Chapter 55 – Taking Office
The City Watch had two barracks within King's Landing — one to the east and one to the west.
The eastern barracks stood near the Dragon Gate.
The western barracks sat closer to Cobbler's Square.
Morning fog rolled lazily through the capital.
The sea breeze that swept in from Blackwater Bay did nothing to disperse the city's familiar stench — it only added a new layer of briny rot.
Podrick rode alone along the road toward the Dragon Gate barracks, a thick wool cloak — dyed the brilliant gold of the City Watch — draped across his shoulders.
He wore full black armor with a reinforced breastplate.
His boots and gauntlets were black as well.
On the chestplate gleamed four golden disks — the insignia reserved only for the upper officers of the City Watch.
And above all of it, on his head sat a helmet of shining gold — steel coated in pure gilding — glimmering like a beacon in the mist.
His body was not large, not yet grown, but the way he sat straight-backed in the saddle — spear-stiff, unyielding — projected a force that pushed outward like a silent shockwave:
Come no closer.
As he passed, the beggars, drunkards, refugees, and broken souls lining the streets stared with expressions that tangled together — fear, desire, envy, hate.
Podrick ignored them all.
He rode in calm silence on his chestnut warhorse, the muffled thud of hooves steady and unhurried.
A nondescript ash-grey greatsword — too plain to draw attention, too heavy to ignore — hung sheathed across his saddle.
The City Watch — the infamous Gold Cloaks — were the official military and law-enforcement force of King's Landing.
In theory, they answered to the Master of Laws.
In theory.
At present, the Master of Laws was in the Reach, playing at kingship and preparing to overthrow Joffrey Baratheon.
The Master of Ships, Stannis Baratheon — Duke of Dragonstone — was no doubt preparing the same.
The captain of the White Hart — the man Podrick had personally arrested under cover of night — was part of that web.
The Dragon Gate wasn't far from the Red Keep — but it wasn't close either.
Of the seven great gates built into the walls of King's Landing, the Dragon Gate stood on the northernmost corner, closest to Rhaenys's Hill.
The King's Road entered the city through it.
It was a massive gate of bright scarlet brick, with five stone dragons carved high upon its face.
From the outside, if one looked inward and up, the charred ruin of the great blackened "dragon's nest" atop the hill was impossible to miss.
This gate had existed as long as the city itself — with more stories and blood behind it than most cared to remember.
During the reign of Maegor I Targaryen, the king tortured his own queen, Alys Harroway, to death.
Afterward, her corpse was cut into seven parts and mounted on spears atop the seven city gates — the Dragon Gate among them.
During the Dance of the Dragons, riots shattered King's Landing.
At that time, Ser Balon Byrch — captain of the Old Gate — and Ser Garth the "Harelip" managed to strike out and momentarily stabilize the districts north and east of Rhaenys's Hill.
After the death of Ser Ryam Redwyne, Ser Balon Byrch was appointed Commander of the City Watch.
He led a small force of Gold Cloaks and escorted Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and her sworn protectors safely out of King's Landing — and, of course, they fled through the Dragon Gate.
Now, centuries later, the man serving as captain of the Dragon Gate was one Humfrey Waters.
Podrick had no idea whose bastard Humfrey Waters was — only that today, the captain of the Dragon Gate barracks was waiting outside with several Gold Cloaks in tow, awaiting his arrival.
"Humfrey Waters?"
Podrick sat tall in the saddle, his gaze settling on the man ahead.
"I am Podrick Payne. Your new Commander."
Humfrey Waters was unimpressive in stature, not particularly strong or tall.
He'd spotted Podrick from a distance, yet had not stepped forward to greet him.
And now, faced directly with the boy's calm demand, he hurriedly bent in a stiff bow — a strange mixture of reverence and fear twisting his expression.
"Lord Payne — welcome. I am Humfrey Waters, Captain of the Dragon Gate Watch."
Podrick said nothing at first. The gold helm cast a shadow that hid his eyes —
leaving Humfrey guessing at his thoughts.
He merely nodded, swung off the horse, and asked evenly:
"Is everyone assembled?"
Janos Slynt had fallen fast — executing the queen's orders one morning, thrown into the Red Keep's cells by nightfall.
By midday yesterday, Tyrion Lannister's command had been issued: the Gold Cloaks had a new commander.
Podrick Payne.
A name unfamiliar to their ears — yet infamous in their whispers.
Because the first thing the Gold Cloaks knew about this "boy"…
…was not his role as the new Hand's squire.
It was the bloodbath at Chataya's brothel.
A lone youth who cut down Slynt's men — armorless, outnumbered —
seven dead on the floor before anyone could blink.
Slynt had lost rank, lands, title — and now was chained aboard a ship bound for the Wall.
But all that was secondary.
The real terror was this:
The killer of a commander had become their commander.
The new broom sweeps clean — but a blade sweeps cleaner.
Humfrey cleared his throat, eyes lowered.
"My lord — aside from the men currently posted on duty, everyone is gathered. All gate captains included."
Podrick didn't react.
He didn't particularly believe the claim anyway.
All he cared about were those gate captains — the ones whose loyalty mattered.
"Good."
His voice was flat — calm like still water, unreadable beneath the helm.
Humfrey stole a quick glance upward — and felt a chill.
Those eyes…
Too cold for a child.
He quickly stepped aside and gestured deeper into the camp.
"If you would, my lord — the men are assembled on the drill field, awaiting your address."
His mind replayed stories of the slaughter — nerves winding tight.
He rushed forward, taking Podrick's reins himself, personally leading the horse as they entered the barracks.
"Give the horse to someone else," Podrick said at last, without looking at him.
"Just carry the sword. Carefully."
Humfrey nodded rapidly and passed the horse to a nearby guard.
But when he lifted the greatsword by the saddle — his hand dropped a fraction under its weight.
Heavy. Far heavier than it looked.
For a moment, surprise flashed behind his eyes.
He masked it well…
…but now he was more cautious than ever.