Game of Thrones: I Created the Weave

War.

Looking at the chaotic scene on the screen before him, Hot Pie sighed silently.

The people of King's Landing had not yet seen Renly's soldiers and swords, but they were already suffering from the torment of war, constantly breathing in its heavy atmosphere.

Hot Pie felt it even more deeply.

These days, more and more people were fleeing the southern Kingswood into King's Landing.

The vast majority of them had nothing and could only sell their labor or bodies, gladly accepting any low-paying job, even being grateful for it.

People who were originally sympathetic to them quickly changed their attitude.

Precisely because the refugees lowered their worth and worked without complaint, employers who hired help began to become picky, their faces grew increasingly unpleasant when settling wages, and the price of labor dropped day by day.

Everyone's life gradually became more difficult and arduous.

Beggars and orphans, needless to say, fared even worse.

Hot Pie had even returned to the bakery where he used to toil all day to visit.

The familiar heat and the smell of bread.

The tables were covered in white, yellow, and brown flour.

Everyone's faces and hands were dusted with flour, and the fabric and leather they wore were not spared; the flour had long since seeped into every pore, making them feel smooth yet rough to the touch.

Hot Pie subconsciously wiped his hands on his clothes, but his palms felt the familiar leather armor.

A familiar baker's apprentice approached him hesitantly, casting a doubtful gaze, his lips moving but not speaking, as if unsure who he was seeing.

Hot Pie knew he had lost weight and changed.

So he was the first to give a hug, laughing and cursing a bit, before the apprentices surrounded him to talk.

Close friends complained incessantly about the Old Baker's harshness, saying the bread oven never stopped day or night, earning countless coins, but the old man not only didn't give them copper coins but also skimped on food, only giving them two black loaves a day.

They said they baked countless loaves of bread and pies and had to run errands to deliver food, yet they themselves were hungry all day, barely filling their stomachs.

They said that since the refugees came to the city, the old man was stingy with every handful of flour, let alone the baked bread. Anyone who tried to hide half a loaf was severely beaten and even kicked out of the bakery.

They said the bakery's lemons, blueberries, and meat fillings were getting less and less, and every kind of bread was getting more and more expensive, leading to customers scolding them fiercely.

Hot Pie listened attentively, occasionally responding, while calmly observing each face.

His friends cursed while casting eager, expectant glances at him. More casual apprentices crowded around, laughing and making noise, seemingly just to be lazy and have some fun.

A few people who used to oppose him were either hiding in a corner doing some work.

Or they stood somewhere with an indifferent expression, like deaf people, completely unresponsive, but their eyes flickered towards the lively scene here.

Or they quietly slipped out of the room and went to the Old Baker.

There were also some unfamiliar faces.

Hot Pie had already extracted information and knew these were new apprentices, mostly refugees from the south, who had lower requirements and were content with two black loaves a day.

But these new apprentices were not just anyone picked at random.

Hot Pie personally heard an apprentice who had worked there for several years admit that the new apprentices' skills were no worse than his, and even better.

The new apprentices all claimed they had worked in bakeries before and would still be selling bread in their hometown if they hadn't been looted by the rebels and had all their fields and houses burned down.

At this point, everyone cursed the ungrateful, man-fucking Renly who had started the rebellion.

No one liked war.

Hot Pie sincerely agreed, while also feeling fortunate about his choice a month ago.

Hot Pie knew clearly that if he hadn't joined the army on a whim back then, he would probably be one of these apprentices now, struggling to make a living, racking his brains just to fill his stomach.

Perhaps even worse.

The unluckiest apprentice had already been kicked out; who knew how he was living now?

The apprentices suddenly scattered.

Hot Pie turned around and, as expected, saw the gloomy face he had once greatly feared, the Old Baker.

But the anger and fierceness on that face disappeared almost instantly. Before Hot Pie could get a clear look, it was immediately replaced by a kind, almost fawning smile.

Hot Pie knew the Old Baker only showed this expression when facing distinguished guests.

Hot Pie also knew this was because of his hard leather armor, chainmail, helmet, whip, and longsword, and because of the crossed swords badge on his right arm, the symbol of the Ministry of War.

Repeated strict lockdowns and inspections had made the entire city recognize this symbol and understand its power and authority.

He hadn't expected this badge to be useful on the last day.

Hot Pie sighed silently.

The Ministry of War badge would no longer belong to him.

Starting tomorrow, he would wear the even more terrifying "Eye of Omniscience" badge of the Security Bureau, under Minister Elin Lantel of the Ministry of Security.

This was the only reason he had time to wander around the city today.

Fortunately, he had received notice that he would be freed from the new recruit training camp and would report to the Security Bureau tomorrow with ninety-nine others.

The other nine hundred new recruits of the Security Bureau still had to be tormented by the instructors until the Security Bureau took them away.

In other words, he was among the top one hundred out of a thousand people.

While excited, Hot Pie couldn't help but wonder why he was chosen. Was it good performance on tasks? Not pocketing private property? Normal attendance? Keeping up with training?

Gendry, however, said, "You've been much quieter lately."

Hot Pie suddenly realized.

Yes, when did I become like this?

He didn't have a clear answer.

Perhaps it was a certain look he saw during the cleanup, a certain sentence he heard, the smell of blood he sniffed.

Perhaps it was due to his increasing understanding of the Security Bureau.

Perhaps it was because of a Gold Dragon, a badge, the cold glint of Swords, the Magic Power of Dragon Glass.

Perhaps it was because of the Divine Grace Light Screen he was bestowed.

Looking at the dream-like Light Screen, and then at the bakery he was in, Hot Pie so clearly realized the world of difference between the two.

The past dozen years of his life were so gray and blurry, with not much worth remembering.

In comparison, the impact of this short month on him was so immense, making him completely a different person, someone the Old Baker would revere.

Hot Pie calmed his surging emotions and seriously advised his friend to quickly respond to any recruitment orders from the Throne, as it would not only fulfill the Divine Decree and the King's orders but also be the best way out for him personally.

Then, he stepped out of the bakery door and walked forward without looking back, towards a bright future, towards the Security Bureau.

Now.

He sat in the monitoring hall of the Security Bureau, peering through the screens at big shots he had never encountered and at the chaos and bloodshed, feeling safe and stable yet stimulated.

War.

The screen Hot Pie was facing showed the Investigation Team of the Master of Coin, "The Imp," and the resisting commoners.

This was a war.

The screen on the side showed the River Gate by the Blackwater River, where refugees in tattered clothes and with gaunt faces lined up in an endless queue, being recorded and inspected by the Gold Cloaks.

This was also a war.

Hot Pie's task was to watch quietly, record everything, and report any anomaly, anything at all.

"Look!"

"There's movement at Bronze Gate City!"

Amidst the urgent shouts, Hot Pie turned his head to look. The main screen in the center of the hall displayed the gate of Bronze Gate City.

Countless cavalrymen bearing the Crowned Stag banner were pouring into the castle.

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