Inside the great hall of Sarsfield City, the “Northern Army” of the Lion-Annihilation War—the lords of the North, Riverlands, and the Vale—were holding their final war council before marching on Lannisport. They gathered around a long table covered with maps.

Robb Stark stood at the head of the table, smiling with satisfaction, as if he were the host of the meeting.

He had every right to be proud. As the youngest noble present, he commanded the strongest of the three lion-slaying armies from the north, center, and south. Since taking command on behalf of his house, he had never known defeat. He had broken through both the Bloody Gate and Golden Tooth, the two strongholds guarding the western valleys. He was also one of the few noble heirs in the Seven Kingdoms who had truly chosen a spouse for love. Even kings rarely enjoyed such fortune.

Relying on an army more than ten times the size of the defenders, the experience he gained from watching Robert attack the Bloody Gate, and the bravery of the Northern Death Squad, the Northern Army broke through the barrier on the River Road on the fourth day after Robb wrote to his father, Eddard, promising, “I’ll take Golden Tooth in three days.” Though it seemed they’d taken one more day, the actual fighting had lasted three. After this breakthrough, the northeast of the Westerlands lay exposed. A few days later, the Northern Army captured the Sarsfield family’s castle.

After leaving troops behind to garrison the route, over thirty thousand soldiers remained with the Northern Army. Now, between them and Casterly Rock and Lannisport stood only a gently rolling, open river road and scattered villages and towns—no more defensible strongholds.

…

“What’s there to discuss? Eat well, drink well, sleep well, get rested, and we march straight to Casterly Rock, drag out that old lion and his incestuous cubs, and hang them!” roared Greatjon Umber. “If we have time, maybe we can even dig through their caves and mines ourselves. Anything we dig is ours. You can’t get that thrill of striking gold with a hoe in the North!”

Galbart Glover rolled his eyes at him. “Fine, go dig. The gold mine’s all yours. No one will fight you for it. I just want whatever’s in their vault.”

The banter drew knowing laughter from the assembled lords, though some remained serious.

“Casterly Rock has never been taken,” Brynden Tully said flatly. Once just a knight of the Bloody Gate, his status had risen after the Vale’s rebellion was crushed. With many noble families convicted, he now served as the Vale army’s de facto spokesman. “The safest course is to encamp east of Lannisport, just out of range of their walls. When the other two armies arrive, we strike Lannisport together, then disband the peasant levies and leave only elite troops to besiege Casterly Rock. Let Tywin starve behind his walls.”

…

…

“We have more than thirty thousand men and still can’t take Lannisport?” Rickard Karstark scoffed. “Why wait for the others? If we capture it ourselves, we won’t have to share the gold.”

“Our scouts report Lannisport now holds twenty thousand of the Lannisters’ finest troops, and they’re still training new ones,” said Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort, his voice low but commanding silence. “Thirty thousand attacking twenty thousand defenders doesn’t guarantee victory. And the Lannisport Guard is among the best-trained in the Seven Kingdoms. Even if we take it, it’ll come at a terrible cost.”

“One Northman equals ten of theirs. Only twenty thousand defenders? Hmph.”

“I was born in the North, and even I don’t believe I can beat ten of them.” Roose’s tone remained calm. “Let’s say that phrase means one Northman can beat ten ordinary folk. There are over a hundred thousand permanent residents inside Lannisport’s walls. Add the flood of war refugees and the fortifications, and we gain no advantage. Yes, the city can be taken, but at what cost? How many widows will the Riverlands, the Vale, and the North have after that? And how many here will die in battle? You might die heroes, sung of by bards. But others will inherit your castles—and beat your wives and children. Is that worth it?”

“Lord Bolton speaks wisely,” Edmure Tully said carefully. Though heir to Riverrun and nominal leader of the Riverlands army, his poor handling of the Westerlands’ scorched-earth raids had damaged his standing. Even his nephew Robb held more sway now. “But our supplies are short. We’ve faced scorched fields all the way west. We’ve taken plenty of gold, but no grain. If we wait too long for reinforcements, we might starve.”

Bolton had a plan. “Advance westward for now. Take Oxford and build a defensive line. Use the main force to contain the Lannister army in Lannisport. Split off detachments to the north and south to take smaller towns and castles. Use what we seize to feed our troops. Then wait for the other two lion-slaying armies.”

It was a solid plan, but someone raised a pressing question. “Where are those two armies now? Golden Tooth is the toughest of the three western defenses, yet we’re the first to reach Casterly Rock. Why must we wait on them?”

“The royal army has reached the outskirts of Deep Den, but they’re few and lack strong fighting power. They’re waiting for the Stormlanders before making another push…” Robb frowned. “As for the Reach army in the south, last we heard, two days ago, they’d passed Golden Tooth. They shouldn’t be far. I’ll send scouts to make contact and decide once we hear back.”

It was clear he favored a cautious plan. His victories hadn’t made the Young Wolf arrogant, and many generals from the Riverlands and the Vale respected him… If nothing unexpected happened, the next step would be to assign tasks—who would stay behind to contain Lannisport’s defenders, and who would lead their forces to raid the surrounding areas… In a lopsided war, plundering towns in one of the Seven Kingdoms’ richest regions was a coveted job. Everyone eyed Robb eagerly, rubbing their hands.

…

Just as the nobles from the North, Riverlands, and Vale were preparing to compete for the most lucrative tasks, a soldier suddenly entered the hall.

“My lords, a scout claiming to be from Dorne has arrived outside the city. He says he brings urgent news.”

“Dorne?” That surprised them. They expected a scout from the Reach, not the south. Robb nodded. “Bring him in.”

At Brynden’s suggestion, they quickly covered the map on the table. Soon, a dark-skinned man dressed in unfamiliar garb entered the hall.

“Whose orders do you carry?” Lord Umber asked loudly.

“I come bearing a message from Prince Oberyn Martell. Who among you is in command?”

“This is a war council. We decide together,” Robb said. “If you have news, speak openly.”

The Dornish scout nodded without hesitation. “Two days ago, our Dornish host passed Crakehall and continued north along the coastal road, seeking to join the coalition besieging Lannisport and Casterly Rock. But when we were about fifty leagues from our destination, we were blocked by the Reach army. They gave no explanation, only deployed their troops and barred our passage. Several of us were ordered to slip through their blockade under cover of night. That’s how I got here.”

“The Reach is blocking the Dornish?” No wonder the other two armies were so slow to arrive. The hall erupted in chaos. Robb had to raise his voice to restore order. “Do you know why? Was there conflict?”

“The Reach has offered no reason. They outnumber us two to one and haven’t attacked. We remain in a standoff.”

“Maybe they see all this western gold and want it for themselves,” Karstark quipped, drawing agreement and laughter.

“Any other news?”

“His Highness asked me to warn you to be vigilant and guard against ambush.”

“I see. You’ve traveled far and endured much. Someone, see that this Dornishman is well fed and rested.”

As the Dornishman left, Greatjon Umber bellowed with laughter. “Southerners can’t even wait for a victory before fighting over the loot.”

“Luckily, House Stark, Arryn, and Tully have always stood as one. We don’t have such worries. But we need to act fast—the more we grab, the better.”

The hall buzzed with amusement at the infighting between supposed allies. But not everyone was laughing. Roose Bolton quietly approached Robb, avoiding the other lords’ noise.

“The Reach is no poorer than the Westerlands. If greed is causing treachery, it shouldn’t start with the richest. Has there been any word from King’s Landing? Could something have changed in the royal court?”

Brynden also grew uneasy and moved closer. “Send someone to the rookery. See if there’s a letter from King’s Landing. If not, count the ravens. Are there more than usual?”

…

The hall remained noisy. The self-proclaimed “one family” of Wolf, Osprey, and Eagle laughed at the disunity of Rose and Sun. Amid the chaos, two Stark soldiers slipped away. A short while later, they dragged in the maester of Sarsfield and forced him to his knees.

“My lords, this man claimed there was no message from King’s Landing. But we counted the ravens—there are two extra. Upon questioning, he admitted that a letter had arrived yesterday from the capital, but he’d forgotten to deliver it.”

Robb’s brow furrowed. “Where is the letter?”

“Here.”

Roose Bolton handed it to him and fixed the maester with his cold, pale gaze. “The maester must serve the castle faithfully, no matter who its master is. Isn’t that so?”

The old man trembled, kowtowing in panic. “My lord, I… I forgot. I’m old, my memory’s failing! I swear it won’t happen again!”

Umber growled, “Withholding a message in wartime? Hang him and be done with it!”

It made sense, but each castle had only one maester. If they killed him, no one would manage the ravens. Roose studied the kneeling man and finally said, “I’ll assign someone to live and eat with you. That way, your memory won’t fail again. If it does… I’ll make you my house sigil. Then I’ll ask the Citadel to send someone with tougher skin. Understand?”

The old man’s eyes widened at the sight of the flayed man on Bolton’s armor. Remembering the rumors about House Bolton, he nodded frantically.

“Take him out.” The war council was still ongoing, and outsiders weren’t welcome.

Once the maester was gone, all eyes turned to Robb again. His expression changed dramatically as he read the letter.

“What is it? Has King Robert died?”

“The letter doesn’t mention that. It reports something else,” Robb said grimly. “According to reports from Riverland scouts along the Gold Road, the Stormlords—who were supposed to assist the royal army in taking Deep Den before joining us at Lannisport—suddenly reversed course two days ago. They’re marching back east… This letter was sent three days ago. By now, they’re only two or three days from King’s Landing.”

The room erupted in shock. The three-pronged attack on the Lannisters had seemed unstoppable. Now, alliances were fraying and armies retreating.

“This is Renly’s army. If something hasn’t changed in King’s Landing, he wouldn’t dare turn toward the capital like this!” Blackfish was the first to grasp the implications. “Does the letter instruct us to return and defend the king?”

“No. My father says he’ll recall the Crownlands troops and Lord Stannis, and raise new levies in the capital. The Stormlords number only ten thousand, so he doesn’t see them as a serious threat… He only warns us to be cautious and prepare for a counterattack from the Westerlands.”

“Are we sure that’s the full picture?” Roose said darkly. “I fear Lord Eddard didn’t yet know about the Reach blocking Dorne. We now understand it wasn’t about gold.”

“The Reach supports Renly’s claim to the Iron Throne!” Brynden Blackfish snapped. “They’re keeping Dorne out of the fight to delay our victory in the West. That gives Renly time to seize the capital. Damn it, if that’s true, King’s Landing may soon face more than ten thousand Stormlords. With the Reach’s manpower, they could easily raise thirty to fifty thousand more to support him!”

“Send a raven to King’s Landing and sound the alarm!” Robb slammed the table. They had just been planning how to divide the spoils, and now the entire war had turned on its head. “Then prepare to march back and defend the capital!”

“It’s too late. We’ve pushed too deep into the Westerlands. Even cavalry, riding hard day and night, would need ten days to reach King’s Landing. And the Lannisters won’t let us leave unchallenged. Our army includes many levies—if we retreat under pursuit, they’ll break,” Roose said grimly. “And another problem. We’ve already started this fight. If we leave without crippling the Westerlands, Tywin will recover. His wealth will let him dominate whatever side he supports. If he waits until all six great houses are bloodied, then retaliates…”

“Seven hells, what do we do now?”

“King’s Landing likely can’t be saved. Write to Lord Eddard and tell him to prepare to abandon it and retreat to the North,” Roose said coldly. “My advice is to march south, join with Dorne, and crush the Reach army. Then with Oberyn Martell, ravage every Westerlands town and village except Casterly Rock. Take what we can, but spare lives when possible. Dorne hates the Lannisters and will fight with fury. This will weaken the Reach, ruin the Westerlands’ ability to recover, and leave us strong. And after such a campaign, Dorne will never ally with the Reach to support Renly. When it’s done, we withdraw with our plunder… richer, stronger, and with weakened enemies. We’ll be unstoppable when we return to the Riverlands!”

(To be continued.)

***

Check out my new book, “Bringing TikTok to One Piece,” and add it to your library. Thanks 🙂

For every 200 PS = 1 extra chapter. Support me on P/treon to read 30+ advanced chapters: https://p-atreon.c-om/Blownleaves

(Just remove the hyphen to access normally.)

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep