The Red Keep buzzed with an undercurrent of anticipation as preparations were underway for the grand feast in honor of Jon Frost, the new Lord of Moat Cailin. The feast was to be a display of royal splendor, meant to showcase not only the kingdom's opulence but also Robert Baratheon's rare show of genuine admiration for the young lord.
The hall was adorned with the finest tapestries, their vivid colors and intricate designs telling tales of Westeros's storied past. The long tables were draped in rich velvet cloths, and golden goblets and ornate silver dishes were arranged with meticulous care. Flames flickered from dozens of torches, casting a warm, inviting glow that danced across the walls. The air was thick with the mingling scents of roasting meats, freshly baked bread, and exotic spices, a stark contrast to the usual stench of the city outside.
Jon Frost stood at the entrance of the hall, taking in the grandeur with a mixture of curiosity and slight discomfort. He had never been one for such opulence, and the contrast between the splendor of the Red Keep and the grimy streets of King's Landing was jarring. His attire, though regal, was simple compared to the extravagance around him. His direwolf emblem stitched at his side, a reminder of his northern roots amidst the southern excess.
Robert Baratheon, the imposing figure of the evening, was at the center of it all. His presence was larger than life, commanding respect and attention from all those in attendance. He greeted Jon with a hearty embrace, his laughter ringing out and echoing through the hall.
"Ah, Jon Frost! You made it!" Robert boomed, clapping Jon on the back with a force that nearly toppled him. "I must say, you're a breath of fresh air in this stinking cesspool of a city. A man who speaks his mind and isn't afraid to ruffle a few feathers."
Jon managed a smile, though he was still adjusting to the spectacle around him. "Your Grace, it's an honor to be here. I hope my presence doesn't cause too much trouble."
"Trouble?" Robert chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "I dare say, it's just what this place needs. So many here are more interested in climbing the ladder than actually making a difference. But you, you're different. Let's have a drink and celebrate!"
As the evening wore on, Jon mingled with various members of the court. Lords and ladies, adorned in their fineries, offered polite smiles and practiced pleasantries, but Jon's blunt observations and criticisms quickly set him apart. He spoke candidly about the state of the city, the filth in the streets, and the corruption that seemed to seep from every corner of King's Landing.
"The city's in a state of disrepair, Your Grace," Jon said to Robert, leaning in as they shared a quiet moment away from the bustling crowd. "The people are suffering, and it's hard to believe the crown is doing much to change that."
Robert's face softened, his usual jovial demeanor giving way to a more contemplative expression. "You've got a point, Jon. The people's perception is everything. If they see us doing nothing, they might start thinking the Targaryens would've done a better job."
Jon nodded, his eyes scanning the room filled with the elite of the realm. "Exactly. And they're right to think so, if we don't show them otherwise. If we don't address their grievances, we risk them turning their ire toward the crown."
Robert grinned, clearly impressed by Jon's insights. "You've got a sharp mind, Jon Frost. It's not often I meet someone who sees through the glitter and pomp to the heart of the matter. That's why I want you to stay for a while. Get to know the city, and help me make some changes."
Jon raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You want me to stay here? For how long?"
"Three moons," Robert said, his tone final. "Until the birthday celebration of Princess Myrcella. We'll have a grand tourney for her, and then you can head back to your lands. During your stay, you'll help me with the changes I have in mind for the city."
Jon was taken aback by the offer. "And what's in it for me?"
Robert laughed heartily. "A thousand gold dragons each for every moon. Consider it a token of my appreciation. It's nothing to me, but it might be useful to you."
Jon's eyes widened slightly. Three thousand gold dragons was no small sum, and the prospect of contributing to the city's betterment while being compensated handsomely was appealing. "I accept. I'll do what I can to help."
As the feast continued, Jon was given a room in the Red Keep, a spacious chamber with a large window overlooking the bustling city below. The room was modestly furnished but comfortable, offering a welcome respite from the noise and clamor of the feast.
The following days were a whirlwind of activity. Jon immersed himself in the city, walking through its various districts, observing the stark contrasts between the opulence of the Red Keep and the squalor of the slums. He visited markets, spoke with traders, and listened to the grievances of the common folk.
Despite the brevity of his appointment—three months before he would return to his own lands—Jon's role as the Master of King's Landing had garnered significant interest. The court, aware of his pragmatic nature and his no-nonsense attitude, viewed him with a mix of respect and apprehension. Many sought to curry favor with Jon, offering bribes and making overtures of friendship, but Jon's reputation for incorruptibility and honesty was well established. He was not a man to be swayed by gold or promises.
In his first days at the position, Jon set about enacting meaningful change in the city. He noted the squalor and stench that pervaded King's Landing and recognized the need for a systemic overhaul. His first move was audacious and transformative: he hired every carpenter he could find and tasked them with constructing a multitude of large barrels. Thousands of them.
The carpenters, led by a burly man named Harren, worked tirelessly. Harren was a grizzled veteran of the craft, known for his skill and no-nonsense demeanor. He was both surprised and pleased by the steady stream of work Jon provided. "I've never seen so many barrels in my life," Harren remarked as he wiped sweat from his brow, his hands stained with wood shavings and varnish.
Once the barrels were completed, Jon established an organization he named the Municipality. The Municipality's primary function was straightforward yet revolutionary: every part of King's Landing would be equipped with these barrels to collect waste. The barrels were placed strategically throughout the city—on street corners, in alleys, and even near market stalls. The goal was to keep the streets clean and to offer a practical solution to the city's sanitation problems.
Jon knew that simply placing the barrels wasn't enough. The Municipality required structure and efficiency. He organized a team of strong men for the task, led by a stern former soldier named Garret. Garret was known for his discipline and leadership skills, and he quickly took charge of managing the workforce. Under Garret's supervision, the barrels were collected and emptied daily. There were eight large carriages, each drawn by two horses, capable of carrying up to eight barrels at a time. The carriages made their rounds every morning, ensuring that the waste was transported out of the city and disposed of properly.
Jon's initiative did not go unnoticed. As the barrels began to be filled and emptied regularly, the streets of King's Landing started to show signs of improvement. The stench that had once been a constant presence began to dissipate. The citizens, initially skeptical, grew appreciative of the changes. The Municipality workers, too, were seen in a new light. They were earning a steady income—one silver star per week, a substantial wage compared to their previous earnings.
Among the Municipality workers was a man named Roderick, a former dockworker with a quick wit and an eye for detail. Roderick had a knack for spotting trouble and ensuring the barrels were properly maintained. He was instrumental in keeping the operation running smoothly and was one of Jon's most trusted aides. "We're making a real difference here, Lord Frost," Roderick said one day as he oversaw the cleaning of a particularly dirty street. "You've turned this place around."
Jon smiled, acknowledging Roderick's hard work. "We're just getting started. There's still a lot to be done, but I'm glad to see progress."
Jon's efforts extended beyond sanitation. Recognizing the potential of the Municipality workers as a network of informants, he proposed a plan to Robert Baratheon. "Your Grace, the workers in the Municipality are everywhere in the city. They're well-placed to gather information on illicit activities and corruption. We could use them as spies."
Robert, intrigued, leaned back in his chair. "You think they'd be reliable?"
"They're loyal to the crown," Jon replied. "They're earning a good wage and are invested in the improvements we're making. They could provide us with valuable intelligence."
Robert nodded thoughtfully. "Very well. We'll give it a try. Have them report back with any significant findings every ten days."
The plan was swiftly implemented. The Municipality workers, now a crucial part of the city's operations, began to provide regular reports on the various illegal activities and briberies occurring throughout King's Landing. Their detailed observations helped Jon and the crown crack down on corruption and enforce justice.
One of the more notable reports came from a worker named Eliza, a sharp-eyed woman with a keen sense of observation. She had noticed a series of bribes being exchanged in a market stall and reported it immediately. Jon's investigation led to the arrest and punishment of several corrupt officials, sending a clear message to others who might consider similar actions.
The impact of Jon's policies was undeniable. Within three months, the city was noticeably cleaner, and the general mood among the populace had improved. The Municipality workers, once impoverished and marginalized, had become respected members of the community. Their role in the city's transformation had not gone unnoticed, and many saw Jon Frost as a man of genuine reform.
Despite the success of his initiatives, Jon remained committed to his primary goal: returning to Moat Cailin to focus on his lands. He had made it clear to Robert that his stay in King's Landing was temporary. "I appreciate the opportunity, Your Grace, but my heart is set on my lands. Moat Cailin needs my attention."
Robert, though reluctant to let Jon go, understood. "You've done more in these few months than most would in years. The city is better for it. And I'll miss having you around."
Jon shook his head with a smile. "I'll take those who need work back with me to Moat Cailin. The increase in population isn't ideal for the city's economy, and there's plenty of work to be done up north."
The preparations for Princess Myrcella's birthday celebration were in full swing, with the grandeur of King's Landing on full display. The Red Keep was adorned with banners and tapestries, the streets were festooned with flowers, and the air was filled with a palpable sense of excitement. Yet amidst the hustle and bustle, Jon Frost, the recently appointed Master of King's Landing, found himself torn between his duty to oversee the city's transformation and his growing anticipation for the grand tournament.
Jon had originally intended to return to Moat Cailin before Princess Myrcella's birthday. However, the king's announcement of extravagant prizes for the tournament's winners—10,000 gold dragons each for the melee and archery contests, and a staggering 20,000 gold dragons for the joust—had piqued Jon's interest. Despite his initial plans, Jon decided to stay and participate in both the archery and melee competitions, confident in his skills and eager to make the most of his time in King's Landing.
As the city prepared for the celebrations, word of Jon Frost's achievements spread throughout the capital. The once foul-smelling streets were now remarkably clean, and the air had a fresh, pleasant quality that was a stark contrast to the stench that had previously plagued the city. Nobles and visitors from across the realm, arriving for the festivities, were astonished by the transformation.
Lady Seraphine Velaryon, a prominent noblewoman, remarked to her companion, "I scarcely recognized King's Landing. The air is so much fresher. It seems someone has been working diligently to improve the city's condition.
"Her companion, Ser Harland Hill, nodded in agreement. "Indeed. I heard it's a northern lord by the name of Jon Frost. He's made quite an impression in a short time."
As the tournament approached, Jon found himself with little opportunity to mingle with the royal family or make an impression beyond his work. The days were filled with administrative duties and overseeing the Municipality, leaving him scant time to interact with the court.
The day of the archery competition dawned bright and clear. The grounds were bustling with activity as skilled archers and nobles alike took their positions. Jon, dressed in practical yet elegant attire suited for the competition, made his way to the range. His bow, meticulously crafted and well-tuned, was slung across his back.
Lord Randyll Tarly, a well-known figure among the spectators, observed Jon with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "I hear this northern lord is quite adept with a bow. Let's see if he lives up to the reputation."
The archery contest commenced with a flurry of arrows. Jon stepped up to the line, his focus unwavering. With each draw of the bow, Jon's arrows flew true, striking the center of the target with unerring accuracy. The crowd watched in awe as Jon consistently hit the bullseye, his skill evident in every shot.
His final match was against Jerome Mallister, a noble from the Riverlands renowned for his archery prowess. Jerome, tall and imposing, regarded Jon with a mixture of respect and competitive fire. "I've heard much about your skill, Lord Frost. Let's see if you can match your reputation."
Jon nodded, his expression calm and determined. "May the best archer win."
The match was intense, with both competitors displaying remarkable skill. Jerome's arrows were precise, but Jon's were relentless. With a final, flawless shot, Jon secured victory, hitting the bullseye with impeccable accuracy. The crowd erupted in applause, and Jon's name was on everyone's lips.
In the wake of his victory, many nobles approached Jon to offer their congratulations and extend their friendship. Lord Edric Dayne, a prominent figure, clapped Jon on the back. "Well shot, Lord Frost! I'm glad to make your acquaintance. Perhaps we could discuss mutual interests over a drink later?"
Jon accepted the invitation with a polite nod. "I'd be pleased to."
The following day, the melee competition took center stage. The field was a chaotic scene of combatants, both individuals and teams, engaged in fierce skirmishes. Jon, opting to fight alone, stood out amidst the groups of combatants who had chosen to team up.
Jon's strategy was both bold and effective. He moved with agility and precision, avoiding the largest and most powerful teams while exploiting opportunities to strike at isolated opponents. His training and experience allowed him to fight with whatever was available on the field—broken swords, discarded shields, and improvised weapons.
In the midst of the chaos, Jon's prowess became evident. He dispatched opponents with a mixture of skill and brute force, his strikes decisive and unrelenting. The crowd watched in astonishment as Jon, wielding a makeshift club, fought off multiple adversaries at once. His reputation as a formidable fighter was reinforced with every victory.
As the melee progressed, the final combatants were whittled down to a select few. Jon's last opponent was the infamous Gregor Clegane, known as the Mountain. The massive, brutal warrior was a force of nature, his reputation for savagery preceding him.He had already killed three men so far. Jon knew that facing the Mountain would require a different approach—one that balanced strategy with the willingness to fight dirty.
Jon observed the Mountain's slow, lumbering movements. The bulky armor and immense size made Gregor a formidable opponent, but it also presented opportunities. Jon danced around the Mountain, evading his powerful but cumbersome swings. He waited for the right moment and, spotting a Warhammer on the ground, seized it with determination.
The final confrontation was fierce. Jon swung the Warhammer with all his strength, targeting the Mountain's knees. With a series of powerful blows, Jon shattered Gregor's armor and pulverized his knees. The Mountain roared in pain, but Jon did not relent, he crushed both his knees beyond functioning . With a final, crushing strike to the face, Jon knocked the Mountain out of the melee, emerging victorious.
The crowd erupted in cheers, and Jon's victory was met with widespread admiration. The prize of 20,000 gold dragons was his, a testament to his skill and determination. As he accepted his prize, Jon's accomplishments were the talk of the tournament.
The tournament concluded with the jousting competition, a grand event that showcased the skills of knights from across the realm. Jon, having opted not to participate in the joust, watched from the stands. The jousting field was alive with activity as knights charged at each other with lances, the thunder of hooves and the clash of metal filling the air.
Jaime Lannister, the renowned Kingslayer, emerged as the victor of the joust. His skill and prowess on the field earned him widespread acclaim, and the crowd cheered his every move. Princess Myrcella, radiant in her finery, was named the Princess of Beauty. The honor was a testament to her grace and charm, and the celebration of her birthday was a resounding success.