Behind him, the din from the Dragon God Great Sept's construction site gradually faded.
The workers' chants and the clang of hammers and chisels drifted across several streets, scattered by the wind into the greater clamor of King's Landing.
Aegon walked along the winding streets, surrounded by twenty guards.
That morning's episode of "divine punishment" had barely stirred his heart, but a faint shadow had settled over the ease his idle hours had brought him.
He did not return to the Red Keep immediately.
Since he was already out, he might as well see how this capital, only recently restored to his hands, was faring under Jon Connington's administration.
He wandered at leisure, his calm gaze sweeping the streets and alleys.
On the day King's Landing fell, King Ghidorah had swept low over the city. The storm he stirred up had struck chiefly around Visenya's Hill and its foot, reducing the area around the Street of Silk to rubble.
But the storm had not devastated the entire city equally, and most houses elsewhere had survived.
Several months had now passed. The worst-hit areas were still being cleared and slowly rebuilt, while repairs elsewhere had largely restored the streets to their former everyday bustle.
They remained crowded and disorderly, but at least there was life in them again.
He passed along Flour Street, where the scent of freshly baked bread hung in the air. In the shops on either side, bakers busied themselves setting trays of honey cakes and jam pies in their windows.
Turning onto a street nearer the river, he heard only scattered footsteps and the creak of door hinges.
The streets grew narrower.
The paving stones were badly broken, their cracks filled with some nameless black-green wastewater.
The buildings on either side grew lower and more crooked, mostly