Outside Deepwood Motte, in the corner used to detain Robb Stark, many things were happening.
Yet the same was true in the corner encampment where Tywin Lannister was stationed.
"Once you've finished your business, leave at once. You may take Tywin Lannister's head, but everything else must be left behind. Those were Lord Balon's exact words."
In the darkness of night, Roose Bolton stood in a secluded corner outside the Lannister army encampment, watching as his Bolton men crept forward.
At his side, the Iron Captain of the Iron Fleet—Victarion Greyjoy, brother to Balon Greyjoy—held a torch and said coldly, "I want only Tywin Lannister's head. Everything else is yours."
Roose Bolton gave his assurance.
Victarion studied him for a long moment, then turned and left, handing the place over to the cold and cunning man.
As time passed, the party that had slipped into the Lannister encampment returned.
However, they came back empty-handed.
"What happened?"
"Tywin Lannister is gone…"
…
"Honored Lady Genna Lannister, if you still insist, then I must say the price will have to go up."
"You understand—this is not us raising the price on a whim. What we are doing now is worth that sum. The risk is considerable."
On Littlesister in the Three Sisters, a "merchant ship" from Braavos had made a temporary stop.
As for the island's original master, the Lord of Littlesister, Alesandor Torrent of House Torrent, he had already become a corpse.
They had come on the pretext that winter was approaching and that this would be Braavos's last crossing of the Narrow Sea to trade with the north-central regions of Westeros. They put in here temporarily to avoid the winds and waves that would arrive with nightfall.
It was an excellent pretext—one that cost the island's lord his life.
The Narrow Sea lies between the continent of Westeros and the continent of Essos. Being relatively narrow, it is easier to cross between the eastern continent and Westeros.
But that is limited to summer.
In seasons such as the current autumn, the Narrow Sea becomes plagued by frequent storms, making crossings difficult. In winter it grows even more violent, completely cutting off the possibility of ships making the passage.
If a fleet were stubborn enough to set out from the Shield Islands and attempt to cross the Narrow Sea in autumn, it would most likely lose two-thirds of its ships.
Though it has such drawbacks, this also makes it a natural barrier between the Seven Kingdoms and the Free Cities.
Of course, if trade were still to be carried on at such a time, merchant ships of the Free Cities would choose to sail back and forth by way of the Stepstones.
However, the Stepstones are hardly a peaceful place.
It is precisely for this reason that, over the course of centuries, the Free Cities have hired vast numbers of sellswords and thrown them into the endless wars over the Stepstones and the Disputed Lands.
The one speaking with Genna Lannister was the commander of the Brave Companions, Vargo Hoat—also known as the Goat.
He was a tall, gaunt man from Qohor, wearing a black goatee. Around his neck hung a string of coins, said to have come from the places where he had once fought.
The Brave Companions were a sellsword company with an infamous reputation in the Seven Kingdoms, known as the "Bloody Mummers." The "mummers" within were criminals and exiles from all over the world, who together formed this so-called "family."
When Vargo spoke, it was as though he were forever chewing something, his speech slurred, saliva constantly spilling from his mouth.
Fortunately, over this period of association, Genna had gradually grown accustomed to it.
As for his attempt to raise the price on the spot, Genna did not respond at once. Instead, her gaze shifted to the commanders of the remaining sellsword companies—those she had likewise hired with the start-up funds provided by the Iron Bank.
Pressed for time, once negotiations with the Iron Bank had succeeded, she had taken the money and immediately begun recruiting sellswords.
And it so happened that, due to the previous war between House Lannister of Westeros and the Iron Throne, some sellsword companies had returned to Braavos after their contracts ended.
Thus, aside from the notoriously ill-reputed Brave Companions, Genna had also managed to hire three other sellsword companies: the Second Sons, the Long Lances, and the Company of the Cat—four companies in total.
Combined, their strength barely reached a force of eight thousand men.
The commander of the Second Sons was named Mero, known as the Titan's Bastard, a man from Braavos.
Mero was tall, with pale green eyes and a thick red-gold beard that fell all the way to his waist.
The Second Sons were infamous and thoroughly disreputable. Under his command, scarcely anyone dared to hire them, yet for Genna, she had no standing to choose whom she could afford to employ.
The commander of the Long Lances was named Gillo Rhaga. He looked more like a roadside cobbler than a soldier, with a soft demeanor and similarly slurred speech.
Even so, the Long Lances possessed eight hundred cavalry.
That alone gave Genna sufficient reason to hire them.
As for the last—the Company of the Cat—it was a sellsword company Genna had managed to pick up almost by chance in Braavos, and it was also the strongest of the four.
The strength of the Company of the Cat alone equaled that of the other three combined.
Its commander was called Bloodbeard, a loud-voiced, savage brute—large of build, wearing a massive beard, with fiery red whiskers and long braids, and broad, solid shoulders.
His nature was savage and bloodthirsty. He lusted after glory and treasure and was lecherous by temperament. He had not the slightest interest in peace, caring only for wine and women.
As for why he was willing to lend his support to Bloodbeard, it was because Genna had given him what he wanted on the very day they met.
Business was business, however. At a moment like this, he had no intention of stepping forward to help this beautiful woman of House Lannister.
"Yes, woman—the Goat is right. You have to pay more!"
Bloodbeard tipped the wine straight down his throat, let out a satisfied sigh, and echoed "the Goat," Vargo Hoat. The lord of Littlesister, Alesandor Torrent, had been killed by him when he began to suspect that there was something amiss with this merchant caravan—his throat crushed as Bloodbeard seized his neck and tore it open.
"And after this war is finished, you'll belong to me!"
He wiped the spilled ale from his beard and added another line, his eyes filled with naked greed.
It was precisely such a band of men that formed the army Genna had gathered for this campaign against the North.
"At most, I can add another twenty percent. What you are required to do is not much. Once the contract is fulfilled, you need only return to the Free Cities—no one will be able to find you."
"But remember, I mean this only on the condition that you accomplish the objectives you are meant to achieve."
Genna was no weak or incompetent woman—quite the opposite. She was sharp and capable.
Back when the Toothless Lion was still alive, she had been forced, as the daughter of Lord Tytos Lannister, to marry the lesser noble Emmon Frey.
After the marriage, however, she completely took control of her foolish and ineffectual husband. The four children she later bore were all declared by Genna to be Emmon Frey's.
From Casterly Rock to the Twins, no one dared to question this—least of all her husband.
Her authority went further still. She had once voiced her opinions outright at Jaime's war council, and no one dared oppose her. In an age when women held no right to meddle in matters of war, this was anything but ordinary.
Perhaps this was also why, after deciding upon war, Tywin had entrusted all of his house's accumulated resources to her and sent her away with them.
"But your demands are not the same as the agreement we set down in Braavos at the beginning."
"Yes, woman—you were the one who tore up the contract first. What we are doing now is nothing more than claiming what is lawfully ours."
"Don't change the subject. I've already said it—if you want us to keep working, you must accept my terms!"
No sooner had Genna finished speaking than the war council chamber erupted into a clamor of overlapping voices.
Bloodbeard in particular kept hammering on his demands.
Of all those present, his force was the strongest. He was not worried that the blonde woman before him would refuse.
After bellowing his words, he licked his lips and looked at Genna as though she were already his to claim.
Alesandor Torrent's corpse lay to one side, the blood that had poured from it soaking into the wooden floor, darkening to black.
At the same time, four bodyguards followed him, the few of them forming another presence within the room.
"But on that basis, I've already added money. That has nothing to do with what's happening now."
Genna had no intention of agreeing so easily. She knew full well that once she loosened her stance, similar matters would trouble her day after day.
Not every sellsword company possessed the credibility of the Golden Company.
Seeing her refusal, the Goat continued, "But that's a dragon. Haven't you heard? We'd barely come ashore before we heard the stories from the Reach."
"It nearly scared me to death."
Yet Genna was not afraid.
The start-up funds provided by the Iron Bank were still held by the Iron Bank itself. If these sellswords wanted what they desired, they had to obtain her approval.
On that basis, her life was protected above the terms of the contract.
This was also why Bloodbeard could not simply use force against her. The mutual checks among the four sellsword companies, in turn, ensured her own interests.
"My bottom line is twenty percent, and only if you manage to find the person I want will I give it to you as a reward. That ends it. We have no more room for negotiation."
Seeing that they could squeeze no more oil from her, the men exchanged glances and could only let the matter drop.
"Very well. Let's return to what we should be discussing," said the infamous Mero, smoothing things over.
Genna's firmness had preserved her interests. Casting the men an indifferent glance, she pushed the map on the long table back into place.
"Then you will all follow my command. At dawn tomorrow, we do this… then this…"
In the middle of the night, the "merchant fleet" that had rested for a day at Littlesister set sail. Near dawn, they crossed the strait, entered the bay, and arrived off White Harbor.
White Harbor was a large port city, situated south of Winterfell and forming part of House Manderly's lands.
Though it was the smallest of Westeros's five great cities, it was nonetheless the largest settlement north of the Neck.
As the North's primary trading port, White Harbor lay at the mouth of the White Knife, providing greater opportunities for trade farther north and radiating out to all the densely populated regions of the North.
Taking the place with eight thousand men was not impossible, but it would not be easy.
If occupation was not the goal and the intent was merely to cause trouble, however, matters became much simpler—especially given that Genna, as the contracting party, had already altered her requirements.
The sailors sent to receive them met this Braavosi merchant fleet beneath the pre-dawn sky, privately astonished at its unusual size.
However, once he had finished making his preparations, what he saw was not sailors or dock laborers boarding the ships for work after the captain's recruitment.
From the decks of those vessels, men who were clearly soldiers began filing down the gangplanks in ordered lines.
As for the ships still unable to berth at the docks, they lowered their boats onto the water as well. Crowds of men gathered aboard them and likewise made for the piers.
The dock laborers, who had thought more work had arrived, clustered forward under the foreman's lead, ready to find employment.
But at that moment, they too noticed that something was amiss.
Before the foreman—his face already twisted into a fawning smile—could even speak, an axe came down and sheared away half his head.
The chaos began.
The slaughter spread from the docks through the harbor and into the fish market. The broad, straight streets paved with large cobblestones were stained crimson.
Houses built of pale stone were splashed with blood as well.
The sharp, briny stench of fish and sea that had once hung over the city was drowned out by a far heavier reek of blood, one that the sea wind could not disperse.
Yet before the turmoil had gone on for long, White Harbor reacted.
Seal Rock was a massive gray-green crag rising fifty feet from the sea, choking the approach to the outer harbor. Around its crown ran a ring of weathered stone—the remains of a ringfort built by the First Men centuries ago.
Now those ruins had been rearmed. Scorpions, fire-lances, and ranks of crossbowmen had been emplaced upon them.
Amid the unbroken peal of emergency horns and bells, these military forces belonging to White Harbor swiftly mounted a counterattack.
White Harbor's port was divided into an inner harbor and an outer harbor, separated by a breakwater.
The outer harbor was larger, but the inner harbor offered better anchorage. One side rested against the city walls, while the other was supported by the Wolf's Den.
Upon the breakwater stood a newly built stone wall, thirty feet high and nearly a mile long, with a tower rising every hundred meters along its length.
Such fortifications were formidable. Yet in the face of a sudden raid by an eight-thousand-strong army, House Manderly found it difficult to sustain the defense at this moment.
Before more forces could be brought up to hold the line, sections fell one after another—until at last the most crucial wall was lost.
The turmoil ultimately spilled inside the walls.
"Take this place. Do not worry about losses. Whatever gains you can seize in the process are yours to keep."
"My only requirement is to secure this place."
"After that, dispatch troops up the White Knife, all the way to Winterfell!"
At the war council, Genna once again stated her demands.
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