By the afternoon, the Westerlands infantry had finally arrived.
Upon reuniting with Tywin, Kevan immediately expressed his concern: "It's too dangerous. What if the Tyrells detain you? You could have just sent someone."
"They won't." Tywin looked at the soldiers in the camp, who were repairing weapons and bandaging wounds.
Though exhausted, no one complained.
"These are the elites of the Westerlands," Tywin suddenly lamented.
Kevan nodded. These soldiers were exemplary. Ordinary soldiers would have disbanded by now. Without them...
Suddenly, Kevan thought of a terrible consequence.
Without these soldiers, or without Tywin, what would become of the Westerlands?
What would become of the Lannisters?
He didn't trust Damion Lannister, who was currently garrisoning Casterly Rock.
He only knew that if this army suffered huge losses, or if Tywin met with any accident...
This terrifying possibility made Kevan shudder. Such a thing must not happen.
He prayed that Tywin's "verification" would be successful.
He prayed the Red Keep hadn't fallen.
He prayed Joffrey was still alive.
And the Seven seemed to hear his prayers and responded.
"My Lord Duke, news from Sow's Horn. The Red Keep is still in our hands! That bastard hasn't breached the Red Keep!"
Tywin had never heard of the place name "Sow's Horn," nor would he care about it.
But this news made Tywin look like a lion that had eaten its fill. He stood up abruptly and declared loudly: "Tell Duke Mace, launch a full-scale attack on King's Landing before noon tomorrow!"
On the other side, Joffrey inside the Red Keep was equally invigorated.
He stood on an arrow tower of the Red Keep, looking out with a spyglass.
Grand Maester Pycelle was by his side.
Seeming to remember something, Joffrey suddenly asked, "If the Mad King Aerys hadn't trusted my grandfather back then, could he have breached the Red Keep?"
"Uh—"
Pycelle opened his mouth, unsure how to answer.
If he said yes, what if he scared Joffrey?
If he said no, Jon was currently holding Tywin outside. Wouldn't that still scare this King who had fled the battlefield?
But Pycelle's brain was sharp. Considering the current situation, he guessed the answer Joffrey wanted.
"Your Grace, Lord Tywin and Lord Mace have a combined army of a hundred thousand. They will certainly breach King's Landing. That bastard Jon has only a little over ten thousand men. Trying to defend the walls and attack the Red Keep simultaneously is impossible."
"Mm." Joffrey nodded, showing a satisfied expression.
A face flashed before his eyes, and he decided to go find her—
Sansa, kneeling on her bed in prayer, was suddenly startled by the sound of the door crashing open.
Her body jerked instinctively, and her heartbeat accelerated abruptly.
Sansa knew Joffrey had come.
Before she could get out of bed to curtsy, Joffrey was already in front of her.
"Kneel!"
Joffrey said coldly.
Sansa lowered her head, about to kneel as before.
But suddenly thinking of something, she stood up from her half-crouch.
"My brother is right outside." Sansa didn't dare look at the face that had once fascinated her, but she still said this sentence. However, there was another half sentence she left unsaid—You are not the legitimate King. Just resisting Joffrey had exhausted her courage.
Hearing her say this, Joffrey raised the whip in his hand to strike.
Sansa tensed her body and turned her face away, trying to protect herself.
But Joffrey suddenly thought of something and sneered.
"You don't know, do you? My grandfather, Duke Tywin, and Duke Mace from Highgarden have gathered a hundred thousand troops and are attacking King's Landing. Before long, your brother will be a prisoner too. I heard his wolf is white, right? I'm going to skin your bastard brother and his wolf to make myself a cloak."
A hundred thousand troops—
Hearing this number, Sansa's face turned pale, and she swayed.
Although she couldn't imagine exactly how many people a hundred thousand troops were.
But the total population of King's Landing was only five hundred thousand.
This—
That familiar despair struck again, and Sansa collapsed onto the floor.
"Guards! Strip her naked and hang her on the walls of the Red Keep! Let everyone see!"
"No! No! Don't do this, I beg you—"
Sansa pleaded, tears falling like broken pearls.
But Joffrey's guards didn't care. They grabbed Sansa's arm, which was no thicker than their fingers, and dragged her out.
Just then, a blond squire rushed in and stopped him.
"Your Grace, Jon has captured Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen!"
"What!?"
On the other side, Cersei, who had been uplifted by the news of reinforcements, was plunged back into worry.
She only had one hostage; Jon had two.
She could do the simplest math.
But neither side was willing to exchange hostages.
Or rather, both sides had a tacit understanding.
So Jon demanded she give Sansa the softest bed, the most comfortable clothes, and the most delicious food. Only then would Myrcella and Tommen receive the same treatment.
Helpless, Cersei had to agree.
"Let's see how long you can be smug!" Cersei looked gloomily toward the Mud Gate, her green eyes like the vertical pupils of a viper.
But soon her expression softened, replaced by worry.
"My children—"
"Is that what he said?"
"Yes, my Lord. He said he cares about nothing; he only wants Joffrey's life!"
In a room, a bald, round-bodied fat man leaned against the fireplace.
There was no one beside him, but clearly a second person was speaking.
Listening closely, the voice came from inside the wall.
This was a secret passage in the Red Keep.
"Understood." The silk-clad fat man stuffed a few copper stars into the wall and turned to leave.
This was Varys, who had tried to "win over" Jon by offering a secret escape route.
He indeed saw Jon's talent and wanted to send him across the Narrow Sea to serve "Young Aegon" in the future.
But Jon's attitude made his scalp tingle.
All along, everyone he contacted wanted either power or wealth.
But this Jon wanted nothing but revenge.
Even to the point of disregarding his own life for revenge.
Just like when Roose Bolton's words couldn't make Jon hesitate during the mutiny.
His offer of escape held no temptation whatsoever.
What a pity. Varys shook his head.
He still wasn't optimistic about Jon.
Outside was an army of a hundred thousand.
How could Jon possibly hold?
This was King's Landing, with seven gates and a long defense line full of vulnerabilities.
Varys estimated it wouldn't be long before Jon fell into a state of constant firefighting.
Then gradually losing ground and floundering until defeated and captured.
Of course, given his character, he might commit suicide.
Thinking of this, Varys decided not to consider Jon anymore.
He was practically a "dead man walking" anyway.
If he wanted to fight, let him fight. Consuming more strength of the Usurper's dynasty would prepare for Young Aegon's return in the future.
Soon, the time agreed upon by Tywin and Mace for the siege arrived.
Surprisingly, the weather cleared up. Perhaps due to yesterday's rain, the sky over King's Landing was sunny and the sea breeze gentle.
If not for the hundred thousand troops encircling King's Landing, one would almost think it was just an ordinary day.
Of course, they didn't need to attack every gate but focused their main assault on the Lion Gate, the King's Gate, and the Mud Gate.
Tywin could hear that Jon was "exasperated."
On the battlements, someone held a simple megaphone and shouted curses below.
"Tywin! You bastard! I will kill you—"
"Mace, you support a false king, you traitor, I will chop off your head—"
"Lannisters, come and attack if you have the guts, you sons of bitches!"
To Tywin, these curses were almost like harp music, or rather, the dying screams of prey.
"This bastard must know his end is near," Kevan said, and a faint smile appeared on Tywin's lips.
"No rush. Let our army prepare a bit more, then launch the attack together."
"Mm." Kevan nodded.
Attacking simultaneously was naturally best.
Their siege equipment still needed some inspection and preparation.
But suddenly, a squire came to Tywin and reported: "My Lord Duke, Duke Mace has launched an attack on the Mud Gate ahead of schedule!"
"What? Why?" Before Tywin could react, Kevan was shocked.
Didn't they agree to attack together?
What was in Mace's head?
This was basic military common sense!
Time rewinds to half an hour ago.
Jon, confirming Mace's location via raven, had soldiers shout through megaphones:
"Mace Tyrell! So what if you're a Duke?! You've never won a battle in your life! With seventy or eighty thousand men, you couldn't even take Storm's End, and now you want to attack King's Landing defended by fifty thousand?! Go home and hug your babies!"
As the saying goes, lies don't hurt; the truth is the sharp knife.
If someone said Randyll Tarly couldn't fight, he would sneer and draw his sword to kill.
But saying Mace couldn't fight made him furious.
"Siege! I want to catch this bastard myself!"
"My Lord, now is not the time. We must wait to attack with Lord Tywin!" Randyll Tarly dissuaded. "Yes, Father, not now!"
If you see your father shouting before doing something, stop him; you can't go wrong!
His grandmother's teaching echoed in Garlan's mind, so he blocked Mace's path firmly.
After much persuasion, Mace finally calmed down somewhat.
But the curses from the battlements didn't stop there.
Soon, even viler profanities came from the wall:
"Mace! You can't fight, and you can't even sire sons properly! Lord Mace, your son is gay!
"Your son is gay!
"That means he likes men, don't you understand?
"Both your sons are gay!
"And one is a cripple!
"Your daughter isn't a proper daughter either! Engaged to Renly, Renly dies. Just engaged to Joffrey, King's Landing falls...
"Mace, you are gay! You like men!!!!"
"Let me go! I'm going to kill him! I'm going to kill this bastard with my own hands!!!"
No one could stop the berserk Mace anymore.
How could the "proud" Duke Mace endure such slander?
Thus, the battle for the Mud Gate erupted again after less than two days.