My Heart Belongs to My King

"May the warrior grant him courage and help him overcome all difficulties."

"May the blacksmith..."

"By the glory of the Seven Gods, I declare Joffrey I of House Baratheon to be one of the Andals and the First Men..."

Listening to the archbishop "Fatty" panting heavily on the side, dragging out that long string of damn titles.

Joffrey suddenly felt an impulse.

Why don't you just take the crown and put it on yourself?

But the thought only crossed my mind once.

He didn't have the support of the old guard, and he hadn't even built the cannons.

In the south of Westeros, the belief in the Seven Gods is deeply ingrained, and only a king crowned by the Archbishop is considered by the church and the people to have a reign "given by divine grace."

Otherwise, its legitimacy will plummet.

Even the Targaryen family, who rode dragons, converted to the Seven after the wars of conquest in order to better rule.

Moreover, Joffrey's government orders did not extend beyond the city limits.

Let's just wait and see.

After a long while, the archbishop finally finished reciting those words.

He took a few breaths, turned to the altar, and lifted the golden crown left by Robert.

Then, he carefully placed it on Joffrey's head and, with his last bit of strength, announced it loudly.

May his kingdom last forever!

A deafening cheer erupted inside the church.

The crown was also much heavier than Joffrey had imagined.

He looked up, his gaze sweeping over the clapping faces.

Cersei stood at the front, her radiant beauty accentuated by a sea-green silk robe, and her eyes, beneath a gold headband, curved into crescent moons.

She's the one I care about the most.

She spent two days and two nights preparing for the ceremony, personally overseeing everything from the guest list to the number of candles.

James stood beside her, clapping his two good hands dryly.

He had a dazed expression on his face, as if he were dreaming and hadn't quite figured out what was going on.

Tyrion, meanwhile, leaned close to his brother's waist, tilting his head to look up at him.

It seems they want to analyze what this means.

Lord Ed, with his two daughters on the other side, clapped with broad smiles.

Joffrey's gaze swept beyond the crowd, reaching deeper into the distance.

Almost all the nobles of the royal domain had arrived.

The Rossby family, the Stokeworth family, the Harvard family, the Lake family...

Those whose families lived nearby attended in person, while those who couldn't make it had their relatives in King's Landing represent them.

Many of them had marched with him, drawn their swords in front of the Deer Horn Fortress, or walked through the Blood Gate with him, and finally returned home satisfied with their spoils.

They have come here now, perhaps to risk their lives for him once again.

Or perhaps, they were simply afraid of becoming one of the first casualties in the upcoming war.

By the time the ceremony ended, it was already afternoon.

The sun shone obliquely from the west, bathing the facade of the Great Cathedral of Baylor in a golden hue.

The steps were packed with people, stretching from the square all the way to the distant street.

Joffrey stepped out the door and raised his hand in greeting.

Cheers erupted from the crowd, and countless flowers were thrown at him.

His long-cultivated reputation in King's Landing would certainly not allow him to eat rotten eggs and excrement at this moment.

In addition, the audience here has been carefully selected.

He also arranged for a shill to be hired.

A white figure slowly emerged from behind the sanctuary corridor.

The setting sun shone on its fur, giving it a pure, lustrous glow.

After chewing a handful of corn, it obediently knelt down, letting Joffrey ride on its back.

After a moment of silence, the crowd fell silent.

They immediately descended into even greater madness.

"By the gods above!" "God protect our king!" "Long live King Joffrey!"

The rising and falling cries eventually converged into one sentence.

"Long live the King!"

……

Back at Maegor House, Joffrey removed his golden crown and tossed it casually onto the table.

"This thing is making my neck hurt, no wonder my dad doesn't like to wear it usually."

The little devil sat opposite him, pouring himself a drink.

He followed Joffrey all the way back, his smile never fading.

"That's gold, not iron. Gold is heavy." He took a sip and smacked his lips.

"But with your face, you look good in anything."

Sansa was almost fainting down there.

Then he jumped off the chair, stood on tiptoe, and climbed onto the windowsill.

"Seriously, you don't actually know any magic, do you?"

"Why should that beast let you ride him?!" The little devil's voice was full of displeasure. "Is this something that depends on looks?"

When the white deer was led back, he wanted to touch it.

Then he almost had half his face bitten off.

Joffrey also walked to the window and looked outside.

In the courtyard of the Red Keep, soldiers were changing guard, and the walls of King's Landing were dotted with flickering firelight.

Ed walked in.

"The king's reply to the feudal lords has arrived." He spread a piece of parchment on the table.

"The Earl of Gails is willing to provide one hundred of his family guards and three hundred conscripts to help defend King's Landing, and Lady Tanda has also sent one hundred guards."

"But Earl Riverey only brought two hundred conscripted soldiers with him, and he begs your forgiveness."

"He said that Duskvalley is too close to Blackwater Bay and Dragonstone, and he was afraid that Stannis would attack there first, so he withdrew all his soldiers."

Joffrey nodded.

Expected.

Other minor vassal states also sent one or two hundred men, mostly farmers and fishermen carrying pitchforks and harpoons, who, after a little training, were only good for standing on the city walls.

"Where is Lord Tywin?"

"The infantry of the West are advancing at full speed along the Golden Road, and the vanguard has already entered the Reach."

"What about the North?"

"Robb has already gathered twelve thousand men." Ed said this with a complex expression on his face.

"The letter said they had reached Jingze."

Joffrey rubbed his head again.

The same applies to the river valleys and valleys.

Edmure claims to be able to assemble an army of 30,000, but his vassals are dragging their feet and it's unclear when they will arrive.

The League of Righteous Men says the Vale cavalry have been mobilized and can provide support to King's Landing through the Blood Gate under cover of night.

But Jaime, the Warden of the East who was in charge of commanding troops, wasn't there at all, and Cersei refused to let him go no matter what.

These troops will take at least a month to arrive.

But Stannis was able to bring his fleet to the city in just two days.

How many warships are there on Dragonstone now?

"Well..." Tyrion poured himself another glass of golden wine.

"Most of the Wang family's fleet is with him, I think it's about 150 ships."

"It's said that he's hired a lot more pirate ships from Reese, now there must be over two hundred."

"King's Landing only has forty-odd ships, and our largest flagship was taken away by Robert."

He took a sip of his drink.

"The initiative is in Stannis's hands."

Initiative.

Joffrey chewed on the word over and over.

"Has your other uncle responded?" the little devil asked. "Although Stormlands doesn't have a navy, its infantry will be able to come to its aid soon."

"My father's fleet is too far away; even the Redwyn family has to go around from Green Pavilion Island."

"By the way, you haven't said how many troops the Reach are willing to send yet." The little devil glanced at the Prime Minister.

Ed's expression grew even more gloomy.

Then he unfolded another parchment.

"Renly and Tyrell have rebelled too."

The little devil picked it up and read it once.

Then he squeezed his uneven eyes hard.

"Purge the court of corrupt officials?"

"To quell the national crisis?"