King's Landing, nightfall – the Stinky Fish Tavern near the Blackwater Docks.
"It's true, my grandfather saw a mermaid."
The speaker was a bald, middle-aged man, flushed and bleary-eyed from drink.
His voice rang loud across the tavern, and as soon as he finished, laughter erupted.
"Hahaha, listen to this drunk babble!"
"Only a White Walker would believe the words of a drunkard!"
"They call him Drunkard Jack. Heard his family once owned a sea vessel."
"Come off it, where'd you even hear that? Don't believe a single tale you hear in this place."
"Well… not always. Even drunks tell the truth once in a while!"
A gaunt man with a sharp, narrow face suddenly raised his voice. "I believe him!"
Everyone paused, and then burst out laughing again.
"Ha! Isn't that Clever Dick?"
"'Clever'—what a joke!"
"Shh, is he rich now or something? He used to wear rags, but look at him now…"
Several people tilted their heads to inspect him.
"Maybe his sister found herself a generous man."
"What are you implying?"
The man lowered his voice. "Heard his sister works at Chataya's brothel."
Gasps followed from the people seated around the table.
"That's the finest brothel in King's Landing. Is it because...?"
"Shh! Lean in… the siblings are actually of noble birth…"
"Nobles?!"
"Don't say things like that out loud—unless you want your head on a spike!"
"I swear it's true! Clever Dick said it himself. He was drunk out of his mind—I was sitting right next to him!"
Another wave of astonishment followed.
"Sure doesn't look like any noble lord to me."
"Quiet! Keep your voices down!"
"Sigh, I was drunk too, but I remember something about the Crab Claw Peninsula and a golden flower…"
"Pfft. Probably just another bastard of some noble lord, huh?"
Outside the Stinky Fish Tavern, Jaime Lannister, dressed in a low-profile cloak, tossed a silver stag to a shadowy figure.
The shadow caught the coin with practiced ease. "At your service, noble stranger."
Jaime frowned, saying nothing. He simply waved a hand and began to walk away.
The stench of the place tested his limits—he was already beyond his tolerance.
Jaime was here to investigate the source of slander in the Queen's District.
Since returning to King's Landing, he had kept his inquiries secret from Cersei, refusing to use the Lannister spy network in the city. He opted instead for a quiet, independent investigation.
Even working alone, Jaime had gathered quite a bit of useful intelligence—thanks, of course, to his ability to pay generously.
But as the investigation deepened, Jaime grew more puzzled.
Most of the sources pointed toward the Riverlands.
The hand behind it all... could it be House Tully?
Jaime shook his head. Instinct told him that wasn't quite right.
He knew he wasn't suited for this kind of work. He didn't enjoy it and wasn't good at it. As he mulled it over, one name came to mind: Gawen.
Tyrion was brilliant, of course—but Gawen had a nose for this sort of thing. Sharper, somehow.
Jaime hesitated. He found himself missing Gawen.
Red Keep – Maegor's Holdfast.
On her bed, Queen Cersei stirred in her shallow sleep.
In her dream, she encountered someone unexpected. The vision was hazy, bathed in warm yellow light. Half-asleep, she moved her fingers slightly.
A soft sound escaped her lips, her chest rising and falling.
Eventually, her eyelids fluttered, and she opened her bright green eyes, a sheen of moisture clinging to them.
Cersei left the bed and pulled on a long robe.
She sipped from a goblet to ease her thirst, then walked to the window.
Since the royal hunt, Cersei had noticed that Jaime had been slipping out of the Red Keep at night.
Men...
Looking up into the black sky, Queen Cersei raised her chin slightly.
Where the Rose Road meets the Ocean Road, the white marble walls of Highgarden rose atop a hill, overlooking the deep blue waters of the Mander River.
The fortress was protected by three concentric walls of white stone.
For miles around, golden roses grew in thick clusters.
Gawen, accompanied by Mondon, Anguy, and Martil, entered the castle under the guidance of attendants.
Inside, Highgarden was a green paradise. Golden roses bloomed everywhere. Gardens, ponds, and artificial waterfalls adorned the grounds.
Stone sculptures, fountains, marble pillars, grapevines, and roses decorated the walls and carvings. Vines had long since claimed the old walls of Highgarden.
Gawen could not help but admire it—this truly was the most beautiful castle in Westeros.
Willas Tyrell, eldest son of Mace Tyrell and heir to Highgarden, received Gawen Crabb with calm courtesy.
Seated in a wheeled chair, Willas smiled warmly. His tone was gentle and refined.
"Welcome, Baron Gawen Crabb."
Willas Tyrell left an impression of cultivated grace and nobility.
But Gawen noticed something more—Willas surrounded himself with an invisible wall, built of courtesy and composure. It was a wall meant to keep others at a distance.
Gawen placed a hand to his chest and bowed slightly. "Good day, Ser Willas Tyrell. It's an honor to meet you."
They exchanged a few words. Gawen got the information he had wanted.
The Duke of Highgarden—Lord Mace Tyrell—was far too busy at the moment to meet with him.
Gawen raised an eyebrow. What kind of move was this?
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