The Dragon's Heart Is Mine || Geralt Targaryen

25 • THE COLOUR GOLD

Standing beside him is one of the seven gate captains, Captain Randyll Barret, a common-born man with highborn ambitions.

He follows Daemon with loyal fervor. Boots stomp on the ground, and many of the watchmen bang their armor of their breastplates with their wooden cudgels.

Daemon stands amongst his men, a spiteful edge to him.

"Commander on the floor!" Captain Randyll Barret announced in a loud voice.

"When I took command of the Watch, you were stray mongrels, starving and undisciplined. But now? You're a pack of hounds, sated and honed for the hunt." Daemon says vibrantly with power laced on his tone.

Captain Barret howls like a dog at Daemon's side. The watchmen howl back from the crowd. They live for this.

"My brother's city has fallen into squalor. Crime of every breed has been allowed to thrive." Daemon pauses.

"No longer. Beginning tonight, King's Landing will learn to fear the color gold."

A war-cry goes up from the City Watch, all cloaked in gold cheered their commander as the gates were opened.

The anticipation was thrilling and their blood boiled for the ruthless hunt.

Throughout the capital, all the barracks were opened in seven huge gates built at the entrances into the capital; The Dragon Gate, The Lion Gate, the Old Gate, The Mud Gate, The Gate of the Gods, the King's Gate and The Iron Gate and the Red Keep barracks gates, all were opened and the gold cloaks matched into the streets in different squads and directions.

Daemon leads a phalanx of city watchmen out of the barracks gates and onto the streets of Flea Bottom.

Flea Bottom represents the dregs of King's Landing, where the low-born take their low pleasures.

Cookfires boil cauldrons of eternal stews up and down the expanse, preparing the infamous "bowls of brown".

For the denizens of Flea Bottom, every day is a battle for mere survival. Danger and disease lurks in every shadow.

Daemon grins at the promise ahead. "Captain Barret. Signal the chase." He says boldly.

Captain Randyll Barret grins and blows a whistle giving our orders.

" You take 10 men, take Streets of Silk!"

"You take 25 men to the Streets of Flour!"

"You take 13 men to the Streets of Steel!"

"You! take 12 men to the White Harbour spare no venom!"

"You! You! You! Take 20 men each and go the other streets and raid out every vermin!"

"All of you go! Search every house, alleys, brothels, Purge every ilk, every street of criminal scum! Show no mercy!" Captain Randyll Barret gives out the orders before turning to Daemon.

"Round up every criminal who defy the king's word and enforce the crown's laws!" Daemon yells as a war cry erupts amongst the gold cloaks.

"All right! You heard the Commander! Hunt's on!"

The watchmen fan out into the darkness of Flea Bottom, the firelight reflecting off their new gold cloaks.

The onlookers ran to home and watched through the windows and doors, and other innocent people gave them a wide berth.

Some of the guilty scatter away in fear, making themselves for easy targets.

The gold cloaks flush low criminals out of hiding. Tavern and fighting pit doors are kicked in.