Adam Marbrand stood atop the highest tower of Harrenhal, looking down at the vast and ruined castle below. It was the largest castle in Westeros, once belonging to Black Harren. Now it resembled a dying giant — nothing but a skeleton, its insides long since rotted away.
The war had been going on for a year.
The flas had swept across the entire Riverlands, leaving the smallfolk displaced.
Although the banner of Draco — that "God-blessed land" — had drawn away most of the refugees, Harrenhal was still a massive refugee camp. Every day new refugees poured in, and every day the dead were carried out.
Order? What was that?
Adam rubbed his brow.
Before Tywin left, he had ordered him to organize an effective defense so that Harrenhal would not beco a lawless den for rcenaries to run wild.
He had racked his brains and co up with a plan: join forces with the notoriously cruel Ser Amory Lorch to crack down on the rcenary companies.
He thought this would intimidate those lawless sellswords.
He was wrong.
The leader of the sellswords, a man nad Vargo Hoat, feared nothing in heaven or on earth. He ca from Qohor — a bald, noseless brute missing part of an ear. It was said he had killed his first man at the age of twelve, and now he had at least eighty or a hundred lives on his hands.
Yesterday, Amory and Vargo had gotten into an argunt.
The cause no longer mattered. What mattered was that the argunt quickly escalated into a brawl. Both sides' n fought in the castle courtyard, blades clashing, leaving dozens dead or wounded.
When Adam arrived, bodies already littered the ground. Blood flowed across the flagstones like small streams.
He took a deep breath.
"Hold a trial by combat."
It was the only solution he could think of. Let the two madn settle their dispute with swords instead of dragging the entire castle into the abyss of internal fighting.
Today, the combat arena was packed with spectators.
rcenaries, soldiers, and refugees crowded around in layers. They had co to watch the spectacle, to see blood, to see which of the two madn would die.
Adam stood on the high platform, preparing to announce the start of the combat.
A soldier stumbled in.
"Ser Adam! Bad news!"
His voice was shrill and piercing, cutting through all the noise in the arena.
"An army is approaching from the direction of Grey Glen Town! They are heading straight for Harrenhal! Their numbers exceed ten thousand! Their equipnt is extrely fine!"
The entire arena fell silent in an instant.
Adam's heart sank.
"That… that is the banner of House Jaqenion of Draco!"
Soone cried out in alarm.
Draco.
Jaqenion.
The man who called himself the Son of the Seven Gods.
The man who could fly.
The man who had recently hatched three dragons.
Adam's face turned extrely ugly.
"What? How far away are they?"
His voice remained relatively calm, but he spoke much faster than usual.
"They are marching very quickly!" the soldier panted. "They are less than half a day's march from Harrenhal!"
The trial by combat was forced to stop.
Adam imdiately gathered all the knights to discuss counterasures.
The council chamber descended into chaos.
"That clown king dares to co?" Ser Amory Lorch sneered. "I've long wanted to et him. Son of the Seven Gods? Nothing but a charlatan pretending to be divine."
"Are you mad?" another knight countered. "Haven't you heard? He has three dragons! Three dragons!"
"What three dragons? Have you seen them?" soone scoffed. "Even if they are dragons, they're just hatchlings that haven't been weaned yet. I could crush one with one hand. What threat could they pose?"
"Even a young dragon is still a dragon! Aegon the Conqueror's three dragons were also young when they started!"
"That was the Targaryens! What is he?"
Everyone argued, each with their own opinion.
So mocked Luke as that "clown king," full of disdain. Others analyzed the situation rationally, believing the visitors ca with ill intent… after all, bringing over ten thousand n was hardly a sightseeing trip.
Adam said nothing, listening to their argunts.
"Enough."
He finally spoke. His voice was not loud, but everyone fell silent.
"Close the gates," he said. "Have the maester imdiately write a letter to Lord Tywin."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over everyone present.
"Harrenhal is too large and too old. We have too few n. The garrison is not enough to cover the walls."
This was the truth.
Five thousand defenders, eighty percent of whom were forcibly conscripted farrs and the infamous sellswords of the Brave Companions. On the other side was a well-equipped army of ten thousand.
Soone suggested, "Ser Adam, perhaps… we should withdraw?"
"Yes, withdraw!" others imdiately agreed. "Take the garrison to King's Landing, or directly join Lord Tywin. There's no need to clash head-on with that charlatan!"
"The forr would allow us to wait for Lord Tywin's return and form a pincer attack. The latter would let us combine our forces…"
Everyone nodded.
But Adam shook his head.
"No."
His voice was calm but unquestionable.
"We cannot withdraw. Retreating before battle does not befit honor."
He raised his head and looked out the window. In the distance, toward Grey Glen Town, dust could faintly be seen rising.
"Moreover…"
He paused.
"Harrenhal is the vital route for the Westerlands to support King's Landing. If we simply hand it over, and sothing happens in King's Landing that prevents tily reinforcent…"
He didn't finish.
But everyone understood what he ant.
Lord Tywin would kill them.
Adam turned around and looked at everyone present.
"Prepare for battle."
His voice was calm and resolute.
"We will defend the castle. Concentrate the garrison in one section. As long as we hold until Lord Tywin returns, we will win."
Before sunset, Draco's army arrived at Harrenhal.
The twelve-thousand-strong force ford ranks on the plain southeast of the castle. Banners waved like clouds, armor glead like a forest.
The afterglow of the setting sun bathed them, gilding the silver-white full plate armor with a layer of gold, as if heavenly soldiers had descended!
Luke ordered the army to set up camp, cook, and rest for the night.
He sat on his warhorse, looking up at the towering castle.
Even as a modern man, he couldn't help but marvel at Harrenhal's grandeur.
This was not a castle.
This was a "large city"!
The setting sun shone on Harrenhal's five twisted giant towers, dyeing the stones once lted by dragonfla with mottled patches of dark red and scorched black. The massive walls cast mountain-like shadows in the sunset, covering the entire barren grassland in front of the castle.
Light pierced through the cracks in the collapsed towers like swords stabbing into the dark depths inside the castle where bats roosted.
The top of the Tower of the Burning King glowed blood-red in the evening sky, as if the great fire from three hundred years ago had never fully gone out.
The entire castle was like a dying giant beast, crouching silently on the edge of the God's Eye. Every cracked stone told the ancient curse: anyone who lived here would et no good end.
Luke watched for a long ti.
Then he sighed.
"What a pity."
A ssenger ca galloping from the direction of the castle and was brought before Luke by the soldiers.
He was only a fourteen-year-old boy, dressed in simple cloth, his face still carrying youthful innocence. He tried hard to stand straight to maintain the dignity of a ssenger, but his slightly trembling legs betrayed his nervousness.
He bowed, his movents reasonably proper.
"Respected Lord Luke Jaqenion…"
His voice trembled slightly. "I am the squire of Ser Adam Marbrand. Ser Adam has been appointed castellan of Harrenhal by Lord Tywin. Bearing Ser Adam's goodwill, I have co to ask you: with such a grand army arriving at Harrenhal, what is your purpose?"
Before Luke could speak, Bronn imdiately stepped forward.
Clang~
His longsword was drawn, the tip pointed directly at the boy's throat.
"Insolent!" Bronn glared furiously, his voice like thunder. "Before you stands the great King Luke! King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First n, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm! You must kneel!"
The boy was startled. His legs went soft and he dropped to his knees with a thump.
His eyes reddened, but he held back his tears!
"Y-yes, Your Grace," his voice shook even more. "Please forgive my rudeness."
He had already been deeply awed by the majestic presence of the "National Defense Army." After being frightened by Bronn, no matter how deeply he breathed, he couldn't calm down. His voice stuttered.
"Se-Ser Adam asked to convey to you: if… if you have co to discuss cooperation with Lord Tywin, Harrenhal can first invite you to enter the castle with a small number of guards."
"The Westerlands will receive you with the highest honors. Ser Adam will provide you with the finest delicacies and the most beautiful maids…"
He paused, then continued, "Lord Tywin will return soon, at most in two or three days. At that ti, you can…"
Luke looked down at him from horseback and spoke calmly.
"Go back and tell Ser Adam."
His voice was not loud, but carried unquestionable authority.
"Before dawn, surrender the castle willingly."
"Otherwise…"
He paused for a mont.
"He will face the king's punishnt and the gods' curse."
The boy looked up. In that instant, he felt as if he were gazing at a mountain.
Yes, a towering mountain!
The pressure made it hard for him to breathe. He lowered his head and said in a trembling voice, "Y-yes, Your Grace. I will deliver the ssage."
He stood up and stumbled back toward Harrenhal.
After the ssenger left, Lucas, Bronn, Mars, and the others stepped forward one after another, requesting to serve as the vanguard for the assault.
Bronn laughed heartily, excitent flashing in his eyes.
"Your Grace, Harrenhal is too big! He only has five thousand n — he can't defend it! And those five thousand aren't even proper soldiers… eighty percent are forcibly conscripted farrs and the ragtag scum from the Brave Companions!"
He pointed to a section of the castle and spoke eloquently.
"We can take advantage of the night and strike from the weak points! Ever since Aegon burned Harrenhal with dragonfla, the walls here have been in disrepair and have only gotten worse! Our army is mighty and we have the advantage in numbers — Harrenhal is within our grasp!"
Mars also stepped forward and gave a standard military salute.
"Your Grace, Bronn is right. This humble general requests to be the vanguard and capture Harrenhal before dawn!"
Lucas followed closely.
"Your Grace, this humble general also requests to be the vanguard!"
Luke looked at these eager generals and smiled.
"Don't be hasty."
He waved his hand.
"There will be plenty of wars for you to fight. I want…"
He paused, looking at the massive castle.
"To take Harrenhal without losing a single soldier."
The generals looked at each other in confusion. Without losing a single soldier?
Their eyes were full of puzzlent, but none doubted him — after all, this was the all-powerful King!
Luke offered no explanation.
He took out a drone.
The sun was slowly setting.
A palm-sized black drone rose silently into the night sky like a night bird, circling above Harrenhal.
Luke sat in his tent, watching the real-ti footage on the screen.
He saw that the defenders were moving toward the eastern main keep. It was easy to guess that the defenders planned to make a last stand using that ruined keep.
But as he continued scouting, he discovered sothing even more interesting.
On the screen, soone was inciting the refugees.
"The false king Luke of Draco has co! He wants to occupy Harrenhal, slaughter everyone, and sacrifice them to evil gods!"
"Luke Jaqenion is a follower of evil gods! Everyone who went to Draco was killed and sacrificed by him! Now that the evil god is not satisfied, he has brought his army to capture more commoners!"
A man covered in scars stood in the crowd, tearfully recounting his "tragic experience."
"That place is hell… a slaughterhouse for evil gods, a festival of sacrifices! Luke Jaqenion is not the Son of the Seven Gods at all — he is the apostle of evil gods! My wife, children, and entire family were brutally murdered! My daughter was only three years old — her eyes and tongue were gouged out…"
The surrounding crowd let out terrified cries.
"Seven Gods above…"
"Demons!"
"We cannot let him in!"
Others "dug out" stones with bloody words from fish bellies, claiming they were divine warnings.
In just half a day, more than a dozen different versions of "strange rumors" had spread through Harrenhal, all related to Luke, claiming he was the "apostle of evil gods" who wanted to sacrifice everyone in Harrenhal!
Soone shouted loudly: "Lord Tywin's main army is already on its way back! They will reach Harrenhal before sunset tomorrow!"
"He has already sent word: no matter who you are — farr, cobbler, man, woman, old or young, rchant, rcenary… as long as you participate in the defense, whether you throw stones or spit, each person will be rewarded with one silver stag!"
"Kill one enemy soldier and you will be rewarded with one gold dragon!"
"A Lannister always pays his debts!"
"We cannot let the apostle of evil gods bring calamity upon the world!"
Harrenhal had over a hundred thousand refugees.
Panic spread rapidly.
Ser Adam sent a small number of n to guard all the city gates and exits. He ordered that no one was allowed to leave Harrenhal!
He was using the refugees as a human shield.
"What a dirty trick!"
The corners of Luke's mouth twitched involuntarily.
He watched the actors on the screen still putting on their passionate performances and the refugees being incited.
He was silent for three seconds.
Then he cursed inwardly.
"Which bastard ca up with this plan! Isn't this the 'book in the fish belly' trick? Is there another transmigrator here?"
Slandering his reputation and inciting ignorant refugees.
This was clearly trying to mobilize the masses against him!
What a little genius!
Mars and Bronn leaned over, saw the scene on the screen, and were also stunned.
"This… this…" Bronn scratched his head. "What do we do now?"
Luke took a deep breath.
He stared at the panicked refugees on the screen and fell into thought: "The person who ca up with this idea is talented — he could be the Minister of Propaganda!"
Then he showed a strange smile: "It's not a big problem. He doesn't know that I am the real god!"
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