Eddard still left.
Taking his two daughters, he left the land he had ruled for over a decade and set out on the journey to the capital.
Though his heart was reluctant and he was deeply worried about his wife and his son, who was still in a coma.
But for the sake of duty, and coupled with his old friend's earnest and bitter pleas, he had to venture into the dragon's den that was King's Landing.
But the closer they got to King's Landing, the more Eddard realized that things were changing beyond his imagination.
First, his younger daughter Arya and Robert's eldest son Joffrey had a conflict on the way, and his arm was bitten by her Direwolf Nymeria.
Then his eldest daughter Sansa, in order to help Joffrey, actually lied to support him in front of everyone... After all, anyone present who had been through that stage of life could see the thoughts of this adolescent Little girl, but no one pointed it out.
But who knew that her lie would eventually bring retribution upon her own Direwolf, Lady.
Rubbing his aching brow, Eddard's already solemn expression deepened into a frown.
He very much disliked Joffrey, his prospective son-in-law.
His character was erratic and cowardly; according to Arya, the boy had actually been disarmed by his nine-year-old daughter and had cried without any royal dignity.
Compared to the wolf cubs in his own Family, the golden-haired Joffrey was like a Little girl spoiled by his parents!
He really didn't know how the brave and battle-hardened Robert could have fathered such a thing.
But there was no choice; under the strong matchmaking of Robert and Cersei, his daughter's eyes were practically glued to Joffrey, and she was happily waiting to become the Crown Princess!
Eddard had no choice but to hold his nose and accept this marriage.
After all, only an alliance between the two great families, Baratheon and Stark, could unite to oppose the highly skilled Lannister.
Although Baratheon and Lannister were also linked by marriage... "Oh, Ned!"
A flushed Robert, his clothes stained with a bit of blood, barged into Eddard's tent without a word.
Having just hunted two wild boars, he was in high spirits, and the proactive village woman had also left him extremely satisfied.
As soon as he entered, Robert saw Eddard's furrowed brow and clapped him affectionately on the shoulder:
"You look like a seventy-year-old man right now. You really should come hunting with me to relax. There are far more beasts in the Riverlands than in King's Landing."
"We're not the young lads we used to be, Robert."
Smelling the strong scent of alcohol on Robert, Eddard's frown deepened.
"You've never been young, boy."
Robert retorted bluntly, grabbing a jug of wine held by a nearby wine-server and gulping it down.
"For your safety, Your Majesty."
As the soon-to-be hand of the king and Robert's closest friend, Eddard had to put on a stern face and fulfill his duty:
"I advise you not to go hunting while drunk in the future; it's too dangerous."
"Oh, by the Seven!"
Robert, seemingly so drunk he could barely stand, pushed away the wine-server, slammed the jug onto the ground, and shouted:
"Stop lecturing me, Lord hand of the king!"
"You and Jon Arryn are both so damn boring. God knows why I traveled all the way to Winterfell to invite you!"
Staggering to the edge of the tent, Robert, who seemed heavily intoxicated, leaned against the door curtain and lowered his voice:
"Instead of worrying about my safety, Ned."
"You'd better think about how we can Breakthrough the Lannister encirclement and do our best to keep my throne."
"I don't want to be the next king to die on the iron throne!"
Leaving behind these meaningful words, Robert stumbled away.
Having received the reminder, Eddard frowned again, the distance between his brows seemingly narrowing.
The Queen, the Kingsguard, the Master of Coin, the Commander of the Gold Cloaks.
The four Lannister siblings had almost taken over half of King's Landing, not to mention the Old Lion watching greedily from The Westerlands.
To break such a deadlock would be no easy task... "Heads up, backs straight!"
"Use your legs for power, imagine yourself as a swung sledgehammer!"
"Oh, for heaven's sake, you can't remember after being told so many times. How can you be as stupid as a pig!"
In the courtyard of the Gold Cloaks Headquarters, Syrio held a wooden longsword, arms crossed over his chest, supervising Gendry with a serious face, occasionally letting out a frustrated complaint.
These days, since agreeing to be the instructor for the Gold Cloaks' blades for Arthas, he had spared no effort in daily tormenting these guys who were used to being arrogant.
For these Gold Cloaks who had absolutely no talent, he had no intention of teaching them the Water Dance; they wouldn't learn it even if he did.
As for the Lannister knights, they had their own set of swordsmanship suitable for the battlefield.
But among these fellows, he had actually found a good prospect.
That was Gendry, who was as strong as an ox.
When he first witnessed his strength, even the well-traveled Syrio was taken aback. He immediately felt a desire to nurture such talent and decided to give him extra lessons.
However, he didn't teach Gendry the Water Dance either; this guy was too strong and was only suited for a heavy hammer.
Although he had never used a hammer, this didn't stop Syrio from teaching him how to exert force.
"Alright, take a break. Continue in half an hour."
Looking at the panting and sweat-drenched Gendry, a flash of satisfaction appeared in Syrio's eyes, but it was quickly hidden.
Gendry was actually very talented; compared to the beginning when he only knew how to swing a heavy hammer with brute force, he could now control the hammer's landing point quite freely.
Even if he couldn't hit someone, he could quickly adjust during the opponent's dodge, truly making the hammer follow the man.
But he never said a word of praise to Gendry, only constant reprimands, for fear that this talented young man would sink into a little bit of progress.
In Syrio's thirty-year career as a swordsman, he had seen too many people who stopped progressing after achieving a bit of success.
Their endings were generally not very good.
And... looking up toward Arthas's office, Syrio also picked up his sword and began to practice.
Since becoming the first sword, he had also become a bit lax... "So energetic..."
Gazing at the master and apprentice practicing hard on the square, Arthas remarked with sincere emotion.
Since coming to King's Landing, he hadn't practiced much swordplay, being entangled in worldly affairs.
Although practicing or not didn't mean much to him, as his magic and physical strength were growing significantly every day.
However, seeing Syrio's dedication, he was still very satisfied.
Over the past few days, under Syrio's supervision, the Gold Cloaks didn't dare to be lazy, and he saw the progress they made.
These guys, who in the past only knew how to exploit civilians, actually had a hint of an elite flavor.
In fact, as the City Watch, their inherent quality wasn't bad.
After all, compared to other jobs, even though Janos took a cut in the middle, being a Gold Cloak was considered a cushy job.
Almost everyone who could enter the Gold Cloaks had either used connections or paid their way in.
Compared to the poor in Flea Bottom, their living conditions were many times better; with proper nutrition, their physical fitness naturally wouldn't be too bad.
Additionally, over these days, Arthas had dismissed some who were of poor quality or disobedient, streamlining the number of Gold Cloaks from six thousand to about four thousand.
After the team was streamlined, the quality improved, and command became easier.
It could be said that before Robert returned, almost the entirety of King's Landing was under his sole control.
"Knock, knock, knock—"
The sound of knocking rang out, and Lancel, Arthas's secretary and head of his personal guard, walked in with a hunched posture like a personal eunuch.
"Lord Arthas."
After walking up and standing still, Lancel straightened his body and respectfully began to report on his work:
"Over the past few days, we have spent a total of thirty-two thousand six hundred Gold Dragons on the construction of the city's drainage pipes and the cleanup of Flea Bottom."
"Currently, in the treasury, there are two million seven hundred and sixty-four thousand three hundred and fifty Gold Dragons remaining."
Seeing Arthas nod with satisfaction, Lancel breathed a sigh of relief and continued:
"All the lawbreakers we've caught these days have been pulled into participating in the infrastructure construction of King's Landing."
"According to your instructions, the next step will be to take out five hundred thousand Gold Dragons to cooperate with all the blacksmith shops in King's Landing to comprehensively upgrade the equipment of the Gold Cloaks."
"However, I suggest we first put down fifty thousand Gold Dragons as a deposit. After they produce the finished products for quality testing, we can select the high-quality blacksmith shops for cooperation through comparison."
"Please make a decision."
"Do as you say, Lancel."
Arthas looked with satisfaction at this Lannister cousin; although this guy wasn't good at fighting and wasn't very brave.
But he did have some talent in handling internal affairs.
"How much longer until Robert and the others arrive in King's Landing? How is the execution of our plan going?"
Leaning back slightly and resting his back against the chair, Arthas asked nonchalantly.
"According to reliable information, King Robert and the lord of winterfell, Eddard Stark, will return to King's Landing within three days at the latest."
Lancel answered truthfully, pausing for a moment as if organizing his words:
"However, our plan... has encountered some obstacles."
"The Faith side seems unwilling to cooperate with your actions."
"Although your name is already widely spread among the commoners, these days, they seem to be vigorously promoting their own doctrines and preparing to reorganize the Sons of the Warrior."
After finishing the report in one breath, Lancel thoughtfully stepped forward, filled Arthas's cup with red wine, and then stood aside waiting quietly.
"I knew that Sparrow wouldn't listen obediently."
Tapping his knuckles lightly on the table, the corners of Arthas's mouth curled up into a playful smile:
"But that's what makes it interesting, isn't it?"
"A pure, fallen Soul, suddenly plummeting from the highest point of one's life."
"How delicious would that be?"
Faint blue magical energy pulsed at his fingertips, the flickering light reflecting on Arthas's face.
Meanwhile, Lancel seemed long accustomed to this and showed no reaction to the eerie scene.
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