Steel Street stretched like a living artery through King's Landing.
Starting from the bustling market square near the River Gate, it wound its way through the heart of the city, crowded with merchants, craftsmen, travelers, and common folk. The noise was constant—hammering iron, shouting vendors, laughing children, and the restless hum of a city recovering from war.
Karl rode at the front of his group, guiding his horse carefully through the throng.
Every few steps, someone would call out to him.
"My lord!"
"Ser Karl!"
"The hero of King's Landing!"
Faces lit up as people recognized him. Some bowed, others waved, and a few simply smiled with quiet admiration.
Karl responded to each of them with ease.
A nod here.
A few words there.
Sometimes even a short conversation.
His name had spread across the Seven Kingdoms, but nowhere was it more powerful than here—in King's Landing, the city he had helped save.
And yet, what made it different was this:
He had once been one of them.
Before he became a knight…
Before he became the Duke of Casterly Rock…
He had lived as a man barely scraping by.
A nobody.
Perhaps that was why the common people felt so close to him.
To them, he wasn't just a noble.
He was their noble.
A bastard who rose from nothing and stood at the top.
Even if Karl himself didn't fully agree with that image, he couldn't deny the warmth behind their gazes.
And truthfully—
He didn't dislike it.
In fact, he preferred this far more than the suffocating conversations of the nobility, where every word had to be weighed and every smile might hide a dagger.
Here, things were simple.
Alive.
Real.
The River Gate—known to most as the "Mud Gate"—was as chaotic as ever.
The name fit perfectly.
Connected directly to the docks and fish markets, the area was thick with mud, water, and the smell of the sea. People flowed in and out endlessly, carts rattling over uneven ground, merchants shouting over one another.
Karl glanced down at his boots and smiled faintly.
Good thing I came on horseback.
Otherwise, his carefully chosen clothes would have been ruined within minutes.
Beside him, Tyrion rode in silence, observing.
This was new to him.
Although the two had shared drinks and laughter in taverns before, Tyrion had never seen Karl like this—walking openly among the people, speaking to them without restraint, as if he belonged here more than anywhere else.
It stirred something in him.
Something thoughtful.
Perhaps even conflicted.
Karl slowed his horse again, stopping at a small stall.
He picked up a cheap trinket—a carved wooden toy—and exchanged a few words with the merchant.
Then he paid generously.
A little boy standing nearby stared wide-eyed as Karl handed him a few extra copper coins.
The child's face lit up instantly.
He ran to his mother, proudly showing off his treasure.
Tyrion watched this silently.
At first, he had grown impatient with Karl's constant stops.
But then—
A realization struck him.
"…You're gathering information."
Karl didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he finished his transaction, handing the item to Sam, who carefully stored it away.
Only then did he turn to Tyrion with a small smile.
"I may not be Varys," he said lightly, "and intelligence gathering isn't my primary duty."
"But as Master of Coin…"
"I should at least understand what's happening under my nose."
He gestured subtly to the surroundings.
"Merchants from all over the Seven Kingdoms—and even beyond—are gathering here."
"They spend money. They trade goods."
"And in doing so, they allow the common people to earn more."
"Which improves their lives."
Tyrion nodded slowly.
It was simple.
Yet effective.
Looking at the cheerful child again, he murmured softly—
"No wonder they love you."
"Previous Masters of Coin never bothered with them."
Karl chuckled.
"It's not complicated."
"Treat people well, and they'll treat you well."
As he spoke, he plucked a sugar flower from a nearby vendor and handed it to a passing girl.
"You're the most beautiful lady I've seen this morning," he said playfully.
The girl blushed.
Nearby merchants burst into laughter.
Tyrion watched in silence.
Thinking.
The street grew even livelier as they moved forward.
A stilt-walker towered above the crowd, moving like a giant insect. Children ran behind him, laughing and shouting in delight.
Nearby, two ragged boys fought with wooden sticks, their mock duel drawing cheers and jeers alike.
Suddenly—
A bucket of dirty water splashed down from above, drenching them both.
An old woman leaned out of a window, shouting angrily.
The crowd erupted in laughter.
Further ahead, farmers called out loudly:
"Apples! Fresh apples!"
"Turnips! Onions! Potatoes!"
And among them—
More exotic goods.
"Sweet melons from Myr! Sweeter than honey!"
A traveler stepped forward.
"How much?"
"Three copper pennies!"
The man frowned.
"Are they made of gold?"
The merchant scowled.
"These are from Myr!"
"Liar—I'm from Myr!"
The argument escalated quickly.
Voices rose.
Hands tightened.
A fight was seconds away.
Before it could begin, Karl's men stepped in.
The two were separated and brought before him.
Karl looked at them calmly.
Then—
His expression hardened.
"From now on," he said clearly, loud enough for those nearby to hear, "all trade must be fair."
"Anyone caught cheating or overcharging—"
"I will have them flogged at the docks."
The merchant paled.
Karl then turned to the traveler.
"If you face injustice, don't cause a scene."
"Gather evidence."
"Report it to the City Watch."
"They will handle it."
The crowd fell silent for a moment.
Then—
Cheers erupted.
"Duke Karl!"
"Justice!"
Applause spread through the street.
Karl simply nodded and moved on, as if it were nothing.
Tyrion caught up quickly.
"That was well handled," he said.
"You settled the dispute and set a rule."
"But…"
His tone shifted.
"Are you sure the City Watch can handle it?"
Karl didn't slow down.
"I increased their numbers."
"Six thousand men now."
"That's enough."
"And if it isn't—"
"I'll get more."
Tyrion raised an eyebrow.
"And the cost?"
Karl laughed.
"That's why I need you."
He glanced sideways.
"As Commander of the City Watch."
"With Jon assisting you."
"No one else will object."
"The King won't."
"The Hand won't."
"And Renly doesn't care."
He paused.
"Oh—and it's cheaper now."
Tyrion frowned.
"How?"
Karl's smile faded slightly.
"Because the corrupt ones are gone."
"Only those who deserve the uniform remain."
They reached the Mud Gate.
A group of Gold Cloaks stood guard.
Beyond them, a noble party approached under a black banner marked with a purple lightning bolt.
"House Dondarrion," Karl noted.
The guards stopped them.
A flamboyant young noble rode forward, clearly annoyed.
"I'm here to win the tournament."
The guards laughed.
"No one beats Lord Karl."
Karl didn't bother watching further.
He turned away, continuing up Steel Street.
The path climbed toward Visenya's Hill.
Blacksmith shops lined the road.
Hammers rang constantly.
Sparks flew.
Armor, swords, and tools filled every stall.
The war—and Karl's upcoming tournament—had brought endless business.
Even at night, the forges burned.
At the top of the hill stood a large house.
Wood and plaster.
Tall enough to overlook the streets below.
Its doors were made of ebony and weirwood, carved with hunting scenes.
Two armored statues stood guard.
A griffin.
A unicorn.
Karl dismounted.
Inside, a servant quickly recognized him and hurried away.
Karl sat, examining the weapons on display.
Then—
A man rushed in.
Tob Mott.
The master blacksmith.
"Lord Karl!" he said, bowing quickly. "Please—wine!"
Karl accepted the cup with a smile.
"Tob Mott."
"How's the boy?"
"Ewing."
Tob Mott relaxed slightly.
"He's doing well."
"Very talented."
"Still young, but improving quickly."
Karl nodded.
Good.
That was all he needed to hear.
Because no matter who they were—
Noble or commoner.
Merchant or beggar.
In his eyes—
Everyone was equal.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)