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"What? Sansa disappeared? And the guards below didn't see her leave Maegor's Holdfast?"
Hearing the Hound's hurried report, Joffrey, already mounted on a fine white horse and about to depart, frowned and demanded irritably.
"Yes, Your Grace!"
"Joff, have the guards watch all nearby entrances and exits. Sansa won't get far.
Right now, nobles great and small are already waiting for your father's funeral. We cannot delay."
Beside him, Cersei, seated in her litter, thought for a moment before giving her advice.
"Mm, we'll do it like that.
Since my betrothed wants to play hide-and-seek, Hound, you stay behind. Find her for me.
When I return, I'll play with her myself."
With a cruel smile on his face, Joffrey gave the order to the Hound, then turned his head forward.
"Move out!"
At his command, the imposing procession began to leave the Red Keep through the inner castle gates.
Among the procession, Varys kept a grave expression. He already suspected that Sansa's disappearance had something to do with Robb.
Littlefinger, meanwhile, cast a thoughtful glance toward Maegor's Holdfast before riding off with the rest.
...
Inside the holdfast, besides the royal chambers, there was a large ballroom as well.
The hall was spacious enough to accommodate over a hundred people. A gallery ran above it, and along it were great arched windows.
The lower walls were decorated with polished silver mirrors, reflecting the sunlight from outside and spreading it throughout the hall.
The walls and columns were adorned with intricate carvings. Human figures, dragons, stags, and other symbols.
Behind one of the columns carved with the crowned stag of House Baratheon, Robb stood holding Sansa's hand, hiding with her there for quite some time.
Because of the large-scale search across King's Landing and the reinforcement of the king's funeral, the number of guards inside the Red Keep had dropped to the lowest level in its history.
And since its construction, Maegor's Holdfast had been designed as a vast square fortress, full of corners where someone could hide.
Because of that, although the Hound was leading groups of Gold Cloaks and guards in separate searches throughout the holdfast, they had not yet reached the ballroom.
Robb raised his eyes toward the bright sun outside the arched windows and murmured:
"It's time."
"Robb, time for what?"
So close to him, Sansa heard the whisper and asked softly.
Robb did not answer with words.
He simply smiled and pointed to his ear, telling her to listen closely.
Long ago, during the war at the Dreadfort, Bloodwind had already been able to track the scouts of House Bolton and relay rough information to Robb even from a distance.
And as he continued to grow, the range of that intimate connection between them had only increased.
While calming Sansa, Robb also sent a firm command through that bond to his loyal companion waiting outside King's Landing.
Howl, Bloodwind.
Outside the Gate of the Gods, about three or four kilometers from the city walls, there stood a perfectly ordinary inn.
At that moment, however, it was anything but ordinary.
Around the inn, seventy or eighty Lannister soldiers maintained a silent perimeter.
Torrhen and two knights of Winterfell had already been captured. The three were bound, their hands tied with rope, and hung inside the inn's storeroom.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
In the courtyard behind the inn, a special wagon, far larger than a normal one, began to shake violently. The enclosed compartment rattled from side to side, and metallic sounds echoed from within.
On the low roof of the inn, rows of crossbowmen lay in position, aiming at the vehicle with loaded weapons.
Hearing the noise from the reinforced wagon, they exchanged glances and tightened their grips nervously.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Creak! Creak!
The wagon shook even more violently, the impacts coming faster and harder.
Then, unable to withstand it any longer, the structure of the compartment burst apart from within, exploding into shards of metal and broken planks.
And under the midday sun, a massive direwolf emerged, its body covered in gleaming metal armor.
It was Bloodwind.
The armor covering his entire body was formed of heavy metal plates joined by rivets. There was no ornamentation. The finish was rough and crude, yet for that very reason it radiated a brutal sense of primal strength.
Aside from the eyes, the elongated snout, the paws, the tail, and parts of the joints, nearly his entire body was protected.
Having been confined for nearly half a month inside that dark, sealed compartment, with only a small opening through which he had been fed, Bloodwind was filled with excitement at finally being able to stretch his body and move freely.
But even in that state, he did not forget the command Robb had sent him.
Planting his forepaws on the shattered wagon, he drew in a deep breath. His abdomen tightened, and then he lifted his head toward the sky and released a long howl powerful enough to echo across all of King's Landing.
Awooooooooooo!
The howl, filled with force and piercing intensity, spread through the air in seconds.
Everyone in King's Landing who was not deaf could hear it.
...
Before the Great Sept of Baelor, in King's Landing.
The entire sept was draped with black banners bearing the crowned stag of House Baratheon, along with matching funeral ornaments.
The High Septon stood at the top of the stone steps before the sept. Nobles great and small were arranged along both sides of the staircase according to their status, leaving the center clear for Joffrey and his procession.
That day, Cersei wore a blood-red ceremonial gown adorned with splendid jewels.
From the expression on her face, it seemed she was attending a feast rather than her husband's funeral.
Joffrey wore a noble black outfit, with a matching black cloak marked with the crowned stag of Baratheon, his hand resting on the golden hilt of the sword at his waist.
His appearance alone was enough to make many noble ladies present whisper among themselves.
Joffrey began climbing the stone steps. Cersei, Baelish, Varys, Pycelle, and the other members of the council followed behind. Barristan, Jaime, Meryn Trant, and the other Kingsguard guarded their flanks.
Awooooooooooo!
When Bloodwind's howl reached them, it was as if everyone present had been struck by a freezing spell.
For a moment, all of them froze.
Silence fell over the scene.
"Ah! How frightening!"
"What was that? A monster?"
"It sounded like a wolf's howl!"
"Impossible! What wolf howls like that? A wolf with dragon blood?"
After recovering from the shock, the crowd of nobles erupted into chatter, turning the steps into a noisy market.
"Uncle Jaime… what was that?"
Joffrey, pale, his legs nearly giving out, asked from where he stood.
Jaime turned toward the direction of the sound, toward the Gate of the Gods, and answered firmly:
"That was Robb Stark's direwolf."
"Can direwolves really make a sound like that? Or is it just his?"
Cersei frowned and asked.
Jaime shook his head, thinking quickly.
"I don't know. But if it can howl like that, then it is no ordinary beast.
If I'm not mistaken, something must have gone wrong at the inn.
My informant told me that although the beast is enormous, it can still be killed. During the battle at the Dreadfort, ordinary arrows were enough to wound it badly.
If even the crossbowmen I stationed couldn't handle it…"
After a brief pause, Jaime immediately turned to Cersei.
"You proceed with the funeral at the Great Sept. I'll take some men and investigate."
Cersei nodded and pulled Joffrey, who still looked shaken, forward to continue climbing the steps. All the other Kingsguard, except Jaime, followed them.
"You, with me!"
Jaime gathered three groups of Gold Cloaks and headed down the street to the left of the Great Sept of Baelor.
"Lord Jaime, that direction leads to the Alchemists' Guild."
One of the captains behind him noticed he was not heading toward the inn and spoke up.
"Be quiet. Just follow me."
...
Street of Steel, Tobho Mott's smithy.
Dressed in a leather jerkin, Gendry swung his hammer with force, sending sparks flying from the glowing metal he worked on.
Awooooooooooo!
When the howl echoed over King's Landing, Gendry froze for a moment.
Then he dropped everything, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
He turned, grabbed a finely crafted bull-horned helmet from the table, along with a heavy warhammer, and muttered eagerly:
"The signal's here."
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