Game of Thrones: I Created the Magic Web

Chapter 23: The Little Beggar

The bustling city of King's Landing was not kind to those who had nothing.

The first day was manageable.

But as soon as night fell, the problem of where to sleep immediately presented itself.

Any place that looked decent required clean, tidy clothes and a heavy coin purse.

Even the shabbiest inn demanded coppers.

And you had none.

Sleep on the streets, in a vacant lot, or in a corridor?

Don't even think about it.

If discovered by the gold cloaks patrolling day and night, those fellows wouldn't be polite; they might even beat you to death.

Your only option was to curl up in a corner of Flea Bottom, preferably joining a beggar gang.

But even then, you had to be constantly wary of theft and attacks from others. People who had nothing were capable of anything.

Oh, and you couldn't afford to get sick or injured.

Mosquitoes, the elements, and your companions could smell weakness, and then they would show you their most ferocious and sinister side.

If you were lucky enough to survive this ordeal, congratulations, you could consider finding a stable source of food.

A good begging spot was not something a newcomer like you could get.

The porridge and bread given by the church in the name of the gods were not enough to feed everyone in Flea Bottom.

Relying solely on this method to survive meant that either you would be too weak to walk in the sunlight after a few days, or you would be completely buried outside of it by your "companions."

Of course, you could also try to earn money and find work, thereby completely escaping the life of a beggar.

Pleasant and easy jobs were out of the question for you, but working as a porter at the warehouse docks could earn you one copper star, or 16 copper coins, each day.

A loaf of black bread mixed with gravel sold for only one copper coin.

Two loaves a day were enough for a person to barely survive; four or five were enough for someone doing manual labor.

Sixteen copper coins, sixteen loaves of bread, such a meager yet heavy number.

But even that was only in theory.

The bastard son of a prostitute, after enduring more than half a month of hardship, finally realized that reality was even crueler than one could imagine.

That trial in the throne room had pushed him into a true hell.

He had lost his only support.

As he walked out of the Red Keep's gate, he kept his head down, afraid that he might accidentally see his mother among the rows of heads on pikes that he used to admire.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the gold cloaks guarding the Red Keep's gate returned his knife, taking only one gold dragon as payment.

He was penniless.

He tried to return to the brothel he once loathed but couldn't leave, but he was ruthlessly kicked out the door after only a few breaths.

He relied on his only two friends for two days, but was then abandoned.

Then, he went to various places in the city to find work, but only the docks were hiring. The docks it was, then; what else could he be picky about?

But he didn't expect manual labor to be so complicated and dark.

He couldn't get the full 16 copper coins each day.

First, when it came time to pay, even if there were no mistakes in the day's work, the foreman would deduct two copper coins, claiming it was for wear and tear; if there was a mistake, it would be even worse.

Then there were the dock gangs.

Claiming to protect the safety of the dockworkers, they demanded half the earnings right off the bat. With swords and fists in front of you, who would dare not give it?

At this point, there were still seven copper coins left—such an auspicious number.

He named them after the Seven Gods—the Father, the Mother, the Warrior, the Maiden, the Smith, the Crone, and the Stranger.

There was a lot of seafood at the docks, but it was much more expensive than black bread, so he could only watch with envy.

From the docks into the city, the gold cloaks worn by the city gate guards were particularly dazzling, and they also wanted a little "respect," also half.

What's half of seven?

He knelt down in public, kowtowing and begging bitterly.

"Have mercy, my lord, have mercy..."

The guards sometimes laughed heartily, seemingly enjoying themselves, and generously let him into the city.

Sometimes they weren't very happy, and the sword scabbards they used to poke him were deadly, and then they would rob him of all the copper coins on his body.

Sometimes, they jokingly asked for one copper coin.

He would present that "Stranger."

Stranger, take them away soon; they do not belong in the human world, they should live in fiery lava, the seven hells.

He could only comfort himself that at least it was better than the beggars in Flea Bottom.

Until a week ago...

A silver stag jingled and rolled to his feet, and the little beggar immediately threw the memories of the past to the wind.

A silver stag! Seven copper stars! So many copper coins!!

"May the old gods and the new bless you! Thank you for your generosity, sir, you are truly a kind and good person!!"

The little beggar kowtowed excitedly.

He was already thinking about how to hide this huge fortune. He couldn't bring the silver stag back to Flea Bottom; that would be suicide.

The lord who had given the silver stag spoke, "A certain lord wants to see you."

The little beggar slowly raised his head.

A plain-looking man in his thirties with calm eyes was standing in front of him.

......

In a remote and deserted alley, Joffrey was listening to Tyrion describe the selected boy's experiences over the past half month.

"...After that, the thugs at the docks took a fancy to the knife he was carrying, but unexpectedly, he refused to give in, and instead drew his knife and stabbed two of them."

Tyrion admired the boy's courage a little, but also thought he was too impulsive.

"He fled back into the city, and no one would hire him anymore. He had to become a beggar for more than a week, until now."

Joffrey was very satisfied. It was good that he didn't give in, otherwise he would be useless.

A subtle sound came.

An unremarkable man led a thin boy into the alleyway.

Joffrey silently observed the boy.

Tyrion played the role of "that lord."

"Little fellow, don't be nervous. There's just something you can help with. I wonder what you think?"

"Just give me your orders, sir."

The boy awkwardly bowed, glanced at the "lord" who was shorter than himself, and then fixed his gaze on Joffrey.

The priceless fabrics whose name he didn't know, the bright and intricate red-gold patterns set off the face that made people feel ashamed of themselves. At first glance, he was a great man of noble origin. But most importantly, he had seen this young lord in the throne room.

In an instant, he recalled many things, and his lips became tighter and tighter.

The law! Bullshit law!

Tyrion sensed the boy's emotional fluctuations.

"Do you want revenge? Having lost your mother and fallen to such a state, who do you hate the most?"

The boy thought of that disgusting guy, but he had already killed him with his own hands. That guy's wife? The dock gang? The gold cloaks? The beggar gang? The brothel? The two-faced friends?

He had many candidates, but the last figure in his mind was the cold-blooded old man who stood upright in the throne room.

He knew that guy's name, Stannis!

Joffrey saw the fire in his eyes.

After a brief and unequal transaction, Joffrey attached a solid rune mirror image to the boy's knife, and also bestowed upon the boy solid runes and mirror images of fire runes.

The silent secret agent quietly led the boy away.

The alley returned to silence once again.

After staring at the alleyway for an unknown amount of time, Tyrion suddenly spoke to inquire.

"Are you so confident in him?"

Joffrey shrugged.

"All I know is that he has no other choice. All his anger will only be vented on the target."

Tyrion didn't speak again; he also understood the reasoning behind it.

Yes, the boy who was approached was already bound to die. What could this little fellow do?

A beggar, even if he successfully reported it, no one would believe him, and he couldn't escape if he ran away. The greatest extent of resistance he could do was not to do anything, struggling and waiting for death to come.

But would he do that?

Let go of the greatest enemy he could think of?

Tyrion sighed.

Stannis, you really are an unlikable guy.

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