Chapter 158

"Entrust your life to me? Don’t exaggerate. Just stay inside this building tonight, don’t go anywhere, and have your men guard the door. Those young lads in black seem reliable enough. I can’t guarantee there isn’t at least one of Slynt’s men in this garrison," Ser Jacelyn Bywater said, glancing at Aegor’s shoulder. "You’d better treat that wound. In the meantime, I’ll send word to Tyrion Lannister."

"Send what? He’s outside the city right now. Didn’t you just say that smuggling someone out at night is a grave crime?"

"He’s at the Night’s Watch industrial park—I know that," Bywater replied, standing and grabbing his helmet, which he tucked under his arm as he walked toward the door. "This is a big deal. Your partner ought to know. And as for how to send the message—smuggling people out is a crime, but tossing something over the wall? That’s not against the law. I’ll tie a letter to a rock, toss it down the wall, and my friend at the port outside will pick it up and deliver it to the industrial park."

So that’s how it is. Bywater, having served as Mud Gate’s commander for so long, naturally had his ways. It wasn’t surprising. "Please tell Tyrion to keep his temper in check. Don’t let him bring the security team into King’s Landing to cause trouble and escalate the situation."

"Does that even need saying?" Bywater adjusted his iron hand until it sat comfortably and opened the office door. "Heh, I can’t picture the Imp losing his temper."

Then you don’t know him, Aegor thought wryly. Most of the time, Tyrion was indeed calm and composed, but deep down, the dwarf had a fiery temper—his stature simply gave him few opportunities to show it. If not for his insistence on taking down Slynt within three days, Aegor’s side might have chosen a more subtle and cautious approach, one that wouldn’t have put him in this dangerous situation.

Before getting caught up in the game of power, King’s Landing had seemed like a safe haven for entrepreneurial ventures. But once entangled in the machinations of the powerful, the city transformed into a den of peril. Influence and authority were truly double-edged swords.
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Janos Slynt had sent someone to the Red Keep to report the queen’s attempt to bribe him to Robert Baratheon. After sitting in his office at the eastern barracks for most of the day, he finally received the news he dreaded: the assassination attempt had failed. Enraged, he trembled with fury. "A dozen men, two crossbows—sent to kill one man! Not only did they let him escape, but some of them even got themselves killed! Are your so-called men pigs?!"

Aral Dimm, his right-hand man, lowered his head and muttered, "It was two men... and according to the survivors, that Night’s Watch officer’s bodyguard is remarkably skilled."

"Skilled, my ass! Don’t give me excuses—losers always have a bunch of them. Do you take me for an idiot? Why not just say he can use magic?" Slynt slammed the table. "Where is he now? Did he run back home?"

"According to reports... after returning home, he quickly gathered his people and headed south. My men, outnumbered, could only follow from a distance but eventually lost him in Flea Bottom." Seeing Slynt’s body tense with anger, Aral hurriedly added, "But we just got word from Mud Gate. That Night’s Watch officer entered the Mud Gate garrison."

"Wake the men! Arm them all and head to Mud Gate to demand his surrender."

Aral looked up, startled. "But didn’t you say we couldn’t mobilize troops recklessly over the next couple of days?"

"You fool! A violent street fight in the high-end residential district of King’s Landing—three dead, three injured. A case this big, and you think bringing men to arrest the culprit is ‘reckless mobilization’?" Slynt wanted to slap the man in front of him. "Get it done! Don’t let him leave the city. And send runners to every garrison—order reinforcements to Mud Gate. That stubborn Jacelyn Bywater won’t hand him over easily. Damn it! I should’ve handled this myself from the start!"
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The city was in turmoil. The gold cloaks of the eastern barracks rarely mobilized in large numbers, but now they marched along Muddy Street toward Mud Gate. Runners on horseback scattered in all directions, delivering orders to the other garrisons across the city. Though many already knew that Slynt’s downfall was imminent, he was still technically the Commander of the City Watch. Using the pretense of pursuing a violent criminal, he could still issue orders that the gold cloaks had to obey—at least for now.

Hundreds of soldiers were roused from their barracks, hastily armed, and led toward Mud Gate. Meanwhile, inside Mud Gate’s garrison, Bywater’s men were already prepared. Under his orders, they barred the gates and secured the perimeter, ready to hold out through the night.
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When Aegor had been ambushed on his way home, it had been around eight or nine in the evening—what the people of Westeros called "eel hour." After all the chaos, it was now past midnight, nearing the "owl hour." A long line of gold cloaks, armed and carrying torches, moved like a fiery dragon through the city, surrounding the Mud Gate garrison.

A soldier scrambled down from the walls and reported to Bywater, "Ser, Commander Slynt is outside. He claims there’s a murderer in our garrison and demands we hand him over for interrogation."

"How many men does he have?"

"About a hundred, I think."

Bywater snorted dismissively. "Ignore him. Strengthen the defenses at both gates and hold your positions until more of his men arrive."
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King’s Landing’s geography made response times uneven. Garrison posts closer to Mud Gate could arrive within ten minutes, while those farther away, like those at the Dragon Gate or the Gate of the Gods, had to travel several leagues. As time passed, groups of ten, twenty, or even fifty soldiers began trickling in, joining Slynt’s growing forces.

When the number of soldiers surrounding Mud Gate’s garrison surpassed four hundred, Slynt issued an ultimatum: if Bywater didn’t surrender the so-called murderer, they would storm the gate.

Finally, Bywater climbed the walls, a torch in hand, and addressed the soldiers gathered below.
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"Brothers!" Bywater called, standing high above the crowd. "In the dead of night, you’ve been dragged out of your beds and sent here. I truly regret the inconvenience. But tonight, I cannot and will not back down!"

The soldiers exchanged uncertain glances. Some, assigned to night duty, looked indifferent—after all, they’d be awake either way. But those woken from sleep looked tired and annoyed. That was, until Bywater’s next words caught their attention: "Let me ask you this—how many of you are receiving your full wages?"

The mention of money immediately sharpened their focus. In the City Watch, any officer promoted by Slynt had to hand over half their salary to him. Ordinary soldiers didn’t fare much better, with two to three tenths deducted—sometimes more, depending on their commanding officer’s influence. It was an open secret, yet no one dared speak of it. But now, here was Bywater, openly addressing the issue. Was he mad?

"Jacelyn Bywater!" Slynt, sensing danger, strode forward and shouted, "Earlier tonight, a street fight near the Iron Gate left three dead and three injured. We have evidence the perpetrator is hiding in your garrison. Hand him over now and stop stalling!"

"Do you remember Herber and Bann?" Bywater ignored Slynt entirely, raising his voice to drown him out. "Last year, Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, was investigating a certain officer for selling positions, embezzling funds, and withholding wages. He found two of our brothers willing to testify. And what happened? Within days, both were dead—one from a fall, the other drowned in a ditch. Do you believe that was a coincidence?"

Slynt’s blood ran cold. This man was out of control. "That was ruled an accident and is a closed case!" he shouted, desperate to regain control. "Bywater, stop spouting nonsense and hand over the culprit! If you don’t open the gate, we’ll break it down!"

Bywater turned to his men, ignoring Slynt entirely. "And now, another brave soul has come forward, filing a formal complaint with the Hand. He’s here, in this garrison. And the officer he’s accused is now fabricating lies, trying to force me to hand him over!"
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"Is that true?"

"That explains why we’re here in the middle of the night."

"What the hell does he think we are?"

The murmurs among the soldiers grew louder, and Slynt realized he had walked into a trap. He had no choice now but to double down. "Enough talk! Light the gate on fire and break it down!"