"Have you decided anything about a candidate for the Kingsguard?" I asked Jaime Lannister.
Accompanied by Orm and two knights of the Holy Hundred, I visited the White Tower and the Lord Commander's chambers for the first time. I liked the place—there was an elusive sense of a warrior order here: centuries-old traditions, a certain asceticism, severity. It was the kind of place that made one want to live—and rule—rightly.
"Have you already considered possible candidates? I'd like to see truly worthy men."
"I think the same, and I have a couple of people in mind," Jaime said, pacing from wall to wall. We had already had this conversation on the road from Riverrun to King's Landing, but back then he hadn't named any specific names. Now, it seemed, something had changed. "Like you, I'd like to restore the old prestige of the Kingsguard."
"And who are they?" I pulled out a chair and sat down.
"I went through the most skilled warriors in Westeros. Among them—Victarion Greyjoy, Oberyn Martell, and Gerold Dayne, called Darkstar. As you understand, neither the first nor the second suits us—and neither would join the Guard anyway. But Dayne is not a bad candidate."
"He's from Dorne, and at such a difficult moment I'd rather not draw the Dornish closer," I said. "We won't gain the Martells' friendship that way, only problems. Besides, rumors say this Darkstar isn't just a skilled warrior, but a connoisseur of poisons—cunning and hot-tempered. I get the feeling he'd bring more trouble than benefit."
"All true," Jaime nodded and sat opposite me. "He's a difficult man, but he'll serve faithfully—the Daynes keep their vows. Pride won't let him do anything dishonorable."
I didn't dwell on Jaime's own deed—how, for all his pride, he had killed the Mad King. Of course, he had his reason: Aerys Targaryen wanted to burn the capital, and by killing one man Jaime had unwittingly saved thousands of lives. What if Dayne ever found himself with a similar justification? Though who, really, is immune to that?
"Besides," Jaime added, "don't forget that Darkstar, though from a junior branch of House Dayne, belongs to a house older than the Martells. And like the Ironwoods, they wouldn't mind challenging Martell supremacy in Dorne."
"I understand. Are there other options?"
"Yes. We could look toward Oldtown."
"The Hightowers?" I guessed.
"Exactly. The White Bull Hightower was a strong Lord Commander, and their house has always been known for loyalty and sound judgment."
"That's better. Who do they have?"
"Garth, called Greysteel, is unmarried and seems quite worthy. He's the second son of Lord Leyton, Lord of the Hightower and head of their house. Leyton also has a fourth son—Humfrey. He's decent as well, but still young and unproven."
"That I like," I said. "And among Baratheon bannermen—did you find any worthy candidates?" In truth, it would be excellent to draw someone from the Stormlands closer. I bear the Baratheon name myself, and such a man would help strengthen my authority among the lords there.
"Are you talking about Robert's bastards or the Baratheon bannermen?"
"The bannermen, of course."
"I see why you want it," he said, rubbing his chin. "This requires thought. The Tarths would have been a good option, but Lord Selwyn has no sons left. And you wouldn't allow Brienne to become a Kingsguard, would you?"
"I know she's an honorable person—and you're fond of her," I couldn't resist a jab at Jaime. "Still, I'd rather do without women in my Guard."
"The Bucklers seem to have heirs. The Grandisons are also a noble house, and one of them—Harlan—served in the Mad King's guard. He died, and I took his place, if that interests you."
"It does."
"In any case, there are worthy men among the Baratheon bannermen," Jaime admitted reluctantly.
"And what about the North? Houses Manderly, Glover… Maybe we should look there? We want to reconcile with them, and this would be a good pretext."
"Right now, choosing men from northern houses—just like from the Baratheon bannermen—is difficult," Jaime said. "I'd advise dealing with Stannis first."
"You're right about that," I nodded, hiding a hint of disappointment. I had thought Jaime would offer more ready-made candidates today, but aside from the questionable Dayne and the more convenient Hightower, he named no one else. "Let's wrap this up, then. Knights from the Westerlands are out—for now it would look like blatant favoritism. With you, Tyrion, Tywin, Kevan, and Adam Marbrand commanding the Gold Cloaks, people already think everything in King's Landing belongs to the Lannisters. The Reach we'll also leave aside. My last suggestion for today—perhaps we can find a suitable man among the Tully bannermen? That would be a step toward reconciliation with the river lords. There are many noble houses there… the Freys alone are worth mentioning."
"Freys are cowardly bastards and utter filth," Jaime cursed bluntly. "Aside from Walder Rivers's bastard, there are no decent people among the Freys. You don't want to take a bastard into your Guard, do you?"
"No, of course not," I said. I knew Jaime hated the Freys and considered him biased. People said Lord Walder Frey had produced an entire army out of his own trousers, and I assumed that among his many sons, grandsons, and great-grandsons, one or two suitable men could be found—if one tried hard enough.
"Then we'll consider the matter of those damned weasels closed," Jaime said sharply, and I involuntarily winced at his roughness. "I think among the Mootons, the Pipers, or the Vances of Wayfarer's Rest, we can find someone suitable."
(End of Chapter)
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