The words of the Internal Affairs captain silenced the tavern. All eyes turned to the unfortunate man seated in the corner.
Draped in a white cloak, his hood concealed most of his face, though a longsword hung at his side. While the attire was peculiar, it wasn't uncommon in King's Landing, a city filled with all sorts of characters.
Upon hearing the captain's call, the hooded man hesitated, setting down his drink. The masked captain, sensing potential danger, tightened his grip on his crossbow.
Drawing from his years of experience and intuition working for Internal Affairs, he approached the stranger, demanding to know his identity. "I'm a sellsword. Been hard finding work in King's Landing lately," the man replied in a dialect commonly heard in the Vale. He mentioned working with a Braavosi ship crew, staying in the city for a few weeks.
Mercenaries were common throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Not all were involved in illicit activities; many served as escorts for merchant caravans and were occasionally conscripted into lordly armies during wartime.
"Braavosi crew?" the captain questioned, skeptically, demanding to see his credentials. King's Landing's customs issued identification to all foreign ships and their crew, a recent policy introduced by Lord Davos Seaworth, now overseeing the city's customs after bending the knee to King Viserys. His experience as a former smuggler made him adept at curbing smuggling activities.
Handing over his credentials, the golden-haired middle-aged man tried to remain amicable. The captain, after a brief examination, saw no issues and returned the identification. With a lingering gaze, he ordered his men to leave.
The atmosphere in the tavern eased once they left. A patron raised his mug to the man in the corner, "Lucky you didn't get dragged out with that drunk. What's your name?"
"Jaime," he replied, "Jaime Stonn. Son of a whore, never knew my father." The mention of the name drew parallels with the infamous Kingslayer, but this Jaime brushed it off, suggesting the real Kingslayer might be dead in some corner of the world.
Later that night, Cersei requested an audience with Viserys, hoping to visit her imprisoned father. Tywin Lannister's trial was imminent, and she felt helpless in her attempts to save him. Once the lofty queen, now she was merely a gilded bird, trapped in the Red Keep, fearing she and her children might never leave.
Coincidentally, Tyrion, who hadn't visited since Tywin's imprisonment, also sought permission that night, possibly the last night of their father's life. Many questions plagued him.
But before he could confront those thoughts, someone arrived at Tyrion's residence outside the Red Keep, seeking him out.