King's Landing.
The city's rotten stench remained unmistakable even through the sea breeze blowing across Blackwater Bay.
The waste of tens of thousands of people, mingled with the smell of countless livestock, was truly distinctive.
The Unsullied wore matching plate armor and pointed helmets, carrying spears and round shields.
There were no banners.
There were no war cries.
They formed rank upon rank of square formations.
Grey Worm stood at the very front.
He should have stayed behind in Astapor, but Ser Jorah had everything running smoothly there, and he felt Westeros needed him more.
So he had left a note on his desk.
The next day, Lynn had answered his request with a miracle.
Now he smelled King's Landing.
The smell reminded him of Astapor, of the slave masters' decadent, rotten lives.
His hand unconsciously tightened around his spear.
Lynn's orders were simple.
Take this city.
Liberate this city.
Let everyone living in fear see the banners of the North.
"Advance."
Grey Worm gave the brief command.
The messengers behind him swiftly relayed the order throughout the ranks.
The Unsullied Legion, more than ten thousand strong, slowly advanced toward the weathered walls of King's Landing like a moving wall of steel.
Atop the walls, the soldiers stationed there were in utter chaos.
"They're coming! They're coming!"
A young soldier, his face deathly pale, pointed at the formations approaching outside the city.
"Shut up!"
"I've got eyes! I'm not blind!"
The captain of the New City Watch, a fat man, slapped him hard.
"They're just a bunch of slave soldiers from Essos! What are you afraid of?"
"All of you, get your fucking act together!"
Despite his words, he could not hide the panic in his little eyes.
Stannis had mustered all his forces elsewhere, leaving King's Landing dangerously