Five li northeast of White Stone Town, a flat, open stretch of wasteland with gentle undulations had beco the battlefield where the two armies faced each other.
The autumn wind swept across the withered yellow adows, carrying a biting chill of killing intent.
To the north stood the so-called "Coalition Army."
Banners of more than a dozen families stood in chaotic disarray: a boar's head for House Harroway, crossed keys for so knight, blue mountain ranges for a Vale house… a jumbled ss with no sense of unity.
The soldiers beneath the banners were equally disorganized. The nearly thousand-strong force was loosely gathered; most were militia in ragged cloth, clutching crude spears or pitchforks, their faces filled with confusion and fear.
Only a few dozen wore rust-speckled mail or iron-studded leather, looking like household guards or the handful of hired veterans.
Those in full plate armor were extrely rare—only about a dozen clustered protectively around the lords, and even those suits were old-fashioned and poorly maintained.
Overall, this coalition looked like a hastily assembled rabble lacking organization and discipline. Their only common trait was the greedy glint in their eyes for plunder and a trace of wariness toward the enemy ahead.
To the south, the scene was entirely different.
On the left, six hundred rcenaries in sowhat uniform gray-white surcoats stood with varied expressions. Though their formation was less disciplined than the one on the right, the savage aura of n who lived by the sword, combined with the frenzied excitent induced by the promise of gold dragons, made them resemble a pack of hyenas ready to pounce at any mont.
On the right, five hundred mbers of the Jaqenion Family Guard stood in perfect silence. Clad head to toe in matte silver-white full plate armor, their pikes and shields ford an unbroken forest of steel that radiated a heart-chilling nace.
Dozens of crimson-and-black dragon banners snapped loudly in the wind, forming a sharp contrast with the disordered flags opposite them.
At the coalition's makeshift command center—little more than a gathering of over a dozen lords and their chief knights—the atmosphere was tense.
Baron Willow of the Vale had gone pale. He pointed at the unexpectedly formidable enemy formation, his voice cracking: "Count Harroway! You… you said the magic rchant had only just arrived, that he lacked manpower and his defenses were weak! This… this doesn't look weak at all!"
Beside him, Baron Loren of the Crownlands frowned deeply, his tone dissatisfied. "Exactly, my lord. Our intelligence said he only had three hundred rcenaries and a hundred-odd guards. But the force opposite us is nearly equal to our own!"
"Equal? It's worse than that!" a young noble with a fresh bruise on his face wailed. "Seven Gods! Look at those suits of armor… full plate! When my cavalry charged, our lances bounced off like they were tickling them! My hard-earned twenty riders—all gone! Where did he get so many fine suits of armor? How much gold did that cost?!"
"The gold spent on that equipnt could fill my castle!"
This ca from a knight who had barely escaped the earlier cavalry clash with Bronn.
"Silence! All of you, be silent!"
Count Harroway—a plump man of about fifty with thick brown whiskers—growled impatiently, his jowls quivering.
As the instigator and nominal commander of this joint operation, he was growing irritated by the constant questioning from his subordinates.
He took a deep breath and tried to sound calm and authoritative:
"What are you all panicking for? That boy is just putting on a show! I've investigated thoroughly—most of the n under him are raw recruits who have been with him for less than two months! They've never seen a battlefield, never slled blood! What use is fancy armor if they can't even move properly in it? They're nothing but slow-moving targets!"
He paused, casting a contemptuous glance at the rcenary formation opposite them. "As for those sellswords? Hmph! A pack of hyenas who care only for coin and nothing for loyalty or faith! If we apply enough pressure, or promise them a share of the spoils, they could turn on him or simply scatter at any mont! What is there to fear?"
However, his attempt at reassurance had limited effect.
Viscount Patu of the Riverlands, a lean middle-aged man, countered worriedly: "My lord, that may be true… but Luke Jaqenion has money! Everyone knows he has mountains of gold dragons! He uses gold to recruit refugees, to buy supplies, and now… clearly to arm this army and promise massive rewards."
"Gold can move mountains. Those rcenaries may be unreliable, but if his bounties are high enough…"
"Enough!"
Count Harroway rudely cut him off, his face showing anger and a flicker of hidden anxiety.
He knew Viscount Patu was right, but he could not allow morale to collapse.
He looked around at the group and lowered his voice, yet spoke with greater fervor: "You must understand who we are facing! A nouveau riche who bought his title and lands from the King with gold dragons and cheap tricks!"
"A so-called 'magic rchant' who appeared out of nowhere! Look at what he has done: frantically and almost predatorily luring away the population and labor from all our lands! What is this behavior? It is undermining the very foundation of our rule!"
Seeing so faces show agreent, he pressed further: "Today he can steal our farrs and craftsn. Tomorrow, he can use his gold and 'magic' to lure away our soldiers, or even… challenge our authority!"
"Imagine if we allow him to continue developing here. In just a few years, another 'Casterly Rock' will rise beside the God's Eye!"
"At that point, who in the Riverlands, the Crownlands, or the edges of the Vale will be able to ignore him? Everyone will have to watch his face and live by his whims!"
These words touched the deepest fear of many minor lords—the fear of being squeezed out and swallowed by a powerful new force.
"You were right earlier—he has gold dragons. A great many of them!" Count Harroway's voice was now laced with temptation and envy.
"Think about how much he has earned from us! One jar of Velvet Snow sells for twenty gold dragons! One jar of Mithril Salt also twenty! A small bottle of perfu can go for two hundred gold dragons! A bar of soap for ten! Most outrageous of all is that 'Dragonfla' wine—one bottle costs a thousand gold dragons! He is practically robbing us!"
He pointed at the silver-armored squares glittering in the sunlight opposite them: "Look at that armor! The style is completely new, so fine and uniform—it could not possibly have been made on short notice. Other than magic, what explanation is there?"
"Those miraculous goods, that armor—they must all have been created by his 'magic'! Don't you want to know what that 'magic' truly is?"
"Shouldn't such power—the power to create wealth and build a strong army—belong in the hands of us true nobles with ancient lineages and noble blood? Allowing an upstart rchant to monopolize it is an insult to the gods and to tradition!"
By combining coercion (threat to their rule) with enticent (vast wealth and magical secrets), Count Harroway successfully redirected the coalition's fear of the enemy's strength back into greed and hostility toward Luke.
The n's eyes grew hot once more. Fear was overshadowed by lust for gold dragons and "magic."
Seeing morale temporarily stabilized, Count Harroway put on a "magnanimous" expression:
"Of course, we are not bloodthirsty. We have no desire for unnecessary slaughter. Perhaps… there is still a more civilized way to resolve this."
He stroked his beard and spoke slowly: "We do not necessarily have to co to blows imdiately."
"If Baron Luke Jaqenion… is willing to offer reasonable compensation for his unauthorized recruitnt of our smallfolk and the losses he has caused us, and… show sufficient sincerity—perhaps by sharing so of the less critical applications of his 'magic'—then we may sit down and talk, avoiding this war. After all, peace benefits everyone, does it not?"
This suggestion received plenty of agreent.
"Yes, yes! The count is right! Make him pay compensation!"
"Exactly! A re upstart, why should he stand as our equal? Let him hand over so of his magical secrets in exchange for peace!"
"If he's smart and willing to compensate, we can allow him to develop here… within limits."
"If he refuses, then don't bla us for using force to make him spit it all out, with interest!"
After a brief discussion, the coalition decided to first attempt "persuasion/surrender" or outright extortion to test the opponent's resolve while also displaying their own "justice" and "magnanimity."
Soon after, a knight in relatively presentable mail with a feather in his helm rode slowly out from the coalition lines.
He sat as straight as he could, reined in his horse about twenty ters from Luke's formation, cleared his throat, and shouted in as loud a voice as possible:
"Hear ! I am Ser Jonas Talls, speaking on behalf of Count Harroway and the assembled noble lords of the Riverlands, Vale, and Crownlands!"
Luke, riding his black warhorse and flanked by Bronn and Lucas, advanced unhurriedly to the front of his lines.
Clad in gleaming golden armor, he looked almost divine as he calmly regarded the ssenger.
"Speak."
Luke's voice was not loud, but carried clearly due to good projection.
Ser Jonas was sowhat irritated by Luke's composed deanor and raised his voice:
"Baron Luke Jaqenion! The noble lords unanimously agree that your recent large-scale recruitnt of refugees has seriously violated their traditional rights and disrupted the order of their domains!"
"You have used dishonorable ans to lure and seduce away the smallfolk and labor that rightfully belong to them, causing incalculable losses!"
He paused. Seeing no reaction from Luke, he delivered the demand: "Therefore, the lords demand that you pay compensation! A total of two hundred thousand gold dragons!"
"Alternatively, you may compensate with magical goods of equivalent value! If… if you are willing to share so portion of your 'magical' knowledge as a show of sincerity, the amount of compensation may be reduced accordingly!"
Having spoken, he raised his chin, confident that his side held the moral and military advantage, and waited for the expected fear, excuses, or bargaining.
Luke listened, and instead of showing anger, his lips curled into a cold, mocking smile.
He had expected them to make excuses, but not such a clumsy and ridiculous one.
"Dishonorable ans?"
Luke's voice suddenly turned icy, like a winter gale. "I pay fair coin for labor, I trade food for work, and I offer a path and hope to the displaced. Which law of the Seven Kingdoms does this violate? On the contrary, you—"
He suddenly raised his hand and pointed toward the coalition army, his voice exploding like thunder: "Have brought soldiers without cause into my lawfully granted fief! Slaughtered my unard craftsn and farrs! Plundered the fruits of our labor! Blocked my trade routes and cut off my comrce! This is what is truly dishonorable and lawless!"
His gaze stabbed like a sword toward Ser Jonas and the disorganized coalition behind him: "Go back and tell Harroway, and the pack of greedy, blind hyenas beside him!"
Luke's voice was filled with open contempt and provocation. He needed a decisive battle to demonstrate his power to the entire Seven Kingdoms and declare that Draco and House Jaqenion were not soft targets to be bullied at will!
"If you imdiately lay down your weapons, kneel, and surrender, and pay two hundred thousand gold dragons as compensation—for the lives of my dead subjects, for the damage done to my works, and for the losses caused by your blockade—"
He spoke each word slowly and forcefully: "I, Luke Jaqenion, may yet show rcy and forgive your foolishness and rudeness!"
"Otherwise…"
He slowly drew the alloy greatsword from his waist. The blade reflected a chilling gleam under the autumn sun as his voice turned freezing cold: "This ground shall beco your graves today!"
"No quarter!"
BOOM!
Luke's extrely arrogant and completely reversed response landed like ice water poured into boiling oil, instantly triggering wildly different reactions in both camps.
On the Jaqenion side, both rcenaries and guards were fired up by their lord's hardline stance and domineering declaration. They erupted into earth-shaking roars and shouts once again, their morale soaring even higher.
On the coalition side, the reaction was pure uproar!
Count Harroway and the other lords turned livid. They had never imagined that this "minor baron" and "rchant" would dare to be so defiant—going so far as to counter-demand compensation from them!
War had beco inevitable.
The air was thick with the scent of imminent bloodshed.
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