Tonight, King's Landing was in turmoil. The noble residential areas were undisturbed, but in other parts of the city, the residents stayed locked inside, afraid to go out. Some brave souls opened their second or third-floor windows to watch the movements of the Gold Cloaks.
The streets, aside from the Gold Cloaks, were filled with criminals. The entire city was alive with the sounds of fighting, especially near Flea Bottom, the most lawless area.
The former commander of the city guard, Janos Slynt, lived on the outskirts of Flea Bottom. Wright stood in the yard, waiting. The Gold Cloaks had already rushed in, dragging the former commander out of his house, still wearing his nightclothes, and pulled him into the yard.
In Wright's world, criminals were always greeted with ceremonial manners upon capture.
As Wright joined the Gold Cloaks in apprehending criminals, he followed the tradition. Being the highest-ranking official present, it was his duty to greet Slynt personally. Cautiously, to avoid kicking him to death, Wright struck Slynt with a controlled kick that sent him sprawling onto the ground.
The pain from a metal boot hitting someone in nightwear was excruciating. Janos Slynt, still unclear about what had just happened, sat on the ground clutching his stomach in pain.
"Lord Wright, what is the meaning of this?" he groaned.
Wright ignored him, having already given orders to the Gold Cloaks. Ser Jacelyn Bywater, known as Iron Hand, approached with an iron chain to secure Slynt's hands, while another Gold Cloak stuffed a cloth into his mouth to prevent him from biting his tongue in an attempt to take his own life.
"Janos Slynt! Prepare to face the king's judgment in the Red Keep. Guards, take him to the dungeons!" Wright ordered.
Wright turned to the Gold Cloaks: "Search the house thoroughly for any hidden compartments."
"Yes, Ser!"
Wright then asked, "Who's next?"
Ser Jacelyn Bywater replied, "It's the financial supervisor of the city guard. His house is two streets away, and by now, he should have been captured."
Wright was surprised by how efficiently things were being handled. "Well done. We can't afford any delays today."
Suddenly, a loud scream rang out from the street outside the yard.
"Don't let them escape!" The sound of a fight echoed through the streets.
With the entire Gold Cloaks force deployed to apprehend criminals, some of the criminals, seeing that the Gold Cloaks weren't executing anyone, tried to escape, leading to ineWrightable brawls. However, Wright also saw this as an opportunity to gauge the Gold Cloaks' control over King's Landing. If a widespread riot broke out, many of the Gold Cloaks' captains would be replaced the next day.
"Iron Hand, stay here. I'll check outside," Wright said, before stepping out of the yard.
On the street, several figures in black cloaks were engaged in combat with a large group of Gold Cloaks. The Gold Cloaks weren't drawing their weapons, and the black-cloaked figures, too, refrained from unsheathing their swords.
The two sides were locked in an intense hand-to-hand struggle. The black-cloaked figures were much more skilled than the Gold Cloaks, but they seemed to want to avoid prolonged combat and escape. The Gold Cloaks, however, had orders to capture them, so the chase continued down the street, with more and more Gold Cloaks joining in, cornering the black-cloaked figures at a street corner.
"Quick! Step on my shoulders and climb through the second-floor window!" one of the black-cloaked figures crouched, his hands raised to assist his companions in climbing up to escape.
"Surrender now, you won't get away tonight. Look over there." The leader of the black-cloaked group raised his hands and pointed toward the street.
The other black-cloaked figures turned to look, and upon seeing a tall knight clad in full armor, with a stag-horned helmet, walking toward them, they decided to surrender.
Since Robert had ascended the throne, only House Baratheon wore stag-horned helmets. While the king was tall, his large belly required specially customized armor. Therefore, the only people who could be arriving were either Renly or Wright!
If it were Renly, they would have it easy. A single spell and the body would be left behind. But if it were Wright, the infamous butcher of Braavos, rumors had it that tens of thousands had died in the city, and not even their bodies were found.
The Gold Cloaks twisted the arms of a few men, pressing them to the ground and shackling them with chains. The others quickly stepped aside to make way for Wright.
"Seems like I still have some fame, they behave when they see me!" Wright commented, approaching the group. He yanked the hood off the leader. "So it's you!"
The man on the ground looked up but didn't recognize Wright or Renly and didn't dare speak.
Wright said, "Let them go. This is Ser Denys Arryn! You all go back to capturing criminals."
"Yes, my lord Wright!" the Gold Cloaks replied.
With Wright's command, the Gold Cloaks released the men from their chains and let them go, knowing they were acquaintances of Wright. The group quickly left, afraid of being recognized.
The men stood up, rubbing the places where they had been struck, unsure of what to do. They dared not run or speak, frozen for a moment.
Wright chuckled. "Ser Denys Arryn, tonight the Gold Cloaks are rounding up thieves and criminals in the city. You lot, dressed like this, are you out at night to avoid being caught at entertainment spots?"
Denys Arryn relaxed upon hearing this. The group had intended to leave the city tonight, but with all the Gold Cloaks on the move, they had assumed they were being targeted. Now that Wright had let them go, it seemed clear they weren't the ones being pursued.
He exchanged glances with the others, and they all removed their hoods.
"Harrold Hardyng! I've seen you before. What exactly are you up to tonight?" Wright said, recognizing some of them.
Denys hesitated but realized that, with Wright involved, they had no chance of escape. Deciding to take a gamble, he spoke.
"My lord Wright, I'm on my way back to the Vale, to take up the title of Lord of the Eyrie."
Wright raised an eyebrow. "Oh? This is starting to get interesting."
After the death of the former hand of the king, Jon Arryn, and the subsequent funeral, King Robert had officially named the new heir to the Vale: seven-year-old Robert Arryn.
Denys Arryn had been the first heir to the Vale, and had been expected to die during the rebellion led by Robert. But due to Wright's intervention, the Battle of the Bells never occurred. As a result, Denys had kept his position as the first heir, but once Jon Arryn's son was born, he was moved to second place in the line.
Denys was handsome, well-spoken, and possessed the courage and martial prowess expected of the Vale's knights. He had long been beloved by the noble families of the Vale, earning the title of The Darling of the Vale, and many were eager to see him take up the title.
Standing beside him was Harrold Hardyng, just fifteen years old, a relative of the Arryns, and the third in line for the title.
Now, the first in line was a sickly, seven-year-old child who had yet to be weaned.
Wright raised an eyebrow. "You must know that Robert Arryn is now the rightful heir to the Vale. Once the seven days of mourning are over, he will return to the Eyrie to claim his title. What you're doing now is considered rebellion."
"Robert Arryn is a bastard!" Denys growled, throwing caution to the wind. If it meant dying at Wright's hands, so be it.
In the faint moonlight, Denys pointed to the heads of those around him. "My lord Wright! The Arryns have always been blond. Look at Harold, look at these knights of the Arryn family's branch—blond!"
Wright used his light magic, and the men automatically lined up in the white glow, proudly showing their golden hair, which shone brightly under the light.
Wright remarked, "The Andal bloodline, strong and resilient, much like the Baratheon."
Denys sneered. "Jon Arryn was also blond, but he's grown old, and many have forgotten his original hair color. As for Lysa Tully—she's red-haired! My lord Wright, if a father has blond hair and a mother has red hair, how could they produce a son with brown hair?"
This matter was more serious than Robert's situation back in the day. At least Cersei was also blond, and having three blond children didn't raise much suspicion. But didn't Jon Arryn himself realize what was going on? Or was he just too proud to speak up?
Wright pondered for a moment. "Why don't you go to Robert and clear things up with him?"
"Jon Arryn was King Robert's foster father," Denys Arryn replied. "He would never publicly expose his foster father's scandal. He might even silence us."
Denys hesitated, then looked Wright in the eye and asked, "My lord Wright, are you here to kill us?"
Wright grinned.
The men stepped back in fear.
Wright thought to himself. This kind of situation was happening again. Robert would definitely be furious. But to kill Lysa Tully—it involved the Tully family, and the Stark family of the North. The three northern kingdoms would all be drawn into it.
Wright hadn't had much contact with Robert since he grew older, but Wright could still gauge what he was thinking about his brothers. But when it came to others, Wright wasn't sure. Robert might well eliminate them to protect the old Lord Arryn's reputation.
It could go either way—killing Lysa Tully or killing Denys Arryn.
Wright asked, "Do you have any evidence? Do you know who the father of the child is?"
Denys and the others shook their heads. "I noticed this matter long ago, but for the sake of the Lord's honor, I've been investigating privately. I never found out who the father is. Too many people have brown hair."
Wright nodded. "Leave the city tonight."
Denys understood now—neither Robert nor Wright knew the full story. They weren't taking sides, so they could be considered neutral.
"Yes, my lord Wright!" they replied.
Wright gestured for them to follow him. "Come with me for now. I'll finish things here, then return to the Magic School."
Wright turned and headed toward the Red Keep. The people they had captured tonight would be sent to the dungeons of the Red Keep for temporary holding. The clerk would take care of the records, and Wright would assist in signing the confirmations. The group hurried to keep up, not bothering to put their hoods back on.
As they walked, Wright warned them, "I've already mentioned your names to the Gold Cloaks, so the word will spread quickly. I'll have Ashara Dayne escort you back to the Vale."
Harrold Hardyng, the young man, was surprised. "The Sword of the Morning?"
Wright nodded. "She has nothing to do these days, always getting itchy hands and bored. Now she has some free time. But she'll only be responsible for taking you back to the Eyrie. She won't get involved in anything else."
"Thank you so much, my lord Wright!" The group of black-robed men expressed their gratitude.
The new Sword of the Morning had a reputation. Those who had come back from the Stepstones spoke of her—enemies who faced her either got cut in two or three pieces. She was a feared warrior. With Ashara Dayne as their escort, they now felt their journey back home was guaranteed to be safe as long as they didn't make any mistakes.
Wright added, "Also, once you get back to the Vale, spread the news that Robert Arryn is a bastard. Let all the Vale's nobles know. But don't raise any armies yet—just secure the Bloody Gate."
Denys Arryn was confused. "My lord Wright, could you explain why?"
Wright gave a nod. "I can help you. After you leave King's Landing, I'll report this matter to Robert privately. Before the king makes a decision, don't raise any armies. Otherwise, it will truly be considered rebellion."
Denys paused, thinking. "What if Lysa Tully returns to the Vale before the king's decision?"
Wright replied, "You're the guardian of Gates of the Moon. If Lysa Tully returns, you can hold her for now, and send the old Lord's body back first."
Denys thought for a moment. "That's what we should do."
The Vale's terrain was treacherous, with only one road leading into the rich Eyrie Valley. On both sides were steep cliffs, and Bloodgate stood as the most important checkpoint. After passing through the valley, if one wanted to reach the Eyrie, there was only one road from Gates of the Moon.
Climbing over the mountains was possible, but the cliffs were steep, requiring all gear to be removed. Horses couldn't make it through, leaving one practically defenseless. That's why wildlings in the Vale usually carried only an axe with them.
The group followed Wright into the Red Keep. That night, only the Gold Cloaks were active in King's Landing, so news spread more slowly than usual. It wasn't until after the operation ended that Ashara and the others left the city and Littlefinger finally received the news.
Inside a hidden alley, in a modest exterior but lavishly decorated interior of a small building, the sound of a woman's furious shouting could be heard. When the noise reached nearby houses, no one reacted, for it was the time when the residents were all working.
Lysa Tully was yanking at Littlefinger's clothes as she screamed, "What do we do?! What do we do?! Send someone to kill that bastard!"
Hearing the word bastard, Littlefinger's face involuntarily twitched. "Quiet! Don't let anyone hear you. There are Gold Cloaks everywhere tonight!"
Lysa Tully lowered her voice slightly. "If Denys Arryn gets back to the Vale, we're finished!"
Littlefinger reassured her, "Don't worry, he has no evidence, and our child, Robert Arryn, is the one the king has recognized."
Lysa Tully insisted, "We still have to kill him! Otherwise, with him in the way, life for me and sweet Robin will be unbearable."
Littlefinger chuckled, his small mustache crooked as he smiled. Did he not want to root out this problem? He could have handled it by hiring a couple of assassins, but with Ashara Dayne now involved, it wasn't that simple. He had learned that this woman wasn't someone easy to deal with.
It wasn't because she was particularly clever, but because she was single-minded—travel, eat, sleep, kill. She only spoke a lot to those close to her, making her a poor player in the world of schemes. She wouldn't care about anyone's status, and if you angered her, she would just draw her sword and strike.
The assassins Littlefinger knew all had a rough, villainous appearance. He didn't even think she'd let one of them approach her; she'd probably come up and start a fight, sword drawn.
Littlefinger gently touched Lysa's red hair. "Lysa, don't worry. When we get home tonight, let sweet Robin sleep peacefully. I've already come up with a solution."