Chapter 160

Dawn was breaking.

Inside and outside the city, early risers gathered near the gates, eager to either leave or enter King’s Landing. As the closest gateway to the bustling Blackwater Bay, Mud Gate handled the highest traffic of goods and people among the seven city gates. Though the gates of the capital were closed at night, ships arriving at the mouth of the Blackwater River after sunset would not wait for sunrise to dock. By morning, several ships had anchored, unloading goods and passengers who now queued up in front of Mud Gate, waiting to enter the city.

The eastern sky began to lighten, the blood-red hue of the comet fading under the encroaching brightness. The comet’s glow, no match for the sun’s radiance, quickly dimmed. Its crimson aura dissipated, leaving only its core a stark red streak against the sky. As the sun approached the horizon, the sky transformed into a kaleidoscope of colors—gold, red, purple, black, white, and blue—spreading like dye spilled across water. The interplay of the comet, clouds, and the bay’s shimmering waters turned the horizon into a breathtaking tapestry. The drama of light and shadow continued until the main act arrived—the sun leapt above the horizon, its brilliance washing over everything, banishing the multitude of colors and gilding the landscape with golden light. Its reflection on the Blackwater Bay doubled the spectacle, as if two suns now illuminated the world.

Yet no one paused to marvel at this splendor. The laborers of Blackwater Port, exhausted from working through the night, retired to their beds. Meanwhile, others, just rising, were preoccupied with the grind of survival. The weight of daily life left no room for awe at a sunrise.

Outside Mud Gate, the crowd thickened. Workers eager to enter the city for their day’s labor and merchants impatient to bring their goods inside grumbled and shouted complaints. The gates, which usually opened at first light, remained shut even as the sun climbed higher. The growing line of people and carts stretched farther back, and the twenty gold cloaks stationed outside the gate, though struggling to maintain order, could do little else—they had no authority to open the gates from outside and could only wait like everyone else.
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“So many people,” muttered Domi. “But these southerners are so lazy. The sun’s up, and they still haven’t opened the gates.”

“King’s Landing is so warm. Not like the Wall, where the cold wakes you every day. Maybe the gatekeepers are still wrapped up in their blankets,” replied another.

“Blankets? In this place, you wouldn’t even need them. Sleeping in the streets here would be warmer than at the Wall. Even being a beggar in King’s Landing would be better than freezing in the North.”

“Enough idle chatter!” barked Ser Alliser Thorne. “You’re soldiers. Act like it! Circle the cart with the horses and keep the crowd away from the cage. This place is too crowded.”

Not that the crowd needed much encouragement to steer clear of the Night’s Watch party. The combined stench of sweat-soaked black furs from Castle Black’s rangers and Eastwatch sailors, mixed with the background odor of King’s Landing, was enough to keep onlookers at bay. Add to that their armed and dangerous appearance, and no one dared approach.

“Sir, I think there’s another group in black ahead of us,” one of the men pointed out. “Looks like there’s even more of them than us. I thought no one but us wore black?”

Ser Alliser scowled at the Eastwatch man’s naïveté. “Maybe someone’s in mourning. Stop gawking like a country bumpkin and focus on your duty!”

“But I am a country bumpkin,” Domi said with a cheeky grin. “Unlike you, Ser Alliser. Before you joined the Watch, you guarded King’s Landing, drank its finest wine, and enjoyed its prettiest—”

“Shut your mouth!” Ser Alliser snapped. “Keep talking, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Though Ser Alliser had no direct authority over them, the ranger’s gruff demeanor and seniority silenced the men. They fell into a tense, watchful quiet as they queued up.
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The "other black-clad group" ahead of them had already noticed the Night’s Watch party. After some hushed discussion, a few members pushed through the crowd to approach.

Black met black: one group a mix of rugged rangers, sailors, and rough-edged warriors, the other a disciplined unit of fit, armed guards. Yet ironically, the former were the true defenders of the Wall, while the latter were only Night’s Watch logistics security, and among them stood a dwarf and a Lannister retainer in red robes. It was a bizarre meeting of opposites.

"Ser Alliser Thorne! What brings you here?" Tyrion Lannister exclaimed, his surprise evident. "Did Lord Commander Mormont send you to oversee supplies or supervise Aegor’s work? And what’s in that cart?"

Ser Alliser cast a disdainful glance at the dwarf. "A wight. Lord Commander Mormont ordered us to bring it to King’s Landing as proof for His Grace, to request aid for the Wall."

"A wight?" Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "The Night’s Watch enterprise has already provided all the supplies it can. Now you’ve resorted to bringing old wives’ tales to scare people? Robert loves his wine, but he’s not a fool."

Ser Alliser’s expression didn’t shift. Instead, he turned slightly and motioned to the men behind him. "Uncover the cage. Let the ‘giant of Lannister’ see for himself."

"But sir," one ranger protested, "once we uncover it, it’ll be a pain to cover it back up."

"Do as I say," Ser Alliser snapped.

Tyrion, flanked by several of Aegor’s logistics guards, followed the rangers to the cart, his curiosity piqued. The heavy black tarp was removed with care, revealing the cage beneath—a wooden structure reinforced with iron bars. The narrow gaps between the bars ensured whatever was inside couldn’t escape. Within, a figure chained to the floor lay motionless.

As light hit the cage, the "figure" reacted violently. It whipped around and lunged at the bars with an inhuman shriek, clawing desperately at Tyrion.

"Ahhh!" Tyrion stumbled back, his legs trembling, and would’ve fallen if not for his servant Jack catching him. Around them, the crowd gasped and recoiled, leaving a wide berth around the wight’s cage.

Ser Alliser smirked, his satisfaction evident. The Night’s Watch rangers chuckled quietly at Tyrion’s fright. Swallowing his embarrassment, Tyrion steadied himself and studied the creature. It was draped in tattered furs, its hands blackened, its pale skin covered in patches of rot and ulcers. It was undeniably no longer human.

"This could be anything," Tyrion said, regaining some of his composure. "Diseases like greyscale or rabies—or some affliction of the brain—could cause similar symptoms. I’m no maester, but parading a sick man in a cage and calling it a wight? That’s disgraceful, Ser Alliser."

"Disgraceful? Let me show you disgraceful," Ser Alliser growled. Drawing his steel sword, he stepped toward the cage. The crowd collectively recoiled, and gasps rippled through the gathered onlookers.

With calculated precision, Ser Alliser thrust his sword through the cage’s bars and into the creature’s chest. The blade pierced through its ribs, emerging from its back. He withdrew it, then stabbed again, and again—three times in total, targeting the heart each time.

The crowd was silent at first, stunned by the brutality. Murmurs grew, followed by gasps of horror and indignation.

Yet the wight didn’t bleed. It didn’t scream. It didn’t even die. It merely shifted its focus, lunging futilely at Ser Alliser, its blackened claws reaching for him through the bars.

"Behold the truth," Ser Alliser declared, his voice booming over the crowd. "North of the Wall, thousands—tens of thousands—of these creatures threaten the Seven Kingdoms. While you live comfortably in the south, dismissing wights and White Walkers as old wives’ tales, we fight for your survival!"

Holding his bloodless sword aloft, Ser Alliser pointed at the crowd. "Winter is coming. The cold winds rise. And we need your aid."

The spectacle had captured everyone’s attention. The closed gates of Mud Gate ensured hundreds of people were trapped, with nothing to distract them from Ser Alliser’s demonstration. As the crowd stared in shock at the creature in the cage, within the Mud Gate itself, a different drama was nearing its own conclusion.