(King's Landing 10/4/298 AC) Ned IV

"We shouldn't be out here, my lord," Jory warned. "There's no telling who has eyes where."

"Let them look," he replied. Their snowy white destriers neighed softly, while they maneuvered through the throng of the crowd. The Lord of Winterfell's eyes remained sharp, looking down towards the street to where his destination lay, the smith's shop. At his side was the captain of his household guard, Jory Cassel, Rodrik's nephew. Young and noble, a good man.

"What of news of Ser Hugh? Has he departed King's Landing?" he asked finally, eyes peering down a random alley.

"He has, my lord. The Lady Azula has offered him work at the Stannis Fort, from what he told me," Jory answered. "I would say the offer sounded fantastical for a newly made knight, but that is just me, my lord."

"Aye, traveling halfway across the world for fame and glory is a dream that sounds all too familiar," he said, the words reminding him of Robert and the conversation they had during the trip back to King's Landing. "Did he say what for?"

"No, my lord," Jory stated, the smell of roasted ham, from an unknown source, lingered in the air, nearly overtaking the city's rancid smell. "He only repeated what the Lady Azula had told him. Which was that she needed good, able-bodied men were to help protect the interests of the crown on the shores of Essos."

"Given the importance of the Iron ships to Robert's reign, I am not surprised," the words left him feeling uneasy, yet he knew not why. "She has spoken to me on occasion of the Stannis Fort, and her annoyance at having to rely on sellswords for its protection."

"A healthy outlook, I would say," Jory grinned slightly.

"Yes, what were her words again?" he lingered for a moment, remembering the conversation they had after the tourney. "'I do not trust men that can be bought. They are only a step up from turncloaks, and even then, just barely,'" he recalled, sharing her sentiments, as he knew Stannis had.

"You fucking slant-eyed cunts!" A voice shouted out somewhere down the crowded street. Space seemed to form around the men, allowing Cassel and he to move towards the commotion.

A squad of nine men, six armored in the full gold and black plate armor of Stannis' Flameguard accompanied a trio of city guardsmen, clad in armor similar to the Lady Azula. Two of the men bore the much-feared skull faceplates of Dragonstone, and all had red sashes with gold cloaks covering their backs. They escorted a thin disheveled man in iron shackles, down the Street of Steel, heading for the Red Keep. One of the men struck the cursing man in the stomach, causing him to keel forward.

"Silence criminal!" a man shouted, voice muffled slightly by his ghastly faceplate.

"That's enough," Commander Lee's familiar voice ordered. He was clean shaven and bore no helmet, a tidy top-knot revealing a few strands of silver, held in place by a two pronged red flame headpiece. A stern gaze lined his face, 'similar to Stannis',' the thought occurred to him. He looked every bit the part of the respectable City Watch Commander. The two holding the man, straightened him up to face the former captain of Stannis' household guard. It did not take long for the grimy man to gain his bearings enough to let loose a wad of spit towards the Commander, who deftly dodged, and followed up with a quick backhanded slap.

"You foreign shits," the man spat blood down into the street. "If Commander Slynt was still…"

"If Commander Slynt was still alive," Lee cut in. "He would have put my men and I on cistern duty, and paid us nothing for our work, while allowing murderers, thieves, and rapists free reign so long as they had adequate coin. Not this time, scum," the two men pull at the man's chains, before one took the unkempt man by his thin hair, and forced his head up. Lee came face to face with the man, and looked him in the eye as he spoke, "The law I will bring to this city is not as…'fluid,' as Commander Slynt had led you to believe."

"What is happening here, Commander? Who is this man?" he asked, taking that moment to stride up to them atop his destrier.

"Lord Stark," the three men replied in unison. Lee rose immediately and displayed his strange salute of palm over fist, before relaxing. He stood with his feet apart, and hands clasped behind his back, as the Lady Azula was prone to do when addressing others of higher position than her own. "This is Allar Deem, and he is to be taken to the black cells for questioning. He is one of the few remaining holdouts from Slynt's tenure as Commander," the stern man stated. "We have been made aware of a few that have taken to hiding within the capital, spirits know why they think they'd be safe within the city."

"We have friends," Deem looked up towards Lee, then gazed upon Jory and himself. "Powerful friends."

A hand cupped Allar's face and turned it back around. "I'm sure you do," Lee stated, kneeling down, and allowing his golden eyes to burn through the man. "However, unless your 'friends' names are King Robert Baratheon or Lord Eddard Stark, you have no 'friends' worthy of note. You would do well to remember that, Deem. Let this serve as a message to you and your paymaster that coin no longer holds sway over the law in this city. High lord, knight, or peasant, all are held accountable for crimes done within the King's domain. And as it turns out, one of those crimes happens to be corruption."

The man remained silent, staring into Lee's eyes before turning fearful, his face melting into a blubbering mess full of tears and mucus. Several people around them began whispering amongst themselves.

Jory's frown mirrored his own, as the Yi-Tish Commander released his grip in disgust, and rose to his full height. "Save your tears, Deem. You haven't even begun to face your punishment," golden eyes surveyed the small gathering. "Move along citizens," Lee waved the onlookers off, "City Watch business." He finally regarded him, after the mob dispersed. "With respect, my Lord Hand," Lee began, nodding his head in deference. "If you have anything to ask of this man, feel free. Otherwise, with your permission, I would wish to see him safely to a small cell. There is much work to be done before Slynt's stink can be truly washed away."

He spared a quick glance towards the shackled man, and shook his head, "Not at the moment, another matter requires my full attention. You may leave, Commander." Those words were all Lee needed before he gave his foreign salute and led his men away.

Together, atop their mounts, they watched Lee and his men continue their march to their destination. Several children followed alongside them, some with makeshift gold cloaks and wooden sticks. He turned his steed away, with Jory following after him. "What do you think of that man, Jory?"

"Uncompromising," Cassel replied simply, adjusting his reins to allow for a more comfortable grip. "A good trait to have when it comes to imposing law and order, my lord."

"Indeed," he let the ice come over his face as he thought of the man. Those thoughts quickly began to evoke the Lady Baratheon and the question he wished to ask of anyone with even a passing idea of the mysterious Lady of Dragonstone. "Jory, what are your thoughts on Lord Stannis' lady wife?"

"Truthfully? I am not sure what my thoughts on her are," a small hint of embarrassment seeped into his words. "I've heard the stories of her from the rebellions. Both of them," he clarified. "Savior and destroyer? Even the tales from the Stepstones paint her as a freer of slaves and slayer of monsters."

The hooves of their steeds beat softly beneath them, while he and Jory collected their thoughts. The silence stretched for some time before the captain of his guard spoke.

"I've broken words with her daughter, and the Flameguard assigned to her, my lord. The three of them embody discipline, honor, and loyalty. And all three speak of Lady Ursa's mother with nothing but the greatest of reverence for her."

"''Larger than life,' was the saying I believe Jun attributed to the Lady Azula once," Ned added.

"Everything that I've heard makes her seem like she emerged straight out of the Age of Heroes, and yet…" Jory hesitated, the words catching on his tongue. "She does not act like someone of her reputation would."

"The only time I remembered her acting accordingly was during the closing of the Rebellion. Her words had been sharp, more in line with the reputation she had only just begun to cultivate, but she was young and passionate. A scarce two years older than Sansa, now that I recall."

"Young and passionate?" the younger man questioned. "From the sounds of it, she seems as if she fully embraced the Baratheon words. 'Ours is the Fury.'"

He snorted in amusement. "Even with just seven months of marriage to Lord Stannis preceding her she reminded me of the King," he lingered for a moment on his words. "Although, I will admit, the years have seen her grow beyond what she had been in her youth."

"Perhaps her marriage, or maybe being with children, tempered her?" Jory suggested, eyeing the thinning throngs of people as they neared Tobho Mott's shop, on the Street of Steel.

"Perhaps," he looked up towards the largest house on the street. Two stone knights guarding the ebony and weirwood carved entrance to the extravagant home loomed before them. He dismounted, heading for the door to the smith's home, and knocked. "Wait here Jory, this will be quick."

"Yes, my lord," Cassel answered, eyes scanning their surroundings.

Several light footfalls were heard on the other side before locks clicked and a slim serving girl with bright eyes answered. "Yes, milord?" she squeaked, the door creaking open.

"I am Lord Eddard Stark, the Hand of the King, and I am looking for Tobho Mott," he answered with a small smile on his lips, so as not to frighten the girl. "Is he here at present?"

"Yes, milord, he is," her face darkened. "However, he is very ill. Taken to sleep more often than he uses his forge now. I will see if he is awake, milord," she let him in and shut the door. "Please wait here," she scurried up the steps of the large home and vanished around a corner. Several raised voices were heard before the girl returned. She waved him over, "Come, Lord Stark, he is awake now, but it may soon pass."

He trudged up the squat steps, hand around his sword hilt. The room he entered smelled rank, but he did not let it show. Despite the smell, the man lying on the bed held himself well, shirtless and with a large sapphire on a heavy silver chain hanging around his neck.

"Lord Stark," Mott spoke, beads of sweat running down his face. The smith looked up from the foot of his bed. "Come here girl, help me up," the slim girl raced to his side and lifted him up to rest his back upon the wall behind his bed. "Ahh!" he grunted. "Careful!" The man's eyes rested on his own. "Pardon my appearance, my Lord Hand. Have a seat," he gestured to the small wooden chair in the corner.

"You have my thanks, but I prefer to remain standing," he nodded.

"Girl, leave us," the smith barked, "and wait outside the door." The girl scampered out of the room and shut the door. "You know, Lord Stark, you are the second hand to come visit me, although it has been some time since Lord Arryn's last visit," he uttered. "He was a good man."

"He was," came his solemn reply as he looked upon the bedridden man. "That is why I am here. I was told he visited this place often, during his final days," he added, recalling the conversations with Baelish, of all people.

"He did," the man groaned, lifting his sliding body up once more. "Kept wishing to see the boy."

"What boy?" he neared.

"An apprentice of mine, a good boy. Quiet, but excellent in his work. Knew how to handle a hammer."

"Is he here?"

"No, my lord," the man answered.

"Do you know why Lord Arryn was so interested in the boy?" thoughts on the how the boy could be important swirled in his head, the books words reverberating within him. The words haunted him, etched within his soul, once he realized their importance, after reading them following Ser Steffon's feast.

"I regret to say that I do not know, Lord Stark," the smith reached for a small scrap of cloth and dapped at his glistening forehead. "Lord Arryn never showered my shop with his patronage, so I thought that he may have been interested in acquiring a promising new smith for the Vale or some such. However, the Lady Azula certainly seemed to think the boy worthy of acquiring for the forges of Dragonstone, along with half the better apprentice and masters working along the Street of Steel. I would assume to assist in the building of the iron ships?"

"Most likely," he supplied.

"She sought to hire me, at first, but I declined. I did speak well enough of the boy that she ended up taking him in my stead."

"Why did you decline?" Ned asked, curious on the reasoning behind Mott's choice.

"I only declined because with most of my competition gone, my services would be in higher demand, my lord. Not that they were low, mind you, but I knew that once I left this bed, I would grow to be quite the wealthy man with many orders to fill," Mott coughed, then cleared his throat.

"What did the boy look like? Who was he?"

Tobho looked at him, "he was tall and very muscled, with blue eyes and thick, black hair, and who he was before he came to me is none of my concern."

He remained standing there, legs as heavy as iron.

"You should go now, my Lord. Unless you have anything else?" he cleared his throat again. "My eyes grow heavy, a bit more rest is required before I am ready to work."

"One more question if you would allow?" he asked. "What illness has overcome you, Mott?" it felt impolite to not ask of the man's well-being, after his assistance in supplying him with much-needed information.

"I know not, Lord Stark," he shifted his body. "You should have seen me several days ago. I was far worse, all those missed opportunities to forge armor for the tourney, and let my art be seen. The Lady Azula has been kind enough to send one of her red priests with several healing herbs. They have done wonders to aid my unsettled stomach and lessen the constant sweating."

"I appreciate your assistance, Mott," he excused himself and left the home, passing the slim girl as she rushed into the room to see if the smith needed anything. He emerged from the home and saw Jory atop his horse.

"Find anything?" he asked.

"Possibly King Robert's bastard son. However, a trip to Dragonstone will be necessary to confirm. I must go and speak with Lord Stannis and Lady Azula," he mounted his white horse, gently spurring it on towards the Red Keep, with Jory following closely behind.