Chapter 42

With Eddard Stark's steadfast example over the past decade, respect and goodwill toward the Night's Watch had become a tradition in the North. However, as the journey south continued, Aegor experienced a stark contrast.

The farther south they traveled, the warmer the climate grew, but the colder the attitudes became. Passing through the villages and manors near the Neck, the locals displayed indifference. By the time they reached the Riverlands, no one even acknowledged the black-cloaked Watchmen. And as they approached the Crownlands, disdain and mockery replaced respect. The difference from the North’s reverence was stark.

Still, neither Aegor nor Yoren seemed deeply affected. Both were hardened adults, and Yoren, having spent years traveling across Westeros, was used to such treatment. Aegor, for his part, had expected it. If the mere act of donning black cloaks garnered respect and privilege, then the Night’s Watch would never have struggled to recruit men. His goal of escaping the Watch would’ve been pointless if he weren’t constantly reminded of its grim reality by the scornful stares of southerners.

The journey itself dragged on, but eventually, after nearly a month of travel—bolstered by the luxury of Tyrion Lannister’s coin—they finally approached their destination. With King’s Landing on the horizon, Aegor’s worries eased. From the moment he had seen Catelyn Tully remain in Winterfell, he had been confident that the timeline had shifted. Now, it was clear: he had successfully altered the plot. Tyrion had returned to King’s Landing without any unexpected obstacles.

For Aegor, this was more than a simple change in the story. It proved one vital truth—events in this world could be changed by human intervention. If he dared to act, anything was possible.
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King’s Landing loomed ahead, the largest city in Westeros. Built on the site where Aegon the Conqueror first landed, it was home to the Iron Throne, the Red Keep, and over half a million souls. To Aegor, it represented an opportunity—a chance to shape the future of this world in ways even he hadn’t yet fully conceived.

The excitement of reaching the capital filled him with a giddy energy. He fought the urge to spur his horse forward and race along the Kingsroad toward the city gates.

However, as they approached, reality intruded. The first sign was the smell.

The unmistakable stench of King’s Landing greeted them even before they could see the city walls. The smell of waste and filth hung in the air, growing stronger with each step.

“Ah, the smell of home,” Tyrion quipped with a grin. “After months of fresh country air, it’s almost comforting.”

Aegor grimaced. He had heard about King’s Landing’s filth, but experiencing it firsthand was something else entirely. “How can the capital of the Seven Kingdoms stink like this? Don’t they clean the streets or maintain the sewers?”

“They do, but it’s never enough,” Tyrion replied. “The nobles keep the Red Keep and the rich quarters pristine, but the rest of the city? They make do. With over fifty thousand people living here, imagine the amount of waste produced every day. Now imagine it piling up, because no one can afford to pay for proper disposal.”

“Why not hire the poor to clean it up? Give them a warm meal and a few coins. They’d jump at the chance.”

“A practical suggestion,” Tyrion said, smirking. “But who will pay for it? Our beloved king is deep in debt to the Iron Bank and my father, with no intention—or means—of repaying it. The streets stink because His Grace doesn’t care about the smell outside the Red Keep.”
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As they approached the city gates, the stench grew even stronger, but their senses began to adapt. Humans were remarkably resilient to unpleasant odors when they had no choice. Soon, the smell faded into the background as their attention shifted to the bustling chaos of the gate.

The King’s Gate was a hub of activity. Merchants with wagons full of goods jostled for space alongside knights, travelers, and entertainers. Soldiers of the City Watch in their signature gold cloaks struggled to maintain order amid the throng of people.

Yoren sneered as he took in the scene. “All for the Hand’s tournament, no doubt. Eddard Stark must hate it.”

“Ah, but tournaments are a boon for the realm,” Tyrion said. “They provide entertainment for the masses, glory for the knights, and a chance for merchants to make a tidy profit. The only problem is that our dear king holds them far too often. A new Hand? A tournament. A naming day? A tournament. Feeling bored? Another tournament. Each one leaves the crown deeper in debt.”
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As they passed through the gates and into the city, the smell intensified, but they quickly grew accustomed to it. Tyrion guided them toward a quieter part of the city. “There’s a lovely inn on Rhaenys’ Hill. The air there is cleaner, and it’s close enough to the Red Keep for convenience.”

“You’re not staying in the Red Keep?” Aegor asked, surprised. Surely Tyrion, as the queen’s brother, would have lodgings in the royal castle.

“The Red Keep is too far from my favorite brothel,” Tyrion said with a mischievous grin. “And spending time among schemers and fools in the Red Keep is as unbearable as the stench of the city.”

Yoren hesitated. “My lord, you’ve been far too generous to us already. We’ll find our own lodgings.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tyrion said, waving him off. “After all we’ve been through, it’s only right that we stay together. Besides, you wouldn’t deprive me of your company, would you?”

With no room for further protest, Yoren relented. Together, they made their way deeper into the city, toward Rhaenys’ Hill. The journey had been long, but at last, Aegor had arrived in King’s Landing. Here, in the heart of the Seven Kingdoms, his next chapter would begin.