At this moment, the face of Ser Ross Laggett, commander of the City Watch, turned ashen.
His gaze met Aemond's cold expression, then swept over the black dragon circling above his head.
He then looked around at the silent yet killing-keen sworn guards…
Ross's chest rose and fell violently as he glared at Aemond. "Your Highness! What is the meaning of this?! The City Watch has ever been loyal to the royal house! Are you trying to—"
"Ser Ross." Aemond cut him off.
"I stand here on behalf of the royal house, on behalf of the Queen Regent, to proclaim the latest command. Nothing more."
He paused slightly, his eyes fixed upon the man. "Do not forget—at present, it is the Queen who rules as regent."
"You…" Ross's throat bobbed, and every word of protest was choked back.
Though he answered directly to the King, it was now the Queen who held the regency. He was bound to obey.
Aemond stepped forward and stood at the very edge of the platform, looking down upon the thousands below who had fallen into fear, anger, and confusion.
Above, in the sky, Lothorne descended in cooperation, nearly hovering over his head. A vast shadow and the invisible weight of dragon fear pressed heavily down.
"All of you," Aemond said, his voice carrying clearly across the training yard, "kneel now. Do not raise your heads."
"Then obey my arrangements."
At his side, Ross trembled with rage. Seeing the countless bows aimed at them and the pair of crimson dragon eyes in the sky, every word lodged in his throat.
Ross looked around. The officers who once showed him the utmost respect now mostly kept their heads lowered, avoiding his gaze.
Fear and unease had already seized the hearts of the greater part.
"Kneel!" shouted Hall, captain of the sworn guards, in a harsh voice from the platform.
"Kneel!" roared the soldiers of Dragon's Roost outside the encirclement in unison, striking their spears against the ground with dull, measured force.
On the platform first, behind Ross, the officers took the lead and dropped to one knee.
Aemond cast them a satisfied glance. A wise man bends with the wind.
Then, within the training yard, it was as if an invisible tide had swept through.
Beginning near the platform, the gold cloaks fell one by one—fearful or numb—dropping to their knees. Dozens, then hundreds, then thousands…
In the end, only Ross and several officers behind him remained standing stiffly upon the platform.
Across the entire yard and upon the platform, more than four thousand men lay prostrate, their foreheads pressed to the cold earth.
Ross looked out over the dark mass of kneeling figures, then turned with difficulty toward Aemond, his voice dry. "Your Highness… what is it… that you truly intend?"
Aemond did not answer at once.
He examined the crowd below, ensuring none dared defy him further, and only then spoke slowly.
"You may rise."
"I told you—I have come to pay your wages."
The prostrate soldiers were filled with doubt and uncertainty. They looked at one another, yet none dared to move.
"Rise!" the guards of Dragon's Roost shouted in unison once more.
Only then did the gold cloaks rise one after another, trembling. Confusion and unease were writ upon every face, their eyes fixed tensely upon the prince on the platform.
Aemond pointed toward the wooden chests filled with gold dragons. "These are rewards—and a new beginning."
He paused deliberately, gripping the attention of all before continuing.
"By command of Queen Alicent, who rules as regent, from this day forth the name of the City Watch shall pass into history."
A low hum rippled through the crowd below, suppressed exclamations and whispers breaking out despite themselves.
Abolish the Watch?
Then what were they to become?
Aemond raised a hand and pressed it down slightly.
The noise in the yard swiftly subsided, leaving only the sound of tense breathing.
"You shall no longer be merely the City Watch, guarding gates and patrolling the streets."
"The Crown will allocate funds to build new barracks beyond the walls of King's Landing."
"You shall become the first members of the royal army!"
"Your charge shall no longer be confined to a single city, but to defend the whole of the Crownlands!"
The name—royal army—caused hesitation and speculation to flash through the eyes of many veteran watchmen.
Did it mean higher standing, or greater peril?
"In return," Aemond's tone shifted as he cast forth the true bait, "your wages shall be greatly increased."
"All common soldiers—your monthly pay shall rise from thirty silver stags to fifty silver stags!"
"Fifty silver stags?!" The cry could no longer be contained. It swept through the crowd like a tide. Their pay had nearly doubled.
The fear and unease of moments before were scattered at once by the shock of such tangible gain.
Countless eyes fixed upon the gleaming chests of coin, breathing growing heavy.
For most of these soldiers, born in poverty, nothing won hearts more swiftly than hard gold and silver.
"Officers shall see even greater increases according to rank," Aemond added.
"The royal army requires loyal and valiant men, and the Crown has never been miserly in rewarding those who are loyal."
Ross's heart, however, sank into an icy abyss.
Raise their pay. Reform them. Strip them of their name and call them the royal army…
This was to swallow up the Watch—the gold cloaks—break them apart and remake them into a force under Aemond's command.
Unwilling, Ross asked, "Your Highness! Then… who shall be responsible for the city's defense?"
Aemond looked at him, his tone cold. "Henceforth, the daily order and peace of King's Landing shall be taken over by my sworn guards."
"Moreover, the Queen Regent has resolved that in due course she shall select trustworthy sons of loyal noble vassals from across the Seven Kingdoms to form a 'City Guard.'"
"Afterward, the City Guard shall be solely responsible for the defense of King's Landing, numbering some three thousand men."
Then his gaze fell upon Ross and the officers who had refused to kneel. "Ser, and you as well—you have served King's Landing for many years, and your labors have not been small."
"I shall report your merits to the Queen Regent."
"In time, the Crown shall grant you a generous pension—enough for you to return to your lands and enjoy your remaining years in peace."
Retirement? Stripped of command?
Ross felt hot blood rush to his head.
In years past he had followed Prince Daemon, fighting blood-soaked battles in the Stepstones, bearing countless scars before being personally recommended by the prince to sit as commander of the Watch.
And now, with a single word from this prince, he was to be cast aside like a dog?
"I…" He sought to argue.
But Aemond had already drawn a roll of parchment from his breast and handed it over.
Ross took it, his fingertips cold. Upon it was the personal decree of King Viserys I, sealed at the end with the red wax of the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen.
He scanned it quickly. His face grew ever paler. The King had indeed entrusted all military and administrative affairs of King's Landing to Queen Alicent's full authority.
The last shred of hope was crushed entirely.
Overwhelming helplessness and fury nearly drowned him. At last, he forced himself to bow his head and ground out the words between his teeth.
"I… am willing to submit to the arrangements of the royal house."
Behind him, the few officers could only echo in resignation, "We also are willing to submit to the arrangements of the royal house."
"Very well. You may withdraw." Aemond no longer looked at them.
Ross descended from the platform with his men, moving like one bereft of spirit as he passed through the crowd in the yard.
Wherever he passed, his former subordinates avoided his gaze or lowered their heads.
He knew that his time here had come to an end.
At this moment he wished only to depart at once and carry word of all that had transpired to Prince Daemon—that Aemond had already taken control of the forces of King's Landing.
It was not that Aemond did not wish to purge them entirely.
Yet at present the greens held firm control only over the Red Keep and the governance of King's Landing. This Watch, newly taken in hand, still seethed with hidden currents.
Among them were indeed many whose loyalties inclined toward Daemon. But unless he had lost his wits, without proper cause—
He could not put these men to death, together with their families behind them—ten thousand lives in all.
Especially as many of these officers hailed from houses of the Crownlands.
The best course was to reorganize them, fold them into a new system, and in future musters and battles… let them be spent in due course.
After all, he still meant to summon the lords of the Crownlands and require them to fulfill their feudal obligations, providing House Targaryen with more soldiers.
The royal army he envisioned would number more than ten thousand.
The realm had known peace for many years, and the treasury was full. Better to forge from that gold a sword loyal to the greens than let it gather dust in the vaults.
Letting Ross go was also meant to draw out more fish.
For instance, the Lady Mysaria, hidden within Flea Bottom—once Prince Daemon's lover, now the black faction's master of whisperers in King's Landing.
For months he had searched in secret, yet never found trace of the woman.
By all accounts, since the King confirmed the Queen's regency, the lady had vanished into the labyrinth of Flea Bottom.
Aemond spoke no further and turned to look down from the platform.
Jasper had already begun organizing the first group of soldiers to come forward and receive their gold dragons.
Coins rang as they were placed into the hands of the gold cloaks.
The heavy weight and golden gleam of the coins brought near-mad joy to many faces.
They raised the coins high and began to cheer, as though they had utterly forgotten the fear and humiliation of moments past—forgotten that their former commander had just been cast out.
"Long live the royal house!"
"Thanks to the Queen Regent!"
"Thanks to Prince Aemond!"
The cheers swelled together, resounding above the camp.
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