King's Landing.
When this heart of Westeros first came fully into view before Lynn, the first thing he smelled was a stench.
A complex mixture of the waste of tens of thousands of people, rotting fish, the acidic stink of tanning leather, and cheap spices fermented in the hot, humid air, almost suffocating him.
Once the Kingsroad passed through the city gates, it became a congested dirt street.
Ragged commoners mingled with finely dressed merchants, guards, and prostitutes, forming a noisy, chaotic tableau of city life.
"It stinks here!"
Arya wrinkled her little nose, her face full of disgust.
The King's Landing she had imagined was the magnificent royal city of the bards' songs.
Not the enormous, filthy slum before her.
The hundred men from the North under Lynn's command looked out of place as well.
They rode in silence, gripping their weapons tightly and warily surveying the crowds that cast curious or hostile looks their way.
Their cold, murderous bearing stood in stark contrast to the bustle of King's Landing, making the surrounding crowds instinctively clear a path for them.
After passing through the foul-smelling Flea Bottom, the party finally reached Aegon's High Hill.
The Red Keep, that enormous fortress built from massive red stones, finally revealed its full, imposing, menacing form.
At the gates of the Red Keep, Lynn's party was stopped.
"Who goes there?"
The gold-cloaked guard spoke with the particular arrogance of a man from the capital.
Lynn dismounted. Ignoring the guard, he looked instead at a man on the wall wearing a captain's insignia.
"We are of the Night's Watch. By order of Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, we seek an audience with Lord Ned Stark, Hand of the King, on urgent business."
Seeing Lynn and the disciplined force behind him, then catching sight of the