The Young Lion
Act 1 Ch 21: A Stroll through the City
Just as Joffrey had planned, the Royal Court churned in chaos as the young king's reforms took root. The Merchants' Guild rapidly ushered in stockpiles of food and other essential supplies, and soon breadlines were implemented throughout the city, allowing both highborn and low to receive sustenance. While the commoners and even the new generation of nobles were impressed with the king's compassion and proactivity regarding the looming food shortages, not everyone shared their approval.
Countless old noble houses were outraged that their coin was now funding the feeding of commoners, and they protested to the king every time he held court. Joffrey had attempted to soothe their anger with promises of reimbursement, but it quickly became clear they would not be content until every spent coffer, every dragon, was returned to them. The king could not help but look upon these "noble" lords with profound contempt. They were truly willing to let hundreds of men, women, and children starve to death rather than spend a single coin to help them. It was reminiscent of how his old government had treated its own citizens.
Discreet discussions soon rippled through the court: perhaps Joffrey was not best suited for the throne after all. Perhaps supporting Renly, or even Stannis, was truly what was best for the realm. Little by little, these "conflicted" noblemen found their way to the man everyone knew held half the city in his pocket: Littlefinger.
The Master of Coin was more than happy to listen to their "concerns" and "second thoughts," and soon nearly one-third of the Court fell under his sway. As his power and influence grew, Petyr Baelish inwardly thanked the king for his seemingly reckless reforms. Yet, what none of them realized was that they were all playing directly into the king's hands. Joffrey, meanwhile, spent some of his free time in a secluded part of the Red Keep.
o-O-o
In a separate courtyard within the castle, Joffrey stood shirtless, dressed only in his leather training breeches, as he performed his daily strength and conditioning routine. Sweat beaded on his brow and dripped onto his bare chest as the young king curled the metal barbell, loaded with two forty-five-pound plates.
"Eight!" he grunted, slowly curling the bar before lowering it with controlled precision.
"Nine!" he strained, veins bulging on his biceps, as he deliberately lowered the weight.
"Ten!" he finished, exhaling a breath of relief as he dropped the bar to the ground.
Slowly, he made his way to his training yard's table, picked up his towel, and wiped his face, then took a long sip from his waterskin. Taking a few deep breaths to slow his heart rate, Joffrey took another sip of water before turning toward the wooden, makeshift pull-up bar stand.
Joffrey's new high-protein and calcium diet, combined with his daily intense training regimen, had worked wonders for his physique. Where his body was once slender and untrained, it was now lithe but lean, boasting a sculpted frame, and with the help of his fledgling industrial sector, he now possessed modern tools like kettlebells, dumbbells, barbells, and other plated equipment to push him to the next level.
Just as he began his first set of wide-grip pull-ups, a young girl, accompanied by two Lannister Red Cloaks, entered the training ground. It was none other than his betrothed, Sansa Stark. Dressed in a burgundy day dress with gold embroidery, she slowly approached as Joffrey hopped off his pull-up stand.
"Your Grace," she murmured, curtsying gracefully while the two guards merely bowed their heads.
"My Lady," he responded politely, offering a courtly bow in return. "How do you fare on this fine day?"
"I am well, Your Grace," she replied, a faint blush dusting her cheeks as her eyes lingered on the young king's bare, toned torso.
Noting her gaze, Joffrey internally chuckled as he retrieved his training shirt and draped it over his body.
"Was there something you needed, my Lady?" he asked, wiping his brow with a hand towel.
"No, no," she denied, a hint of disappointment in her tone now that her betrothed was covered. "I just wished to spend some time with you, Your Grace."
Joffrey was momentarily perplexed by the young girl's words until he realized she simply desired to spend time with her youthful crush. The king closed his eyes and let out a suppressed sigh.
Great, this is just what I need, he thought. A needy schoolgirl desperate for some attention.
"Is that so?" he said aloud, his pleasant expression masking his annoyance. "Well, it's true I have been busy lately, so how about you and I spend some time together in the city?"
"Really?!" the girl responded with unbridled enthusiasm, nearly bouncing before quickly composing herself. "I mean, that sounds lovely, Your Grace."
Joffrey chuckled at the embarrassed girl's slip of etiquette but decided not to comment.
"Of course. Just let me get washed up, and I'll meet you in the Great Hall."
The girl looked ecstatic, then seemed to ponder something before looking up at the young king sheepishly.
"Um, Your Grace?"
"Yes, Sansa?"
"Would it be all right to bring Lady out with us?"
"Your direwolf? She's not going to attack anyone, is she?"
"No, no," she denied vehemently. "She's well-trained and will be on her best behavior, I promise. It's just she's been kept in the stalls for so long; I think getting out and getting some fresh air would do her some good."
Joffrey seemed to consider her request for a moment before he looked up and smiled.
"Very well, your direwolf Lady can come with us," The young girl looked ready to celebrate when the king raised his hand. "But you'll be responsible for her behavior and actions. Is that clear?"
Sansa immediately agreed, almost skipping out of the training yard and into the Red Keep to pick out the outfit she wished to wear. Joffrey simply chuckled at the girl's antics as he took a sip of water from his waterskin. As the king racked some of his training equipment, he failed to notice the young serving girl who had been watching the entire exchange from a well-hidden window. The servant soon turned and made her way back into the castle, her dress fluttering as she did, allowing the king a fleeting glimpse of pink.
o-O-o
The serving girl soon made her way to a particular Solar and quietly knocked on the door three times.
"Come in," a feminine voice from within announced.
The servant slowly opened the wooden door and stepped into the white stone bedchamber. The girl then looked up and found herself face-to-face with the Dowager Queen herself and her personal handmaiden.
"What is it?" Cersei demanded, annoyed by the sudden intrusion.
"My Queen, I bring you news," the girl responded, bowing her head in a display of submission.
"Oh, what news might that be?"
The young girl then recounted the entire exchange between the king and Sansa, including their plans for an outing together in the city. Cersei slowly became more and more displeased by the details involving the doe-eyed northern girl and her son, her mask of etiquette nearly cracking. Once the girl finished her story, she looked up and found a very, very irked queen staring back at her.
"Thank you for your report," she said as calmly as she could. "You may go. Inform me immediately if you learn anything else."
"Of course, Your Grace." She curtsied deeply before exiting the chamber.
Once the door closed behind her, Cersei snatched the glass chalice she had been drinking from and hurled it at the door, shattering it into a hundred pieces. Her handmaiden, Senelle, remained calmly indifferent to her outburst.
"The red-headed little harlot!" she shrieked, losing all sense of decorum and appearances. "So she's the one after all! She got into my boy's head and turned him against me!"
The queen had spent the better part of a week trying to discern what had caused the sudden shift in her son's behavior. It was true he had been different ever since their trip to the North, but he at least still heeded her advice and listened to her sensible counsel. Now, she simply did not know what to think.
He continued to make decisions that made no sense to her, seemingly driven by some form of "compassion" for the riffraff. When she tried to simply explain the realities of the world to him, he would give her that long, hollow stare that reminded her more and more of her own father. For a while, she could not figure out what had brought on this sudden change, but now everything had become clear to her.
It's just as that witch said it would be, she thought to herself. We must be at the early stages, which means I need to nip this weed in the bud.
"Senelle," she said, finally gaining the attention of her attendant, who had remained silent.
"Yes, Your Grace?" she asked, stepping forward.
"Bring me Lord Baelish. I have some matters I need to discuss with him."
"Yes, Your Grace." The handmaiden promptly left, leaving the golden-haired queen alone in her chambers.
"So this northern little bitch thinks she can play me for a fool, does she?" she wondered, staring out her chamber's window. "I knew I should never have agreed to that fool's marriage betrothal. I've waited half of my life for this day. I played the dutiful daughter, I played the beautiful wife, I even played the good queen. I suffered the drunk's groping, my brother's jealousy, and the swordswallor's mockery. And this doe-eyed little girl thinks she is going to come in and take what's rightfully mine. Well, the little wolf bitch has another thing coming."
Away from the deranged woman's chambers, her handmaiden slowly made her way down the stone corridor, grappling with her own internal struggle.
I need to get word to His Grace, she thought as she continued to navigate the castle.
o-O-o
Joffrey patiently awaited Sansa's arrival inside the Throne Room, having changed out of his workout clothes and into a simple but elegant crimson doublet with gold lining, and a matching pair of breeches. Over his sleeves, he wore the castle-forged bracers Robb had gifted him back in the North. As he adjusted his sword belt, Sansa entered the great hall, accompanied by her usual Lannister guards.
The young girl had changed out of her burgundy dress and into an equally beautiful dark blue gown, embroidered with silver wolves, the symbol of her house. She wore her auburn-red hair long, with a few braided strands. She had returned to her classical northern hairstyles after Joffrey had hinted he did not approve of her matching his mother's appearance. Overall, to an outsider, one would have thought the young couple were attending a ball rather than simply strolling through the city.
"Your Grace," she said happily, curtsying flawlessly, holding up the edges of her dress as she bowed.
"My Lady," he responded, offering a bow at the waist. "Are you ready to go?"
He asked, waving his hand to dismiss her two Lannister guards, who tilted their heads and left the two youths alone.
"Yes, Your Grace," she replied with a smile, causing the king to chuckle at her excitement. "Though, will we be going alone?"
She wondered, glancing at the doorway through which the Lannister guards had exited.
"As much as I'd enjoy some alone time with you, my Lady, just the two of us, I'm afraid that as the king, I cannot go anywhere completely unguarded."
Sansa perked up, hearing the king's words, silently wondering who would be escorting them on their outing into the city. As if on cue, two individuals stepped forward whom she had long grown familiar with.
"Are you ready to depart, Your Grace?" Ser Barristan asked as he stopped a few arm lengths from the couple.
"Almost," Joffrey responded. "We'll have to make a pit stop at the stalls. My Lady wishes to bring her wolf with her."
"Oh, great, now I get to babysit two youths and a direwolf," the Hound grumbled.
Ser Barristan and Sansa looked annoyed at the half-burnt giant's remarks, while the king just chuckled silently.
"You should be honored, Clegane," Ser Barristan interjected, uttering the last name with a hint of disgust. "You have the sacred honor of defending the king and his future queen, without even being a proper knight."
Sansa blushed slightly as Barristan mentioned her future marriage with Joffrey, while the Hound merely stared at the old knight as if he were an idiot.
"Yeah? Should I feel honored if he asks me to wipe his arse too?"
"Why, you—"
The two looked ready to exchange blows until Joffrey cut them off.
"Enough! Both of you!" he ordered, making the two loosen their grip on their swords. "If you two want to fight, save it for the training yard. Now, come on, let's go."
Joffrey then led the group out of the great hall and through the main gate of Maegor's Holdfast. As the group exited the castle, none of them noticed the red-headed handmaiden attempting to flag them down. Stopping at one of the kennels, Sansa opened one of the steel doors, and out walked her direwolf, Lady. It was a majestic beast with light grey fur, mixed with strands of auburn red, much like Sansa's hair. It had grown considerably since the last time he saw it, to the point it was twice the size of the shadowcat he had slain a few months back.
Sansa rubbed and scratched behind the wolf's ears, and Lady affectionately nudged her head against Sansa's hands. Sansa then turned and gestured for Joffrey to approach. Truthfully, Joffrey was rather reluctant to place his hands anywhere near such a massive predator, but he also remembered that Sansa's direwolf was the calmest of the litter, which made what Cersei and the original Joffrey did to her all the worse.
Slowly, the king made his way over to his future wife and her furry defender. As he approached, Lady turned her head away from Sansa and looked at him inquisitively. As he stepped closer, the direwolf slowly began to bare her fangs at him, making him freeze in place as Sandor and Barristan both slowly reached for their swords.
"Oh, shush, Lady, you remember His Grace," she said, speaking to the wolf as if chastising a child.
Upon hearing the girl's words, the wolf stopped baring her teeth and became noticeably calmer. Sansa once again encouraged Joffrey to come forward, which he promptly did, albeit slowly. As he drew closer, he slowly lifted his right hand towards the giant wolf's head, and Lady slowly stepped forward, making the king's guards visibly nervous. The king froze like a statue as the direwolf slowly sniffed his hand.
Joffrey held his breath until he felt a wet sensation touch the tips of his fingers as the wolf slowly began to lick his hand before nudging its head forward to brush its soft fur against the palm of his hand. The king slowly began petting the wolf's head and even scratched behind its ears, as Sansa had, all while his two bodyguards let out audible sighs of relief. Internally, the young king could not blame them for their nervousness; the beast already stood three feet tall and was bound to only grow larger with time.
"All right, shall we get going, my Lady?" he asked, offering the girl his arm.
"Oh, of course, Your Grace," she said, quickly standing and smoothing the wrinkles from her dress.
The girl looped her arm around Joffrey's as he slowly led the group of four and their furry companion toward the castle's main gate. Noticing they were not taking a stagecoach or even horses, Sansa looked up at the king with confusion.
"Your Grace, aren't we going to take a stagecoach into the city?"
"Nah," he shook his head. "We've been cooped up in that dusty old castle for so long, I think a little walk would do us some good. Plus, it will extend our time together."
"Oh, all right," she said, leaning her head against the king's right shoulder as they made their way down the white brick road and into the city below.
o-O-o
The city bustled with activity as the royal couple made their way down the center of the street. Vendors of all types vied for the couple's patronage. A florist offered Sansa a blue orchid that beautifully complemented her dress. Sansa thanked the woman for her gift before placing the flower behind her ear. A food vendor attempted to offer them free samples of his kebab, but quickly retreated in fear when Lady hopped onto his food stand to claim the meat skewers for herself, making Joffrey and Sansa laugh aloud.
Seeing that they were already out, the king decided to mix business with pleasure as he led the group to his fledgling industrial sector on the Street of Steel. Arriving on the scene, the sounds of beating hammers and the smell of soot filled the air as the group made their way forward.
"Hey, jackass! You wanna get burned by hot metal, huh?! 'Cause that's exactly how you get burned with hot metal!" A familiar voice shouted, making Joffrey smile as he followed the sound.
Coming onto the scene, the king found a balding older man dressed in fine clothes, holding what could only be described as a clipboard. The king smiled happily as he walked forward.
"I already told you, Hogum, you're in the Civil District now," he told a young man who appeared to be in his early twenties.
"But Overseer, I'm much better at handling armor than pipes," he protested.
"Oh, yeah?" Tobho raised an eyebrow at his remark. "Start learning not to get cut by every slightly pointed edge, and maybe I'll have you re-stationed there. Now, get to work; we're not paying you to stand around."
The young man walked off in a huff as Joffrey approached Tobho from behind.
"Excuse me, Overseer, where's the bathroom again?" he asked in a feigned voice.
"Hah," the overseer let out a heavy breath before he turned to answer. "For the last time, it's over there by the stall—"
Tobho stopped mid-sentence upon seeing who had actually asked him the seemingly dumb question.
"Your Grace!" he exclaimed happily, his old features lighting up with excitement.
"Hello, Tobho," Joffrey responded happily, allowing the old blacksmith to pat his shoulders, much to Sansa's shock. "I've come to check on your progress."
"Progress is great, Your Grace," he replied, releasing the king's shoulders and pulling up his clipboard. "The order you requested will be delivered on time," he said, flipping through the different documents. "And the new set of Bessemer processes are already up and running."
"Good, good. This is why I made you Overseer, Tobho." He said happily, then noticed Sansa's confused expression. "Oh, where are my manners? Sansa, this is Tobho Mott, Overseer of my Industrial Sector. Tobho, this is Sansa Stark, my betrothed and future queen."
"Greetings, my Lady." Tobho offered a deep bow.
"Good day to you, Lord Tobho," Sansa responded with her own curtsy but was surprised when the older man began to chuckle.
"Oh, I'm no lord, my Lady, just an ordinary blacksmith at the king's command."
Hearing the older smith's words, Sansa wore a conflicted and confused look as she reassessed the man. Seeing the girl's perplexed expression, Joffrey decided to wrap up the meeting.
"Well, I just stopped over to make sure you weren't running into any obstacles like before."
"No obstacles, Your Grace; so far, it seems everyone has gotten on board with your new scheduling policies. With the workload broken up between three different shifts, pretty much everything flows seamlessly now. Though I'm sure when we acquire more shops, that won't be the case, just like before."
"Ugh, don't remind me," he complained, recalling well the headache he faced when he purchased several of the lesser shops and had to haggle with the previous owners and their workers.
Tobho merely chuckled at the king's reaction before he straightened up.
"Well, if you have any issues, I want you to come straight to me."
"Of course, Your Grace. Though I should be fine; I've got lots of good workers to give me a hand."
The king then spotted a young man no older than Robb lifting a steel beam by himself. He was tall, standing at least six and a half feet, and was well-muscled with arms twice as thick as Joffrey's own. Taking one look at him, Joffrey knew exactly who the boy was.
"Gendry is looking well," Joffrey commented offhandedly.
"What? Oh, yes, yes, a very hard-working young man," Tobho agreed.
"Remember, if that boy ever wishes to swing that hammer for something other than crafting, I want you to send him to me."
"I will, Your Grace." He nodded vehemently. "He's already considering your previous offer."
"Good, then I'll leave you to it, Overseer. Make sure your report reaches my desk before the end of the week."
"It will, my King, I assure you."
Joffrey and his group then departed, much to the relief of Tobho's workers, who had been staring at the giant direwolf rather anxiously. As they walked, Joffrey noticed the still conflicted expression on the young noble girl's face.
"What is it, Sansa?" he asked, making the girl lift her head from his shoulder.
"What? Oh, nothing, Your Grace," she answered.
The king stopped walking and slowly separated himself from the young girl. As he turned to face her, he made the Stark girl meet his gaze before he asked again.
"What's bothering you, my Lady?" he asked as sincerely as he could. "Please, tell me."
"Well—" the girl struggled to answer, but looking up into the king's emerald-green eyes, she let out a heavy sigh before she finally spoke. "It's just I'm confused by your actions, Your Grace."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I was raised in Winterfell to always honor my House and to always carry myself with the proper elegance expected of a lady of a Great House."
"Oh, okay? And?"
"And that included making sure I kept proper company. It's a lesson my mother drilled into my and my sister's heads every day. Arya never quite learned it, as she would regularly fraternize with commoners like the butcher's boy from before. But now, seeing you, the literal King of the Seven Kingdoms, talking to a mere smith in such a familiar way, I don't know what to think."
Oh, I see, he thought, realizing he had made a crack in her elitist worldview.
The king took a deep breath before he responded.
"Sansa, may I ask you something?"
The red-headed girl nodded.
"Tell me, what do you think is the difference between us and these commoners you see as lesser than yourself?"
Sansa looked confused by the question and immediately went for the answer she had been taught her whole life.
"We of the Great Houses are born with the prestigious blood of the old—"
But before she could finish, Joffrey cut her off.
"I'm not asking for what your Maester thinks. Or your Septa, or even your mother. I want to know what you think it is."
The girl fell silent upon hearing her betrothed's words. She began to think of an original response, and different ideas popped into her head, each more foolish than the last, before she finally slumped her shoulders.
"I don't know," she finally answered uncertainly. "Do you?"
A small smile crept onto the young man's face.
"Follow me," he answered as he led the group out of his Industrial Sector.
o-O-o
The king led the group to one of the many orphanages throughout the city. Sansa tried to avoid the potholes filled with murky water and covered her nose as she followed behind her future husband. Stopping outside the door, he turned to his two bodyguards.
"Wait outside," he ordered, mostly looking at the Hound, who was bound to frighten the children.
Both guards nodded and stood outside the door on either side, while Sansa, Joffrey, and the direwolf made their way inside. The building was small and clearly overcrowded, with symbols of the Faith of the Seven carved into the walls. As the royal couple entered, dozens of curious children, ranging from four to their early teens, emerged to look. Seeing the two young teenagers making their way inside, a plump, middle-aged woman approached to greet them.
"Welcome, welcome," she said happily. "How may I assist you on this fine—"
But the woman stopped mid-sentence when she saw who had come to pay her a visit.
"Greetings, my Lady," the king said politely. "I've come to see some of my younger subjects."
Whispers immediately began to murmur amongst the children, who stared at the king and his future queen. As Joffrey spoke with the orphanage's caretaker, a young child made his way over to them.
"Are you really the king?" one young boy asked as he tugged on the king's pant leg.
Joffrey looked down at the young child, who could not have been more than six years old. His hair was long and dirty, much like the rest of his outfit, with dried mud covering his sandy blonde strands.
"I sure am, and who are you, young man?" he responded with a kind tone, ignoring the mud the boy left on his breeches.
"I'm Yor," he answered, holding out his arms.
Joffrey chuckled as he picked the boy up and held him against his body with his right arm. He then felt another tug on his other leg, where he found a young girl staring up at him.
"And I'm Zel, his sister," she announced, holding her arms out just as her brother did.
Joffrey understood and picked her up with his free arm, walking until he found a suitable spot to sit down. Sansa slowly followed after them, carefully avoiding the rather dirty children whose yellow rags had been dyed brown from all the mud and other grime. Yet the king did not seem to pay it any mind as he bounced the young kids on his knees and spoke kindly to them.
The rest of the orphans emerged from their hiding places and eventually all assembled, sitting in front of the future king and queen of the kingdoms. There were over thirty of them, all looking at the pair with curiosity and wonder. One brave little girl moved away from the group and slowly approached the beautiful wolf that sat beside Sansa. The direwolf looked at the small approaching human inquisitively and did not react even as the young girl reached out and began to run her hands through its fur.
Other children built up courage, and soon Lady was surrounded by over ten different children, each petting and scratching her in different spots. As Lady reveled in the attention, Sansa felt a tug on her sleeve. Turning her head away from her direwolf, Sansa was greeted by the sight of a young girl who looked a little younger than her brother, Bran.
"H-hello, little one," she said a little nervously, unsure how to interact with common folk.
The little girl did not say anything, and just as Sansa was about to ask if she was all right, the little girl lifted a makeshift yellow flower and offered it to her. The future queen's eyes widened slightly upon seeing the gift the young girl was offering, and she even caught a glimpse of Joffrey looking over at her.
"Oh, um, thank you," she said as she took the flower into her hands.
The little girl looked at her happily, stirring something inside Sansa. She then reached up, pulled the blue orchid from behind her ear, and placed it on the young girl. The orphan girl looked excited and gently touched the flower before she reached out and hugged Sansa. Sansa was momentarily baffled before she gently returned the embrace. The girl then skipped away, leaving a flushed Sansa behind.
Eventually, the couple needed to leave and gently patted and bid farewell to each individual child, who each told them their names. Lady was the first to make her way out, her grey and red fur covered with individual braids from the children. As Sansa made her way out, Joffrey called out to her.
"I'll be there in just a second," he said before turning his attention to the middle-aged caretaker.
"Yes, Your Grace?" she asked, confused, as the young man made his way over to her.
"Tell me something, my Lady, why are those children as thin as they are?"
"Well, with the food shortages from the war starting to pile up, we have a hard time with—"
"Yet you seem to be quite well fed," he said, cutting her off while pointing out her round midsection.
"Well, I, um," she stammered, trying to conjure a response.
"I'll be stationing a guard down here from now on, and they had better report back to me that all the food I send down here finds its way into those children's stomachs. Otherwise, my Lady, you'll find yourself waking up inside one of my dungeons. Is that understood?"
The caretaker frantically nodded her head in fear as she stared into the boy king's hollow eyes, which were nothing like they had been moments prior.
"Good," Joffrey then turned and left, leaving the frightened woman alone in the orphanage's hallway.
Making his way outside, he found his betrothed and his two bodyguards waiting for him. Seeing the young girl's face, which looked even more conflicted than before, the king decided to pose her a question.
"So, my Lady, what did you think?"
"I don't know what you mean, Your Grace?"
"Of them," he continued. "The commoners. Tell me what you think of them?"
"Oh, um," she began to think. "They seemed pleasant. They're small and a little dirty, and—"
"No, no," he shook his head. "What differences did you find between us and them?"
Sansa became silent and thought about the young orphan girl who gave her the makeshift flower. She remembered times when she was little, when she had done the same with her mother, presenting her with a flower. In fact, the orphan was a similar age to herself when she had done that. It was then that it dawned on her that she could have just as easily been born an orphan, just like the young girl she had just met, had fate been a little different.
"None, Your Grace," she finally answered, and to her surprise, she found her future husband smiling proudly at her.
"Exactly, Sansa," he said happily. "That's the right answer."
Sansa seemed rather bewildered and wanted to ask what he meant when her stomach suddenly started to growl, making her flush with embarrassment.
"Ha ha," Joffrey laughed aloud, only adding to her embarrassment. "Yeah, I was starting to get hungry too. Come on, let's go grab a meal. I know the perfect place."
The northern girl nodded her head as she slowly followed behind the king, accompanied by her direwolf and flanked on both sides by the Hound and the old Kingsguard. Unseen by the group, who made their way up the street, was a group of twelve men all dressed in ring mail and disguised as commoners.
"All right, they're moving," the ringleader announced as he put away the dagger he had been sharpening while they waited. "Let's go, boys. You have your orders."
The group of men then exited the alleyway and slowly began to spread out, seamlessly blending into the city crowd as they followed behind the king and his group.
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