Myrcella, seated at the next table, responded imdiately. She opened the wooden folder that she carried with her at all tis and flipped quickly and precisely through a few pages. Then she lifted the clip and deftly pulled out one, two, three... a stack of docunts, not too thick, not too thin. She leaned over and presented them to Margaery.
Margaery's eyes widened as she looked at the list handed to her. She picked it up casually, flipped through it quickly, then couldn't help but pinch her own thigh.
She wasn't unfamiliar with the material in her hands. Both the Night's Watch Industry and Tyrell's own businesses had produced or were producing and selling this type of item: several sheets of comrcial paper created using an improved and mature process, officially known as "High-Grade Writing Decolorized Plant Fiber Paper."
This paper, which should have been white as fresh snow, was now clearly "blooming" in a light gray tone from the densely packed text. The content was so compressed, and the font so small, that an illiterate person might mistake it for a magical to covered in spells.
But Margaery was hardly confused. She was far too familiar with the content on the paper—this was sothing every core mber of House Tyrell was required to study and morize thoroughly: a list of key Riverlands nobles.
It began with Tyrell, followed by Redwyne, Hightower, Oakheart, Rowan, Tarly, Fossoway... these prominent great houses were listed in the first column. Then ca their subordinate vassals, important cadet branches, and powerful distant relatives with landed castles. The list even noted how many family mbers they had, the locations of their family seats, the size of their lands, and the troop strength they could raise.
These few sheets clearly encompassed ninety percent of the Reach's noble power. Even the remaining ten percent, not yet listed, were marked with question marks, leaving space in the text, likely due to incomplete intelligence.
"Only the nobles circled in red on this list will be invited by Her Grace and granted the right for their entire families to visit King's Landing. With this reduced scope, the number of people is much smaller, right?"
Indeed. Margaery made a rough estimate and had to admit it. If only the families within this narrowed scope were included, even accounting for all their kin, old and young, the total number would be around ten thousand. King's Landing might be able to host that many.
But... wait.
She shuddered. A sudden realization struck her. This detailed list was, in fact, a complete record of every military-capable force in the Reach that could mobilize a hundred n or more. Even for House Tyrell, compiling such a list with current intelligence would require an entire night of ticulous work.
And Aegor, as soone in a high position and constantly pressed for ti, would never have bothered to collect all this material and prepare a prop like this just to tease her.
Which ant—he wasn't joking.
"What's wrong, Lady Margaery? Not familiar with the nas on this list?" Seeing her stunned and deep in thought, Aegor teased her casually. "No matter. Lady Maeve here knows all the noble houses of the Seven Kingdoms. If you co across any you don't recognize, just ask. She'll be happy to explain."
Margaery had entered and exited the Red Keep many tis during Robert's reign and was more than just acquainted with Myrcella. If she had been paying attention, she might have noticed sothing. But her mind was in chaos, a ss of swirling thoughts. She had no desire to observe the face of the other party's maid.
"Lord Aegor, are you serious?" Realizing the negotiation had gone completely off track, Margaery grew visibly agitated. "With so many nobles bringing their entire families to King's Landing as guests, who will defend Her Grace's borders and manage the vast Reach?"
"Stewards, naturally. House Tyrell also rose through such a system, so I'm sure you have experience in this area, right? If not, the Night's Watch Industry would be glad to send professional personnel to assist, help establish a formal administrative structure, and ensure those lords who've traveled far can have soone to manage their castles and lands while they enjoy the prosperity of King's Landing."
This conversation could not continue.
A blaze of fury flared in Margaery's chest.
There was a most basic rule among noble families: all mbers must never leave their castle and lands at the sa ti. Whether in tis of war or peace, as hostages or travelers, it was unacceptable. Even if no family mbers were available to hold the castle, they must never all gather in the sa place.
Because that was like putting all their eggs in one basket. If the basket were overturned, or their location discovered by enemies or rivals, the family would be in danger of extinction.
The fate of House Gardener, Tyrell's original liege lords, was a bloody example of this.
If the lord and heir were the trunk and roots of a noble house, then their lands and subjects were its branches and leaves—the source of all power. Once a lord was separated from their lands, they were like a fish out of water, helpless and exposed.
This was why most nobles would rather die than accept such absurd terms.
Aegor wasn't even bargaining anymore. He was outright rejecting any sincere attempt at negotiation and forcing her toward Aegon's camp. Even Aegon the Conqueror, after utterly defeating the Gardener-Lannister alliance in the Field of Fire, had never dared to propose such harsh terms.
And more than that, he had committed—or rather deliberately poked at—Tyrell's greatest sore spot: mocking them with the word "steward" in front of their descendants.
How could anyone endure this? Who could possibly tolerate it?
Even if she had originally considered siding with Daenerys, after such a provocation from Aegor, she would now defect to the other side out of sheer spite.
(Did this cursed Lord Commander see through her plans? Or had his brain been damaged fighting the White Walkers? Or was he so intoxicated by glory that he'd gone mad?)
Margaery closely studied Aegor's face, but found his eyes clear and sharp, his expression composed. There was no trace of delusion or irrationality. On the contrary, he seed to be enjoying himself, with a hint of playful revenge and fearless pride in his eyes. That look seed to say he was not afraid of war or danger, not afraid of blood on his hands or carrying the burden of guilt, and certainly not afraid of becoming an enemy of House Tyrell—or even the entire world.
A sudden, inexplicable fear gripped her and quickly spread throughout her body.
Had she missed sothing?
Margaery beca alert. Had Aegor secretly secured the support of the Vale and Westerlands, who had yet to publicly declare their position? Were their armies about to arrive on the battlefield to reinforce Daenerys? Or had she struck so alliance across the Narrow Sea, gaining imnse wealth and foreign reinforcents?
Wait... what was she afraid of?
She suddenly caught herself.
Even if the Vale and Westerlands—no, even if all the remaining Six Kingdoms united and added Braavos to the mix, at most, the Reach would concede a third and admit defeat. A power that could truly crush House Tyrell simply did not exist in this world.
"Lord, since you were able to compile this list of Riverlands lords, I assu you didn't forget to total the 'Troops That Can Be Mobilized' at the end?"
"Over a hundred thousand. Indeed, enough to look down on the Seven Kingdoms. And that's not even the Reach's full strength... This is exactly why Her Grace values you and seeks your loyalty," Aegor replied with a smile. But his expression clearly carried the unspoken second half—whether it's a hundred thousand or two hundred thousand, bring them all at once. I'm very busy.
He knew the Reach's full strength, yet treated her with such dismissiveness?
Margaery's anger surged to a dangerous level, even she began to feel it. Maybe her father had been right. She really shouldn't have acted so willfully. What had been done was done, but now, before she let this arrogant man provoke her into saying sothing rash, it was best to leave.
She stood up.
"Lord Aegor, Prince Aegon has formally proposed marriage to House Tyrell. Today, out of respect for Her Grace, admiration for your talent, and in honor of our past friendship, I set aside that offer and turned down Lord Jon Connington and the Golden Company to co here to negotiate with you," Margaery said, her voice calm despite the fury in her heart. "But since neither Her Grace nor you, Lord Commander, show any sincerity in continuing this discussion, then consider today's eting a reckless and inappropriate interruption. Please allow to take my leave."
Before she even finished speaking, Margaery placed the list of Reach nobles back onto the table. She didn't touch the food before her and turned to leave.
"Wait—"
Aegor's voice rang out suddenly. The volu startled Margaery, who had already stepped past the bench with one leg. The surrounding guards, quietly eating, imdiately straightened in alarm and turned to look. The entire dining hall froze.
"Did I say you could leave?" The Lord Commander slowly wiped his mouth with a napkin, his face darkening. "Lady Margaery... are you treating my Gift Army and Unsullied camp as your own backyard, coming and going as you please?"
(To be continued.)
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