A month passed and Joffrey was busy overseeing his many projects such as his grand renovation project, and his new royal guards. Tobho managed the renovations along with his workers; they focused primarily on the sanitation and city defenses as per Joffrey’s orders. The sewers were coming along nicely, the shit no longer ran to the slums of flea bottom, but through the underground irrigation system that the Targaryans had made during their reign. They were meant as a means of escape in case the capital ever fell, but now served a new purpose. The general health of his citizens unsurprisingly improved with these new healthy conditions, and the smell of shit no longer saturated his city.

 

The city’s defenses drastically improved with the weak points that had plagued a few of his gates being rectified. The walls were built higher and reinforced with the steel concrete and dozens of scorpions and Hwachas were stationed among the walls. Joffrey refused to stockpile his new grenades on them, out of fear of one inexperienced soldier ending up burning down the city they meant to defend. Now that he had roughly twenty four hundred men at his disposal he planned to train an elite group to be his Grenadiers, but that was a task for another day.

 

As for his royal guards, Jacelyn, his vice-commander, focused on their training. In fact they had recently graduated from their basic training and received the brand. Joffrey participated personally in the ceremony as he had done the first time. All the royal guards who didn’t have patrol participated in the ceremony to welcome their new brothers. Joffrey now had roughly five cohorts now, men at arms who answered solely to him. That's why the current predicament was so distressing for him.

 

[Throne Room]

 

Joffrey was currently sitting on his throne with Sansa beside him in the great hall, to his left was Tyrion his new hand and uncle along with his sell sword Bronn. He remembered him from the story line as the low-born sell sword that stuck up for Tyrion at his trial by combat. He had fought on his behalf and saved his life, then partnered up and stuck to his side as his go to killer ever since. He was a tall man with medium length black hair and a short stubble beard. He wore dark oil ring mail over light boiled leather armor, he carried a long sword and a kukri dagger. 

 

To his right was Varys, his master of whispers and now partner in crime. All of his kingsguard with the exception of his “uncle” Jaime who was still Robb Stark's prisoner were assembled before him at the stone steps of his throne. In front of him was a kneeling young girl wearing a torn brown gown along with who he assumed was her father beside her hugging her. The girl who appeared to be even younger than Sansa had brown hair and blue eyes. 

 

“Now please tell me again what happened?” Joffrey asked calmly.

 

The girl's eyes were red and puffy from crying and it seemed like she couldn’t find the voice to speak. The father instead decided to speak up.

 

“Your grace, last night when I was closing my tavern a group of your royal guards barged in.” He said his voice filled with sorrow and anger. “I asked them to leave, but they said they were the royal guard and they could do as they pleased. They drank much of my wine and refused to pay and when they had their fill of drink, they forced themselves on my daughter.” He said, balling up his fists.

 

“That's quite an accusation to make.” Maester Pycelle spoke up. “You would dare accuse the king's men of such a horrendous act. What proof do you bring?”  

 

The man's mouth hung agape; he didn't know how to respond to the old ferret's accusation. He didn’t have any proof, only what he saw with his own eyes.

 

“My lord I don’t have any-” He tried to say before Pycelle interrupted him.

 

“So you come here and back baseless accusations without solid evidence to support it?” He scoffed at the man and the weeping daughter. “It's just as likely you are simply looking for compensation from the crown after your daughter’s fling with his men. Will any lord here stand for you and support your claims? ”

 

The father could barely contain his anger hearing the old ferret insult his daughter’s honor. But what could he do? He was a simple low-born tavern owner he had no titles or anything else to his name say for his business. As Pycelle was ready to dismiss them Tyrion spoke up.

 

“My good sir, what is the name of your establishment?” Tyrion asked curiously.

 

The man looked over at the half man for a moment trying to regain his composure before answering. 

 

“It's Jon's Ale House, my lord.” He responded.

 

“Ah yes I remember now.” Tyrion said with a smile. “I have visited your Ale house on numerous occasions during my stay at the capital over the years. You sell some of the finest ale in the whole city.”

 

“Thank you for your compliments, my lord.”

 

Joffrey looked at his uncle and wondered what angle he was working.

 

“You told me many times that your daughter was your priceless gem, and that you wouldn’t let a man lay a finger on her till they took her for his wife.”

 

“Yes, my lord.” 

 

“Well you didn’t strike me as a liar.” He said finally getting to his point and making Joffrey smile a little. “So I will vouch before the throne that he is telling the truth.” He said turning and facing Pycelle who stood flabbergasted.

 

“Lord Tyrion this is absurd-” but before he could finish Joffrey got up from his throne.

 

He slowly walked down the steps and his kingsguard parted ways for him allowing him through. He walked until he was before the young girl and her father. He towered over the middle aged man and slowly kneeled until he was eye level with the girl. He looked into the sad girl's eyes and could tell with just a look. That this wasn’t a con man and a good actress trying to get some gold, but a young innocent girl who’s innocence had just been shattered. The worst part being it was his own men that did it.

 

He wasn’t naive; he knew that some scum would attempt to join his men at arms to abuse their authority and lord over those beneath them. He had hoped the grueling training regimen and the camaraderie would have weeded them all out. Though it was only a matter of time before some thugs that were just tough would slip through the cracks and join his ranks. Though he hoped it would have been longer than a few days after taking their vows and receiving their brand before they betrayed him and their brothers. This instance presented the perfect opportunity to demonstrate to his royal guards the price of betrayal.  

 

“I’m sorry for what my men did to you.” He said placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder and wiping her face with his handkerchief.

 

He stood up and looked at the father.

 

“On behalf of my soldiers the crown apologizes to you and your family.” He said sincerely. “These men will be punished, I swear. And I know that no amount of coin can rectify this heinous act done to your daughter, but I shall see you receive two thousand gold dragons as compensation for my soldiers actions.”

 

Everyone in the room gasped upon hearing the king’s judgment. Tyrion looked surprised along with his sell sword, Pycelle was stunned, Varys and Barristan looked proud, while Sansa looked on with a loving smile hearing her future husband's just decision.

 

“Your grace, perhaps you should consider giving this some more thought-” Pycelle started to protest before Joffrey looked at him with dead empty eyes.

 

“Are you questioning my decision, Grand Maester?” He asked coldly.

 

The old ferret felt a chill run down his spine as he looked into the young king's dead eye stare. It reminded him of a predator that looked down on a cornered animal.

 

“No, no your grace of course not.” He stuttered.

 

“Good” He responded, turning his attention to his hand. “Uncle, I leave this matter to you.” He said as he walked back up the stairs towards Varys. 

 

“Where will you be going, your grace?” He asked the young king as he prepared to leave the great hall with Varys.

 

“To punish some oath breakers.” He said coldly without looking back as he left the chamber.

 

[The Training Grounds]

 

Joffrey stood before all his royal soldiers, any who were not on patrol or guard duty that day were ordered to appear in the training grounds in uniform. To Joffrey’s right stood his vice commander Jacelyn along with his officers. Behind them were five men bare chested tied to wooden posts with gags in their mouths. They were the ones who had robbed and raped the tavern owners daughters that Varys’s little birds spotted. They were bruised and beaten and each looked desperate and frightened. Before him stood one of the new cohorts that the traitors belonged to, their arms and armor removed standing bare in their tunics surrounded by their brothers who were in full armor.

 

“There stands no stronger bond between men, than one forged by battle.” Joffrey spoke out loudly so all his soldiers could hear. “Or greater glory to defend and protect the king and his peace. Each of you swore oaths when you gained your brand. To obey all orders, to defend the weak and helpless, to refrain from theft, or breach of common law!” He shouted out.

 

“Those tied behind me betrayed their oaths. After less than a fortnight they stole from those they swore to protect. Raped a girl who stood at only twelve years of age. But most of all betrayed their brothers to satisfy their greed and lust.”

 

The men stirred hearing their king’s words and the disappointment they carried.

 

“These men dishonor the brand they carry and everything it stands for.” He gestured to the tied up men. “An error I will see corrected.”

 

At those words a fire brazier was carried in and daggers were placed inside. The daggers sat till the long blades glowed orange from the heat. Then each of the five officers took a dagger and walked in front of one of the men. The tied up men realized what was about to happen and struggled in vain to get free. 

 

“They’ve proven themselves unworthy to carry the brand.” He said looking at the royal guards who looked on. “So we’ll be taking it back.” 

 

As Joffrey nodded his head the officers then took the hot daggers and cut into the men’s flesh. They sliced off the brand that they received on their left peck. The men struggled and screamed as the officers sliced away their flesh. After the last one was cut off each officer took the pound of flesh and threw it into the brazier. The smell of cooking meat filled up the stadium as the silent soldiers looked on. No emotion showed on their faces as they watched the brutal mutilation. Some of the criminals eventually passed out from the pain while others wheezed in agony. Joffrey then turned back and looked at his men.

 

“Let this remind each of you the weight of your actions and the decisions you make.” He looked at each of them. “And that none one is above the law am I clear?!” He shouted.

 

“Yes sir!” They shouted back.

 

He then walked down the stage steps till he was before the bare cohort whom the men belonged to.

 

“As for you men.” He said addressing the entire cohort. “You failed to keep your brothers in line. To prevent them from soiling your names and the honor each of you carry.”

 

He looked at each of the young men like a disappointed father disciplining a child.

 

“You’ve proven yourselves unreliable for combat. You will be banished to the provisions unit. To clean armor and weapons and supply your brothers with water and food, and never see combat till I deem you worthy.” He said each of the men looked hurt.

 

“I am very disappointed in each of you. You’ve brought me and your brothers great shame on this day.” He said sadly before turning to leave. He left the rest of the details to his vice commander as he exited the training grounds. 

 

The other royal guards looked at the disgraced cohort with anger for disappointing their king and shaming them. Joffrey walked away from the stadium hoping that this brutal example would keep them in line, and remind the cohort of their responsibility to check one another. He then made his way back to the Red Keep to keep his other meetings he had scheduled for the day. 

 

As the small council were hard at work going over governing matters regarding the city and its citizens, quick footsteps approached the chamber. Varys suddenly entered quickly and brought a small letter to the king. He took the paper and unrolled it and read its contents aloud for the others.

 

“Robb Stark and his bannermen have been spotted marching past Harrenhal.” He said calmly as they grew anxious. “It says he has at least fourteen thousand men with him and we have a few weeks at best before he’s at our gates.”

 

“Where is lord Tywin?!” Pycelle said with clear fear in his voice.

 

Joffrey continued to read the report from the scouts for the whole council.

 

“He appears to be engaged on two fronts with the Vale and the four thousand men Lord Stark left behind to keep him from following.” He read calmly with no emotion appearing on his face.

 

Upon hearing the report the chamber erupted into chaos and arguments on the best course of action.

 

“We still have time, we should relocate to Casterly Rock.” Pycelle suggested.

 

“No we can’t abandon the people, we should meet them in the field.” Barristan said.

 

“I believe we should seal the gates and wait for reinforcements.” Ros added.

 

“Diplomacy is the best course of action, we should send emissaries and offer them the old wolf.” Lark stated.

 

“What a ridiculous idea!” Shouted Pycelle. 

 

“It's our best way to end this conflict peacefully.” Lark responded “If they have the Starks back they’ll have no reason to attack.”

 

“Or they can continue to march so Robb Stark can take the Iron throne and we’ll have no hostages!” Pycelle continued to shout. “Any other brilliant strategies you copper counter.” He said his voice filled with sarcasm. 

 

“Who are you calling a copper counter!” Lark yelled back, standing up from his seat.

 

More screaming and petty insults flooded the chamber, but all the while Joffrey sat calm, interlocking his fingers and appearing in deep thought. Varys and Tyrion both looked at him curiously of how he would handle the situation now that the young wolf was at their door. Eventually Joffrey slammed his fist into the table, silencing the chamber.

 

“Enough I have heard your suggestions and have made my decision.” He said calmly. “We will not retreat, we will stand firm and hold this city.”

 

“But your grace I believe the best choice would be-” Pycelle started to say but Joffrey interrupted him.

 

“Barristan inform Jacelyn of the situation and have him prepare the guard.” He said decisively.

 

“Yes, your grace.” He bowed and excited immediately.

 

“Uncle, have the refugees relocated inside the city.” He turned to his hand.

 

“Of course, nephew.” He responded.

 

He then turned his attention to the rest of the council who seemed consumed with fear and uncertainty.

 

“I know all of you are afraid.” He said calmly trying to reassure them. “But I have been preparing for this day since the war began. And I swear to each of you this city will not fall while I still draw breath.” He tried to reassure them and calm their fear.

 

“If we allow our fear of the unknown to get the best of us then we’ve already lost. Now stand strong and leave this matter to me.”

 

“Yes, your grace.” They said in unison.

 

Joffrey then smiled both externally and internally. The day was finally coming for him to meet the young wolf, and once he had him on his side they would be one step closer to his ultimate ambition. A united seven kingdoms under his rule.

 

“Good, come to me lord Stark.” He thought with glee. “Come and be reunited with your family.”