บท 36: Chapter 36
Ian walked up to the knight that he had been directed too, awkwardly playing with the truncheon that hanged loosely around his waist. "Ser Martyn?" He asked politely.
The knight looked up from his desk and raised an eyebrow. "Ah, you must be the new one that I've been partnered with."
Although his hair was more grey than black that was the only signs of age that Ser Martyn was older than he looked. His weathered face was youthful looking and his brown eyes danced with life and his smile was that of a younger man.
Ian removed the black trimmed with red custodian helmet on his head and held at his side and saluted Ser Martyn. "Ian Fletcher, ser."
Ser Martyn gave a good hearted chuckle. "That something you learn in that fancy academy you green boys keep coming out of?" He asked as he looked him over.
"Yes, sir." He replied with a flush of the neck. "It's only proper to show the respect to my superior. They drilled that into us."
Ser Martyn rose from his seat, hand grabbing at the sword belt that was lying beside him. "Well, I have half a mind to think this is all useless, you know? What ever happened to the days when the goldcloaks just recruited man from the street? But it be far above me to make matters of policy." He said as he tied his sword belt around his waist. He grabbed at the black flat, peaked cap with trimmings of red and threw it onto his head. "Come on now. Let's see how you handle yourself on a patrol. Might as well see if all the fuss into your training is worth it."
"Yes sir." Ian said quickly as he followed after the older man, placing his own helmet onto his head.
Ser Martyn didn't speak much after that, only speaking when he had something to say or teach Ian as they made their round of the city. In the fishmonger's square, he had told Ian that it was best that he kept his purse close to himself as possible.
Pick pockets were rife in places such as these. Men, children, but mostly children. No-one ever suspected the children the old knight had told him.
"Look over there, at that group of urchins." He pointed in the direction of a group of children that were idly standing next to the entrance of the square. "A few years back, there would have been thousands of them, but the Faith has been taking in any and all urchins. Has cut down our workload more than you would think." He finished with a laugh. "No need to chase the little buggers when they make off with some merchants purse."
Ian studied them for a moment. "What are they doing?"
"Right now? Nothing." Ser Martyn said, taking a moment to bring out some sourleaf and popped it into his mouth and started chewing. "They know we are watching them. Give it a few moments and they'll crawl back to their hole or look for some other place to make their mark."
As if to prove his point, one of the older children kicked the dirt on the ground and began to make his way away from the square, the other children following after him.
Ser Martyn grinned. "See?"
After that, they went up the Mud Gate Road from the square, heading towards the centre of King's Landing, the Dragon's Square. Over the years after King's Landing had been built, the Square had become the centre of the city, with all the roads from the gates leading up to it.
When King's Landing was being rebuilt, the square that had been near Rhaenys' Hill had been extended to stretch further into the city so that it was located somewhere near the centre.
It was said you could find anything in the squares. Jewellers, fishmongers, inns, brothels among others. It was also the busiest place in the city. It was as if every one who called King's Landing had come to make this square home. The roads saw unending traffic of wayns, carriages and pedicabs going to and fro.
In the centre of the market, three large statues dominated over everything. One of the statues was that of Aegon the Conqueror himself, a hand wrapped around the hilt of Blackfyre with it's point stabbed into the ground, one arm around the statue of Rhaenys and on the other side, a statue of Visenya, standing defiant and commanding with Dark Sister in hand as well. The marble statues not only stood taller than anything else, they had also been coloured to such a point that they were almost life like that when Ian had first seen them, he had thought the giants had come again.
Ser Martyn had caught him staring. "Impressive eh? Our good king does love reminding everyone about his famous ancestors."
"The statues seem like they might just come alive and walk among us." Ian breathed out in wonder.
"It's said the good king had invited a master sculptor of unparalleled fame from Essos to come and carve those." Ser Martyn told him. "It's also said that the statue of Aegon is less in the Conqueror's like and more in that of the king himself."
Ian gave a look to the knight. "Surely that's not true. Why would he do that?"
Ser Martyn shrugged. "Who knows?
At an intersection, they passed one of their members that was busy directing the flow of traffic. Ser Martyn had tipped his hat at him and in respect, Ian had copied the man's movement.
"Would hate to have that duty." Ser Martyn said with a shake of the head. "Especially as a knight. That would be nothing more than a stain on my honour. A good thing then that only constables like you can ever be assigned such a duty. Best learn to prepare for it."
"I will." Ian said with a nod. He wasn't a knight, so he didn't really care much about the stain on his honour. He had become a member of the goldcloaks because he believed in the vision of the king. To safeguard the city from crime and bring fair law and order to the people and the lands of the crownlands.
By the time the sun was setting in the west and dusk was upon them, Ian's feet hurt from all the walking that he had done. It was a good hurt.
The last of their patrol had led them towards the docks. The lack of light had made the shadows more pronounced and the dark thicker.
"Best keep a good hand on your sword belt, Ian Fletcher." Ser Martyn told him. "King's Landing is not the city she was a few years back, but she will still swallow you whole if you are unwary."
"I don't have a sword, ser." He placed his hand on the truncheon though. "Only this."
Ser Martyn unhooked a torch that had been on his sword belt. "Ah yes. The new regulations."
Ian nodded. "Only a knight or those of rank of Inspector and above may carry bladed weapons in His Grace's Lawful Police." He recited from the Book of General Instructions that had been given to him when he had been admitted into the academy.
"Do you at least know how to use that, Fletcher?" He asked, glancing at him.
Ian gave a firm nod. "I was taught how to fight with a truncheon, sword and fist. I can handle myself, ser. You have no need to worry about me."
"What sort of name is Fletcher, anyway?" The knight asked, out of the blue. "I don't think I've ever heard of a House Fletcher."
Ian could feel his face aflame. "I'm not of noble blood, ser. My father is a fletcher. I just took Fletcher as a name when I was told to."
Ser Martyn laughed. "You don't speak like one of the commons, that's for sure. You could have fooled anyone with your eloquence."
Ian had been told how to speak at one of the schools and even more of how to act and speak at the academy. How he represented himself could very well be the difference between a life and death matter, he had been taught.
Something caught his eye. "What are they doing?" He asked, pointing in the direction of a group of men cloaked in shadows.
Ser Martyn's eyes narrowed when he looked upon the group of men. "Something illegal, I suspect." He began to make for them. "I hope you aren't a craven, Fletcher. I'd hate to have to report that you ran and left me to take on a group of men by myself."
Ian steeled himself as they got closer to the group of men. "I'm no craven." As they got closer, a strange smell wafted into his nose. It was a smell that he could recognise. The sort of smell he knew from when his mother cooked for them. "Oil." He hissed.
Ser Martyn's face hardened. "Sabotage." His hand went towards his sword belt before he called out to the men. "In the name of the king, identify yourselves!"
The group, four of them jumped at the sound of Ser Martyn's booming voice. Ian went towards the whistle that hanged around his neck, prepared to use it as a just in case.
One of the men, thin and lanky stepped forward, one of his teeth glinting in the little light they had. "Nothing more than humble, merchants, good ser." He said in a disarming tone, but there was something about him that made it difficult to trust.
Ian noticed that the other men had stopped the spilling of the contents of the barrels and had started move themselves so that they surrounded them.
Ser Martyn didn't let this escape him. "Merchants you say...funny thing about that, why spill your merchandise then?"
"A bad batch." The man replied easily enough, teeth glinting in the light. "I was cheated and told by an Ibennese merchant that this whale oil was of the highest quality. It wasn't and unfortunately, I cannot sell it."
"Whale oil? I'm sure you would have found a buyer for such a good." Ser Martyn bit back, his eyes shifted to the men that had surrounded them now. "And I don't like how some merchants are surrounding us."
"Yes, well," The man began, his smile growing a little sinister with how it stretched across his face. "I was never much of a merchant." He finished before he pulled out a dirk from within his clothing.
The other three did so as well.
Ser Martyn drew his sword and Ian his truncheon, his heart thundering in his ears. "There's no need for this." Ian said calmly. "Just lay down your weapons and hand yourselves in. You will be given a fair trial."
They didn't care all that much for the terms they were offered. The men launched themselves at them. Ian had time to pop the whistle into his mouth and give one long blow before a high, shrill sound escaped from the little instrument.
He then brought down his truncheon in a high arc down on the closest opponent to him, an attack that the criminal was barely able to step away from. Ser Martyn had already taken care of one of the supposed merchants by open his stomach to allow his guts to flow freely.
The knight was currently having his attention taken by two men, but he was fighting them off easily enough. He had the advantage of range with his arming sword.
Something that Ian didn't have as he continued to battle his own opponent. He knows how to fight. Ian realised as he continued this deadly dance. The air whistled as the man slid to his right and sliced for his neck.
Ian was barely able to lean his neck back just in time for the blade to miss, and he released another blast of his whistle. The same shrill sound escaping from it before going on the offence himself. He swung at him from the left, the right, from below and from above, but his opponent continued to evade them.
In one instance, he cut at his wrist, drawing blood, but thankfully, no vein was cut open or that would have been the end of him. By now Ser Martyn was on the ground wrestling with the last of the merchants, the one with the shining teeth.
Ian then surprised his own attacker by throwing his helmet at him and then charging into him like a bull, lifting the man of his feet for a moment before they crashed into the ground. The man's head slammed of the pebbled road with an almighty crack before going limp.
"Never seen something like that before." Ser Martyn grunted from above him.
The sudden voice of the knight had surprised him that Ian nearly brought his weapon to bear upon the knight. "Please don't do that."
In the distance, he then heard the shrill cry of a whistle. Then another one. And another. And another.
Both he and Ser Martyn looked at each other. "This is going to be a long night." The knight grumbled as he wiped clean the blood that was on his blade. "Tie him up. If he's still alive. Then we'll go help our fellows."
Ian nodded. "Yes, ser."
Further down the docks, a great fire suddenly roared into life.
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