Unlike the chaos in Flea Bottom, the Street of Silk was exceptionally cooperative with the Gold Cloaks' operation, remaining peaceful and quiet.
Since Baelish's disappearance, ownership of these houses of pleasure had nominally passed to the Imp. But before he could send anyone to take over, he had already found an excuse to slip away with Robert.
So the people actually managing the Street of Silk were still the same people who had worked under Baelish.
But times had changed. All of King's Landing was now saying that Baelish had offended Arthas, his major creditor, and fled in such a hurry that he had abandoned even his businesses.
If even Baelish could not afford to offend him, how could these shrewd people refuse to cooperate with the Gold Cloaks at such a sensitive time? Would that not be an open insult to Arthas?
"My dear Lord Jero, the managers of every brothel on the Street of Silk, large and small, are all here."
On the top floor of the finest brothel on the Street of Silk, Gerold Lannister stood at the window, his green eyes gazing toward the chaotic Flea Bottom to the east, an amused smile on his face.
It was hard to imagine that King's Landing's poorest slum and its most extravagant, debauched den of excess were separated by only a single street.
Though they were close together, even the air on the Street of Silk carried the scent of cosmetics, nothing like the constant stench of Flea Bottom.
Slowly turning around, Jero looked at the crowd seated along a long table, surrounded by Gold Cloaks, and a flicker of contempt crossed his eyes.
It was not that he discriminated against pimps. Jero simply looked down on anyone who did not belong to House Lannister.
"Since everyone is here, I'll keep this brief, gentlemen."
Taking the seat at the head of the long table, Jero unceremoniously unbuckled the sword at his side and slammed it onto the table.
"I have come on Lord Arthas's orders to inform you of something."
"First, all the businesses here now belong to Lord Tyrion. I believe you are all well aware of that."
He swept his gaze over them. Only after everyone indicated that they knew did Jero nod in satisfaction.
"You are fortunate. Lord Tyrion has no intention of replacing the managers here, so you may continue doing business here legally."
"You need only hand over seventy percent of all your profits on time each month."
The figure was reasonable. After all, that was essentially how much they had paid Baelish before.
"Don't celebrate just yet."
Seeing that they raised no objections and instead seemed somewhat relieved, Jero raised his voice again.
"As I just said, your business must be 'legal'!"
"Lord Arthas does not wish to see any illegal dealings in King's Landing again, so..."
Watching the uncertain alarm on the pimps' faces, Jero's green eyes flickered slightly. He seemed to relish having them in the palm of his hand.
"If we discover anything such as human trafficking or forcing women into prostitution in any of your establishments..."
No sooner had he spoken than Jero waved his hand. A Gold Cloak stepped out of the ranks and hauled the richly dressed man seated nearest to him away from the table like a chicken.
Once the Gold Cloak had punched the man to the floor, Jero stood, drew the sword he had placed on the table, and laid it against the man's neck.
"This damned bastard-we actually found underage girls in his establishment."
Loudly announcing the man's crime to everyone, Jero began passing judgment like a judge.
"In Lord Arthas's words, this is an utterly unforgivable capital offense!"
As Jero passed judgment, he brought his sword down in one clean stroke before their shocked eyes, cutting off the head of the man who was plainly the highest-ranking among them in full view of everyone!
Blood gushed from the severed neck, spraying onto the faces of almost every seated pimp.
No matter how many years passed, killing one to warn a hundred remained the simplest, most brutal method.
Jero carefully wiped his sword clean, watched everyone's reactions with satisfaction, and strode straight toward the door.
"Oh, one more thing, gentlemen."
Just as he was about to leave the room, Jero seemed to remember something. He turned back and warned them solemnly.
"Baelish's debt to Lord Tyrion has yet to be repaid. I think you ought to make a contribution."
"Before tomorrow morning, Lord Arthas expects to see at least five hundred thousand Gold Dragons in his office at the Gold Cloaks' headquarters!"
"Quite the operation!"
Atop a loft, sunlight shone on Varys's large, gleaming bald head, reflecting a dazzling light.
His hands remained tucked into his sleeves, but his eyes were filled with worry as he watched the chaotic King's Landing below.
"My dear Lord Barristan."
"As a member of the Small Council, are you simply going to let the Lannisters run wild in King's Landing like this?"
Beside Varys stood Barristan, his hair entirely white but his build still imposing. He, too, was watching the activity in the streets below.
"I happen to think this is a good thing, Lord Varys."
Unlike the worried Varys, Barristan appeared very approving of Arthas's operation.
"Under Janos's management, public order in King's Landing has been far too chaotic these past years."
"Young men have drive. It is understandable that he would carry out sweeping reforms after taking office."
Hearing Barristan's answer, Varys shook his head rather helplessly.
Ever since Arthas had defeated him, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard seemed to have become his staunch supporter.
No matter how far out of line Arthas's actions were, Barristan could always find a reason to excuse him.
"But, Lord Barristan."
As the kingdom's Master of Whisperers, Varys always wanted everything to remain as it was, with no unexpected complications.
He could provide intelligence to anyone, yet he refused to enter the game himself, always manipulating events from the position of an outsider.
Clearly, Arthas's series of moves had upset what he saw as the delicate balance King's Landing had maintained over the years.
"Aren't you worried that, if this continues, King's Landing will soon become a place where Arthas alone has the final say?"
Varys continued stirring up trouble, his voice full of beguiling persuasion.
"Do not forget, neither the king nor the queen is in King's Landing now. Are we to hand them a capital that has slipped out of control when they return?"
"You're being far too alarmist, Varys!"
Just then, Renly's flippant voice rang out behind them.
The current nominal ruler of King's Landing had excitement filling his deep blue eyes. He seemed unconcerned that Arthas had bypassed his authority as Master of Laws to launch such a massive operation.
"Good morning, Lord Renly."
Seeing Renly stride over, Barristan greeted him warmly.
The Master of Laws, the Master of Whisperers, and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard-with the elderly Grand Maester Pycelle added to their number, these men would have been quite capable of holding a Small Council meeting.
Nodding mildly to Barristan, Renly turned his sights on Varys again.
"I spoke with Commander Arthas yesterday. He is a very compassionate young man with a strong sense of justice."
"As the kingdom's Master of Laws, I wholeheartedly approve of the City Watch's operation. This will be a thorough cleansing of the filth lurking in King's Landing's corners!"
His words held barely concealed excitement and were full of praise for Arthas.
Watching Barristan nod repeatedly in agreement with Renly, Varys helplessly covered his face with a hand.
Since rising to high office and putting the man who had cut off his manhood into a box, he had experienced things slipping so far beyond his control only once.
That was when the Mad King Aerys had ignored his advice and opened the city gates to the Lannisters!
"Lannister. Lannister again!"
Varys muttered, narrowing his eyes at the still exceedingly noisy King's Landing, his calculations unknown.
The northwestern corner of King's Landing.
Escorted here by Lancel, Janos wore a mournful expression, as though his mother had died.
Who could have imagined that an incredibly lavish mansion stood in this corner right beside Flea Street and Dragonblood?
And who could have imagined that this ostentatiously grand mansion belonged to the former Commander of the Gold Cloaks?
And who could possibly have imagined that our current Commander of the Gold Cloaks, Lord Arthas, would lead his men straight here with unerring precision, as though returning to his own home?
"Well... Lord Arthas, what do you mean by bringing me here?"
Janos looked utterly miserable, his legs so weak with fright that he could only let Lancel and another Gold Cloak support him as they headed into the courtyard.
"It's all right, Lord Janos."
Patting Janos on the shoulder with apparent affection, Arthas reassured him with a relaxed smile.
"If you don't understand now, you will once we get inside!"
Before you continue