"I understand."
"Good. Let's go then; Robb is already here." he turned and moved towards the alley entrance they had come through.
"I don't see anyone—"
Margaery didn't even get to finish her sentence before she heard the sound of a carriage stopping outside the alley.
The Northern party consisted of about half a dozen guards on horses led by Robb Stark, pushed against each other in the narrow street, looking around in confusion as if searching for something.
"Are you sure that this is the place, lad?" Ser Rodrick asked unsurely while staring at the somewhat dilapidated houses around them.
"Yes, quite sure," Robb replied distractedly as the brightly coloured hummingbird leading their way suddenly sped and disappeared around the corner into an alley, but before he could call her to slow down, he caught sight of Jon coming out along with the bird.
"You arrived quickly." Jon greeted him with a smile.
"You are the one who said it was urgent, didn't you?" Robb asked with a raised eyebrow as he disembarked from his horse. "I was in a meeting with Lord Hand regarding North's taxes when I got your message, thinking that you had gotten into some sort of trouble, but you seem fine to me." he
Jon rolled his eyes. "I didn't ask for you specifically, did I? You could have just sent Ser Rodrik." he turned around and began to lead him into the alley. "And you think I don't know how eager you usually are to get away from all the papers and meetings. I bet you were quite happy to use my message to get out of that meeting.'
Robb coughed awkwardly before catching sight of Margaery standing at the alley entrance and decided that the best option was just to ignore his ungrateful brother. "Lady Margaery, how are you on this beautiful—"
His words died in his throat as he looked past her and finally caught sight of the alley.
"What the hell happened here?" he asked, staring in stunned disbelief at the dead bodies lying haphazardly across the ground, their throats slit.
In that short letter, the only thing Jon mentioned was for him to send some help with Tweety, along with a carriage to transport some injured men.
There had been no mention of anything remotely resembling this massacre...
"Some idiots decided I looked like a good target. As it turns out, I am a harder nut to crack than they expected." Jon shrugged as he came up behind him.
Robb gave Jon a quick once-over to make sure he wasn't injured before his expression turned serious. "Who was it?"
"That is what I am going to go find out," Jon began, backing away. "So you just need to get those two injured some help, take care of the dead bodies, and send Lady Margarety home; that's all. And keep it a little discreet, will you?"
"Do you want me to come with you?" Robb asked, a hopeful note creeping into his voice.
It was all the proof Jon needed of just how bored his brother had become in this place filled with snakes, that he was this eager to go on a tiring chase through the congested alleyways.
But Jon was nothing if not a good brother. How could he possibly not help his brother when he was in such distress...
"No, of course, not. I can't just take you away from your important lordly duties, Lord Stark." Jon widened his eyes in exaggerated shock, as though Robb had just suggested something blasphemous. "You need to hurry back to those documents. Who knows what might have happened in your absence?"
Robb groaned, glaring resentfully at the disappearing back of his brother, while Margaery struggled to suppress her laughter behind him.
...
"Have you seen a thin-faced man wearing a brown cloak running through here?" Marynd asked the bakery owner desperately.
"What thin-faced man? I haven't seen anyone—" the baker began impatiently, but his expression changed when he noticed the knight's armour. "No, I haven't seen anyone like that, m'lord."
"Did you see anyone running through here?" he asked the cobbler.
"No."
"...seen anyone..."
"Have you seen a..."
Shopkeepers, merchants, beggars, labourers—the knight questioned everyone he came across. Yet no matter how many people he asked, the answer remained the same.
No one had seen him.
'Could it be he didn't come through this way?'
The thought struck him a few minutes later. Marynd immediately turned around and retraced his steps, pushing his aching legs to carry him back towards the main road.
'Where could he have gone?'
Sweat trickled down his face and soaked through his clothes, while the heavy plates of his armour clanked with every hurried step.
Each breath came harsh and ragged, and a sharp pain throbbed through his ribs whenever he drew one too deeply. His legs had begun to tremble beneath him, and more than once he found himself slowing without meaning to.
But he forced himself onward.
He couldn't stop. He wouldn't.
His Lena was counting on him.
"There!"
Blood rushed through his head the instant he spotted a narrow alley entrance tucked into the shadows beside a small shop. He broke into a run, dashing forward as though that dark little passage were a light at the end of a tunnel.
The passage was so narrow that Marynd had to turn sideways, holding his sword close to his body as he squeezed his way through.
Finally, after a minute-long struggle of scraping against rough walls and stumbling over uneven ground, he came out the other end.
He found himself standing in a dark, dilapidated street, hemmed in by tall, crooked buildings that blocked out most of the sunlight. The air was thick with foul smells, and the few people he could see seemed to pay him little attention.
'Have I entered proper Flea Bottom?'
Not thinking about it any further, the knight immediately trotted forward and approached the first guy he spotted sitting against a wall, carving thin strips of timber for brooms.
"Have you seen a narrow-faced man rushing through here? He must have been wearing a brown cloak?"
"Huh?" The man looked up with an irritated expression, which changed the moment he noticed who was asking the question. "I-I didn't," he stammered before hurriedly lowering his gaze and returning to his work.
"Are you sure? Please, think carefully. It's very important to me," Marynd pleaded anxiously.
The man glanced up again, startled by the desperation in the knight's voice. He studied Marynd for a few moments, his eyes lingering on the sword at his side and the armour covering his body.
Then, slowly, a gleam appeared in his eyes.
"Perhaps I did, or perhaps I didn't. You see, ser, I don't have a very good memory. And I haven't had a warm meal in many a day, so perhaps if you could spare me a few gold coins, then I might be able to remember—"
"Here!"
Marynd immediately pulled the pouch from his belt and thrust it into the man's hands.
"Just tell me where he went!" he demanded anxiously.
"There, the second on the left! He went through there." The shabby man answered promptly, while waving towards a dark, narrow passage.
"Thank you." Marynd breathed a sigh of relief before taking off.
The moment the knight turned away, the shabby man eagerly opened the pouch with an eager grin, only for his jaw to slacken as he stared at the dozen golden dragons gleaming inside.
But just before the knight could enter the passage he had been pointed towards, a sharp voice called out from behind him.
"Oi! Through here!" Jon's head peeked out from the alley the knight had just passed by and waved him over.
"Jon?"
"He lied to you, you idiot." Jon jerked a thumb towards the drifter.
The man, who had been watching them from the corner of his eye, froze when he realised he had been caught. "Fuck!" he cursed and immediately bolted away down the street.
"I—he lied?" Marynd panted, staring after him in disbelief. He had just handed the man every last coin he had, and the bastard had still deceived him. "W-Why?"
"What else did you expect? This is King's Landing." Jon snorted as he turned around. "He probably knew the man and didn't want to be beaten by his fellows for being a snitch."
He waved for Marynd to follow. "Come on."
The knight hurried after him, following Jon beneath the hanging lines of cloth and back into the alley he had just emerged from.
'Damn, the smell is real here,' Jon frowned, covering his face with a handkerchief and keeping his eyes on the path, making sure not to step into any brown stuff.
"How did you even find— It doesn't matter." The knight shook his head, panic flashing across his face. "I-I lost him," he admitted, his voice strained with desperation. "I lost the lookout" his voice cracked in pain.
"Don't lose hope just yet." Jon turned towards him and offered a small smile. "I might know where we can find him."
"You do?" The knight stopped dead in his tracks, his head snapping up. "You do?" Hope flickered back into his eyes as he hurried after Jon. "How?" he asked urgently, almost afraid of the answer.
"I recognised that man. He is a local lowlife who lives a life of petty thievery. I only needed to ask one of my informants; he gave me his name and where his local hideout is." Jon shrugged helplessly "I would have told you that if you hadn't been in such a hurry."
Of course, that was all bulshit.
Jon had never seen that man before in his life, and there was no such informant giving him reports.
The only reason he could confidently say all this was because he was periodically stopping to close his eyes to check on that man through the eyes of a crow.
Now, normally keeping a lookout on someone wouldn't even require Jon to go this kind of zone, which normal wargs went into to control their animals, as he could just do it from the back of his mind.
But all his personal wargs were busy, and he had just sent Tweety away with that message to Robb.
So he was left with no choice but to grab the first bird he could catch with his mind and bribe him with treats to track that man.
And while it sounded convenient, this connection left a lot to be desired, so he had to stop every few seconds to make sure that the bird was following through and wasn't distracted away while also confirming that their direction was right.
"I-I don't even know how I could ever repay you. Especially after what I did," the knight said, his voice heavy with shame.
"Save it for later, knight. First, we need to think about saving your wife."
"Yes. Save Lena first." He nodded firmly, forcing himself onward despite the exhaustion weighing down his body.
He followed Jon through one alley after another, pushing past suspicious-looking street thugs, dodging loitering purse snatchers, and ignoring more than a few prostitutes working from home.
And along the way, the only thought in Jon's mind was about the one who could be behind this.
It was not as if Jon had underestimated King's Landing.
He knew how treacherous this place could be, and how one could find someone wanting to kill you at almost every corner. And unlike Eddard Stark, he didn't count on his enemies to do things honourably.
So before even setting foot in the city, he had already drawn up a list of potential enemies— all the cunning, treacherous snakes hiding in plain sight, who would strike without hesitation for monetary profit.
He had arranged them by their threat level and assigned trusted men to keep an eye on their movements.
Petyr Baelish and Varys, the two top ones on his list, had of course been given special attention, and the ones he assigned to them were valuable wargs with small creatures, who could keep a regular eye on their residence and workplace.
And while they couldn't do this for very long and had to be very careful. It was easy once you discerned a pattern of the exact time of day or night when they got up to their most secretive work, when they wrote letters and when they conversed with their spies to give orders.
So safe to say, he had a good handle on all their usual movements.
And while he couldn't spare any wargs for the others, he had spent plenty of gold buying the loyalty of people in the employ of important individuals like Cersei, Tywin, Jon Arryn, Stannis, and even his potential allies like the Tyrells and Martells.
He hadn't even spared the likes of Renly and Pycelle, men who were supposed to be bumbling fools, far more prone to following orders than to plotting anything sinister.
So this attack on him really came out of the blue, leaving him wondering if, even after all his precautions, he had missed someone.
Regardless, whoever was behind this had just made the last mistake of their life. Jon had already decided that anyone reckless enough to make a move against him so openly was simply too dangerous to leave alive.
Stopping for a moment, Job briefly closed his eyes to reorient their direction and check in on the man they were following, but the next moment, his eyes snapped open.
"RUN!!" He shouted urgently at the knight as he sprinted off.
///
If you can't wait a week, then go to the patron gods.
And they shall give you what you seek.