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The muddy road teemed with people as gold-cloaked men escorted the nobles through the throng of skinny civilians.
Six copper coins bought a pumpkin, a silver stag exchanged for a pile of corn, and a gold dragon was worth half a beef rib or six scrawny piglets. This was the current situation in King's Landing. Despite receiving supplies from the South and West, food prices remained exorbitant.
The gold cloaks marched all the way to the riverside. Today, an important visitor would arrive from the sea.
Tyrion surveyed the chaotic shoreline. Some corpses had not even been cleared away. Sunken ships dotted the river, and half the docks lay abandoned.
He wondered if the Dothraki might struggle to find a suitable landing place when arriving by sea.
Bronn led the horse, peering out at the water. "Is that the ship coming?"
The mercenary's eyes were always sharp.
The vessel sliced through the waves, navigating past the wrecked ships to dock smoothly at the port.
Tyrion spotted the flaming crowned stag and the white direwolf emblazoned on the ship's banners. He studied the flags as a gangplank extended from the deck.
A figure in black and gold patterned clothing emerged first. Sheepskin boots stepped onto the dock, with two garnet-adorned scabbards at the waist. A gray and white cloak hung from broad shoulders, fastened with a silver direwolf buckle. The man's face was clean and pale, with slightly melancholic purple-blue eyes bearing a hint of Dornish features—though Tyrion would swear these characteristics suited this face perfectly.
Most striking was the silver hair tied back with a gemstone cord.
Tyrion admitted he had seen many handsome men—his brother Jaime, Loras Tyrell the Knight of Flowers, Renly Baratheon. But he felt that any of them would seem diminished in comparison to this man.
Tyrion strained to find traces of his memories in this face.
Was this truly the dark-skinned, thin, bald, and quiet Cole he once knew?
Now handsome, tall, and commanding.
Everyone instinctively bowed their heads.
The man squinted as he surveyed his surroundings, revealing a warm smile.
Tyrion thought he was so handsome that the dwarf could already imagine women's eyes when they beheld him.
Behind him stood a knight who looked more like a wine servant by comparison. Tyrion recognized him as Ser Garlan Tyrell, the second brother of the Knight of Flowers. Little Joffrey had named him Earl of Brightwater Keep, and it was he who had suggested marrying his sister Margaery to the young king.
Tyrion's short stature made him conspicuous in the crowd, and Cole spotted him instantly.
He strode across the gangplank directly onto the bluestone quay.
"Tyrion, you've changed considerably, yet I recognized you immediately."
The dwarf grinned back, the massive scar across his face and his half-missing nose giving him a fierce appearance. "You've changed far more, but I'm not so forgetful as to forget an old friend."
The purple-blue eyes shifted to one side, regarding the mercenary. "That's fine attire, Bronn."
"Allow me to introduce Ser Bronn of the Blackwater," Tyrion said.
The dwarf continued, pointing to a youth. "This is my squire, young Podrick of House Payne."
He named each person in turn.
Cole likewise introduced his retinue.
"Please, enter the city. I've arranged wine and food for you after your journey," Tyrion said.
Cole paused beneath the River Gate, gazing up at the towering walls of King's Landing.
"This wall is considerably shorter than the Wall in the North. I guarantee you'd grow bored looking at it for long," Tyrion remarked, also tilting his head back.
Cole nodded.
They entered the city through the River Gate, spotting gold cloaks patrolling the battlements—the City Watch of King's Landing.
Passing through the gate, they emerged onto a chaotic muddy street surrounded by crowds. Gold cloaks led the way ahead. Tyrion gestured toward the humble dwellings and said, "This is the Mud Gate district. People also call this entrance the 'Mud Gate' for obvious reasons."
A red castle loomed in the distance.
Cole tempered his expectations for this era, even for the royal city. Setting aside his curiosity, he asked Tyrion, "You intend to marry a girl from House Stark. Will her family attend?"
"We sent an invitation, at least." If they chose to come, they would bring an army. With Lord Eddard's character, how could he possibly consent to his daughter marrying a dwarf?
"Honestly, I was quite surprised to receive your invitation," Cole said, observing the pale, skinny civilians and begging children around them.
Tyrion tossed copper coins to the crowd, causing a frenzied scramble. "I didn't expect you would come. I've heard numerous rumors about you, Cole."
"Indeed? What do they say?"
"They claim you have a bird that breathes fire."
Cole chuckled. "Actually, I have a dragon that breathes fire."
"It seems Lord Renly was killed by a dragon," Tyrion responded in a joking tone.
"In truth, I did not kill Renly Baratheon." He glanced at Garlan; returning the son of House Tyrell was a gesture of goodwill.
Rumors were persistent, and most believed he had slain Renly.
"I'm curious about how you traveled from the Riverlands to Dragonstone. I thought you dead," Tyrion asked the question that had long weighed on his mind.
"A dream changed everything. I wonder if you've ever experienced such a thing."
Yes, Tyrion wanted to say. When awake, he had been on the battlefield, but after sleeping, he found himself elsewhere, his nose gone.
"Regardless, I awoke at Dragonstone. The maesters there treated me. Initially, I couldn't even speak—they thought me mute," Cole explained. "You must know what transpired afterward."
Indeed, what followed was like a colorful legend. They had broken through Storm's End, defeated the combined forces of Highgarden and the Stormlands, killed Renly, and captured Lord Mace Tyrell.
The muddy road reeked of excrement. The drainage system here was truly abysmal.
They climbed Aegon's Hill as Tyrion pointed to the Red Keep. "That's the royal palace. People call it the Red Keep."
He knew this was Cole's first visit to King's Landing.
"It certainly deserves its name," Cole remarked. The Red Keep—a crimson fortress.
As they approached the castle, Cole maintained his composure, but Tyrion could see he was somewhat awed. The thick walls and bronze gates, the iron portcullis connected to the moat's trenches with sharp blades and spikes below.
Soldiers patrolled the battlements. Today, Ser Boros Blount of the Kingsguard stood watch at the drawbridge.
But when the iron gate opened, Tyrion saw someone unexpected.
Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers, dressed in white armor rather than his customary colorful attire. He stood across the drawbridge, holding a longsword horizontally in both hands.