy stare, telling him not to make a foolish move.
Now that the choice was made, they had to walk the path to the very end.
Soon, the entire Lannister party was escorted out of the Great Hall.
As the wailing faded into the distance, Galon gazed at the Iron Throne standing before him.
His heart burned with ambition as he walked up the steps, one deliberate stride at a time.
Finally, he turned and sat upon the Iron Throne, issuing his decrees with supreme authority.
"In the name of Gendry of House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Vandals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm,
I, Galon Glover, as his Hand of the King, hereby declare:
From this moment forth, no one may enter or leave the Red Keep without my written seal!
Arrest all suspicious persons and search every corner for the Master of Whisperers, Lord Varys!"
Following Galon's rapid series of commands, the remaining Northern lords led their men to purge the entirety of the Red Keep.
Wails of agony echoed throughout the castle, matched by similar scenes across the city of King's Landing.
Galon was well aware of the reckless, volatile nature of the populace of King's Landing.
With nightfall approaching, he instituted the strictest curfew policies to prevent any break of order.
For a time, the foul stench that had always hung over King's Landing was swallowed up by the heavy scent of blood.
Under this tense atmosphere, Varys, who had kept out of sight all this time, quietly appeared at the Tower of the Hand.
"Lord Varys, the Hand requests your presence," said Ron, who had been waiting for a long time.
He examined the round, bald man with curiosity before inviting him inside.
Varys agreed with a polite smile.
The two walked together and soon arrived at the meeting room within the Tower of the Hand.
"Lord Hand, Lord Varys has arrived," Ron reported respectfully after knocking on the door.
"Come in."
Upon hearing Galon's response, Ron pushed the door open and gestured for Varys to enter.
Varys stepped lightly into the room.
Though he was as familiar with the meeting room in the Tower of the Hand as he was with his own pockets, a subtle sensation washed over him when he saw Galon bent over the desk, writing busily with a quill.
It felt as though the man sitting there was the true master of the kingdom.
"Lord Hand," Varys said, suppressing his internal unease and bowing respectfully.
"Ah, Lord Varys, please have a seat." Galon did not raise his head, continuing to mark official documents with his quill.
"I still have a few matters to handle. Give me a moment."
Varys said nothing more.
He walked over to a nearby chair and sat down, listening to the soft rustle of the feather pen while contemplating their upcoming conversation.
To be frank, Varys remained bewildered even now. The situation had developed far beyond his expectations.
The Lannisters, who had clearly held the upper hand, were wiped out in an instant due to a single flood.
He had assumed the Lion could convince the Rose, allowing them to hold King's Landing for a few months and giving him time to send word to Aegon.
Yet he never expected that the proud, unyielding Lion would be the very first to bow his head.
Left with no choice, Varys had temporarily gone into hiding to think of a countermeasure.
However, the Lord Hand before him seemed to know his methods inside out, even sending men to locate a few of his little birds.
Faced with Lord Glover's invitation, Varys had no choice but to come.
"Forgive the wait, Lord Varys."
Galon set down his quill, stood up, and poured two glasses of wine for Varys and himself.
"I thought you would appear in the Great Hall, Lord Varys.
I intended to thank you on behalf of the King for helping to conceal his whereabouts for so long."
"Yet it seems you had other intentions, my lord," Galon said, walking over to Varys with the glass in hand, his words loaded with meaning.
"Then you have truly misunderstood me, Lord Hand."
"I was attending to certain matters for the Queen Regent... ah, no, for the Lannisters, which was why I could not appear in time," Varys replied with his customary smile as he stood up and took the offered glass.
"As for helping Gendry, I served King Robert for more than a decade and harbored deep affection for him.
Naturally, I did not wish to see his son murdered."
His face showed no surprise, as if he had long anticipated that Galon would know of his secret aid to Gendry.
"Heh, I doubt that is all," Galon chuckled. But his very next words shattered Varys's composure entirely.
"The effort you put into delivering Gendry to the blacksmith Tobho Mott was not merely to repay King Robert, but to repay the Targaryens, was it not?"
"I hear you have done quite a lot for that Targaryen boy named Aegon..."
Clatter!
The smile on Varys's face froze completely.
The glass in his hand slipped, dropping onto the carpet and splashing wine across his shoes.
Yet he had no time to care about that. His half-squinted eyes snapped wide open, staring fixedly at Galon.
This was his deepest, most guarded secret.
Apart from his old acquaintances in Essos, no one in the Seven Kingdoms should have known about this.
How did this Northerner know?
Varys's mind raced as he asked tentatively, "Lord Hand... that joke is... far too shocking."
"Aegon... that poor child died long ago."
"The only remaining Targaryen survivor is..."
Galon, acting as if he had missed Varys's intense shock, casually picked up where he left off.
"Daenerys Targaryen. I believe she goes by the title Mother of Dragons now, does she not?"
He bent down to pick up the fallen glass from the floor.
In that brief moment when Galon leaned over, a flash of murderous intent surfaced in Varys's eyes.
He realized that the man in front of him knew far more than he could have ever imagined.
Yet just as Varys considered drawing a concealed weapon from his sleeve, he remembered Galon's terrifying martial prowess, instantly extinguishing any thought of assassination.
"Do not be nervous, Lord Varys."
"You have your little birds, and I have my own eyes and ears," Galon said as he straightened up, acting entirely unaware of Varys's momentary slip.
"How... how much do you know?" Varys's voice turned low and dangerous.
"More than you think," Galon said calmly. "Jon Connington raised the boy. Right now, he should be hiding within the Golden Company, planning to go to Meereen to find his aunt, correct?"
Varys's expression shifted repeatedly. He remained silent for a long moment, his eyes darting back and forth.
He was weighing his options and trying to figure out who could have possibly leaked such deep secrets to Glover.
Who could have told him? Varys wondered.
Even Daenerys herself does not know these secrets. Where did this Wolfswood lord get this information?
Wolfswood... Glover... Bear Island... Mormont?
Jorah Mormont?!
A strange light flashed in Varys's eyes as he recalled that Jorah Mormont's first wife hailed from House Glover.
Could Jorah Mormont be Glover's spy?
Not just Mormont—he must have other intelligence sources in Essos...
Varys looked at Galon with a mix of alarm and uncertainty. After a moment's hesitation, he probed once more.
"Since Mormont told you everything, why haven't you killed me?"
Galon's response once again caught him completely off guard.
"Because I need you!"
Galon looked him dead in the eye. "I have marched all the way from the North, and I have seen far too much chaos along the road. This kingdom is weeping!"
He let out a deliberate sigh.
"Lord Varys, I understand you. I know that in your heart, you care for this realm and its people.
So do I!
We are both men who have witnessed blood and chaos firsthand, which is precisely why we long for peace and order."
Noticing the flicker of movement in Varys's expression, Galon continued:
"This country has suffered enough agony. It is time for stability.
You were the one who sent Gendry to Tobho Mott.
He has lived right under your nose for years, so you should understand his nature better than anyone.
Lord Varys, I brought you here today to make a deal with you!"
Varys was startled. "What kind of deal?"
"Three years!" Galon held up three fingers and said solemnly. "Fully assist King Gendry for three years!"
"If he proves to be the king we need and brings peace and prosperity to the realm, you will forget about this Aegon!
If, after three years, he turns out to be no better than Joffrey, I will no longer stand in your way. In fact, I will even assist you!"
"What do you say?"
Varys was shaken to his core. He stared at Glover in absolute disbelief, never expecting the deal to be anything like this.
"Lord Hand... you... you trust me this much? Are you not afraid that I will break my word, or reveal this to King Gendry?"
Galon broke into a sudden laugh, looking down on the world with supreme confidence.
"Not to look down on your conspirators, but that ragtag group you gathered could be crushed with a flick of my wrist!
Besides, even if you told His Grace, do you think he would believe you or believe me?"
Varys was left completely speechless.
Three years? Varys thought.
If Glover keeps his promise, having his and the North's backing in three years would make young Aegon's restoration far easier.
After all, Glover's capabilities are simply formidable!
Finally, Varys looked deeply at Galon and bowed with great reverence.
"If that is the case, I accept your terms, Lord Hand."
"For the next three years, my little birds will sing only for you and King Gendry!"
Galon offered a faint smile, thinking to himself, 'I have finally kept Varys in check. Next, I should send Tyrion to serve as my insider and seek out Daenerys!'
'Three years? Ha.'
'In a year or a year and a half at most, the White Walkers will invade. When that time comes, Gendry can bow out gracefully.'
Afterward, Galon spoke with Varys for a while longer, instructing him to attend the small council meeting the next day before seeing him off.
Galon stood before the Tower of the Hand for a long while before turning to walk toward the room where Tyrion was kept.
The two engaged in a secret conversation.
Ultimately, a deal was struck.
Galon would send Tyrion to Meereen to infiltrate Daenerys's inner circle as an insider.
Once the matter succeeded, Galon promised that Casterly Rock and the entire Westlands would be handed over to Tyrion.
As for whether Tyrion might betray him, Galon did not care in the slightest.
By the time the Dragon Queen returned, he would already have full control over the Seven Kingdoms.
Regardless of Tyrion's choice, a clash between Galon and Daenerys was inevitable.
If Tyrion helped him, it would merely be icing on the cake.
If Tyrion chose to help her, it made no difference—killing one or killing two was all the same to him.
Besides...
Tyrion is a smart man. He should know what choice to make.
As for Daenerys and Aegon...
A cold, murderous intent flickered across the corners of Galon's mouth. He turned and headed back to the bedchamber atop the Tower of the Hand.
There, Asha had already stripped off her clothes, waiting for him.
A night of passionate indulgence followed.
__________
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