That night.
Inside Cersei's chambers in the Red Keep.
Faint sounds drifted from within, while the guards who should have been diligently standing watch outside the Queen's chambers were nowhere to be seen.
No one would have imagined that the King's Queen and his Kingsguard were here, behind the King's back, engaging in the sport of horseback riding and archery.
After a long while, the storm subsided, and the activity within the Queen's chambers gradually ceased.
"Oh, Jaime..."
Although she was already thirty-five and had borne three children, Cersei remained stunningly beautiful; compared to a green young girl, the years had only added a touch of mature charm to her.
At this moment, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms lay without a stitch of clothing in the arms of her lover, who shared a resemblance to her, looking at him with a sultry gaze as she savored the afterglow of their pleasure.
"I think I'm pregnant again; my reactions have been quite strong lately."
Gently stroking her lower abdomen, a maternal glow appeared on Cersei's face.
Although they had already secretly borne three children, Jaime showed no sign of joy upon hearing his lover's words; instead, he appeared somewhat solemn.
"Are you sure, Cersei?"
He gently placed his hand over Cersei's on her abdomen, his brow furrowing slightly.
"The situation in King's Landing is not good right now. Although Eddard Stark hasn't found definitive proof that Tyrion killed Catelyn Tully, the relationship between the Lannisters and the Starks has hit freezing point. I heard that The North seems to be gathering troops, preparing to march down."
"And..."
"And what?"
Seeing Jaime's unhappy expression, Cersei's good mood was instantly ruined, and she questioned him in an ill-tempered tone.
"Father sent a letter, telling me to set out for Casterly Rock tomorrow."
Jaime reached out and gently stroked his lover's cheek.
"I have a feeling he's once again going to ask me to find a way to resign from the Kingsguard and return to reclaim my status as the heir to Casterly Rock. You know, even with Arthas around, he just won't give up."
"Isn't that good? You can inherit Casterly Rock rightfully and legitimately."
"Of course not, Cersei."
Jaime frowned, his expression showing a hint of worry.
He had no desire to become the next lord of casterly rock; if he had wanted to live his life conventionally, he would never have accepted the appointment by the Mad King, Aerys II Targaryen.
He looked with affection at Cersei and her stunning figure; though he knew her love for him wasn't exclusive, Jaime loved only her, and his heart had no room for anyone else.
Gently stroking her lower abdomen, Jaime, who had valued honor and family since childhood, only wanted to be with his lover.
"You know, Cersei."
"Arthas is too powerful."
Though he was loath to admit it, after that last battle, Jaime had lost the qualification to challenge the youth now known as the first knight of the seven kingdoms.
Furthermore, even if he were willing to inherit Casterly Rock, and even with Tywin backing him, he likely wouldn't be able to compete with Arthas, whose methods and martial prowess both surpassed his own.
"In him, I always see Father's shadow."
"No... sometimes his aura is even more terrifying than Father's."
He recalled the invincible youth who had easily defeated seven of them in the Kingsguard on the tournament grounds.
Thinking of that dominant and indifferent figure in the King's council chamber—where the Gold Cloaks even prioritized his orders over the King's—Jaime could find no confidence to struggle against him.
After all, his relationship with Arthas was nothing like that of The Imp's; if he weren't careful, he might end up in eternal damnation.
It might even... implicate his own family.
"But you are the rightful heir to Casterly Rock, Jaime."
As if standing up for her lover, or perhaps unwilling to hand over power so easily, Cersei spoke angrily as she recalled what Arthas had done to her that day.
"As long as you can resign from your duties in the Kingsguard and return to Casterly Rock, I believe all Lannisters will stand by you."
"But if I do that, I won't be able to see you and the children."
Stroking Cersei's smooth hair with reluctance, Jaime appeared deeply conflicted.
In his heart, he didn't want to be any damn lord of Casterly Rock, but no one could question Tywin's decisions, even if they were wrong.
"Forget it, I'll wait until I return to Casterly Rock and hear what Father intends. Perhaps I'm just overthinking everything."
Shaking his head to clear those messy thoughts, Jaime suddenly asked with some confusion.
"By the way, speaking of the children, haven't we not seen Joffrey for several days?"
"It seems it's indeed been two or three days since I saw him."
When he mentioned it, Cersei also remembered she hadn't seen her eldest son for a while, but she didn't think much of it; after all, this was the Red Keep, royal territory.
"With things happening in Eddard Stark's family lately, perhaps he went to comfort his fiancée?"
"Don't worry, with the Hound by his side, nothing will happen."
"Speaking of which..."
Rubbing her hand back and forth against Jaime's thigh, Cersei once again sultrily issued an invitation.
"Ready for another round, my lord of Casterly Rock?"
... "I have been waiting here for quite some time, little girl of House Stark."
At the Gold Cloaks Headquarters, Syrio stood under the moonlight in a thin robe, holding two wooden short swords as he called out loudly to the sneaky figure nearby.
"Hiding your head and showing your tail isn't a good habit."
"I didn't know if you were a good person or a bad one!"
Since she had been discovered, Arya stepped out from behind the high wall quite frankly, her gray, wolf-like eyes flashing with a faint green light in the moonlight as she stared intently at Syrio.
"I asked Jory Cassel, and he said you're one of Arthas's men—the brother of the dwarf who killed my mother."
"Who knows if you're deliberately luring me out just to have people capture me and take me back to your master to claim a reward!"
"If I wanted to catch you, I would have done it this morning, Little girl."
Looking at the light in Arya's eyes, Syrio was very satisfied.
This proved she could see well even in very dim light; for a Water Dancer, a pair of eyes that could see through the enemy was vital.
"I'm not 'Little girl,' I have a name!"
"My name is Arya, Arya Stark!"
Pulling the slender Needle from her waist, Arya shouted at him.
"Aren't you going to teach me the strongest swordsmanship in the world?"
"Start quickly, I'm in a hurry to get my revenge!"
Shaking his head helplessly, Syrio swung the wooden sword in his hand; Arya only felt a flash before her eyes, and when she came to her senses, she found Needle had been knocked away and was lying quietly on the ground.
"What are you doing!"
Shouting at him again, Arya hurried forward to retrieve her beloved Needle.
But just as she was about to touch the hilt, a sharp pain shot through the back of her hand. Withdrawing her left hand, she saw a bright red mark where the wooden sword had struck her.
"To learn the world's strongest sword technique, impulse alone is not enough, Little girl."
Tossing out a wooden sword, Syrio watched as Arya caught it precisely and took a starting stance. Seeing Arya quickly mimic his footwork, Syrio nodded in satisfaction; this Little girl of House Stark was indeed much more talented than Gendry.
"I am Syrio Forel, Arya of House Stark."
"I was once the First Sword of Braavos, an elite among Water Dancers, but I was soundly defeated by Arthas—the brother of the man you seek revenge against."
"So until you can defeat me, keep your thoughts of revenge hidden in your heart—the deeper, the better!"
... Inside the Red Keep cellar.
A man with long chestnut hair and an ordinary face held a strangely shaped dagger, cursing madly at the bizarre sight before him.
"What the hell is this monster!"
As an elite among the Faceless Men, Jaqen H'ghar could be said to have been successful in almost all his past assassinations after undergoing demon-like training to become a Faceless Man.
But half a month ago, he accepted a high-paying mission, said to have been issued by the Sealord himself.
Crossing the Narrow Sea for thousands of miles to King's Landing, he was to hunt down the former First Sword of Braavos, Syrio Forel.
Though he knew the mission would be difficult, the always-meticulous Jaqen had made thorough preparations to ensure nothing went wrong.
But he hadn't expected that upon arriving in King's Landing, he would merely take a careful look at a blonde youth with a strange aura on the street, only to be arrested for spitting in public and sent to the Red Keep dungeon.
For the past half month, Jaqen had been under the strict supervision of a dozen Gold Cloaks every day; even when he went to the toilet, at least five people were watching him!
He had to go out for labor with the others during the day, and when he returned to sleep at night, seven or eight burly Gold Cloaks stared at him without blinking. You have to understand, he was an assassin!
The biggest taboo for an assassin is being watched by others, let alone being stared at by so many people... Fortunately, it seemed some chaos had broken out in King's Landing over the last two days, and the Gold Cloaks appeared short-handed; nearly half the guards watching him had been reassigned.
Jaqen certainly wouldn't pass up such a good opportunity; he immediately used a knockout drug hidden on his person to sedate the remaining guards and escaped.
But the underground structure of the Red Keep was far too complex; having never been here before, he naturally got lost.
Fumbling his way along, as luck would have it, he stumbled into a cellar that was about to become a burial ground!
Having believed in the many-faced god since childhood and always having the phrase "Mortal must die"—Valar Morghulis—on his lips, Jaqen was immediately hit with a massive shock by the astounding sight before him.
In the center of the cellar, a uniquely shaped greatsword stood upright, thrust into the ground, glowing with an eerie blue light as endless energy seemed to dissipate from the blade into the surroundings.
And on the surrounding stone walls hung countless giant beast skulls of strange shapes, resembling legendary Dragons.
They were unscrupulously absorbing the special energy overflowing from the blade, with eerie blue flames flickering in their eye sockets as if they were about to come to life at any moment!
But before he could remain shocked for long, the sound of whistling wind rushed toward him from behind. His body instinctively dodged to the side, but a sharp, tearing pain still came from his back.
Drawing the dagger hidden on his person, Jaqen looked closely and saw a pitch-black creature resembling a bat, its eyes glowing with crimson light, its sharp claws carrying fresh flesh and strips of cloth as it spread its massive wings and stared intently at him.
Holding his dagger in front of his chest, Jaqen's head felt like it was about to explode. Why was he encountering such hardships just for an ordinary mission in King's Landing!
Swallowing hard, even though he was a top-tier Faceless Man, a drop of cold sweat trickled down his forehead as he murmured.
"What the hell... is this monster!"
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