King's Landing!

Noon.

After several days on the road, they had finally left the mud and bloodshed of the Riverlands behind.

But when the vast outline of King's Landing appeared before her, Brienne of Tarth felt little relief. Instead, her heart grew somewhat heavy.

The closer they drew, the more the capital's peculiar smell flooded her nostrils, leaving her struggling to breathe.

As the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, King's Landing held a special allure for everyone on the continent, and Brienne was no exception.

Yet when she actually stood before the city, all her expectations were shattered in an instant.

It was not that King's Landing lacked grandeur.

For Brienne, who had grown up in the Stormlands, a vast city capable of housing half a million people was astonishing in both its scale and its architecture.

But no matter what, she simply could not form a good first impression of King's Landing.

Because... this place stank far too much!

Merely standing at the gate brought that nauseating stench rushing into her face. Even when she held her breath, it burrowed frantically into her nostrils as though it had a will of its own.

This was no ordinary stink. It was a distinctive blend of salty, fishy sea air, human sweat, and fermenting excrement!

How could she describe it? It was even worse than the smell Jaime had given off after a year without bathing, rolling around in horse piss and mud, with the stink from his wound mixed in!

One word.

Overpowering!

"Cough, cough, cough..."

Unable to help coughing several times, Brienne shot Jaime an irritated look and could not resist reproaching him. "We could have gone straight through the Gate of the Gods. Why did you insist on taking this enormous detour, Jaime?"

Jaime did not answer immediately. Instead, he raised his head and looked up.

The bronze-and-iron doors stood open, like a great beast lazily opening its mouth to swallow and disgorge the crowds. Above them, a relief of a snarling lion bared its fangs and claws, projecting an oppressive strength.

"A lion should act like a lion."

There was a trace of long-absent pride in Jaime's voice. He even closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, as though that nauseating stench filled him with boundless nostalgia.

Under Brienne's gaze, which regarded him as an idiot, Jaime muttered to himself as though bolstering his courage, "A Lannister must enter through the Lion Gate!"

Everyone tacitly maintained their silence at this almost deliberate affectation.

They all understood that the man really had suffered far too much along the way.

Capture, a severed hand, drinking urine... wandering from place to place, his dignity trampled over and over again.

Now he had chosen this way to piece his shattered self back together. Though it seemed somewhat ridiculous, it was understandable.

Only Yego snorted coldly. Whether it was because a Dothraki did not understand the symbolism of such stone nests, or because the big woman had barely paid him any attention throughout the journey, no one knew.

Jaime straightened his back with satisfaction and gently squeezed his horse's flanks, preparing to pass through the gate with as much dignity as possible.

But just then...

"Get out of the way! Don't block the road, you bumpkin!"

A domineering shout and the rapid clatter of hooves sounded behind him. Then a lavishly outfitted warhorse swept past his side.

The rider wore a brightly colored silk coat and a feathered cap, looking like a young attendant. As he forced his way past, his whip lashed out so close that it nearly brushed the nose of Jaime's mount.

As he passed, he even turned to give Jaime a contemptuous, challenging look.

"Fuck!!"

Jaime's horse shied and nearly threw him from the saddle. Fortunately, his riding skills were good enough that he just managed to steady himself.

But the dung kicked up by the other horse's hooves splattered all over him.

"You damned bastard!"

Only then did Jaime react, shouting curses after the retreating figure. "You blind fool! How dare you call me a bumpkin!"

"I'm fucking-"

"Save it, Jaime."

Afraid he might blurt out something as embarrassing as "My father is Tywin Lannister," Corleone hurried forward to stop him.

"But... but he called me a bumpkin!"

Jaime looked indignant.

He was Jaime Lannister!

The richest fucking rich man's son in the Seven Kingdoms!

He had suffered enough torment and scorn among the Brave Companions. If he was still treated this way after returning to King's Landing, what had he come back for?

"He wasn't wrong."

Seeing his righteous indignation, Corleone merely shrugged indifferently. "Look at yourself. What are you if not a bumpkin?"

At those words, Jaime instinctively looked down at himself.

Well...

Coarse linen clothes covered in mud spatters and dried blood, his carefully maintained golden hair now greasy, knotted, and tangled together.

Dust and sweat coated his face, unruly stubble sprouted over his chin and cheeks, and his right hand hung against his chest in a crude cloth sling...

Huh!

Come to think of it, I really do fucking look like one!

Damn it...

Jaime felt somewhat vexed. When they had left Harrenhal, he should have asked that fellow Roose Bolton for a few decent outfits.

Would Cersei like him returning to the Red Keep looking like this?

But before he could finish adjusting his mood, another force shoved him aside.

"Move, bumpkin."

Mounted on her horse, Brienne brusquely pushed between Jaime and Corleone and entered the Lion Gate first, leaving the others with only a view of her back.

Jaime staggered from the shove, but said nothing more.

Instead, he glanced at Corleone beside him and shook his head helplessly.

Both men knew perfectly well that Brienne was still brooding over what had happened by the Gods Eye.

Several days earlier, when they had dealt with the Karstark soldiers and reached the lakeshore, Arya and the Hound had long since vanished. Only Corleone and two corpses remained.

Brienne had instinctively wanted to pursue them, because she did not trust the Hound to treat a Stark well, but Corleone had stopped her.

He had warned her that another Lady Stark was still in King's Landing, waiting for her sword and her oath.

Duty had forced Brienne to abandon the pursuit, but it had also made the burden she carried feel ever heavier.

"Let's go, Blood of My Blood!"

At the same time, Corleone gave his reins a gentle shake, called out over his shoulder, and headed toward the gate.

"Wait..."

Seeing this, Jaime hurriedly urged his horse in front of Corleone. There was a barely perceptible trace of... dependence in his expression?

Indeed, over the course of their journey, he had long since grown accustomed to Corleone's plans and companionship. Now, seeing the other man seemingly about to leave on his own, he felt rather at a loss.

"Where are you going?"

Jaime swallowed. He swore by the Seven that even when charging through thousands of troops toward Robb Stark, he had never been as nervous as he was now.

To persuade Corleone to stay, he even went so far as to invite him urgently. "Aren't you coming to the Red Keep with me to see my father first?"

"Don't forget, I still haven't given you that bathtub full of Gold Dragons I promised!"

"There's no hurry about that."

Seeing his anxious expression, Corleone merely smiled and reached out, intending to pat Jaime on the shoulder. Then he noticed the dung on him and quickly withdrew his hand.

"You and Brienne go ahead, Jaime."

"Spend some time with your family, your sister and your brothers. You've been away from King's Landing so long. They must all miss you."

As he spoke, he paused. "A real man must make time to be with his family. A man who doesn't look after his family isn't a man at all."