"Ser Amory Lorch and his men were also captured by that little brat. Most of the troops we sent out have been lost."
Inside Harrenhal, the two brothers of House Lannister were discussing the current state of the war.
Ser Kevan Lannister was Tywin Lannister's younger brother, and also the second-in-command of this Lannister army.
Holding several intelligence reports in his hands, his brows tightly knit, he continued his briefing:
"And those mercenaries from Qohor were wiped out as well. That little brat is even more brutal than we imagined. He learned the Bolton family's methods—every captive was flayed alive and hung from spearheads.
"What's most terrifying is that no one knows what kind of sorcery he used. Those poor souls were forced to endure more than ten days of torment before finally dying. Quite a few nobles are now unwilling to go out raiding anymore. They're afraid of Robb."
Tywin listened with an unchanged expression. Holding a golden wine goblet, he used a small knife to cut off a piece of crackling skin from a roasted suckling pig and slowly chewed it.
"Poor Ser Amory Lorch," Tywin said calmly. "I still remember how bravely he performed when I took King's Landing and ordered him to kill the Mad King's granddaughter. He stabbed that little girl more than thirty times."
Though he said this aloud, anyone could tell that he didn't particularly care about the miserable fate of those men. His own son had already returned—everyone else was nothing more than pieces on his war board.
Kevan Lannister continued, "The flames of war in the Riverlands have already spread to Riverrun. The region around the Gods Eye that we control has been turned into a sea of fire. Livestock and supplies have all been seized."
Tywin swallowed the piece of pork skin. What he was eating now had been taken from the lands of House Leckway at Raventree.
Kevan looked somewhat vexed. "But recently, that boy Robb has been roaming the Riverlands with a force of unknown size. Every unit that encounters him is captured. Not a single man has escaped."
Tywin took a sip of wine to wash away the grease. "I underestimated this boy. I never thought he'd have the patience to avoid coming to Harrenhal for a decisive battle with me, and instead go around playing at royal campaigns."
Three hundred years ago, Harren the Black seized the resources of half of Westeros and built Harrenhal in the Riverlands.
Workers, gold, stone, and ancient weirwood timber thousands of years old were transported here without end. Tens of thousands of slaves died from exhaustion, and it took forty years to complete.
As a result, this fortress became the tallest and strongest in all of Westeros. Five massive towers blotted out the sky, its walls as solid as an iron bastion—no matter how many enemies there were, it could not be taken by force.
Unfortunately, Harren the Black encountered Aegon the Conqueror and his three great dragons.
Though even Aegon could not breach the walls, the surging dragonflame roasted everyone inside alive.
From that day on, House Hoare vanished from the world forever.
Every house that later acquired Harrenhal met with misfortune, and the place became a dark, cursed land.
Yet for the Lannister army occupying it, Harrenhal was the most suitable place on the entire continent to fight a decisive battle against the Stark forces.
That was why Tywin kept sending out small raiding parties to plunder the Riverlands—to force Robb into making a choice.
Tywin's strategic planning was nearly unrivaled in this world.
If Robb ignored him, the Riverlands nobles would lose patience and loyalty.
Even if Robb sent his army to raid the Westerlands, it would not make up for the loss of morale. They could reclaim supplies, but they could not save their friends and family back in the Riverlands.
Moreover, Tywin had long since prepared a contingency in the west.
Ser Stafford Lannister—Tywin's cousin and the brother of his late wife.
He was quietly assembling an army near Casterly Rock. Once the northern army invaded, they would pin them down.
At that point, Tywin could launch an attack himself and devour the forces of the Old Flayer, severely crippling the North.
If Robb chose to abandon everything and come to Harrenhal to fight him head-on, that would be even better. That was exactly what Tywin wanted.
Now that Robb had found a third way to break the deadlock, Tywin began to consider how to respond. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the table as he brewed his schemes, making the atmosphere in the room grow increasingly oppressive.
"It's a contest of endurance now," he said at last. "We don't have much time. We must deal with this troublesome little brat as soon as possible."
Tywin finally made up his mind. "Robb taking this step means the Riverlands nobles can no longer sit still. They want to protect their lands and their wealth.
"What we need to do is keep the pressure on. Continue raiding the Riverlands. As long as even one noble leaves Riverrun to defend his own territory, the Riverlands host will completely fall apart."
Ser Kevan Lannister reminded him, "Our men are also terrified. That boy Robb's methods are far too horrifying. No one is willing to go anymore."
Tywin sneered. "Hah. A pack of vultures. Before, they were practically kneeling and begging me to let them go raiding. Now they've gone soft. But even if they go, it's useless—they're no match for Robb."
Kevan Lannister had already guessed his brother's thoughts. "Ser Gregor Clegane? That would be a good choice. He might even be able to capture that little brat alive. Even if he's defeated, at least it won't end with no one escaping and leaving us completely blind."
"Yes—Gregor. Where is he now?"
"He just finished sacking Darry, but there wasn't much left there. It's said that Robb forced most of the nobles to take refuge in Riverrun."
Tywin frowned slightly. "Have the Mountain make a bigger spectacle of it. Send men to support him. Wait until that little brat Robb runs into the Mountain, then make your move."
Ser Gregor Clegane was infamous for his brutality. His massive, towering physique alone was enough to make many men cry at the sight of him.
Using him for this sort of task was perfectly appropriate.
Ser Kevan Lannister left the room to make the arrangements, while old Tywin remained in the study, deep in thought.
Tywin had great confidence in the Mountain's combat strength. Even if Robb wasn't captured alive, driving his forces back would be enough.
That would give those cowardly nobles under his command the courage to start looting again.
Beyond that, more contingencies still needed to be prepared.
After some thought, Tywin wrote several letters and secretly sent them out—one set to the lords stationed in the Westerlands, and another toward the direction of Riverrun in the north, where Roose Bolton's army was located.
After finishing, Tywin rubbed his temples wearily.
The current situation reminded him of many years ago, during the campaign against the Mad King.
Rebels everywhere. Westeros engulfed in flames.
What needed to be clarified now was simple:
Who was his enemy—and who was his friend?
Tywin muttered to himself, "Just watch… a mere brat of House Stark dares to call himself king…"
...
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(End Chapter)