July. Touring King's Landing.
Arthur had formally presented House Whent's tribute at the Red Keep. Now, all he had to do was wait for the actual investiture ceremony.
Only the royal Baratheons, the maternal Lannisters, Lord Hoster Tully and his son, and the official envoys from the North were actually housed within the Red Keep.
Every other lord who came to present gifts had to find their own accommodations in the city.
In a pseudo-medieval feudal society like Westeros, the political influence of the Queen's family was drastically higher than in traditional Eastern dynasties.
Furthermore, the Red Keep simply wasn't that large; it was an incredibly dense, fortified structure.
Maegor's Holdfast, the Tower of the Hand, and the White Sword Tower were all fully occupied, leaving only the Maidenvault, which was currently closed.
When major events drew massive crowds of nobility, the overflow guests were forced to pitch tents in the Red Keep's outer courtyards or the Godswood.
The royal residence, Maegor's Holdfast, was a massive, square fortress-within-a-fortress, located dead center in the Red Keep, protected by twelve-foot-thick walls and a dry moat lined with iron spikes.
The royal bedchamber lay within its walls, featuring two massive hearths.
The Tower of the Hand housed the Hand of the King and his massive administrative staff, while the White Sword Tower was the exclusive domain of the Kingsguard.
The Red Keep was designed as a brutal military stronghold, not a comfortable, sprawling pleasure palace.
Historically, the Targaryens possessed a beautiful summer palace called Summerhall, which was infinitely more comfortable and luxurious than the Red Keep.
But after Summerhall burned down in a tragic inferno, the royal family was left with only the grim Red Keep and the bleak fortress of Dragonstone.
And when Robert took the throne, he gave Dragonstone away.
---
Most of the luxurious manses in King's Landing were clustered near the Red Keep or the Great Sept of Baelor. The city also featured massive industrial and commercial districts like the Street of Steel, the Street of Flour, the Street of Silk, and Cobbler's Square.
The docks, the fish markets, and the primary base of the Royal Fleet were all located in the southern part of the city, along the northern bank of the Blackwater Rush.
The financial system of the Seven Kingdoms was actually incredibly robust. Despite being a fundamentally agrarian feudal society, its commercial and artisanal sectors were highly developed.
The Master of Coin was a phenomenally powerful position. Under absentee managers and delegators like King Robert and Jon Arryn, the royal treasury operated almost like an independent kingdom.
It won't be long now before Littlefinger slithers his way into that office, Arthur calculated.
The Master of Coin possessed the authority to supervise, hire, and fire a massive bureaucracy, including the Keepers of the Keys, the King's Counter, the King's Scales, the officers in charge of all three royal mints, harbormasters, tax farmers, customs sergeants, wool factors, toll collectors, pursers, and wine factors.
---
Arthur's first stop in the city was House Whent's private warehouse. The resident supercargo presented a detailed ledger of their recent sales, and the numbers were fantastic.
When House Whent shipped their products to the capital, they stored them in their own secure facility.
Harrenhal wasn't like Duskendale, Maidenpool, or Saltpans.
Lacking a deep-water port of their own, they were forced to export their goods overland to find a market. Since the other regional ports were too small, the ultimate destination was always the massive hub of King's Landing.
House Whent's warehouse was located in the southern district near the Mud Gate, offering easy access to the docks for direct maritime export.
A large wooden sign depicting the black bat of Harrenhal hung proudly above the warehouse doors.
"Young Master Arthur, the new sweet corn is selling faster than we can stock it. The lords and wealthy merchants are fighting over it; our revenue has spiked dramatically," the supercargo reported, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "However... beyond the standard royal taxes, we've had to increase our 'donations' to the Gold Cloaks and certain influential officials."
Paying off the City Watch was an unavoidable cost of doing business. If you didn't pay, your warehouse would suddenly be swarmed by local thugs, or you'd mysteriously start finding dead rats and rotting fish dumped on your doorstep.
The Gold Cloaks were masters of this specific brand of extortion. Many of them were recruited straight out of Flea Bottom and knew exactly how the street-level shakedowns worked.
The merchants of King's Landing were pragmatists; they almost universally paid the bribes just to keep the peace.
The current Commander of the City Watch was Janos Slynt, the "Frog"—a notoriously corrupt, brutal thug famous for taking bribes and selling officer commissions.
If left unchecked, by the end of his deranged career, he would literally be forcing half his own officers to kick a percentage of their wages up to him.
Currently, the Frog wasn't quite that brazen, but he was getting there.
"Pay him what he asks, within reason," Arthur instructed the supercargo calmly. "Just ensure my warehouse doesn't suddenly catch fire, and my shipments aren't 'delayed' by street trash."
Janos Slynt was a bully who only preyed on the weak. Back when House Whent was at the peak of its power, he wouldn't have dared look in their direction.
But now that House Whent had been officially excised from the capital's power structure, they were just another wealthy merchant house to be bled.
"Understood, my lord," the supercargo nodded.
Slynt might be completely untrustworthy, but his absolute greed made him predictable.
If gold could buy his loyalty for Littlefinger, Arthur was perfectly confident that enough gold could make him a "friend" of Harrenhal as well.
There was no need to rush. Slynt, the butcher's son, possessed zero patience. Once he smelled the massive profits Whent was pulling in, he would inevitably come knocking on their door himself.
---
With the business handled, Arthur was free to explore the city.
King's Landing was the youngest major city in Westeros, and perhaps in the entire known world. It possessed a raw, chaotic, untamed vitality.
Three hundred years ago, these three high hills were covered in dense forest, home only to a handful of fishermen living on the north bank of the fast-flowing Blackwater Rush.
Then, Aegon the Conqueror crossed the Narrow Sea from Dragonstone. He landed his army exactly here, and atop the highest hill, he constructed a crude, timber-and-earth fort—the absolute genesis of the Red Keep and the city itself.
Now, as far as Arthur could see, the land was swallowed by urban sprawl. Mansions, arbors, granaries, brick warehouses, timber inns, market stalls, taverns, graveyards, and brothels were stacked one on top of the other.
Even from a distance, he could hear the deafening roar of the fish market, the meat market, and the farmer's squares.
Broad, tree-lined avenues intersected with winding, crooked streets and claustrophobic alleys so narrow two men couldn't walk abreast.
The marble walls of the Great Sept of Baelor crowned Visenya's Hill, its seven crystal towers piercing the sky.
Opposite it, on the Hill of Rhaenys, sat the blackened ruins of the Dragonpit—its massive, collapsed dome and sealed bronze doors standing as a grim monument.
Between the two hills, the Street of the Sisters ran straight as an arrow, all enclosed by a massive, formidable ring wall.
Over a hundred piers and docks lined the Blackwater Rush, choking the harbor with countless ships.
Deep-water fishing vessels and river ferries constantly navigated the Blackwater Bay, while massive cogs unloaded endless streams of cargo from Braavos, Pentos, and Lys.
Alongside the merchant vessels sat the Queen's lavishly decorated pleasure barge, moored near heavy-draft, tar-blackened whalers down from the Port of Ibben.
Further upstream, dozens of sleek, golden-hulled royal war galleys lay at anchor, their sails furled, their iron rams gently bobbing in the water.
---
Arthur chose to set up House Whent's encampment on the southern bank of the Blackwater, along the riverfront—a popular choice for visiting lords.
The air by the river was significantly cleaner than inside the city walls, and the wide, flat expanses were often used for hosting tourneys.
Large wooden shields bearing the Whent bat sigil were planted outside the main pavilions. Servants, squires, and grooms bustled about, securing the horses and setting up the camp.
Once the main pavilion was erected, Arthur sat in a folding campaign chair out front, boiling a pot of water and chatting casually with Ser Lucas.
Having successfully avoided an audience with the King or the Hand, the trip felt incredibly relaxing.
"Did the King appoint a regent to rule in Lord Renly's stead?" Wylis Wode asked, genuinely curious.
"I haven't heard of one. It seems Ser Cortnay Penrose is merely serving as the young Lord's castellan and protector," Ser Lucas replied.
It was a completely bizarre political move. Robert had simply handed over the keys to the kingdom and walked away, not even bothering to install a loyalist regent to oversee the child.
He had handed a boy unimaginable power with absolutely zero adult supervision.
"Well, once the King officially crowns Lord Renly, we can pack up and head home," Lucas Roote said cheerfully.
"Indeed," Ser Lucas agreed.
Arthur didn't think it would be that simple. Someone was bound to come looking for him.
He just didn't know if the corrupt "Frog" Commander would show up first to demand a bribe, or if Ser Barristan would come to pay his respects.
The White Swords were either glued to the King, confined to the White Sword Tower, or conducting their own business.
Given their legendary status, you couldn't just casually request an audience with a Kingsguard.
---
The next morning, taking advantage of a brief gap in his guard rotation, Ser Barristan Selmy arrived at the Whent encampment.
The Kingsguard were not literally chained to the King 24/7; they had structured rotations and were allowed a degree of personal freedom.
They could enter tourneys, visit the city, and—in some notorious cases—slip away for illicit affairs.
Ser Barristan wore a spectacular suit of white enameled scales, intricately chased and gleaming like a field of freshly fallen snow. The silver-thread accents and silver clasps practically blinded the eye in the morning sun.
When he removed his helm, he revealed hair that was a mix of grey and stark white—matching the color of his armor perfectly.
Despite his age, he radiated an aura of immense, quiet power. Every movement was fluid, economical, and graceful.
Pinned to his shoulders was the immaculate, pure white cloak of the Kingsguard.
"Arthur Whent," Ser Barristan said, his blue eyes studying the boy, recognizing the bloodline of Ser Oswell. "Your great-uncle spoke of you often. You carry yourself like a squire who knows his way around a sword."
"Ser Barristan the Bold," Arthur replied respectfully. "Both my grandfather and my great-uncle always said you were the greatest living knight in the world."
Barristan Selmy was the undisputed pinnacle of Westerosi chivalry—a living, breathing myth. As Tywin Lannister famously noted, whatever king Barristan stood beside instantly gained a massive aura of legitimacy.
The "Sword of the Morning" had been a terrifying combatant, but Arthur Dayne was younger, and his legend was mostly contained within the elite circles of the high nobility.
Barristan, on the other hand, was universally beloved. He was a hero to the smallfolk and the highborn alike.
His career spanned decades, and his list of impossible, heroic deeds was staggering.
Naturally, if a legendary knight of this magnitude decided to mentor or sponsor a young squire, that boy's future was essentially guaranteed.
(As for the Kingslayer? His reputation was ash. In the eyes of the realm, a man who murdered his king ceased to be a true knight the moment his blade drew blood).
Hearing such grand praise from a child hit entirely differently than hearing it from a sycophantic lord. It felt pure and genuine.
"Your great-uncle was a far different sort of man than you. He always had a terribly dark sense of humor," Ser Barristan chuckled warmly, allowing Arthur to escort him into the pavilion.
If you're enjoying these stories, consider leaving a comment, review, or vote.
You can also visit the Pat** on at: CaveLeather
Hedge Knight Don Quixote
Battle Royale
GOT Stardew Valley
GOT Pirate King
Marvel Inventor
GOT True Dragon
GOT Farmer King
GOT White Wolf
GOT Godfather of Westeros
GOT True King
GOT Black Dragon Revenge
GOT Unleashing the Fourth Scourge
GOT Slayer System
GOT: I Am Aemon Targaryen
Jon Snow Grind System
GOT King Bastard
GOT Iron Throne