"Your Majesty!" The Mountain bowed respectfully. It must be said, Cersei was beautiful, her skin as white as snow; any male beast would want to take a bite.
"Sir Gregor! You've come at the perfect time. How many men have you brought?"
"Thirty cavalrymen, Your Majesty!"
"Go and arrest Eddard Stark!" Cersei's courage suddenly surged.
The Mountain is a vicious dog kept by the Lannister family in the Westerlands, who specializes in tearing apart anything that dares to defy them.
"Yes, Your Majesty," the Mountain replied respectfully, but remained standing motionless. He was no longer the Mountain of old, who would pounce and bite at the sound of a whistle. Clegane was a Lannister vassal, not Cersei's.
The Mountain looked at the King.
The king's face was grim. He tossed the golden cup to the bartender, stood up, and thus displayed his imposing stature. King Robert had conquered the kingdom at twenty, possessed superhuman strength, and wielded a heavy warhammer that even his friend Eddard could barely lift. The tiger, though he had indulged in sixteen years of debauchery, still retained his formidable power.
"What is it?" the king roared, his eyes wide and his beard bristling.
"Joffrey was almost killed by that little wolf girl, and you just stood by and did nothing? What kind of father are you?" Cersei's accusations never stopped from the beginning.
The Mountain coldly stared at Cersei, an extremely beautiful woman whose heart was twisted and tainted with evil: the whole world was wrong, and she was right! She was a person who could not compromise or have a change of heart. The only way to make her reasonable was for the Seven to appear and take her away!
Where is Joffrey?
"He's recuperating in his bedroom!"
The Mountain guessed that Prince Joffrey was probably enjoying himself in his bedroom, perhaps even laughing at the jester's antics. That kid would never let himself be wronged. The Mountain knew that the direwolf Nymeria and Arya were of one mind; Arya was only angry at Joffrey, not filled with murderous intent. If Arya truly harbored murderous intent towards Joffrey, the direwolf wouldn't have merely bitten his sword-wielding hand, but would have bitten it off!
The bite force of a dire wolf the size of a hound could easily break the bones of a young boy.
"Bring him out!" the king roared.
Cersei didn't call Joffrey out; instead, she sat down in the chair next to the king, her face full of anger.
"Where has the king killer gone?" the king roared in fury.
Jaime Lannister's infamous title, "Kingslayer," comes from his murder of Aerys Targaryen, the king to whom he swore allegiance. King Robert harbored no affection for the Lannisters, including Jaime. He would even call Jaime the Kingslayer during meetings of his court in the throne room. He enjoyed humiliating Jaime and reveled in seeing his cold, hard face.
Immediately, a guard nervously went to inform Jaime, who arrived quickly, dressed in a white robe, golden armor, and a golden sword sheath. He had a handsome face and a tall, upright posture.
James was a very talented man, it's just a pity.
"Jaime, go and bring Joffrey to me!"
"Yes, Your Majesty!" Jaime replied respectfully. As he turned, he glanced at the giant Mountain, expressionless, and left.
Aside from his infatuation with his sister's beauty, Jaime had his own sense of honor and principles. He kept his distance from villains like the Mountain and refused to associate with them, even though his reputation as a kingslayer was just as infamous as the Mountain's.
The guards put away the fine wine and food sent by the Demon Mountain, and the king's joy at receiving a large bag of gold coins was also dispelled by his beloved queen. Today was a sunny day, but the king's good mood had dropped below zero.
The Mountain remained silent and did not leave, calmly observing: barring any unforeseen circumstances, the king would be finished by the end of the year, dying under the tusks of a wild boar, ending his life, which was hardly one to be praised for its merits.
Robert was a good man; he was approachable, straightforward, and adept at turning enemies into friends. He was a natural-born warrior, skilled in warfare, but not a good king. He was in the wrong place, much like a college student before time travel—his major was architecture, a field perfectly aligned with his interests, yet fate cruelly made him a music teacher. His inability to teach do-re-mi-fasso was an inevitable consequence.
Soon, Joffrey was brought in, his handsome face bearing a nonchalant smile, the corners of his mouth turned up as if mocking everyone present as trash.
King Robert noticed that Joffrey's right hand was wrapped in bandages.
The Mountain, however, noticed Joffrey accompanied by a jester in disguise wearing a comical hat, a handsome moon boy with a red nose, and a respectful maester. The Mountain knew his guess was correct; the boy had first gone to his mother to plead his case, and after gaining her support, everything was fine. He was now in a good mood, enjoying fine wine and listening to the jester and moon boy sing, tell jokes, and perform farces for his amusement.
High-ranking nobles often kept jesters or moon boys for amusement, and kings, being the most powerful men in the country, kept quite a few. Some of these jesters could even perform magic tricks.
Joffrey's face showed no sign of pain whatsoever.
The king glared at him, startling Joffrey. Perhaps then he remembered his complaints to his mother, and the boy immediately walked to Cersei's side with a wronged expression, standing obediently beside his mother and pretending to be hurt and aggrieved.
Everyone could see that Joffrey was feigning pain, but what could they say? The courtiers and servants all knew that this was the prince's daily routine.
"Show me your hands!" Robert said in a deep voice.
Joffrey stood behind his mother, hesitant and afraid to approach.
If there's one person this kid is afraid of, it's his cheapskate father.
Out of curiosity about how many kittens a mother cat was carrying, he dissected her, carefully removing each kitten and excitedly showing them to his father, the King. Robert was shocked and nearly beat Joffrey to death. From that moment on, Joffrey developed a deep fear of his father, the King; he was terrified at the mere sight of him.
Cersei's long, slender hand caressed her son's handsome face: "Go, show your father, don't be afraid." Cersei's encouraging eyes said, "If your cowardly father doesn't dare to stand up for you, your mother will help you punish the criminals! The Stark family must give an explanation for this matter; you are a prince."
Cersei's words always concealed a venomous whip, a whip that could strike at the king's dignity and authority at any time, such as publicly calling Robert a 'weak father'.
Robert may be a terrible king, but he is by no means a coward!
Cersei wanted to use her shallow words to provoke the king into forcing himself on Eddard Stark.
The king's consistent courtesy towards Eddard Stark was certainly not a sign of cowardice.
Robert's neck veins bulged with rage. He glared at Joffrey, who shrank back before him, grabbed his right hand, and examined it. From the position of the bandage, he could tell it was a minor injury. The Maester hadn't allowed Joffrey's right hand to be draped around his neck, which meant the bone was fine.
Minor injury!
"Tell me what happened! If you lie, I'll deal with you!" Robert roared, his eyes wide.
Joffrey, pale with fright, looked at his mother with pleading eyes. His mother immediately beckoned him over, hid him behind her back, and gripped his hand tightly, sneering, "Robert, what can you do besides scare your own son? I've investigated thoroughly. Arya Stark and Michael the Butcher's son attacked Joffrey. Arya struck him on the back of the head with her training sword, and that wretched Michael took the opportunity to knock him down. Together, they snatched Joffrey's Lionfang sword and threw it into the Trident River. Arya even ordered the direwolves to bite him; his right hand is proof of that bite. Robert, if you don't dare order the capture of the Stark girl, then you can leave this matter alone. I'll handle it!"
Robert flew into a rage, revealing his true colors as a scoundrel: "Cersei, to hell with you! Take your son and get out of here! Kingslayer, go and fetch Eddard Stark!"
"Tsk tsk tsk, his little wolf girl is about to kill your son, and you're still afraid of him, even using the word 'please'. Jaime, you shouldn't go either. I've already sent Donnie Marbran, and I believe Eddard Stark will be here soon."
Mo Shan looked out the door and realized that the sun was already setting and it would soon be dark.
Rapid footsteps sounded outside the gate, and a young warrior entered, wearing a red cloak. He knelt on one knee before the King and Queen: "Your Majesty, Your Majesty, Your Highness, Eddard Stark, having heard of the feud between Lady Arya and Prince Joffrey, refused to come here. He has led the guards of the North to Ruby Beach to search for Arya and the Butcher's son."
"He actually dared to go to his daughter first?" Cersei said incredulously. "Robert, look at the Hand of the King you invited from thousands of miles away, he has absolutely no respect for royal authority."
"Shut up!" the king roared. "Keep your son in check. You are not allowed to mention this matter again until Arya is found."
Cersei stood up with a cold laugh, gave Robert a disdainful look, grabbed Joffrey's hand, and strode out. The Mountain coldly noticed a hint of amusement flash in Joffrey's eyes.
King Robert, panting with rage, threw his massive body back into his chair and roared, "Pour the wine, you foolish Lannister!"
Lancel, trembling with fear, hurriedly poured wine for the king.
The Mountain looked at Jaime. The king had called the Lannisters stupid, and Jaime was also a Lannister, but his face remained expressionless, as if he hadn't heard a thing.
Jaime has been favored by the king and has developed a strong heart from the king's rage and humiliation! Or perhaps it could be called numbness.
The king drank several cups in a row, drinking quickly and urgently, his chest heaving violently, almost choking on the wine.
The Mountain felt a pang of sympathy for the king; the man's life was truly miserable. Fortunately, he still had wine, women, and hunting to vent his anger.
*
After nightfall, the courtiers had eaten, and following Cersei's order to send guards, all the courtiers gathered in the hall, crowding the room, awaiting the Hound and Eddard's findings. It was said that Eddard had already sent men across the river to conduct a thorough search along both banks.
The two troublesome children and a wolf, the hound and Ed, have not yet been found.
*
Outside the town, on Kingsroad, torches blazed brightly as a procession of men in golden robes marched in. Leading the procession was a handsome and elegant young man, Renly Baratheon, King Robert's brother and the Lord Chancellor of Justice. Behind him were three white-robed knights, members of the Kingsguard: the Kingsguard's captain, Barristan Selmy the Fearless, and his two comrades; following them was a terrifying figure, exuding an aura of death, with lifeless eyes, and the hilt of a greatsword protruding diagonally from above his shoulders—Ilyn Payne, the King's executioner, whose official title was Lord Inspector of the Kings.
The arrival of this group of powerful figures immediately made the town even noisier that night. These powerful men from the palace had come specifically to welcome their King Robert.