The Riverlands. Harrenhal. 298 AC.
Lord Tywin Lannister.
The war had taken everyone by surprise. There had been no warning signs, no slow build toward it, and then in a single mont the king was dead and the madness began. The Baratheon brothers had raised their banners, and each of them had serious strength at his back. There were no strong allies, nor any prospect of finding them. Four kingdoms had openly revolted, and the rest had never been friends to the Lions. The one potential ally that remained, Arryn, had been personally humiliated and driven out by his own daughter. Knowing the forr Hand's temperant, there was no counting on his help in the future.
It was sothing close to a miracle that Falcon's eye had swallowed the humiliation and relinquished power without significant bloodshed. Though he had halved the city garrison on his way out, taking the most capable soldiers with him. Unpleasant, but not fatal. At least Cersei had possessed enough sense not to declare Arryn an enemy of the Crown.
The situation for the lion's house was grim. Behind Renly Baratheon stood the might of the Stormlands, considerably strengthened during Robert's reign, and the Reach, the most populous region in the realm. According to the spies, they could put a striking force of one hundred thousand swords into the field. Behind Stannis stood an enormous fleet of three hundred ships, the Lords of the Narrow Sea, the North, the Riverlands, and Lysa Arryn. The Lady of the Eyrie had followed her kinsn and declared her loyalty to Stannis. Under ordinary circumstances this would have given the elder of Robert's brothers up to seventy thousand well-ard soldiers, a vast fleet, and experienced commanders, but their forces were scattered. The North was far away and could not march at full strength for at least two months. The Vale was consud by its own fight for the Eyrie, with no attention to spare for the wider world. The Lords of the Narrow Sea could field no more than six thousand n. As for the Riverlands, he was currently attending to that matter.
Fighting all of them at once was not sothing the Lannisters could do. Enemies had to be broken one at a ti. The war had caught everyone off guard, which ant the lords had called their banners at roughly the sa ti. That could be counted as sothing of a blessing. The Riverlands were the primary objective for the Lions. By Tywin's plan, while the other enemies of the Crown were still gathering their forces, his quickly assembled army of twelve thousand would burn the Riverlands to the ground and, if all went well, stop the northern army at the Twins. Walder Frey was a rare coward who would not dare resist while an army stood beneath his walls.
anwhile, a second army assembling at Lannisport would serve to keep the Lords of the Reach occupied. It is difficult to make war when your lands are burning and your people are in danger. In such a situation Renly would have two choices: either release his lords to return ho and defend what was theirs, or march on King's Landing regardless of their protests. The second was unlikely. Renly was a spineless puppet.
Breaking the hastily gathered Riverlands army under Edmure Tully's command had not been difficult. After the rout of his right flank, the fool had hit upon no better solution than to lead a desperate cavalry charge. But the gods appeared to be on Tully's side, for despite losing more than half his force he managed to withdraw and shut himself inside his ancestral castle. Riverrun was placed under siege and cut off from the world. Of the other lords of sufficient standing or influence to rally the broken n, none remained. The only man who might have managed it was Brynden Blackfish, but he was not in the Riverlands.
Once the reinforcents from the Westerlands arrived, the task was to finish off the survivors and march to relieve King's Landing. Cersei and his grandson had been left without a strong garrison or support against Renly's hundred thousand. And to his considerable irritation, they were doing nothing of any use. Hosting tournants and making speeches would not stop an army. His spies were also reporting stirrings among the supposedly loyal lords of the Crownlands. So were looking to go over to one of the Baratheon brothers. Others were approaching Cersei with flattery and pledges of eternal loyalty in hopes of royal favor, and his daughter was delighted to hand out honors. That sort of thing needed to be cut out at the root, but he was tied up with the campaign. Which ant soone had to be sent to stabilize the family's position in the capital. And to his irritation, the only suitable candidate was in the camp.
"Send for Tyrion." The guardsman gave a short bow and went to carry out his lord's wish.
Fifteen minutes later the wretched creature walked in. His son was a small, misshapen thing: legs crooked and absurdly short, arms to match, his head large and irregular, his face broad, his forehead protruding. His hair was pale, nearly white, mixed with eyes of two different colors, one green and one black. What irritated him further was the reek of wine coming off Tyrion, which spoke plainly enough to how he had been spending his ti. Nothing new.
"You called for , Father." The eternally drinking dwarf settled himself and reached for a wine jug.
"Yes." He needed the man sober. "Are you aware of recent developnts?"
"Not as clearly as you are," the dwarf replied, plainly displeased at being denied his wine.
"To the east we have Stannis, to the south Renly and the Tyrells, an army marching from the north, and the eunuch has been reporting that the Greyjoys are stirring. Our position is worse than you think." He saw no choice but to lay it out for Tyrion. "On top of that, my daughter is commanding us to ride for King's Landing imdiately to defend the Red Keep from the rebels." He could not fully suppress a grimace of disappointnt at Cersei's conduct.
"My beloved sister has evidently frightened herself thoroughly after losing half the garrison," the dwarf said with dark satisfaction at Cersei's predicant. "I am a newcor to strategy, but if we stay here, we will end up surrounded." For many n, even that obvious truth ca as sothing of a revelation from above. Regrettably, few in his circle had grasped it.
"A third of our strength stays here, and Jai will be coming up with ten thousand. He will finish burning the Riverlands and block the northerners while we move to intercept Renly's army."
"I do not doubt Jai's tactical gifts, but he lacks... ruthlessness." He had assessed his brother correctly.
"Ser Gregor stays with him." Tyrion understood at once and moved on. "Jai will do his part. Now you will do yours, by going to King's Landing."
The dwarf clearly had not been expecting anything of the sort. Tyrion reached again for the wine, and rather than sit watching his fidgeting, Tywin offered him his own cup, which he had not yet touched. His son drank.
"And what am I to do there?"
"Rule." He had no patience for drawing the conversation out.
"My sister has her own views on that matter," the dwarf said with a thin smile.
"She may say whatever she likes, but her son needs to be reined in before he destroys us all. The small council is down to a eunuch with nothing to offer and Littlefinger. What counsel are they giving Joffrey, that the boy lurches from one extre to the other? They have cost us the Vale with their own hands, they have quarreled with Essos, in the near future we face serious problems with food, and now our king wants to take to the field against Renly with whatever Gold Cloaks are left." He paused and steadied himself. "If Cersei cannot control the boy, then you are obliged to do it. And if anyone so much as slls of treason..."
"Heads, spikes, walls," the dwarf said. He had learned sothing at least.
"But why ? Why not my uncle, or soone else?"
"Because you are my son. This war will determine what the Lannisters are for the next hundred years. We either rise, or we are undone, as the Targaryens were undone. Do not fail ."
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