As for why Robb and the others had not recognized them, these were men Ramsay had secretly trained himself, and he had carried out this operation without Roose Bolton's approval.
When Varys welcomed Robb and his party into the city, King's Landing had only just awakened, returning to its usual bustle.
Varys stood just inside the King's Gate, his hands tucked into his sleeves and his usual inscrutable smile on his face.
A squad of Gold Cloaks stood behind him. Their armor looked much like that of King's Landing's former Gold Cloaks, but the sigils on their chests had changed from the Baratheon crowned stag to the Targaryen three-headed fire dragon.
These were not the same men, either. Some of the original Gold Cloaks had fled during Viserys's assault on the city; all the others had been killed.
The current soldiers had been selected from the Free Folk Legion. They were all young and had no families or other ties to worry about, making them better suited to staying in King's Landing and building a future there.
The gates opened slowly to welcome Robb and his party, a gesture that also demonstrated the importance the Targaryens placed on House Stark. After all, the King's Gate normally remained closed, opening only to welcome distinguished guests or when the king went out on a royal progress.
Robb Stark rode at the head of the party. His cloak was covered in dust and dried blood, and his left arm was still wrapped in bandages. The blood that had seeped through them had turned brown.
His face now looked far older than his years. He was only a boy of thirteen, yet exhaustion was etched across his brow. His gray eyes swept over the guards standing on either side of the gate, his gaze