The following days the city became hectic in preparation for the coming siege. The Royal Guards had gotten to work right away. Those that didn’t have patrol duty were busy digging trenches around the walls of the Mud Gate. They worked in eight hour increments so they could work round the clock. 

 

After finishing the trench, the guards then placed large sharpened wooden pikes in front of it. He then had pikes clumped into threes placed inside the trench and covered in oil. Joffrey was using the defense system that the Romans used to defend their forts and counteract siege weapons. 

 

Under Joffrey orders all of the Hwachas were all moved and placed around the wall of the Kings Gate and the Mud Gate. The wall was supplied with multiple quivers and hundreds of arrows along with stones and torches. Inside the city modified Trebuchets and Bastas were being built and put into place. 

 

Joffrey’s industrial sector worked day and night to create as much ammo and weapons for his soldiers to use before Stannis’s army arrived. Though many of his officers thought Joffrey was mad when he and Jacelyn explained his strategy to them. They ultimately decided to put their faith in their king, who had led them to victory thus far. 

 

Joffrey was walking with his hand Tyrion along with Bronn and his three Kingsguard. As they walked down the stone path, it gave the group the perfect vantage point to see the Royal Guards at work.

 

“Your soldiers seem to be hard at work, your grace.” Barristan complimented with an approving smile.

 

“They know their duty.” Joffrey responded back his face was still as he watched his men work.

 

“Yeah maybe just maybe we won’t all get butchered.” Bronn commented with his usual attitude.

 

Barristan and the other two kingsguard gave the sellsword an annoyed side eye. While Joffrey just rolled his eyes, having gotten used to the mercenary’s laid back attitude. Tyrion continued to look at the royal soldiers with a deep concerned look. He paused for a moment before looking up at the king.

 

“It seems I’ve underestimated you nephew. Turns out you're intelligent after all .” He said his voice was serious.

 

Joffrey glanced at his uncle upon hearing his words. It was the first real compliment he had received from him since he arrived in the city. 

 

“I’d like to believe that I’m also an intelligent man.” 

 

“No one disputes that uncle, not even the many who despise you.” 

 

Tyrion looked a little surprised by Joffrey’s frankness, but continued to speak.

 

“I would like for us to speak as two honest intelligent men.”

 

“I would like that as well.” He responded as he continued to watch his soldiers work.

 

“Then you know the flaw with your plan right?” 

 

Joffrey glanced down at his uncle for a moment, letting out a tired sigh he then turned away from watching his men and gave his hand his full attention.

 

“Enough word games uncle just spit out whatever it is you want to tell me.” He said looking down at the much shorter man.

 

Tyrion glanced to the side and watched the soldiers hammering pikes into the ground. After a moment he turned back and looked at Joffrey.

 

“Stannis plans to attack both by land and by sea, even if your strategy holds off their ground assault it doesn’t address his naval fleet. If they manage to infiltrate the harbor and get inside the city your soldiers will be forced to fight on two fronts.”

 

Joffrey paused for a moment after hearing Tyrion’s critique. Then a slight smile broke out on his face.

 

“You know you really do have a good mind for tactics uncle.” He said with a smile, Tyrion looked a little surprised before Joffrey continued. 

 

“You're right, my strategy doesn’t address the naval fleet, and if they land our city will fall. That's why I’m taking it out of the equation.”

 

“How,” He asked curiously.

 

“By destroying them of course.” He said with a confident tone.

 

Both Tyrion and Bronn’s mouth’s hung open hearing Joffrey’s bold proclamation.

 

“Are you just a mad twat after all?” Bronn asked with a stupefied look.

 

Barristan and the other knights looked to be getting more and more annoyed by the disrespectful man’s remarks. Tyrion quickly interjected before things could escalate. 

 

“I think what my companion meant to ask is how exactly? Stannis' fleet is at least two hundred strong, we don’t even have half that number.” 

 

“Who said anything about sailing against them?”

 

Both Bronn, Tyrion and even Barristan wore puzzled expressions, while Joffrey gave them a knowing smile.

 

“Come with me.” He said as he waved for the group to follow him.

 

“Where are we going exactly?” Tyrion asked as he walked behind the young king along with the others.

 

“To meet a relic from a dark past.” He responded back without turning around.

 

The group made their way through the city and toward the Street of Sisters. After walking a bit further they came upon the foot of Visenya's Hill. They then stopped in front of a large old Guildhall. Joffrey ordered for two of his Kingsguard to wait outside as he, Barristan, Tyrion, and Bronn went inside.

 

The inside was dark and air thick with perspiration as they made their way deeper inside, they found a hunched old man waiting for them.

 

“Welcome, your grace, we’re honored by your presence.” A man said upon noticing the group.

 

The man was old beyond counting. His face was gaunt and his face was riddled with scars and warts. His back was hunched and he wore a dirty gray robe with long thick chains. Between the man’s looks and personal hygiene or lack thereof, he made Grand Maester Pycelle look like a strapping bachelor. 

 

“Good evening Hallyne, I’ve come to inspect my order.”

 

The man smiled ear to ear upon hearing Joffrey’s words showing his rotten crooked teeth.

 

“Of course, your grace, please follow me.”

 

The old man then slowly turned and walked forward. Joffrey and the others slowly walked behind him, keeping some distance so as to not have to smell the man’s stench. As the group went further into the great hall, Joffrey noticed Barristan’s uncomfortable expression. Of course since Barristan had served under the Mad King, he knew perfectly well what he was doing here.

 

After walking for a few more minutes the group stopped in front of a large wooden door. The old man took one of the many keys hanging off his robe and proceeded to open the door. As the group made their way inside the stone room, he noticed the many Florence flasks and test tubes throughout the room. 

 

“Welcome to my personal laboratory.” 

 

None of the group responded to the old man’s enthusiasm. The atmosphere suddenly became awkward. Tyrion just coughed into his hand trying to dispel the tension.

 

“How about you just show us the “substance” as you call it” Tyrion said, having already guessed what Joffrey brought them here for.

 

“Of course of course.” 

 

The old man then waddled over to a crate and brought out a small glass ball filled with green liquid. He held it tightly with both hands as he slowly walked toward the group, then delicately handed the glass to Joffrey. Joffrey held the glass ball in his hand, it was the size of a softball.

 

“Take care, your grace.” The pyromancer said with clear worry.

 

Joffrey ignored the man’s concerns, passing it from one hand to the other before handing it to his curious uncle. Tyrion was much less laid back than Joffrey in handling the glass and carefully examined it in his hands.

 

“I remember reading an old sailors proverb, piss on wildfire and your cock burns off.”

 

 Bronn, who was leaning back against one of the pyromancers tables, chuckled at his comment. The old man looked a little surprised at Tyrion’s words.

 

“Oh, well I’ve never conducted this experiment, it may well be true. The substance burns so hot it melts wood, stone, even steel. And of course flesh. The substance burns so hot it melts flesh like timber.”  He said with an enthusiastic tone.

 

Tyrion glanced at Joffrey before handing the glass ball back to the eager old man. The old man then carefully moved to return the glass to its box.

 

“After the dragons all died out Wildfire became the key to the Targaryen’s power.” The old man said as he closed the lid to the clay jar.

 

Barristan was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the old Pyromancer continued to speak, while Bronn scoffed at the man’s words.

 

“My friend takes issue.”

 

“If I had a gold dragon for every time I’ve seen crazy old men wheeling carts around camps making claims about jars filled with pig shit I’d be richer than you.” Bronn responded.

 

Joffrey and Tyrion just smiled while the old man became incensed.

 

“No offense mate.” 

 

“Our order does not deal with pig shit! The substance is fire-given form and we have been perfecting it since the days of Maegor!” 

 

“To do what exactly?”

 

“The jars are loaded into catapults and flung at the enemy.”

 

“How much have you made already?” Joffrey asked curiously.

 

The old man gestured for the group to follow him as he exited the room. Joffrey and the others proceed to follow behind him. 

 

“Even if it is your soldiers manning the catapults, then maybe you’d hit your target one time out of ten.” Bronn complained as the group made their way down the stone steps.

 

“By gods, your grace, this man is insulting.” The Pyromancer complained as they continued to walk.

 

“I don't know if you’d ever been in a battle before old man but things tend to get a little messy. The other army isn’t going to just sit there and let us  fling things at them. Cause when we’re flinging things at Stannis they’ll be flinging things back. Which means pots falling, which means the men meant to protect the city end up burning it down.”

 

“My uncle’s friend remains unconvinced.” Joffrey said as they stopped at a well protected metal door.

 

“You wouldn’t have dared insult my order while Aerys Targaryen’s reigned.” He complained as he raised an obnoxiously large key to unlock the door.

 

“Yeah well he ain’t living anymore and none of his magic pots saved him. Men win wars not magic tricks.”

 

The Pyromancer then unlocked and opened the metal door allowing the group of four to see inside. Inside were rows upon rows of clay jars all of which contained Wildfire.

 

“We have been working tirelessly day and night since, your grace commanded us. Our current count stands at eight thousand seven hundred and twelve. Enough to burn both Stannis’s army and fleet.”

 

Joffrey looked down the room with a stern stoic expression, while both Tyrion and Barristan wore shocked expressions.

 

“You know this is a shit idea right?” Bronn asked with an indifferent tone.

 

“Indeed I agree with my advisor, your grace, we should find another way.” Tyrion added.

 

“I never thought I’d agree with the cut throat, but I concur, there has to be another method we could use.” Barristan spoke for the first time. 

 

“Indeed,” Joffrey nodded his head at the men’s words. “This idea is a dangerous and destructive one, the very contents of which could destroy the city as a whole.”

 

He then turned to look at the three men.

 

“What's your guy's idea?”

 

The three became quiet upon hearing his question, none of them being able to say a thing.

 

“That's what I thought.” He then made his way out of the room allowing the Pyromancer to close it. 

 

“Keep working.” He told him before turning to leave.

 

The Pyromancer bowed his head to the king as he left. Joffrey quickly made his way up the stairs and out of the stinky shit hole of a building. As he walked Barristan reached out and grasped his shoulder.

 

“Your grace, I need to have a word.” 

 

His face wore clear concern as he spoke to the young king. Joffrey nodded his head before turning his attention to the other two. 

 

“Wait outside.”

 

The unlikely duo looked at one another before complying and leaving the king alone with his Kingsguard. The two found an empty room where they could talk privately.

 

“What is it Ser Barristan?”

 

“Your grace, I plead with you please don’t do this.” 

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“I can’t stand by and watch another promising king succumb to the darkness of this filthy art.” He basically spat the words out.

 

It then clicked for Joffrey that Barristan was afraid that he would end up like the mad king had. After all Aerys had begun his reign with great potential as the man himself said he wanted to be remembered as the greatest king in the history of Westeros. Though everyone knew how that dream ended.

 

“You’re afraid I’ll end up like the mad king?”

 

“Your grace, I served on his kingsguard, I was with him from the first. I watched him devolve from a noble prince into a lunatic who burned men alive for pleasure.” 

 

His voice was shaky, clearly disturbed by the memories of his previous king.

 

“And I believe one of the bedrocks for his fall started with his obsession with this wicked substance! So please your grace, I beg you find a different way.”

 

Joffrey took a moment to ponder his Kingsguard’s concerns. After a brief pause he spoke.

 

“Barristan do you really think that it was Wildfire that created the mad king?”

 

“I believe it aided in his creation, your grace.”

 

“Then does a sword aid in the creation of a murderer?”

 

Barristan became quiet after hearing his question.

 

“Or a bow, or a spear for that matter?”

 

“Barristan furrowed his brow hearing Joffrey’s questions.

 

“Respectfully what is your point, your grace?”

 

“My point is that I believe these things are tools nothing more nothing less. A sword could be used to commit murder on one's fellow man. Or one could use the same sword to defend one’s family, or their home, or their country.”

 

Barristan remained silent as Joffrey continued sharing his view.

 

“True these wicked flames could be used to reap atrocities on my citizens as Aerys Targaryen had done. Or I could use them how he should have and use them to defend my city and all those who live here from certain slaughter.”

 

Barristan’s eyes widened a bit after hearing his king’s words. He couldn’t refute his idea, but was still conflicted with the flames' use. After a brief pause Barristan spoke.

 

“It’s just I don’t wish to see you be labeled a murderer or a mad man, your grace.”

 

His face held deep concern. Joffrey seeing the old knight so worried over his reputation let out a small chuckle. Barristan looked surprised as Joffrey clasped his shoulder with a smile.

 

“That may very well happen my friend.” He said smiling as he held his shoulder. 

 

“My enemies may twist this act and paint me out to be the mad king come again. But then again so what? I don’t care how my enemies view me. I don’t care how I’m remembered in history. I don’t even care if my citizens are grateful or not.”

 

“What?” 

 

“None of that matters. The only thing that matters is that my citizens live, and the realms thrive while I rule. I will do whatever I have to to make that a reality. Even if I’m hated for it. Or despised by the very people I've come to save. As long as the better world I’ve envisioned comes to pass, I will proudly wear the title of murderer.”

 

Barristan became astonished by the young king’s words, and for a brief moment the visage of his silver prince overlapped with Joffrey’s. 

 

“Rhaegar,” He thought.

 

Barristan then went down to one knee and kneeled before the king.

 

“I understand, your grace.” 

 

Joffrey once again clasped the knight’s shoulder.

 

“Come than my sworn shield, we have a lot of work to do and little time to do it.” He said, holding a proud smile.

 

“Yes, your grace.” Giving Joffrey a proud grandfatherly smile as he got up.

 

The pair then made their way out of the filthy guild hall and outside to rejoin the others. Both Tyrion and Bronn were both impatiently waiting for them along with the other two Kingsguard.

 

“Done with your little pep talk are ya?”

 

As usual the cutthroat’s jokes never ceased. Tyrion looked amused at the man’s quip, clearly the two were two of a pair. Joffrey just ignored his comment, while his guards looked annoyed as usual. 

 

“Let's go,” He ordered. “We’ve got more work to do before Stannis arrives.”

 

The others nodded their heads at his words, and the group of six made their way down the stone street.