Roman had always known from the lore that Cersei Lannister was an incredibly vindictive and short-sighted woman, but he never truly grasped the sheer depths of her political stupidity until today.
"Lord Rivers," the captain of the Gold Cloaks sneered. "We are here on the direct orders of the Queen. You are 'invited' to the Red Keep for an immediate audience."
Looking at the dozens of heavily armed, hostile City Watchmen blocking his path, Roman felt a massive headache coming on.
Roman had already secured King Robert's explicit consent before sailing down the Blackwater. Robert deeply despised the massive, stinking slums outside the walls of King's Landing, so if Roman wanted to clear the refugees out and haul them north, it was a massive relief for the Crown.
Yet, the very moment Roman's boots touched the docks, Cersei's men had swarmed him.
"May I ask what specific business Her Grace has with me?" Roman asked patiently, keeping his hand resting casually on his belt.
"We do not know. The Queen simply ordered us to fetch you. Now, come along."
Roman knew exactly what this was about. The mad Lioness is throwing a tantrum over Jaime. I barely threw a half-strength punch! He wasn't permanently maimed! Is she truly this unhinged over a bruised ego?
Roman remembered canon perfectly. When Cersei was a girl, her closest childhood friend, Melara Hetherspoon, had innocently asked a woods witch if she would ever marry Jaime. In a fit of possessive, psychopathic jealousy, Cersei had subsequently shoved the girl down a well to drown.
If Cersei was willing to murder her best friend over an innocent childhood crush, there was absolutely no way the stupid woman was going to let Roman walk away unpunished after publicly knocking her beloved twin brother unconscious.
"I am deeply sorry, Captain, but I am currently undertaking vital business sanctioned by His Grace, the King," Roman replied smoothly. "Please relay to the Queen that I cannot accept her invitation today, but I will certainly visit the Red Keep to offer my profound apologies at a more convenient time."
Roman's tone was polite, but the Gold Cloaks—likely accustomed to aggressively bullying the smallfolk and assuming this Riverlands bastard would fold—stepped forward aggressively, drawing their swords.
"That was not a request, Rivers. You are coming with us."
Before the Gold Cloaks could even take a second step, Roman gave a subtle nod. In a terrifying blur of coordinated movement, Harrenhal's elite Vanguard rushed forward, instantly encircling the City Watch.
These were not standard men-at-arms; this was Roman's personal, elite guard, trained relentlessly by Master Jessy over the past few months.
They were all towering, hardened veterans, fully clad in the newly forged, standardized steel lamellar armor. The thick, overlapping steel plates gleamed with a matte, silver-white finish, offering flawless protection right up to their eye-slits. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder, they looked like an impenetrable wall of living iron.
The Whent guards flawlessly executed their squad tactics: heavy tower shields and broadswords locked down the front line, while the rear ranks leveled lethal, armor-piercing heavy crossbows directly at the Gold Cloaks' faces.
The City Watch might have been exceptional at extorting unarmed peasants and beating up drunken sailors in Flea Bottom, but they were entirely unprepared to face a highly disciplined, heavily armored military unit.
Roman's personal guards stared the Gold Cloaks down with absolute, terrifying silence, waiting only for their lord's command to slaughter the royal garrison where they stood.
Cold sweat poured down the faces of the Gold Cloaks, yet the corrupt captain stubbornly refused to back down, glaring at Roman with his neck stiffened.
He shot Roman a defiant look that clearly screamed: "I am the Queen's man. You wouldn't dare kill me here."
Seeing the man's arrogant bravado, Roman couldn't help but sigh internally. Cersei is a petty, wicked fool, yet she somehow always manages to find arrogant thugs willing to die for her. Is it the Lannister gold, or did she literally sleep with half the City Watch to buy their loyalty?
Without breaking eye contact, Roman reached behind his back and unslung his massive, custom-forged warhammer. The brutal weapon was almost as tall as a man.
Using only his right arm, Roman casually swung the impossibly heavy steel hammer in three blindingly fast, whistling arcs, the sheer kinetic force kicking up dust from the cobblestones.
Seeing the apocalyptic weight of the weapon handled with such terrifying ease, the captain's arrogant defiance instantly shattered, replaced by raw, paralyzing terror.
Judging by Roman's monstrous display of strength, if a fight truly broke out, the Gold Cloaks would be reduced to a fine red mist in seconds.
Just as the terrified Gold Cloaks finally lowered their swords to retreat, a booming, authoritative voice echoed across the docks.
"What is the meaning of this!?"
Roman looked up to see Ser Barristan Selmy leading a massive, secondary column of royal guards toward the standoff.
The legendary knight looked vastly more energized than he had a few months ago. He had closely cropped his white hair and shaved his beard, revealing a face deeply lined with age but fiercely resolute. Just standing there, draped in his pristine white cloak, Barristan exuded a crushing aura of absolute authority.
When Roman saw Barristan approaching, he immediately signaled his men to stand down and sheathe their weapons.
As Roman calmly explained the situation, Barristan's face darkened furiously.
"You dare attempt to violently arrest a high lord without a direct warrant from the King?" Barristan roared, glaring at the trembling captain. "Are you the City Watch of the Iron Throne, or are you the private thugs of House Lannister?!"
Faced with the wrath of Barristan the Bold, the Gold Cloaks completely lost their nerve. They instantly dropped to their knees, begging for forgiveness and stammering pathetic apologies before Barristan ordered them stripped of their weapons and marched off to the dungeons.
The Harrenhal guards finally breathed a collective sigh of relief. They were absolutely not afraid of a fight, and they would have butchered the Gold Cloaks easily, but slaughtering the royal garrison in broad daylight would have sparked a massive political catastrophe.
Roman slammed his massive hammer head-first into the dirt and offered Barristan a respectful bow. "I am deeply grateful for your timely intervention, Ser Barristan. What brings you to the docks today?"
"My lord, His Grace sent me down here specifically to assist you in organizing and evacuating the refugees," Barristan sighed, clearly disgusted. "I did not expect Queen Cersei to intercept you first. I apologize for the City Watch's disgraceful conduct."
"Do not blame yourself, Ser," Roman waved a hand. "It is not your fault. It seems there are simply some people in the Red Keep who refuse to play by the rules."
Barristan knew perfectly well who Roman was referring to.
In truth, Barristan harbored very little love for the current royal family. He protected King Robert out of his sacred Kingsguard oath, and because Robert had honorably spared his life after the Trident.
But House Lannister was a completely different story. Barristan utterly despised Tywin for his treacherous sacking of King's Landing, he hated Cersei for her arrogant cruelty, and he viewed Jaime as the ultimate oathbreaker. The proud Lions of the Rock possessed absolutely no honor, and Barristan's jaw always tightened in disgust whenever he was forced to deal with them.
Since Barristan was already present and the tension had dissipated, Roman eagerly invited the old knight to a proper sparring match to test his new weapon.
Unable to resist a good bout, Barristan finally agreed. "Very well, my lord. But let us fight strictly to first blood."
Roman grinned happily. The two men moved to a cleared section of the docks and took their stances. Unlike their previous duel in the Red Keep, both men were fully armored in heavy steel. This was a true, brutal simulation of a battlefield.
As the signal was called, Roman immediately went on the offensive.
However, he did not recklessly charge forward as he had done against Jaime Lannister. Instead, he kept his massive hammer raised, carefully managing the distance. First, he genuinely didn't want to accidentally crush Barristan's bones with his new weapon, and second, he had to remain hyper-vigilant against Barristan's flawless counterattacks.
As expected, Barristan did not arrogantly try to block the massive hammer head-on. Relying on his vast experience, the old knight constantly retreated and circled, expertly playing the distance.
While Roman's new warhammer possessed incredible reach, it was still shorter than a true battlefield pike, meaning he eventually had to close the gap to strike.
Knowing he could never match Roman's monstrous, draconic strength, Barristan used his dazzling footwork to constantly pull Roman out of position, trying to bait the young lord into overextending and exposing a vulnerability.
But Roman was no longer the raw, unrefined brawler he had been months ago. He kept his massive swings incredibly tight and controlled, never overcommitting his weight and never giving Barristan a clean opening.
For several intense minutes, the two warriors danced around the docks, feinting and testing each other's defenses. Roman swung the monstrous, skull-crushing hammer as effortlessly as if it were a wooden practice sword, while Barristan deflected the glancing blows with his shield, his longsword constantly probing for a gap in the lamellar armor.
The Whent guards and the gathered smallfolk watched in absolute awe; witnessing a duel of this caliber between two apex warriors was a legendary sight.
Finally, Roman intentionally dropped his guard slightly, faking a momentary lapse in stamina, and deliberately swung his hammer in a high, wild arc.
Seeing the massive opening, Barristan immediately seized the opportunity. He ducked beneath the whistling steel, braced his shield, and lunged forward for a decisive thrust to the chest.
But Roman had never committed his momentum to the upward swing. The very instant Barristan stepped inside his guard, Roman violently dropped his shoulder and slammed his heavy steel pauldron directly into Barristan's chest like a battering ram.
The sheer, concussive force sent the legendary knight flying backward through the air. He crashed heavily onto the cobblestones, his sword clattering out of his hands.
Barristan had lost.
"Ser Barristan!"
Instead of cheering his victory, Roman immediately dropped his hammer and rushed forward, pulling the stunned knight to his feet.
"I am perfectly fine, Lord Roman," Barristan groaned, rubbing his bruised ribs, a genuinely impressed smile breaking across his weathered face. "By the Seven, your martial instincts have improved terrifyingly fast! It seems Westeros truly has a new apex warrior!"
"We can discuss the future of Westeros later," Roman insisted, checking the dent in Barristan's breastplate. "Let me have my healer look at your ribs."
"I told you, lad, I am fine!"
Meanwhile, inside the Red Keep.
King Robert Baratheon sat heavily upon the Iron Throne, listening to his spymaster's report with a face dark as thunder.
Ever since Roman had brutally shamed him in the training yard, Robert had made massive changes. He still drank, but he rarely allowed himself to get completely drunk, and his physical stamina and mental clarity had drastically improved.
"Let me ensure I understand this clearly," Robert rumbled, his voice echoing dangerously through the empty throne room. "My wife bypassed my authority, summoned Janos Slynt, and sent my City Watch to aggressively harass a high lord simply to satisfy her petty revenge for the Kingslayer?"
"Yes... yes, Your Grace," the trembling servant stammered. "The Queen commanded Commander Slynt to arrest Lord Rivers. Praise the Seven, Ser Barristan arrived in time to prevent a bloody slaughter on the docks."
Hearing the sheer stupidity of the act, Robert's knuckles turned white as he gripped the rusted swords of the throne.
"Is her precious brother missing a hand? Has he lost his manhood? Is his pretty face scarred?" Robert roared, his voice booming like a warhorn. "Is it truly necessary to risk a full-scale war with Harrenhal over a bruised jaw? Does that stupid, arrogant woman have any idea the political catastrophe she almost unleashed today?!"
"Your Grace," Jon Arryn stepped forward, his face deeply grim. "Fortunately, Lord Rivers chose to de-escalate the situation and has not formally pursued the matter."
"This is not about whether the Riverlands bastard decides to pursue it, Jon!" Robert shouted, rising to his feet. "This incident proves that the Crown has completely lost control of its own City Watch! Janos Slynt takes his orders directly from Lannister gold now! If they have enough coin, the Lions can buy anyone in this miserable city!"
Whenever Robert thought of Cersei's smug, arrogant, infinitely hateful face, his mind invariably drifted back to the tragic memory of Lyanna Stark.
If only it had been her, Robert thought miserably, rubbing his eyes. If only I had saved her... but instead, the gods cursed me with these treacherous Lions.
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