Game Of Thrones: The God-Emperor of Planetos-Chapter 138 - Leaving King’s Landing (III)

"When there is no more order, chaos reigns supreme." Tyrion Lannister, Imperial Advisor during the Siege of Salusa Secundus.

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"Why are we leaving King's Landing, Mother?" the young Myrcella asked with a worried tone from inside the carriage. Her innocent green eyes watched the city through the window with apprehension. For some reason, the whole city seemed tense.

What confused her most was the fact that the Golden Cloack were leaving along with the entourage heading for Casterly Rock. Who would keep order in the city?

Inside the carriage were Tommen and Joffrey, both too entertained in their own worlds to worry about the city.

"We're going to visit Casterly Rock, sugar." Cersei replied with a smile on her face as she stroked her daughter's cheek with a gentle touch. "It's the place where I grew up with Jaime. You'll love it."

How could she tell that they were actually retreating/fleeing to Casterly Rock and leaving King's Landing at the mercy of chaos? Especially with Joffrey around. She knew her son would be furious if he found out they were fleeing to Casterly Rock to defend themselves.

Myrcella nodded, but deep down she knew that her mother's words were lies. She realized this when she noticed Cersei's slightly frowning eyebrows. Perhaps the queen herself hadn't realized it, but whenever she lied, she frowned slightly, a detail Myrcella had learned to notice from an early age.

However, Myrcella didn't deny her mother. She had learned on her own that observing more and remaining silent was a powerful weapon.

"It's just a castle on a rock. What's so great about this place?" Joffrey heard Cersei's words and commented with a touch of contempt. In his eyes, the Red Keep was far superior to any other castle. One was the home of a king, the other of a lord. There was no comparison.

Cersei felt her smile stiffen at her son's words. A slight heat of anger rose up inside her. If there was one thing she was proud of, it was House Lannister. Even House Targaryen was not as noble as the Lannisters in her eyes. She loved Casterly Rock and, above all, Lannisport.

If it were anyone else despising her house, she would have their tongue cut out and then their head. But not with her precious Joffrey. Her anger vanished the instant she saw her son's arrogant expression.

Cersei didn't argue or fight back. She knew that if she continued, an endless argument would break out. So she opted for silence. Her green eyes left Joffrey and fell on the tall, strong man riding beside the carriage.

She couldn't help remembering the first time she had seen Robert. Unlike the aura of arrogance, power and majesty he exuded fourteen years ago, the current Robert had an incomparably cold and imposing air, as if he didn't allow anyone to dare say "no" to him.

Honestly, a tyrant.

Yes, Robert was a tyrant, at least in Cersei's eyes.

The woman feared what would happen to her sons and daughter if Robert really believed the rumors. She could imagine the fury he would feel if that happened. After all, the only reason Robert was fighting was for his children and nothing else.

The people watched the Royal Family leave with confused expressions, but no one said anything. Everyone just watched the entourage gradually disappear through the city gates.

However, some of the more astute people, especially the brothel owners, realized that something was terribly wrong. Each of these women had spent their lives seeing and hearing secrets. They survived among the intrigues of the court and knew how to interpret the signs of power.

If a king went off to war with his entourage, it wouldn't be unusual. But a king going off with all his forces, including the Golden Robes? That was unheard of. In their eyes, the king's departure looked more like an escape than anything else.

And, as they had feared, their suspicions were confirmed the next day, when there were no more patrols on the streets of King's Landing. When a robbery took place, at least someone was arrested, but now there weren't even any guards patrolling the streets or watching the walls.

In Chataya's brothel, the brothel owners looked at each other apprehensively. The atmosphere couldn't have been more worrying.

"People haven't noticed yet, but they will sooner or later. And when they do, the chaos will begin." Shiara, one of the brothel owners, spoke with a tone full of concern.

What was about to happen was not something trivial, but a reflection of true human nature in the face of hunger. And in the midst of this chaos, they would suffer the most. Women were always the first to be thrown into hell.

Chataya didn't answer. With a serious and firm expression, she picked up a quill and began to write a letter. The owner of the most famous brothel in King's Landing ignored the discussion around her and concentrated on getting every detail down on paper.

Chataya was a tall, elegant and imposing black woman from the Summer Isles. Her ebony skin and sandalwood-colored eyes reflected dignity and wisdom.

Perhaps because of the excessive noise around her, she frowned and said, softly but firmly:

"Silence."

Her voice carried the melodic accent of the Summer Isles and resounded like an unquestionable order.

The women immediately fell silent and turned their gazes to Chataya, full of expectation. There was hope in the calm she showed.

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"Mother, what are you writing?" Alayaya, Chataya's daughter, asked curiously.

"A letter to Queen Daenerys Targaryen in Dragonstone." Chataya replied calmly and elegantly.

Chataya's words made the women around her widen their eyes in shock.

"And how do you intend to send such a letter to Dragonstone?" Shiara asked, still incredulous.

"She will." Chataya finished writing and pointed to an eighteen-year-old girl with black hair and tanned skin, with neat braids and a distinguished bearing.

Everyone looked at the young woman in confusion. However, the girl herself showed neither fear nor hesitation. She just watched Chataya with interest, as if wondering how she had guessed her identity.

"How did you discover my identity?" Myrla asked, curious. As far as she could remember, she hadn't shown anything unusual in the three years she'd been in King's Landing. After all, who would be suspicious of a fourteen-year-old girl from another continent?

Chataya raised her lips in an elegant smile and gave her an amused look. "You should learn to walk like a normal person and not like a hunter, girl. Your actions often reveal more than you'd like to express."

As someone from the Summer Isles, Chataya had noticed from the start that there was something strange about Myrla. Ever since she had arrived at the brothel, the girl had moved like a hunter in unfamiliar territory. At first, Chataya assumed she was just a mercenary tired of her old life, trying to make a fresh start in Westeros.

But over time, he realized that Myrla was not what she seemed. The idea that she was a mercenary dissipated after a month; mercenaries didn't behave the way she did, nor did they speak the way she did.

Soon, Chataya realized that Myrla was subtly spreading rumors about the king and queen of House Baratheon, as well as the king of House Targaryen across the sea. If, after that, Chataya still didn't know that Myrla was a spy, then she would be a fool herself.

Although she knew that there was still much more to discover about the girl's true identity, Myrla didn't care. With a calm tone, she said:

"You don't have to send the letter. My sisters at the Red Keep have probably already reported it to Queen Daenerys."

The young woman's words immediately made the women around her understand her true identity. Sighs of relief echoed through the hall.

"Are you a spy for House Targaryen?" Alayaya, Chataya's daughter, asked, intrigued, watching the girl of a similar age to her.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Myrla replied, assuming an innocent expression, as if she didn't understand the question.

If there were any good actresses in the world, it was these women. Prostitutes knew exactly how to pretend and inflate a man's ego with such ease that anyone would be surprised.

The women around noticed Myrla's performance and rolled their eyes, but no one commented. It wasn't a subject they should dwell on.

"We just need to wait for Queen Daenerys to arrive." Chataya said softly.

She prayed to the gods of love and beauty that Daenerys would arrive in King's Landing as soon as possible.

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