A/N Warning some Graphic Content, the rating of the story has been changed to reflect this.
The Golden Cloaks
The waves of nostalgia washed over Tristifer as he traversed the familiar dirt path with his retinue. Sow's Horn, with its stout keep, and the village below, evoked memories that felt both incredibly close and yet distant, like echoes from another time.
Even a moon later, Tristifer couldn't shake off the annoyance stemming from the Prince's thoughtless stunt. Placing his trust in a Targaryen was a gamble, and on the very same day, the prince's impulsive actions tested that trust. What were the odds? He almost thought a deity of some kind was having him on.
Nevertheless, amidst his irritation, Tristifer found gratitude for the prince's gesture of goodwill at the departure from Harrenhal – the generous gift of sturdy palfreys for his entire party. They had not interacted much, as the prince was almost constantly surrounded by his small retinue of friends at the front of the traveling party, Tristifer was granted leave to split off from the Prince to visit Sow's Horn before meeting at King's Landing.
These well-bred mounts, though not intended for the rigors of war or the splendors of the joust, served their purpose admirably. Tristifer had no immediate need for such martial pursuits, and the palfreys were excellent companions for long journeys. He appreciated the thoughtful choice, allowing him to hone his horsemanship skills in preparation for a more war-worthy mount in the hopefully distant future.
He would feel a lot more comfortable in a war with lands sworn to him and more than five men under his command. He could however not complain about the loyalty of his companions, which was unwavering and absolute. His guards, now decked out in chainmail and Mudd-colored tabards, looked every bit the part of a lord's retinue. The chests strapped to their mounts, carrying Tristifer's combined fortunes, were a testament to the trust he placed in them.
Feeling secure in this trust, Tristifer couldn't help but appreciate the reciprocated relationship he shared with his guards. They saw him as the one who gave their lives purpose, and though he might not be as close to them as he was to Addam and Robin, there was an understanding built on respect and trust. It was a pleasant feeling, making him wonder how some lords could overlook the privilege of such loyalty.
They had spent the night at Lord Butterwell's Butter Hall before parting ways with the prince early in the morning. It had taken most of the day since leaving the Kingsroad to reach Sow's Horn. The sun, though not completely gone, hung low in the sky as they rode calmly into the village.
Even though the village appeared to be gearing up for the night, their arrival did not go unnoticed as they passed by. Initially unrecognized by many, the few who did gasped dramatically and quickly informed those nearby.
Riding through the central market square, they noticed that the merchants had just closed their stalls for the evening. Tristifer, leading the way, directed the course away from the keep along a familiar dirt road that he had traversed hundreds of times before. While on foot, it had always felt quite lengthy, but on horseback, the journey passed quickly.
"Hasn't changed a bit," Addam commented with a hint of fondness as the small house came into view. Tristifer couldn't help but agree; after all, it had only been a year, so the lack of change wasn't surprising.
They dismounted, and while Addam, Robin, and Tristifer planned to stay in their childhood home, the guards insisted on lodging at the town's sole inn, the Hog – a tavern that held many of Tristifer's fondest memories. With a wave, the guards took the reins of their mounts and headed off towards the inn.
The three friends stood there for a few moments. Tristifer closed his eyes, almost able to pick up on familiar scents, though he acknowledged it might just be his imagination. The steady spinning of the water wheel by the stream and mill behind his uncle's house reached his ears. The hours spent hauling bags of flour or repairing that stubborn wheel were still vivid in Tristifer's mind.
"We should go in" Robin eventually stated. His cousin had most certainly changed from the excited but immature boy he had been before their departure. Tristifer couldn't help but wonder how his uncle would react to his son's change.
"Indeed, wouldn't want to catch a cold," Tristifer said before walking toward the house.
It was after all still winter and had been for the last few years. Tristifer remembered Lord Beesbury mentioning that the Maesters had wrongly assumed it was finally spring by how mild the weather had been, but had been proven wrong. Some even had begun to call it the year of the false spring. Though considering they were only in the sixth moon of the year Tristifer considered this may be a little too early to say he didn't know much about the seasons either, not more than the maesters at the very least.
Tristifer reached the sturdy door first and knocked firmly on the wood. Although he couldn't hear anything from within the house, he could see the flicker of flames through the windows. A minute passed, and Tristifer began to contemplate whether to knock again when suddenly the door swung inward, revealing a completely unknown woman – quite young, though a few namedays older than Tristifer.
The woman glanced at their three armored forms and quickly courtesied, likely assuming they were nobles.
"My husband is in the mill behind; I'm sure you noticed it, Sers." The woman was about to close the door when Tristifer put his armored foot against it, halting the action. A wave of concern washed over him. Had someone else taken over the house? He suddenly feared that his uncle had passed or something equally distressing.
"Husband? Does Roger not live here anymore?" Tristifer asked in bemusement. Surely, his uncle hadn't moved. That man didn't have an exploring bone in his body and certainly wouldn't relocate from the homestead that his father and forefathers had inhabited for years.
The woman's eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Of course Roger still lives here; he is my husband, Sers," she replied firmly, though still displaying a sense of perplexity. This was most certainly not his aunt, which could only mean one thing.
"It was horrible what happened to his first wife. One day her heart simply stopped. Could've been worse, I suppose, but she still had so much life in her, and then suddenly, dead." The three young men were stunned into silence, and the woman, Tristifer's new aunt apparently, continued.
"And her son ran off with Roger's nephew! A boy my husband had raised since birth dragged his son off on some foolish adventure or something. His grandfather is still here, old Tristan, though I fear the Stranger is not far away from that man." Tristifer felt a mix of relief and sadness at the mention of his grandfather. It was reassuring to know he still lived, but the suggestion that the end might be near was disheartening.
"Enough, woman! I am Robin, son of Roger, and I will hear no more of this," Robin exclaimed with obvious anger.
Her eyes widened in surprise and fear at the outburst, though there was something in her dark eyes that Tristifer couldn't quite decipher.
"You are Robin?" Her disbelief was evident as her eyes scrutinized Tristifer's cousin. Tristifer began to wonder if it was Robin's presence or... appearance. His cousin had filled out nicely, no longer as lanky as he once was. It would have amused Tristifer greatly if not for the troubling circumstances.
"I think we will need to get Roger and clear up some things," Addam mediated reasonably, sensing that things could escalate quickly.
Tristifer nodded in agreement. "May we enter...?" Tristifer realized that she had never revealed her name.
She reddened in embarrassment. "Barra, eh..."
"We are all knights," Addam eventually said, noticing her uncertainty about what to call them.
"Oh, Oh!" Her eyes shifted back to Robin in shock.
This could be interesting. It was bad enough that she was Tristifer's aunt, but now she seemed quite taken with Robin after just a glance. How would this end then? Robin, thankfully, seemed oblivious to this.
"I will go get Roger," Addam informed them before walking off around the corner.
Tristifer turned his eyes to Barra, raising an eyebrow. She eventually remembered what he had asked and quickly took a step back.
Tristifer walked in, and Robin trailed behind him with a distant look on his face. His cousin still didn't reveal much on his face, but Tristifer could see the sadness in his brown eyes. Robin was strong, but Addam and Tristifer would make sure to be there for him.
"Your mother loved you very much. I still remember her when we departed; it was obvious then, and it is still now," Tristifer said quietly to his cousin. Robin sent a weak smile back, but Tristifer could see it was forced.
They made it into a common room of sorts with a fireplace and some benches, where they soon settled down. There was complete silence as Tristifer and Robin sat on one bench, and Barra sat on the other.
They soon heard shuffling from the entrance, and all their eyes settled on the stern visage of Tristifer's uncle as he and Addam entered. Roger was almost casual as he strolled over to a pot that hung over the fireplace.
"Tristifer, you have returned," he greeted gruffly with his back turned to them. Tristifer's rage at the man's petty display welled up in his stomach, and he shot up to his feet. How dare his uncle do this to his own son? To not even acknowledge his presence after a year? To...
Roger's eyes widened when he turned and saw Tristifer approaching. Tristifer ensured his punch would not propel his uncle into the fireplace, but he had no other considerations as his fist connected with his uncle's right cheek.
Immediate pain emanated from his hand, but the satisfying view of his uncle collapsing to the floor dulled the pain. His ears rang, almost only hearing his heartbeat hammering in his ears. However, he did register Barra's scream from beside him as she rushed to the side of his uncle.
His uncle was obviously dazed but not unconscious as he rolled on the floor in pain. Soon, Roger seemed to regain his senses and even pushed Barra a little away before standing. He had blood on the right side of his face from a split lip and a flaming red cheek that would bruise quite seriously.
Tristifer's uncle seemed ready to return the favor, but Addam swiftly moved to Tristifer's side with a hand on his sword handle, a clear warning in his eyes.
Roger visibly held himself back before stumbling backward and eventually ending up on a chair. The man sighed in absolute defeat, and as Tristifer's rage dissipated ever so slowly, he felt sadness at his uncle's weary form. This man had raised him for the majority of his childhood, so why did he have to be such a horrible father? He had managed to be a good uncle but had never seemed happy with Robin, always criticizing his son, or, to Tristifer's shame, comparing his cousin to him.
Tristifer had always been pushed by his grandfather and had never regretted his unending work ethic and will to perform as well as he could, until now when he realized how this had affected his cousin Robin's relationship with his own father.
"Why?" Robin's emotionless voice suddenly came from behind Tristifer. Having stood, when Tristifer's uncle failed to even react, Robin walked past them. "Why do you despise me so? I have received a knighthood now by the King himself." Roger finally looked up at Robin, though he maintained a carefully blank expression. "And yet, you still consider me a failure because I did not stay," Robin concluded.
Roger stayed silent for a moment. "You seem to have already achieved much, but you are my son no longer. You are Ser Robin now, or something like that," Roger said tiredly. "I am sure you have much ahead of you in your life, but as long as you don't inherit and settle down here in our forefathers' legacy, then you are no son of mine. I was not meant for anywhere outside of Sow's Horn, and you were obviously meant for everywhere but. It never came as a surprise to either me or your mother when you left with your cousin," Tristifer's uncle finished, still holding his son's gaze.
Robin stayed still for quite some time before nodding ultimately. "Very well, my triumphs will be my own as well as my failures, then," he said before marching out of the room.
Addam and Tristifer exchanged confused glances before Addam eventually followed Robin.
"Tristan is in his room," was Roger's final remark as Tristifer walked past toward the bedrooms. He did not answer his uncle as he heard Barra once again fuss over her husband.
Tristifer took a breath as he arrived at his grandfather's door before carefully opening it.
It was quite dark, with only weak sunlight streaming through a small window. Tristifer could feel a gentle breeze from the opening before he closed the door behind him. The walls were spartan, except for a brown banner hung above the bed decorated with an emerald-encrusted golden crown. Tristifer felt pride and a small sense of accomplishment as he realized that he finally had put the sigil back into use, even if it was only as his knightly coat of arms.
His grandfather's frail form was sitting at a desk with an open book in front of him, one of the last that Tristifer had 'borrowed' from the keep's library if he wasn't mistaken. Though his grandfather wasn't reading it, simply keeping a hand on the frail pages, as far as Tristifer could see.
"Grandfather," he announced himself. There was an immediate reaction even in his grandfather's old vessel as he turned around with a great smile. Tristifer had a bittersweet feeling in his chest as he saw the man's unfocused eyes that obviously did not see much as they shifted from side to side.
"Tristifer? You have returned!" His grandfather's excited voice was startling, but Tristifer shook his head fondly as well. He struggled to imagine his grandfather as completely infirm, as the old man even in this state still held a strength to him.
"How was the tournament? Has House Mudd been refreshed in certain lord's minds?" Tristan asked with a proud tone.
"I would say some have at least become aware of us again, as I became the champion of the melee and received a knighthood soon after for services to the King," Tristifer replied with pride, having accomplished much for their house, even if the last day of the tourney had soured it.
The tears were obvious in Tristan's eyes as Tristifer hunched beside him and held a wrinkly hand. His grandfather squeezed his hand with surprising strength. With a slightly choked voice, his grandfather replied.
"You are truly everything I could have asked for, prayed for. The Gods of our ancestors surely blessed me with your birth." Tristifer could feel himself grow emotional at his grandfather's kind words. His mentor and his idol in many ways. "A Knighthood, Ser Tristifer, does sound simply natural, my grandson. But I refuse to believe that you will stay here. Where will you go next?" His grandfather asked.
"Addam and I have gotten positions as Serjeants in the Gold Cloaks by Prince Rhaegar himself," Tristifer replied, though he did not bother to delve into his faltering trust in Prince Rhaegar.
His grandfather nodded but also adopted a serious expression. "A good friend to have, but aligning yourself with him may bring you into a position that you do not control but still feel the consequences of. The Prince may not fear much else than his father, but you and our house do not have the same luxury," his grandfather warned him wisely.
He grew a little less serious as well, though. "And when will the next generation of House Mudd arrive, then?" His grandfather inquired lightly.
Tristifer paused for a moment. "It may be greedy, but I have my sight set on Lord Whent's daughter, Lady Sarra, grandfather."
"Oh? And would Lord Whent grant you this?"
Tristifer shook his head before realizing the folly. "Not yet. Firstly, he is most certainly not the true power of Harrenhal; his wife, Lady Shella, would have to take that honor. I did manage a dance with Lady Sarra, though, and she seems quite smitten with me."
"Good, it would be a valuable union for us, though it is unfortunate you will need something for Lady Shella to see the value of it. An exchange of vows with this girl without her parents' support would only cause problems, though I am pleased to hear that she is interested in you, which will be important for you, I am sure. A wife is meant as a partner in addition to being the mother of your children; never forget that."
"I won't, Grandfather," Tristifer replied.
"I would haunt you from the other side if you didn't," his grandfather jested before coughing strongly. Tristifer swiftly helped him into bed and dragged the covers over his grandfather's small body.
"Thank you, Tristifer," his grandfather said weakly. "For everything," he emphasized soon after. Tristifer was about to argue, but he knew that it would simply be a waste of breath.
"And I you, for everything," Tristifer said in turn. His grandfather nodded weakly before falling asleep; Tristifer could still see his grandfather's chest move weakly, so he knew he had not passed yet.
He stayed for a moment more, observing the man who had started it all before departing. He met no one as he walked across the creaking wooden floor and arrived at the door leading out. A door he realized he would be using for the last time. He opened it and was greeted with the waiting forms of Addam and Robin, his only family soon enough.
They had only stayed for the night at the inn before leaving at the break of dawn the next morning. They rode swiftly toward Hayford, where they would rejoin the Kingsroad. This journey took two days even at their speed. After reaching Hayford and the Kingsroad, they only used one more day to reach King's Landing.
The capital of the Seven Kingdoms, the king's seat of power, as Dragonstone belonged to the prince. Tristifer could smell the city for some time before seeing it. The smell was infamous, of course, but he was still not prepared for it. Would this be his home? Hopefully, he could grow to disregard it as he almost held his coif in front of his face to shield his nose and mouth.
It was visually impressive, at the very least, as the houses seemed to stretch on for leagues. The overlooking Red Keep in the distance was equally impressive, along with the immense marble dome of the Great Sept of Baelor, with seven crystal towers reaching into the sky, visible from its position on Visenya's Hill.
They rode across a well-trodden path leading to the Old Gate closest to them from the northern Kingsroad. They slowed to a halt as the shadow of the portcullis enveloped them. As soon as Tristifer announced his name to the golden-cloaked men guarding the gate, he was informed that Prince Rhaegar had requested that he and Addam immediately report to the Western Barracks located by Cobbler's Square.
After receiving some directions on how to reach Cobbler's Square, and being told that it would be impossible to miss once there, they were off. As they initially maneuvered single file in narrow streets in the shadow of the Hill of Rhaenys, he observed the crooked two-story buildings, all but leaning over the street they rode on. They received many looks from the smallfolk they rode past, but there was no further reaction, and the smallfolk soon returned to their own tasks.
He was almost convinced that they were in the infamous Flea Bottom already before he got the pleasure of witnessing the sorry-looking buildings of the actual Flea Bottom. These were infinitely dirtier and more downtrodden, and while he couldn't see much as the alleys leading into it quickly twisted out of sight, he could still smell the even fouler stench as they only rode past on the Street of Flour before joining the Street of the Sisters.
This street was one of the most central streets that connected Visenya's and Rhaenys' Hills directly, as the name would imply. It was a lot wider than anything yet, though with more traffic as well, both carts and walking smallfolk. They were slowed down at times by merchants' carts before they moved to a side, letting them pass with some nervousness, obviously believing them to be nobles.
This led to the centralmost square of King's Landing, where Tristifer could see streets leading to Aegon's High Hill and the Red Keep, the Harbor, or Baelor's Sept that stood close by. Tristifer finally saw the Statue of Baelor the Blessed that stood in front of the great sept. His party didn't stay for long, however, and continued to the right on the smallest street which soon led them to Cobbler's Square.
The Barracks were indeed hard to miss, being a large square and stout building with a courtyard in the middle. The small groups of golden-cloaked men made it even more obvious. Addam and Tristifer then parted ways with Robin and the guards before riding toward the opening of the courtyard.
Some gold cloaks looked at them curiously but did not try to stop them as they trotted through the small gate and into the courtyard.
Tristifer looked around a little bemused as he wondered who to report to before spotting a man waving them over. He and Addam dismounted their horses to lead them by foot in the small courtyard. As they neared the man, Tristifer could easily spot that this man wore a black breastplate decorated with two gold disks, still with a woolen gold-dyed cloak fastened to his shoulders. In comparison to the other gold cloaks who had mail armor, it was obvious that this man was an officer of some kind.
"Sers Tristifer Mudd and Addam Waters?" The man soon inquired, and they nodded in affirmation. "Welcome, as knights, you have both become officers, and it just so happens that two Serjeants were recently promoted, though I would consider their new stations at the Mud Gate to be more of a punishment. Annoying fuckers, the both of them. Hopefully, you two are better," the man said bluntly.
"Oi, you two, stable these horses," the officer suddenly ordered two gold cloaks that were walking past. The two exchanged looks for a moment, but as the officer breathed angrily, they swiftly changed course and took the reins of the mounts from Addam and Tristifer's hands.
The officer bid them to follow as he walked to the entrance of the barracks, gold cloaks stepped to the side for them as the three passed. "Since Commander Redtusk left, it seems like the watchmen have only grown more insolent. I believe an orphan from the deepest puddle of piss in Flea Bottom could do a better job than the new Commander Merryweather," the officer said with obvious disdain.
"As in Ser Bertrand Crakehall?" Tristifer asked, not familiar with 'Redtusk.' The officer nodded.
"Aye, was called Redtusk here in the Watch 'cause of the Crakehall sigil." He didn't let them reply.
"The name's Lucas Stone; I am the lieutenant of Captain Ronnel Penrose at the Gate of the Gods. It is why I have two disks on my uniform while you two will start with a singular. The Captains of the Gates have four disks," Lucas explained. He was not friendly but seemingly indifferent to them. Tristifer did at least not hear any disdain like what he had talked about with the Commander.
"When will we go on patrol, Ser?" Addam suddenly asked as they walked through the barren halls of the Barracks.
Lucas turned slightly and slowed. "It is good to say Ser, as most officers here are knighted, but I am not one of them. You may call me Lieutenant. To answer your question, I don't know exactly, but within at least two days. You will each receive command of a squad of nine guardsmen and either be positioned at a gate, the walls close by, or to patrol the streets; it varies."
"Only two days of training?" Tristifer asked in surprise. Lucas sent him an exasperated look and nodded.
"Indeed, but times are hard, and standards have grown lax. You will probably be propositioned by watchmen for better postings in exchange for coins. Accept at your own risk." Tristifer heard the warning but also understood the message written between the lines, that it was common as well. It seemed corruption had already taken root.
They arrived at two doors, both decorated with signs stating 'Mess Hall,' though one of the signs had golden painted writing. Lucas Stone nodded toward the golden sign.
"This is where the officers take their meals while the common watchmen eat in the other one," the lieutenant then grabbed two rings clinking with keys and presented them to them. As they took them, he continued.
"There will be two armories at the end of this hall similarly designated. These keys will grant you access to that and the officer's quarters. There has been prepared armor and arms in the armory for you both. I am sure we will see each other around." And with that, he left, soon disappearing around a corner of the hallway.
The two turned to face each other. "It seems to be in an even worse state than Prince Rhaegar feared," Addam began.
Tristifer nodded but saw the positives as well. "It will only let us climb these ranks faster. One day, one of us may very well be a captain, and then we can really influence things. Hopefully, we either have grown fond of the job, or Rhaegar is ready to reward our efforts."
This would be the best opportunity for Tristifer to gain influence, and he did recognize this. While many nobles may disregard gold cloaks as simple guardsmen, Tristifer wondered if it wouldn't be possible to cultivate an army guarding and, more importantly, controlling the whole of King's Landing. He had been mistaken with the City Watch's reach even in the Red Keep; the Gold Cloaks even had a barracks up there where the Commander was housed. And the one who controlled the king controlled the realm, in theory at least.
Robin strolled through the uneven cobblestone street. He and the guards had been situated in an inn on Cobbler's Square, some houses away from the West Barracks where Tristifer and Addam now were stationed.
Their return to Sow's Horn still lingered in his mind, but he also appreciated how easily his father had made the decision to forge his own path. There were no what-ifs, as his father had made abundantly clear that there was no place for him in Sow's Horn, and had even started on a new family. He shook his head; now it was time to lead his own life and support his true family.
The three had met since their arrival at King's Landing, and Robin had sought Addam and Tristifer's opinion on what he was supposed to do. At the very same time, he had an idea whirring around his head which he had shared, and Tristifer agreed with.
And that led him here to the Street of Silk and this establishment. He had asked around the inn before leaving and had learned that this brothel, the Red Ruby, was frequented quite regularly by many lords living in the Red Keep, so it was here he would start his scheme. There was a small wooden sign decorated with a large red jewel, assuring him that he had arrived at the correct place.
A bell rang as he opened the door of the building, and the one he assumed was the matron met him in a small room filled with some sofas and a bar. He assumed that it would be quite packed later during the evening, but now, midday, he and her were the only ones present.
"Welcome to the Red Ruby. I am the Matron Raya, how may we be of service?" And one needed to be very oblivious if one did not understand what service they offered. Even nowhere close to a brothel of any kind, the sultry tone and open question would clue most in.
Robin let his gaze sweep over her exposed form appreciatively but managed to focus after a moment or two. "You wouldn't have a girl here that was more popular with the highborn, would you?" Robin asked a little unsure of how he should formulate his question but committed now.
Raya's striking blue eyes twinkled in amusement. "Daeryssa, darling, please come over here; it seems you have a new client." She called, and Robin soon heard shuffling from one of the rooms attached to the entrance lounge.
A pale-skinned beauty with violet eyes and silver hair glided through one of the doors wearing only a transparent lilac dress and sandals on her womanly figure, not concealing anything, to be honest. Robin would not consider himself unknowing of women; he had been with some girls in Sow's Horn, and there was no waiting for marriage, at least in their minds. There had not been very many whores frequenting Sow's Horn, admittedly, but he had seen his fair share of camp followers at Harrenhal; none matched this girl's beauty, that was for sure.
"Her mother never was forthcoming of the father," the matron said with a look at Daeryssa before returning her gaze to Robin. "But considering her coloring and the fact that our dear king had a period at the start of his marriage with Queen Rhaella where it happened he frequented other beds, it is no great mystery. I am sure you will be pleased."
Daeryssa bowed in greeting before taking his hand and guiding him. "Come here, Ser; we can take this room," she said in a breathy tone.
"How come you knew I was a knight?" Robin asked curiously. He was after all not only here for pleasure but also with a purpose.
She fixed him with an amused look. "Well, a Lord would never ask for the most popular among the 'highborn,' and a commoner would not dare ask. Leaving you a hedge knight," she finished before sending a sultry smile. "I cannot imagine what bravery and gallantry you displayed to earn a knighthood." It was quite convincing, and Robin almost smiled in response, but his mind soon caught up and halted it. Her now amused eyes again told him that it was a wise choice if he wanted to keep his wits about him.
They soon arrived in a room, and Daeryssa left him on the bed before turning and displaying her impressive backside as she walked away, closing the door and lighting some candles on a shelf beside the door with some curious holes in the wall behind them.
"So, how do you want to start, good Ser?" Daeryssa eventually inquired with her hands clasped in front of her waist. Bringing attention to her lower regions, it, at least, did so for Robin, and he paused before glancing down at his now straining breaches.
Daeryssa caught on quickly as she approached with a sultry smile. "With or without my dear dress, Ser?"
"Without, but I did want-" He interrupted himself as her dress fell in a pile by her feet. Now nothing was concealing any fraction of her curvy figure. She had most certainly been blessed by all the gods, and in his eyes, she was not missing anything in any department. A divine figure in some ways, he only got more excited and less focused as she got on her knees in front of him and began loosening his breeches.
The breeches were swiftly dragged off his legs, and his mind went fuzzy when her mouth enveloped his manhood. It seemed his proposition would have to wait for a less addled mind. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman, and this vision of beauty was apparently not too wise to let handle his libido.
Her violet eyes were focused on his even as she bobbed up and down on his length. He closed his eyes, if only to last a moment longer, but the sensations were still there, and he spilled soon enough.
She was completely unsurprised by his release and swallowed it swiftly. Her sultry disposition had not disappeared but now returned in full force.
"I am yours to command, Ser," she stated, and his manhood twitched in her hand as she spoke. It had grown soft, but Robin greatly doubted that this would be the case for long.
He shook his head as he crawled back into the bed and leaned up toward the headboard. She followed and eventually ended up between his legs attempting to coax him for round two. Well, succeeding to coax him, he conceded. She looked at him questioningly, and he gestured to his lap and now second wind. It was a doomed battle, he knew, but he would fight nonetheless. Though as she crawled up with her lower lips soon dragging atop his cock, he questioned how long this battle would be.
As she lowered herself down on him, he finally remembered his main goal of this expedition and held her still when she was fully sheathed. She had begun moaning wantonly but stopped when his hands came to her waist.
"How would you like to make some coins on the side? Even some gold dragons if you do a good enough job," Robin managed to say as he still was fully aware of the warm muscles massaging his member.
She looked at him again in amusement, obviously not used to so much conversation. "What? Fuck lords and receive a gold dragon if I impress, you would be a little too late for that," she jested before gaining a seductive smile on her plump lips.
"Or would I smother haughty lords with my tits?" she said as she leaned forward and pressed her impressive breasts in his face. He was completely surprised by the move, but she soon relented and began slowly humping his member instead with laughter in her eyes.
"Well, I wouldn't want these lords to die with a smile on their faces," Robin eventually said in return.
"No, what I would be interested in is information. If you manage to gain some information, any information, and relayed this to me or one of my men, I would be willing to pay you a healthy amount of silver stags." He seemed to have gained her attention as she stopped her agonizingly slow humping and grew thoughtful. "If you were to find some particularly useful or interesting information on a prominent lord, then I have a chest full of golden dragons at my disposition and completely free to take a few of them. Provided, of course, it is valuable to me."
Daeryssa remained silent for some moments. "Well, the matron would not be pleased if we were found out, but it would be nice to earn some extra coins," she contemplated aloud. Of course, it would be nice to have additional coins. Robin sincerely doubted any lowborn would not be highly interested in some extra coin; some were paid reasonably, but who would say no to being able to feed their family for a whole winter without uncertainty? Robin could at least not envision such a commoner.
"Very well, I will be willing to do this, but if you walk back on your word, be sure that no whore on this side of the city will be fooled if you try," Daeryssa warned fiercely before calming. "What is your name?" She asked, and he blinked.
"Robin, though I am probably better known by Ser Robin of Harrenhal," he answered a little hesitantly. He was not yet used to his new title but was pleased when her eyes widened.
"You were one of the men knighted by the King?" She asked in some shock. He was surprised she had heard.
"I'm surprised it has reached all the way here but yes, I and my cousin." He replied before groaning as she shifted on his shaft.
"Impressive" She purred and he smiled in return with a degree of exasperation.
He suddenly grabbed her by the side and rolled them over. She breathed heavily but didn't react otherwise. "I would be greatly appreciative if you extended this offer to some of the other popular whores in this establishment for me, I assure you it will not affect your salary other than possibly positively of course."
"I will do so, now however are you planning to prove something or will we just lay here?" She asked with some humor, though he also detected some annoyance. He didn't respond with words.
Addam rapped his iron cudgel on the door before him. Panicked movement sounded from within, prompting him to step back, allowing two of his men to attempt to break down the shoddy door. It wouldn't take long. In the meantime, he gestured for other watchmen to move to the back of the building, cutting off an escape for the criminals within. Three men jogged off into an alleyway that hugged the side of the building.
While his recent tasks lacked excitement, he and Tristifer had proven themselves as the best Serjeants in the West Barracks. Consequently, they were swiftly moved from simple guard assignments at the gates and walls to making arrests and breaking up criminal rings operating in the northern parts of the city.
For seven moons, they toiled tirelessly, their efforts evident in the transformation of Cobbler's Square and its surrounding districts into the safest corners of the entire city. Remarkably, these areas stood as rare havens untouched by the grip of criminal gangs.
Had it not been for their seemingly indifferent Commander, Addam was convinced that this success could have extended to the other two barracks. Unfortunately, under the leadership of Ser Arnell, concerns about the city's safety took a backseat to the whims of a commander more preoccupied with mock jousts and the politically charged replacement of competent captains at the gates with his own connections and those of his grandfather.
Today, driven by a tip from one of Robin's whores, they were acting on intelligence suggesting a small band of amateur cutpurses holed up in this particular building. Once again, their sources seemed reliable, which once again was another notch in the post for Robin's scheme. Addam had been skeptical when the younger man had informed them of his plan, but he had let Tristifer either approve it or not, this had proved to be a smart decision.
Robin's scheme, a stroke of brilliance, proved one of their best decisions. Through Robin and Tristifer's network, they had the city's pulse – from Flea Bottom's rumors to the Red Keep's high lords. Robin's web, including Grand Maester Pycelle's odd requests and Lord Symond Staunton's quirks, kept Addam hooked.
The Grand Maester's liking for silver-haired girls and Lord Staunton's mushroom reliance were very interesting. That the Master of Laws, Lord Staunton especially barely could function without daily use of mushrooms almost didn't surprise him considering the incompetence and corruption he had witnessed in the Magisters and Gold Cloaks ranks.
Revelations about maidens' exploits lost their novelty, however. Exposing them wouldn't advance their goals, but insights into the Grand Maester and Lord Staunton stayed in mind.
As the door crashed, dust filling the air, Addam's men readied cudgels and shields. Unfazed, they stormed the house. Addam, flanked by vigilant companions forming a rear guard, pressed on. The air hummed with anticipation as they entered, ready for the challenges within.
Some of the thieves found themselves caught mid-preparation to conceal within the small room, freezing at the sight of Addam's men raising their hefty cudgels and demanding compliance. Panic set in, prompting a scramble as the criminals desperately attempted to evade the imminent threat. Those who chose reason were swiftly dragged past the forward guards by the rearguard, secured with tight ropes binding their hands and feet.
However, not all were inclined towards reason. Some, fueled by desperation, opted to flee. Their attempt was promptly met with the unyielding force of his guards' iron cudgels, the dried blood on the weapons serving as a stark reminder of their effectiveness. The air filled with the screams of those who had underestimated the resolve of Addam's men, their surrender coming swiftly as they crumpled to the ground.
From another room, his men who had flanked around emerged, four thieves leading the way. One of the men reported, "Managed to catch them all, Ser. Slippery lot, but none could evade Lyle's cudgel," as Lyle proudly displayed his bloodied weapon.
Addam nodded approvingly. "Good work. Keep the thieves here with the rear guard, and then we'll scour this damned house from top to bottom for any stolen goods."
The search unveiled a trove of stolen goods, ranging from pouches of coins to more lavish treasures like expensive furs and Dornish spices. It was evident these thieves were more than mere cutpurses, likely having accosted a merchant or two to amass such a variety of valuables.
Soon, all the men reconvened, goods in hand, surrounding the apprehended thieves.
Pointing towards a group nearest to the prisoners – three from the rearguard and an additional member – Addam issued orders, "You four will be escorting the prisoners to the cells and reporting them to the magisters." It wasn't a duty any watchman relished; the process could be tedious, and the company of the prisoners far from pleasant. His men, though, accepted the task. It took some stern warnings and displays of authority to instill discipline, but Addam knew the importance of treating his men fairly and with respect, cultivating loyalty and dedication within his squad.
"The rest of you will take custody of these goods for the Crown and deposit them at the barrack's treasury," Addam instructed before stepping out of the building into the warm sunlight filtering between the houses of King's Landing. He was confident his men would carry out the orders diligently.
His steps naturally led him toward the barracks. After seven moons, he had grown intimately acquainted with most parts of the city, patrolling its streets both day and night. In the Northern sections, under the jurisdiction of the West Barracks, Gold Cloaks were regarded as staunch upholders of the law and keepers of the peace, a reputation solidified by the influences of Addam and Tristifer. With no tolerance for corruption, they rooted out any misconduct among their fellow officers.
Most fellow Serjeants in their barracks were either individuals they had placed trust in, successfully persuading Lieutenant Lucas to replace corrupt counterparts or those inspired by their unwavering example. Those who weren't fell in line either through inspiration or fear of the consequences.
Addam knew that Tristifer had contacted Prince Rhaegar about the promotion to lieutenant, and while the Prince had assured them he was trying to move this into place from the shadows there hadn't really been any results yet.
Their Captain of the Gate, Ser Ronnel Penrose was very experienced, a little too experienced in some ways, and hadn't lost his posting yet only because Ser Arnell Merryweather had his hands full trying to not have the gold cloaks of his new captains' mutiny against their new commanding officers.
Addam couldn't fathom what Ser Arnell expected when he replaced respected or long-serving officers with his associates. The Reacher knight's actions kept him occupied, even though Ser Arnell, barely twenty namedays old, lacked extensive experience himself.
As Addam passed through the streets, the men and women of the smallfolk almost bowed to him, allowing him to proceed unhindered. It felt peculiar, yet he acknowledged that, unlike most nobles, he had earned the respect. He carried himself with pride back to the barracks.
An eyebrow arched in confusion as Addam observed two watchmen stationed at the entrance to the barracks.
"Come with us, Ser. Captain Ronnel requests your presence," one of them stated, neither being part of Addam's or Tristifer's contingent.
Addam nodded and followed the two up a flight of stairs leading to the captain's quarters. In the West Barracks, with four captains stationed, the captain of the Gate of the Gods held the highest rank, overseeing the other three captains who, in turn, answered to him. Captain Penrose then reported directly to the Commander.
Upon reaching Ser Ronnel's quarters, Addam entered as the door swung open for him. Immediately, his attention was drawn to the presence of both Lieutenant Lucas Stone and Tristifer. Seated behind the desk was the seasoned form of the senior Captain. Tristifer maintained a neutral expression, offering a nod of acknowledgment to Addam.
"Serjeant Addam, welcome. We can now begin," the Captain's raspy voice carried a lingering strength despite the passage of time. Having not interacted much with the captain outside of the mess hall, Addam couldn't discern the purpose behind this summons. The air in the room held a sense of formality, sparking a curiosity that lingered in his expression.
As Addam stood in line beside Tristifer, the Captain seized a scroll from his desk.
"I have received a direct dispatch from the Master of Laws," the aged knight disclosed, prompting Addam's eyebrow to instinctively raise. The mention of the Master of Laws, given what Addam had gleaned about the man, sounded unusual.
"This has apparently completely bypassed Commander Merryweather, promoting you, Lieutenant Stone, as the new Captain of the Lion Gate. The dismissal of one of my other Lieutenants, which I was not informed of, and the promotion of both of you for your exemplary service to the rank of my now open positions as Lieutenants," the Captain relayed the information with an emotionless tone, though a flicker of annoyance seemed to lurk in the Stormlander's eyes.
"It seems all too incredibly convenient, but I will soon be off to Parchments or the hands of the Stranger, whichever comes first, so what do I care," the Penrose finished, irritation evident. "I have not missed your accomplishments either, and I will be expecting the same in your positions as Lieutenants. Dismissed." The captain's annoyance lingered as they saluted and left the room. Lucas wore a blank expression, while Tristifer displayed a small, satisfied smile, growing more pronounced the farther they got from the solar.
"This was your doing, was it not? I am aware of your friends in high places," Lucas suddenly asked, and Tristifer nodded.
"I do not agree with your methods, but Captain of the Lion Gate is the second most important position in the watch, so I am thankful. Do not attempt to involve me again," Lucas finished, looking conflicted as he stalked away.
"How did you convince Prince Rhaegar?" Addam inquired quietly, glancing at Tristifer, who responded with a smirk.
"A certain supply of medicinal mushrooms was threatened, which the Master of Laws was very eager to protect," Tristifer divulged.
"And you informed our patron of this?" Addam asked, curiosity etched on his face.
Tristifer nodded. Addam couldn't help but recognize the hypocrisy in their actions, given their usual intolerance of corruption. However, he had long understood that there were few boundaries Tristifer wouldn't cross to achieve his aspirations. Blackmailing one of the King's closest advisors was undoubtedly their most audacious move yet
Addam couldn't deny the mix of nerves and relief coursing through him, acknowledging the advantage of having Prince Rhaegar as an ally up there in the castle. With the personal loyalty of eighteen more watchmen from their two squads, individuals who might soon be eyeing promotions to replace the remaining Serjeants following them out of fear, their influence and power had grown once again.
End of Chapter
Tristifer and company visit Sow's Horn for the last time in my current plans at least and with Tristan passing they won't have any reasons to visit again regardless. They arrive at King's Landing and are initiated as Gold Cloaks or at least introduced to the job.
Then we have Robin the whore whisperer. Who preempts Littlefinger at least in the utilization of whores, now they will be able to be informed by most of what happens in the city and rumors beyond because of this. Certain kidnappings perhaps as we just arrived at 282 AC in Addam's part. Grand Maester Pycelle's tendencies have already been discovered by our enterprising Gold cloaks and may become relevant.
Some may question why I would have Tristifer IN King's Landing during the Rebellion but I will just say that with higher risk comes higher rewards and leave it at that. There is after all a criminal deficiency of common sense and reason on the Targaryen's side.
This was an important chapter for Tristifer's rise in the gold cloak ranks but it was the calm before the storm as things will only heat up in the coming chapters.
The next chapter will be Robert's Rebellion though Tristifer will not be very involved yet as he is focused on other matters, such as the opening of Captain of the Gate for example. The first year of Robert's Rebellion will go quite fast as Tristifer and House Mudd aren't really involved until certain red and golden banners arrive outside of King's Landing.
Thank you for reading and please review to help me improve my writing or suggest things. Until next time.