Game of Thrones: I Created the Weave

Theon was proud of his archery skills.

Ever since Winterfell, his bow and arrows were the most practiced and exquisite among everyone's. If he said he would shoot a copper coin, he would only shoot the center of the Seven-Pointed Star on the coin.

These heads before him were nothing more than slow-moving targets, hit with every shot.

He nocked a Whistling Long Arrow, aimed at an eye socket on a head, shot it, and shouted, "Quiet! Back away!" Then he nocked another arrow, shot another noisy head, and activated the Communication Token again, "Quiet! Back away!" His voice was loud and clear, repeating the cycle.

Theon felt he could repeat this until all hundred-plus arrows in his quiver were used up.

Three or five more quivers would be fine too.

One, five, ten, the figures Theon aimed at became farther and farther away, quieter and quieter, and their final frozen expressions became more and more distorted.

It wasn't until he shot down a person who was about to turn and run away that Theon slowly put away his longbow.

The crowd below had retreated dozens, even a hundred paces away, everyone's mouths tightly shut, not daring to utter another word.

Theon smiled hatefully. What a bunch of lowlifes, they only listen when they see blood.

They had already captured four or five thousand people. During the cleanup after the chaos in Flea Bottom, they had caught several thousand more. Now there were only a few thousand people left below, almost fewer than the Soldiers surrounding them.

If it really came to a fight, Theon was confident he could cut off all their heads within half an hour.

Jon stepped forward, "Theon, that's enough. They are calm enough now, and I believe they won't be foolish enough to do anything stupid again."

What the King wanted were not just rotting, stinking heads, but more Soldiers, more labor.

Theon shrugged, "I think so too. Jon, our job is done. Lord Tyrion, it's your turn to make an appearance."

Tyrion held out his hand, "Your Majesty is truly biased, giving away treasures that can make a person's voice like thunder, tsk tsk."

Jon understood and handed over his Communication Token.

A flat piece of Dragon Glass polished into an oval shape. The moment Tyrion held it, he immediately felt the familiar Magic Energy being transmitted from within.

So this is how it's used. Tyrion quickly understood.

He silently communicated with the Information Magic Energy within the Dragon Glass, activating it, and thus activating the hidden Sound Rune Energy to record the external sounds.

"I am Master of Coin Tyrion Lannister. Everyone immediately put down your weapons, squat where you are, accept supervision, and obey the will of The Gods and His Majesty. The crimes you have committed today can still be pardoned."

Tyrion raised the Dragon Glass, activated the Information Magic Energy within it, triggering the response of the Sound Magic Energy, and a loud voice immediately came from the Dragon Glass.

The crowd woke up a little from their confusion and stupor.

On all sides were gleaming steel and Soldiers, serious and resolute commands echoed in the air, and the long arrows stuck in the corpses in front were still glaring.

Who would have thought the Gold Cloaks would be so ruthless? Everyone just gathered and said a few words, and they actually killed people!

Many people completely failed to understand what happened today.

Why bother? After all this effort, how much good could they get from Flea Bottom? Just for these dilapidated houses, for everyone who had nothing, or even missing limbs?

Flea Bottom had never been so important. They were the most insignificant cockroaches and rats in King's Landing, everyone would only avoid them from afar with disgust.

They had thought today would be similar, the Gold Cloaks would just go through the motions, Flea Bottom would slightly display its dirt and filth, driving away the gaze of all the upper-class people who didn't belong here, and then everyone would quietly live on.

But everything seemed to be truly changing completely.

Monks and Septas kept preaching doctrines and Divine Decrees, Crystal demanded answers from everyone, the Gold Cloaks detained everyone who had no money, and even said it was for everyone's good.

Fortunately, someone ran out from the Gold Cloaks' encirclement and warned everyone about the tragedies that had occurred wherever the Gold Cloaks went.

So everyone united and drove away the mere dozens of Gold Cloaks at various alleyways and street corners.

The next thing should have been simple, everyone would gather together to resist, pick up all the weapons that could boost morale, and those Gold Cloaks wouldn't risk doing anything more.

But everything truly changed.

The Gold Cloaks actually didn't retreat, but rushed over in groups of twenty or thirty, their swords, daggers, and spears bright and sharp.

Everyone was more fragile than they had imagined.

No one was stupid enough to be willing to take a knife for someone else, instead, they cleverly fled in all directions where there were no Gold Cloaks, trying their best to shake off everyone behind them.

Everyone quickly scattered completely, no one knew where anyone else was, only themselves.

Later, the Gold Cloaks herded everyone together again, like driving livestock. When they stood there, everyone consciously avoided that spot, and somehow ended up gathered together.

People pushed people, people squeezed people, no one knew which direction everyone was heading, they just kept walking.

Finally, there were Gold Cloaks in front, behind, left, and right, and there was no direction to escape.

For some reason, someone started cursing, like a spark in a haystack, immediately igniting everyone's anger.

Someone started shouting, "Long live King Robert!"

Yes, how wonderful it was back then. The Silver Stag casually thrown by the nobles at the Tourney was enough for dozens of companions to have a full meal for a day, and those with skills could get considerable rewards from the audience.

It was different now. The Gold Cloaks patrolled the city non-stop, the Hand of the King and the Regent took office one after another, and there wasn't even a single Tourney!

Someone started cursing the Gold Cloaks. These guys really deserved to be cursed. It was bad enough that they bullied everyone as usual, but now they were even cutting off everyone's last way to survive, they were simply not fit to be human!

Some even whispered curses at King Joffrey. That rumor, which not many people believed before, now seemed more like the truth.

At least everyone was more willing to believe it.

If Renly was the legitimate King, he probably wouldn't deliberately make things difficult for everyone in Flea Bottom, right?

Amidst the ceaseless shouts, everyone raised their arms, fists, and weapons, like an unstoppable torrent. The Gold Cloaks in front seemed so small, as if they could be easily broken through.

But all of this ended with thunderous roars and whistling long arrows.

The people standing at the very front were the first to decide to run back, but the people behind hadn't reacted yet. In the meantime, it was the Gold Cloak officer's evil archery game, until everyone retreated together to the center of the encirclement, away from the roaring arrows.

Looking at the Gold Cloaks now, every sword and every spear was so sharp and gleaming. How could human flesh compete with this steel?

Clang clang~

A dagger was thrown onto the open ground in front, its rolling sound on the flagstones so distinct, making hearts sink, then suddenly relax.

A large area of indistinguishable sounds occurred almost simultaneously. Everyone put down everything they held in their hands.

"...Squat where you are, accept supervision, obey the will of The Gods and Your Majesty. The crimes you committed today can still be pardoned." The instructions in the air continued to echo.

People lowered themselves one by one, the crowd followed in panic, and soon not a single person was standing with straight legs.

The Gold Cloaks came in groups.

Everyone watched silently as others and themselves were tightly bound, with hard wooden blocks stuffed into their mouths, and even dark hoods placed over their heads.

Everyone was inevitably fearful. How would they be dealt with? What would happen to Flea Bottom?

Everything was in the hands of the Gold Cloaks' swords.

And the King at the highest point.

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