Tywin Lannister's army, returning from the south, was now marching along the winding mountain paths of the Mountains of the Moon.
Steep cliffs rose on both sides, with an endless mountain road ahead. The column stretched long — cavalry at the front, infantry at the rear, and supply wagons moving slowly in the middle.
Tywin Lannister rode on horseback, his face grim.
A fast horse caught up from behind. The ssenger dismounted and presented a sealed letter with both hands. Tywin took it, opened it, and his expression changed.
It was a color rarely seen on his face. Not anger — he had seen plenty of that. It was sothing deeper, more humiliating.
He no longer understood this world.
Renly Baratheon — the young king with a hundred thousand troops and the full support of the Stormlands and the Reach — had been defeated!
Not on the battlefield, but assassinated in his own tent. The hundred-thousand-strong army had not even moved before their king was dead.
Tywin could not comprehend it. He rubbed his brow and read the letter again.
It said Renly had been assassinated. Without this king, the alliance between the Stormlands and the Reach collapsed instantly. The Stormlands lords flocked to Stannis on Dragonstone.
A hundred-thousand-strong army had vanished overnight.
Jai Lannister rode closer. His handso face didn't look much better.
"Father, Renly is defeated. That ans Cersei and Joffrey are in danger. King's Landing cannot hold against Stannis's fleet. I must return to King's Landing at once! The main army moves too slowly — let lead the cavalry back first!"
Tywin frowned in thought. In just an instant, a sharp light flashed in his deep eyes. Calm and unhurried, he said, "The main force of the Reach army is at Bitterbridge. Renly was Loras's lover, and the won of House Rose have always longed to be queens… Then we shall promise them a queen!"
He imdiately took out fresh paper and picked up his favorite steel pen. In the blink of an eye, he had returned to his usual calm, unruffled deanor.
"I will write letters to Bitterbridge and Highgarden. Loras will surely want to avenge Renly, and that old rose woman will certainly agree to an alliance. Don't worry too much."
The pen scratched across the paper. His hand was steady, his handwriting neat, his tone calm. It was as if the man whose face had just changed dramatically was not him. As if everything was still under his control.
Before he could finish, another squire rushed in anxiously.
"Report, Lord Tywin! Urgent letter from Harrenhal!"
The squire respectfully presented a letter with both hands.
Tywin took it, a bad premonition rising in his heart. Sure enough, as he opened the letter, the wrinkles on his forehead deepened, and the hand holding the paper tightened unconsciously.
Jai looked at his father with a faint smile. "What happened? Don't tell that king from the God's Eye really attacked Harrenhal?"
Tywin's eyes turned cold. He took a deep breath. "Ser Adam reports that an army with excellent equipnt has set out from Grey Glen Town. They number twelve thousand and are heading straight for Harrenhal!"
Jai's smile vanished. "What? How did Luke organize an army of that size? He's only a minor baron who received his title two years ago! Attacking Harrenhal now — has he secretly allied with Stannis? To cut off our path to reinforce King's Landing!"
His voice grew more urgent. "No! We must move the army at once! If it really is ten thousand well-equipped n, Ser Adam cannot hold Harrenhal!"
Tywin had already stood up. A crack finally appeared on that eternally calm face. "No more rest. March through the night! We must return to Harrenhal as quickly as possible!" He looked at Jai. "You take all the cavalry imdiately and make sure you reach Harrenhal before sunset tomorrow!"
Jai accepted the order and turned to leave with long strides.
Tywin stood in place, watching his son mount his horse. A trace of regret rose in him. He should not have taken the entire army out to pursue the Northerners, thinking it was an opportunity to "expand the victory" and stabilize the North…
He never expected that little whelp from Draco would truly dare to strike at his rear!
Truly, the world was unpredictable. How could Renly have died so inexplicably?
He had thought he was in complete control, but there were too many variables.
For the first ti, this Lion of the Westerlands felt a sense of uncertainty about the future.
This long-forgotten feeling was one he had only experienced in his youth, when he served as Hand to the "Mad King" Aerys Targaryen II. After he left King's Landing and returned to the Westerlands, he had never felt it again.
He took a deep breath, mounted his horse, and shouted loudly:
"Army, advance!"
The order was given. The great army began to accelerate.
Hoofbeats, footsteps, and the rumble of wheels echoed chaotically through the mountain valley.
The next day at noon, Jai arrived outside Harrenhal with three thousand cavalry.
He reined in his horse and looked up. Then his pupils contracted sharply.
The "lion banners" on the walls had all disappeared! In their place flew a banner he had never seen before.
A red field with a black dragon pattern, fluttering in the wind.
"Ser Jai! Harrenhal has already changed hands!"
A man in tattered armor crawled out from the roadside grass and stumbled toward the horses. His face was covered in dirt and blood, and his clothes bore burn marks.
Jai recognized him as one of Ser Adam's n.
"What happened?!" His voice exploded like thunder. "Even if the enemy had twice as many n as the defenders, or even three or five tis, it's impossible to take Harrenhal this quickly! We only received Ser Adam's letter yesterday — by any calculation, it hasn't even been a full day!"
The man knelt on the ground, trembling all over.
"Ser, Luke Jaqenion can fly! He possesses divine power! After seeing through Ser Adam's sche, he flew to the Tower of the Burning King at night and captured Ser Adam and the other high-ranking defenders!"
He raised his head, his eyes filled with terror. "Then he displayed his divine power before everyone. The soldiers and smallfolk all… all submitted to Luke. He… he is the Son of the Seven Gods, it's true! We surrendered…"
Schlick!
Jai drew the sword at his waist and killed the man with one strike, preventing him from spreading more heretical nonsense.
Blood splattered on the ground. The man's body slumped softly.
Jai turned to look at the army behind him and announced loudly: "Harrenhal has fallen. The situation is hopeless! Rear becos front — withdraw fifty miles and wait for Lord Tywin's main force!"
His voice was loud and firm, but deep in his heart, sothing indefinable stirred.
Can fly? Divine power? Son of the Seven Gods?
He rembered the man who had unhorsed him with a single lance at the tourney. He rembered those leaflets that had fallen from the sky, images so clear they didn't seem possible in this world, that figure flying in the sky.
He gripped his sword hilt tightly, veins bulging on the back of his hand.
"Withdraw!"
The three thousand cavalry turned their horses. In a cloud of dust, they disappeared in the direction they had co from.
On the walls of Harrenhal, a sentry saw the rising dust in the distance.
"Your Grace, a force of cavalry appeared outside earlier, but they have now left."
Luke stood at the top of the Tower of the Burning King, looking into the distance.
The three baby dragons fluttered around him.
"It was Jai," he said.
"Your Grace, should we pursue? He seems to have returned alone with cavalry," Bronn asked.
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