The sky over the Riverlands was as gloomy as the dark walls of Harrenhal. Fine rain fell, swallowing the sound of hooves.
Golden Tooth Castle guarded the main road that ran from the Riverlands through the mountain passes and straight into the Westerlands. In theory, any army marching from the Riverlands into the Westerlands had to pass through Golden Tooth Castle.
It was a poor choice of route. Golden Tooth Castle held the high ground and had the advantage of terrain.
In the distance, near the mountain pass by Golden Tooth Castle, "Winterwolf" and part of the Riverlands army had already made camp.
At the highest point, a golden quartered banner flew from the tallest pole. On either side were the banners of the leaping trout and the ice-field direwolf.
Beneath Golden Tooth Castle, discarded weapons and armor still lay scattered about. To force their way toward the castle, the two sides had already fought several skirmishes.
The rows of barracks were arranged in good order. Great Lord Eddard Stark had long experience in war and great prestige, and the lords of The North all obeyed his command.
In Great Lord Eddard's white command tent, Eddard had naturally taken over Robb's authority. As the heir, Robb Stark continued to learn from his father's words and example.
Robb could see the gap between himself and Great Lord Eddard at a glance. After all, though he counted as one of Westeros's rare young military talents, he still fell far short in prestige and political experience.
Great Lord Eddard Stark and his son mainly commanded Northerners. The Riverlands had been burned and ravaged in every manner by the Westerlands lords, leaving vast stretches of muddy, ruined family strongholds in need of rebuilding, so many Riverland lords had returned to their own homes.
Most bizarre of all, behind the army's barracks stood a large fenced wooden stockade, where a great number of grey wolves moved about.
The largest among them was the alpha female, Nymeria, huge and powerful.
Nymeria's eyes were yellow.
"We're nearly ready," Edmure Tully, Governor of the Three Rivers, said impatiently to his brother-in-law, Eddard Stark. "If we keep waiting, and Your Grace leads the Reach knights and storm knights to take Oldtown and then Casterly Rock, we'll be mocked for sitting uselessly before a stronghold."
"Wait, observe, and then strike. Edmure, that is what a commander must learn," Ser Brynden "The Blackfish" Tully said to Edmure.
As his uncle, The Blackfish knew Edmure was eager to prove himself, but talent for battle and command was not something one was simply born with.
Gendry and Robb were both much younger than Edmure, yet both had already made names for themselves.
For one thing, they had talent. For another, they knew how to learn.
Unfortunately, The Blackfish felt his nephew still lacked a great deal. Edmure did not have the makings of an outstanding knight or commander. Such things depended too much on natural gifts.
"I already have a plan," Eddard said. "The Wolf Pack has now scouted out a small path. We need only cross Golden Tooth Mountain. After that, we need not concern ourselves with Golden Tooth Castle behind us and can march straight on Casterly Rock. Once the Lannisters are destroyed, Golden Tooth Castle will serve no real purpose."
"That's a good plan, Father. Speed is vital in war. The most important thing is to surround Casterly Rock quickly. Arya's direwolf, Nymeria, also controls a large pack of wolves," Robb said with a nod.
"I still think we have the advantage in numbers. Maybe we should launch a frontal assault on Golden Tooth Castle first," Edmure muttered.
Eddard glanced at his brother-in-law, somewhat helpless. Eddard had stationed troops here not merely because they held the advantage in numbers, but because the Westerlands had suffered heavy losses and was badly weakened.
The last time, Edmure had stationed four thousand men at Golden Tooth, only to lose them all in one blow. After that came the crushing defeat of the tens of thousands beneath Riverrun. It almost made him seem like a Lannister spy.
Edmure meant well and had never committed any outrageous acts of bullying men or abusing women, but Great Lord Hoster's children were simply mediocre in ability.
"At the same time, Lord Roose Bolton has a message sent from Highgarden that we need to hear," Eddard said, signaling for Roose to speak.
Expressionless, Roose began reading the contents of the letter. "His Grace King Gendry the Breaker I advanced from Bitterbridge and marched day and night, his longships traveling downstream.
"He has now annihilated the false king Euron Greyjoy himself in the Battle of Oldtown, along with the false king's wife, Malora Hightower, Commander of the Iron Fleet Victarion, 'the Stern' Adric, and the traitorous lords and Ironborn who followed them. Lord Leyton Hightower, who surrendered to Euron, bore the name of traitor and has taken his own life.
"Your Grace Gendry has already settled the affairs of Oldtown. Ser Garlan Tyrell and Lord Randyll Tarly have set out along the Ocean Road, the Redwyne fleet has entered the Sunset Sea, and Your Grace's main army will depart from Highgarden to attack Silver Mountain and Deep Den."
That long string of names sounded almost like a menu, but there was no doubt that every one of them had become a wandering ghost. Each was another mark of the King's brilliant military achievements.
"What?" Edmure stared, dumbfounded. "How could it happen so quickly? That whole damned Ironborn lot was wiped out all at once?"
"That is correct, Great Lord Edmure. Euron is dead, and most of The North's trouble is resolved," Roose said indifferently. "Not only is House Greyjoy finished, House Hightower has also fallen from grace because of its treason."
"In that case, the only false king left is that child Tommen." The Blackfish stood to one side, looking at the battle lines on the map. "The Battle of the Whispering Woods, the raid on the camp, then the Battle of the Blackwater Rush and the Battle of Oldtown. I truly have to admire it."
Luring the enemy deep in, then guiding events according to the situation.
Then concentrating superior forces and devouring the enemy in one sweep. This way of fighting was indeed like the King's art of war.
The Kingslayer Jaime Lannister and the Slaver's Bay coalition led by Triarch Malaquo had all been defeated by the King. Now it had simply been Crow's Eye Euron's turn. Farther back, there had even been Khal Zekko, Khal Drogo, the Magisters of the two daughters, and the Sellswords.
Luring the enemy deep in and turning the situation to one's advantage sounded simple, but for a commander to hold firm and seize the moment required something almost mystical, along with life-or-death judgment.
"The King truly commands with the force of fire, my lords." In truth, Roose was no less shocked than Edmure and The Blackfish. Marching out of the Stormlands, advancing from Bitterbridge, and then fighting a great battle against the Ironborn. The King's use of troops and his efficiency were far from ordinary.
Roose knew very well the foundations of House Hightower. They were known as the uncrowned kings of The Reach and were faintly regarded as its foremost lordly house.
For Hightower to surrender the lower city under Euron's surprise attack, Euron's strength must have been terrifying.
Yet even such an opponent had suffered complete defeat at Gendry's hands.
In military talent and the art of command, Gendry had reached true mastery.
"When Robert and I raised our banners against the Mad King and his son, the two of us were only twenty. Back then, the lords praised us for being young and promising. I never thought that after all these years, Robert's son would prove even more ferocious than Robert himself," Eddard said thoughtfully. "How many kings does that make now?"
"Renly, Euron..." Roose murmured.
"When I saw Robert raise his warhammer on The Trident, with no one able to stop him, I thought he was the fiercest warrior of my generation, unmatched by all others. I never expected that more than ten years later, Robert's son would have already surpassed him."
Eddard thought of his dear friend, whose corpse had likely been eaten down to nothing by worms. Fortunately, his son could still carry on that lingering might and create even greater glory.
"In any case, the advantage is ours. Having a great warrior like the King on our side is far better than having him on the other side," The Blackfish said with a hearty laugh. "We cannot wait any longer. We will bypass Golden Tooth Castle and march straight onto the River Road."
"The King has arrived, Lord Eddard." A very young squire hurriedly pushed open the flap and entered the tent.
It was Lord Edric Dayne, squire to Lord Beric Dondarrion.
"What?" Eddard and the others were shocked. That speed was almost unnatural.
From Highgarden to Silver Mountain and then Deep Den, even the fastest army would have trouble crossing the mountains.
Unless... unless the King had already ridden the dragons.
"Yes, Lord Eddard. The King is riding a Dragon," Edric said with a nod.
Eddard rose from the table at once and led his entire retinue out of the tent into the drizzle.
"There, Lord." Edric pointed.
High in the sky, a black speck had indeed appeared from the southwest. Though the dragons' full forms had yet to reveal themselves, their roars were already beginning to carry through the rain.
The dragon roars came like waves, one after another.
Dragons. They truly were Dragons.
Through the curtain of rain, the Dragons flew in from the direction of the Westerlands, growing larger and larger.
The forms of three dragons gradually became clear, their outlines sharper with every moment. A black dragon, a white dragon, and a green dragon.
Seeing dragons brought joy. Roose Bolton stared blankly at the circling dragons in the sky and felt a fervent sense of devotion.
All the horses began to grow restless. The dragons' roars, the dragons' forms.
Inside the wolf pen, pack after pack of Greywolves went weak in the limbs, dazedly circling in place.
The she-wolf Nymeria looked up at the dragons in the sky. By instinct, she wanted to roar a few times, but in the end she lowered her head. This was the pressure carried in the Bloodline.
"Dragons. The King's dragons..."
Everyone in the camp looked up at the sky. This miracle restored to the world inspired awe no matter how many times one saw it.
"For the King!"
"For the King!"
The soldiers burst into wave after wave of cheers, roaring like surf.
"Dragons are here?" Arya Stark hurried out from another place and also looked up at the sky.
The Dragon let out a deafening roar, circled several times, then landed in the center of the camp.
The black Dragon came down in the middle of the camp. Its lava-red eyes seemed like the greeting of some ancient evil god, making hearts tremble.
Everyone felt the air grow faintly warmer. The Dragon brought with it the scent of fire and brimstone.
Gendry was the first to leap down from the black dragon's back. Behind the King, the black dragon Balerion watched the lords and knights with crimson eyes.
The lords could not suppress the urge to prostrate themselves on the ground.
Amid the rain, Gendry appeared before them.
Gendry wore no helmet, allowing the raindrops to wash over his cheeks.
He was a tall, imposing warrior, dressed in the wondrous black Valyrian steel armor known as "Dragonkeeper."
The edges of the scales were crimson-gold, and as Gendry moved, their light shimmered.
Gendry's neat short black hair was unadorned. His clean-shaven face seemed carved by blade and axe, combining soft beauty with firm, martial bearing, as though he were the embodiment of strength and grace.
At Gendry's sword belt hung two swords, Just Maid and the Highest, along with a Valyrian dagger, part of Crow's Eye's gear, and the dagger Robert had left behind.
Gendry faced the kneeling crowd. Man and dragon stood in the great camp like towering mountains.
The one and only storm above the Seven Kingdoms.
Though there was little sunlight at that moment, the crimson-gold glow of the Valyrian steel armor and the fiery heat brought by the Dragon still made the King seem like a blazing sun, scorching, unrestrained, and beyond all others.
"Greetings, Your Grace!"
"Greetings, Your Grace!"
"Storm Dragonlord!" "Storm Dragonlord!"
Fear born from the depths of their bones made everyone lower their heads, not daring to look directly up at the King.
Even men as experienced as Eddard and Roose felt a reverence like gazing up at a towering mountain. Nobility, killing intent, grandeur, refinement, all of it formed the aura of a true monarch.
Eddard had only ever seen such a presence in the young Robert and in Rhaegar back then. Without question, in all the world today, only Gendry possessed it.
"Rise, my lords."
Gendry reached out and helped his pale-faced female companion climb down from the Dragon. It was Little Rose, still dizzy from the clouds.
"A bit bumpy, wasn't it, Lady Margaery?"
"No, not at all. Your Grace, Your Grace's Dragon is simply too marvelous." Margaery Tyrell straightened her dress and smiled sweetly, eager to please.
"Perhaps he likes you very much." Gendry laughed. His palm was long and strong, and Margaery held the King's hand with great care.
Gendry glanced at Margaery. Little Rose's looks were certainly fine, but roughly speaking, the girl's bust might not even match Sansa's, let alone the Black Pearl's.
Speaking of the Black Pearl, she was still writing letters to Gendry from Braavos without cease, though Gendry had always read them without replying.
Margaery quietly followed behind the King and curtsied to the assembled lords.
Eddard and the others could only feel their eyes opened. Power. This was the dignity power brought.
Even a lady of House Tyrell had to curry favor with the King.
Then the green Dragon landed, and Gendry helped Daenerys and Sansa down from the dragon.
The two Dragonriders stood before the lords, and every lord felt the urge to look up in awe.
"Can I ride a dragon too?" Arya asked softly.
"Not now, little sister," Gendry said, looking gently at the little wolf girl.
"Are those gathered wolves your doing?" Gendry asked Arya.
"They're Nymeria's pack," Arya replied. "They can attack lions."
That could not really be called a lie. Rather than letting such a large pack of wolves trouble the Riverlands, it was better to send them all onto the battlefield.
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