The Kingslayer arrived as lightly as the wind, and he left just as quietly, taking nothing with him but his shadow.
"He certainly has a dashing air about him," Ser Lucas whispered.
"Or perhaps he uses that dashing air to mask the bitterness in his heart."
Jaime Lannister was undoubtedly aware of his nickname, "Kingslayer."
Not to mention the commoners, even King Robert would mock Jaime with that title when he was in his cups.
But Jaime refused to leave, so he had to shoulder the infamy.
Of course, another reason was that there was no exit mechanism for the Kingsguard.
The institution of the White Swords might be in decline, but it was still a lifetime appointment.
Even if the prestige of the profession had been heavily tarnished by Jaime's sword in the back of the Mad King.
Criston Cole, the "Kingmaker," had actively joined the political struggle, and Terrence Toyne was caught in bed with a king's mistress; neither of their crimes seemed as outrageous as actual regicide.
The White Sword that Jaime had replaced had simply died of old age.
The elderly Ser Harlan Grandison had passed away in his sleep within his own chambers in the White Sword Tower of the Red Keep.
It was precisely because this knight died that Cersei hatched the scheme to have Jaime take his place.
Because of the bad blood between the Mad King and Tywin, Aerys was all too happy to rob Tywin of his heir by naming him a White Sword.
The root of it all was Cersei's machinations.
"A man only has one destiny," Arthur replied, taking the Goldenheart longbow back into the tent.
Arthur guessed at Jaime's mindset: a mix of genuine identification with the spirit of the Kingsguard and a lingering obsession with Cersei Lannister.
These conflicting feelings were tangled together, making him the erratic man he was today.
The Kingslayer's generosity wasn't due to any deep affection for Arthur; rather, he was looking for a projection of his younger self.
The good thing was that the Kingslayer didn't ask for anything in return.
The man was reckless, unconstrained, and acted on whim.
It was simply a gift. There was no need for Arthur to feel burdened by it, nor did Jaime intend to make things difficult for him.
"The currents in King's Landing are treacherous," Ser Lucas sighed.
"Duke Renly has ascended to his lordship. If a Crown Prince is born next year, the waves will only get higher," Arthur said with a faint smile. "But none of that has much to do with us. One more trip to the Whent warehouse, and we can return to Harrenhal and Greenhand Manor."
Although King's Landing was prosperous, it was not Arthur's home.
The Kingslayer's visit was an unexpected event.
For the sake of House Whent, Arthur still needed to deal with the Gold Cloaks.
And for that, gold would pave the way.
---
King's Landing, near the Mud Gate. Inside the House Whent warehouse.
Arthur was issuing instructions to his head treasurer.
"Inquire about high-quality timber and find craftsmen capable of making Yew longbows," Arthur said.
"As you command, Young Master."
As a metropolis, King's Landing had a clustering effect for blacksmiths and carpenters.
Good bows required good materials. Dragonbone and Goldenheart were undisputed as the first and second best.
But those materials were rare treasures, impossible to source on a mass scale.
Settling for the next best thing, the finest wood for longbows was Yew and Weirwood.
Training longbowmen took time, just like training knights. Starting now wasn't too late.
In Westeros, unless specified otherwise, archers were typically foot archers.
"Also, look for high-quality stone and inquire about the prices."
"Understood."
The treasurer noted down Arthur's requirements one by one. House Whent's wealth was recovering, and they now had the strength to procure significant resources.
There were no secrets in King's Landing. As long as Arthur's actions remained within the realm of normalcy, they wouldn't make headlines.
House Whent had money now; strengthening their longbow corps and upgrading their quarries were standard operations for a Lord.
After Arthur finished his instructions, his guest arrived.
The Commander of the City Watch, Janos Slynt.
The Commander of the Gold Cloaks in the era of Robert Baratheon, the King of Bribes, and a future crony of Littlefinger.
Janos was called a Commander, but he acted more like a merchant—embezzling wages, selling positions, and taking black money from traders.
Arthur hadn't expected "The Frog" to come to him directly, but it certainly saved time.
Janos was a butcher's son. If not for the massive power vacuum created by the Sack of King's Landing, he never would have scrambled his way up to the high seat of Commander.
The two men entered the inner room and began to talk slowly.
Arthur poured Janos a cup of Arbor red, the wine as vibrant as blood.
"You are too kind," Janos said.
Although he was a person of consequence in King's Landing, many people never let him forget his origins as a butcher's boy.
Janos was a stout man with a double chin and a balding head.
He had a frog-like face and a body shaped like a small keg.
"Young Master Arthur, House Whent's business is booming. I've wanted to meet you for a long time," Janos said with a greasy smile.
"I have long heard the Commander's name as well. I am a man who loves making friends," Arthur smiled, shaking Janos's hand.
Being treated with such hospitality made Janos blossom with joy.
"I am happy that Young Master Arthur is making money in King's Landing, but the brothers under my command need to eat, too," Janos whispered.
"All of our brothers need to eat. You have your Gold Cloaks; I have the retainers of Harrenhal. But the more I earn, the more I certainly won't forget the Commander's share," Arthur said, locking eyes with Janos.
"Refreshingly direct. I like men like you, Young Master Arthur. To be frank, I have many brothers under me. Aside from their wages, they rely on me to find 'extra work' so they can live a little more comfortably. Now that I have the friendship of Young Master Arthur, I feel much more confident," Janos continued.
"You are right, Commander. But I must say, this is big business, not some small stall selling fish and vegetables," Arthur said.
"I understand," Janos nodded. "compared to the standard for other merchants, because House Whent's business is so good, I can lower the rate by thirty percent."
Janos was no fool; he understood the principle that a thin stream flows long.
Lowering the graft percentage for a clean, high-volume business like House Whent's would ultimately yield him more profit.
"We are already good friends, Commander. To tell you the truth, in addition to the sweet corn, other specialties from our territory are on the way."
"Then we shall lower it by forty percent. That is the limit. But that sweet corn is truly tempting," Janos said, sealing the deal.
"Excellent. You can rest easy. In addition to the coin, there will be a small personal gift from me."
"Good. From now on, Young Master Arthur is my friend. No, not just mine—the best friend of all the Gold Cloaks, and a loyal servant of King Robert," Janos beamed. This kind of long-term business was where the real money lay.
Steady flow, stable income.
Arthur looked at Janos's smiling face.
Arthur thought of another answer as to why Robert turned a blind eye to Janos's rampant corruption.
As Stannis would later say, Littlefinger undoubtedly knew of Slynt's corruption and ensured the Crown also profited from it, just as Janos did.
There was only one answer: the money the Frog stole also found its way to Robert, allowing the King to enjoy his excesses.
If that weren't the case, Robert wouldn't value him so highly.
Seen this way, the channel was completely open.
Not only had he bought the Gold Cloaks, but in a way, the King was taking the lead in collecting the bribe.