Count Tai Tuo Si watched the Reach cavalry gallop across the plains, fading into a black line under the relentless sun, and said with faint regret, "Your Majesty, shall we not pursue them?"
"No." Eddard shook his head. "I promised Lord Randyll that I would allow him to return his soldiers to the Reach. A promise made must be kept." He turned to the Lord of Raventree Hall, issuing a firm order: "Lord, your next task is to pursue any scattered or fleeing soldiers. Do not allow them to become a problem in the Riverlands."
"At once, Your Majesty," the Lord of Raventree Hall replied. He urged his horse forward, gathering a squad of fierce-looking light cavalry, then rode down the hillside toward the scattered forests that dotted the plain.
Although Randyll Tarly had been persuaded to retreat, the outcome was far from ideal. Ideally, the Reach soldiers would have laid down their weapons, surrendered their armor, and returned home, withdrawing entirely from the Iron Throne's chaotic struggle. But the Lord of Horn Hill would not accept this compromise. Perhaps he truly believed Eddard's warnings of the Others and the dead. Perhaps he distrusted Tywin Lannister's ability to maintain control over the Seven Kingdoms if King's Landing fell. Perhaps he had ambitions of reclaiming the ancestral sword of House Tarly and the title of Warden of the South.
No matter the reason, Tarly immediately issued new commands upon returning to his troops. He ordered a thousand elite infantry from Highgarden, shields and spears in hand, to engage Eddard's two hundred giants. Meanwhile, five hundred cavalry were dispatched southward to confront Tai Tuo Si's forces. With the remaining soldiers, he began a controlled retreat toward the eastern plains.
The result was predictable. The cavalry sent to block Raventree Hall's forces were quickly scattered. Seven thousand fleeing infantry, discarding their helmets and armor in desperation, were soon overtaken by the giants and enemy cavalry. Many perished; others surrendered. Only Horn Hill's personal guard, knights and heirs of noble families, sworn swords, and mounted retainers managed to escape. Four-legged warhorses outran the soldiers every time.
Eddard, observing the scene, chose not to pursue further. The Free Folk soldiers now controlled the captives and began cleaning the battlefield, ensuring no quarrels over spoils erupted. He raised a hand. "Dita, come here."
"Your Majesty, do you have orders?" Dita Kalander rode up on a tall gray stallion, clad in pristine cream-colored scale armor, greaves and steel boots gleaming in the sun. A curved helmet rested on his head, and a thick black wool cloak draped his shoulders. His family crest—a golden wheel wreathed in red flames—stood out proudly against the armor.
Since returning from Braavos, Dita had been rewarded generously. His weapons, armor, and steed had all been upgraded, and he had recruited several allies as sworn knights, restoring his family's prominence in high society. His loyalty to the King Regent, who had granted him everything, now bordered on fanaticism.
"Return to Harrenhal," Eddard instructed. "Bring as many blacksmiths and apprentices as possible, along with their tools. Tell my lady to prepare another half-month of provisions. I intend for the soldiers to rest here for a few days."
The surrendered Reach armor was abundant but ill-suited for the Free Folk soldiers. Modifications would be required. Since leaving Harrenhal, Eddard had pondered providing armor to his troops. Weapons were one thing; armor was quite another. But the Free Folk had proven themselves competent, if not fully disciplined. Time had honed their obedience; battlefield experience had taught them rules forged in blood.
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Far to the south, the Golden Road wound its ancient stone path across the northern Reach, beginning at the Lion Gate in King's Landing, crossing the Blackwater River, meandering through the Westerlands hills, past House Lydden's Deep Den, and eventually reaching Lannisport and Casterly Rock.
A wide, ancient stone bridge spanned the Blackwater River. A regal procession of gold, silver, red, and steel slowly made its way across. The banner of Tommen I—a crowned stag alongside a roaring lion—fluttered proudly in the wind.
Among the convoy was a massive double-deck carriage, a wheeled palace made of polished oak and steel trimmed in gold, typically requiring forty horses. Its sheer width prevented it from crossing the bridge. Consequently, King Tommen I, the beautiful Queen Regent Cersei, and Queen Margaery, freshly wed for the third time, had to transfer to a slightly smaller Lannister carriage.
"I can't believe Father would actually send us to Casterly Rock—and that your father agreed to it!" Cersei fumed, her pale green eyes flashing at Margaery, her face flushed as though warding off the cold winter wind outside.
"Your Majesty, Lord Tywin is the Hand of the King," Margaery replied humbly, bowing her head, her brown curls framing her soft green silk cloak. Her voice carried a subtle grievance. "My father is merely the Master of Laws. He has no authority to interfere with Lord Tywin's arrangements for the King."
Cersei, consumed by her fury, failed to notice the subtle resentment in Margaery's tone—but Tommen, small yet observant, did. The nine-year-old King keenly perceived that his new wife was being reprimanded unfairly. He opened his chubby mouth. "This is my grandfather's arrangement. He said King's Landing is too chaotic, even the Red Keep is unsafe. He wants me to stay at Casterly Rock for a while so he can focus on governing and suppressing the rebellion. I think this is a good plan, so I agreed. Mother, if you wish to complain, blame me—don't make things difficult for Lady Margaery."
Cersei's green eyes flickered, molten with anger. Rage consumed her thoughts. Her father had married her off as a political pawn. Her beloved brother languished imprisoned in Winterfell, while her other brother had murdered her eldest son and roamed freely. Her daughter had been sent to Dorne, and her remaining son had been left in the care of House Tyrell.
"Tommen," she snapped. "I am not criticizing your wife. But this is absurd! The King should remain in the Red Keep, learning governance from the Hand—not travel to Casterly Rock, which is just stone and walls."
She seethed silently. Pycelle was useless, Varys dared not intervene, Mace Tyrell was a fat, ineffectual fool, and Uncle Kevan had flatly refused her subtle suggestions. Her attempts to sway the decision through threats—revealing her affair with Jaime—had failed. The only person capable of influencing Tywin's plan was Tommen himself.
Suddenly, shouts echoed from afar. Lancel's voice, urgent and frightened, called out, "Your Majesty! Queen Regent! Something terrible has happened!"
Cersei, already tense, barked, "Idiot! Speak clearly!"
"Your Majesty, Ser Lynster of House Lydden requests permission to go to King's Landing for reinforcements."
"House Lydden? Deep Den?" Cersei interrupted. "Explain yourself—why does he need reinforcements?"
Two or three minutes later, Ser Lynster arrived, kneeling on one knee. The Queen Regent noticed his haggard face, sunken cheeks, pale skin, and sunken green eyes. His clothes reeked of sweat and blood.
"Your Majesty," he gasped, "Deep Den is under siege. Brynden Tully from Riverrun brought five thousand men, captured Silverhall, and blocked the Golden Road. None can pass."
"What?" Cersei froze. Margaery and Tommen also stared in disbelief.
"This is impossible!" Cersei's voice rose. "Davos had at least fifteen thousand troops gathered in Lannisport. How could they be defeated so easily?"
Ser Lynster explained rapidly, exhaustion thick in his tone. "Ser Davos was ambushed near Golden Tooth. Fifteen thousand men routed; half captured, half scattered by Marko Piper's cavalry. I saw it myself; it is true."
Cersei's mind raced. Brynden Tully was supposed to be at Harrenhal. Why hadn't Varys reported this? Was it negligence—or deliberate?
"Your Majesty, the road ahead is impassable. We must return to King's Landing immediately for reinforcements," Ser Lynster urged.
Cersei, regaining some composure, nodded. "Yes, we'll return."
Queen Margaery interjected, "No. The carriage cannot outrun warhorses. Tommen cannot endure the journey over long, rough roads. It is far too dangerous. Instead, send Ser Lynster with men to continue to King's Landing while we take a smaller route via Bitterbridge or Goldengrove. Once Lord Tywin crushes Stannis, we can safely return."
Cersei considered the plan, and without hesitation, agreed. With her father's tens of thousands of troops still at hand, she felt confident the Riverlands invasion could not last long.
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