“When I was made Commander of the City Watch, I thought I’d have more respect on the streets,” Bronn said, still massaging the scar on his cheek.
“I did not call you for that,” Jaime said curtly. “We pay you well. That should be all the honor you need.”
“Never cared for more,” said Bronn with a nasty grin, “though it would be nice to lay with a whore not trying to kill me.”
Jaime sighed. Not more than a few days ago, Bronn entered a brothel to repose from the growing chill winter brought. Unfortunately, his coin was wasted on a wench who, in the thick of it, drew a dagger and tried to slay him. Bronn escaped with a slash on his cheek, but the girl was not so lucky herself. Jaime wondered what Ser Gregor Clegane was doing with her now.
“That whore,” Jaime said. “Didn’t she say she worked with the Righteous Saviors of the Seven?”
Bronn nodded. “That rebel faith, yes. I hear they steal the ashes of the Sept of Baelor and scatter them over the corpse of a gold cloak. I have already lost nine-and-twenty cloaks to the cunts. Sounds like a shit way to die.”
“That’s why I called you,” Jaime said. “Our queen… our queen wants you to escort Septa Unella to the ruins of Baelor. Take as many men as you need.”
“Unella?” Bronn could not hide his interest. “The people worshipped the Faith Militant. If they see Unella in the state that madman has left her in, there will be riots. I’d have to stop going to brothels.”
“Do as you are told.”
*
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