Dragonstone boasts a famed Chamber of the Painted Table. Within it stands the Painted Table crafted by Aegon the Conqueror, displaying the whole of Westeros, a lasting symbol of royal authority and conquest.
At the Wolf's Den, Gendry also maintained a map hall, though there was no carved table. Instead, vast tapestries of the Known World hung along the walls. Even Gendry had to admire the craftsmanship of the Myrish artisans; their woven map tapestries were exquisite. Not only were the realms of Westeros rendered in vivid detail, but the castles and sigils of every house were carefully embroidered upon them.
An oval round table stood in the center of the hall, with the high-ranking officials of the Twin Cities seated around it. Gendry had established a well-structured system, clear and orderly, and he had no shortage of capable men beneath him. With the meeting convened, the hall was filled to capacity.
The Handsome Man served as financial steward. Qyburn oversaw intelligence. The old Fletcher acted as an advisor.
Longspear, Steel Fist, and Black Billy commanded the Wolf Pack. Greywolf and the former commander of the Long Lances led the Free Company. Brown Ben and Jorah were in charge of the Second Sons. Greywolf also headed the Royal Guard. Hallis and Morosh commanded the Stepstones fleet and the Twin Cities fleet. As for the Dothraki light cavalry, though nominally under Brown Ben's command, they were far more inclined to obey Gendry directly.
"The King has gone to Winterfell. He will surely bring Lord Eddard south with him," said the white-haired Maester Qyburn.
"Lord Eddard hasn't traveled south in nine years," the Handsome Man replied. "This time, at the King's request, he has no choice but to leave Winterfell."
At the sound of that name, Jorah still felt a flicker of unease. Years ago, when his sale of poachers into slavery was exposed, Lord Eddard had crossed half the realm to Bear Island to bring him to justice and sentence him to death. Sensing danger, Jorah fled overseas with his Hightower wife.
"If anyone here knows Lord Eddard best, it's Jorah," Qyburn said, gesturing for him to speak.
"Frankly, Lord Eddard was not as tall or handsome as his brother Brandon. He always wore a stern expression, and some outsiders mistook him for being cold. But in the North, he was deeply respected. His unwavering devotion to honor and his strict sense of justice earned him the loyalty and affection of many northern houses. Still, if Lord Eddard goes south, it may not be a good thing."
Though he had fled from him, Jorah still held Eddard in respect.
A hush settled over the room. All eyes turned to Jorah, waiting for him to continue.
"A northerner belongs in the North. If he goes south, there will be friction, especially in King's Landing, the most chaotic place in the realm. And when the war first began, Lord Eddard already despised House Lannister's schemes and betrayals."
There was a trace of sorrow in Jorah's voice. The clash between North and South felt much like his own bitter love.
"Whatever the case," the Handsome Man said, "the King summoning Great Lord Eddard could very well mean he is preparing for war against us."
"The King's authority still stands," Longspear analyzed. "With Lord Eddard at his side, he could coordinate the vast armies stretching from the North to the Reach."
"Vast armies?" Steel Fist's lips twitched. "I've heard the King has grown so fat he hardly resembles the man he once was. Do you think he can still lead troops in person?"
"Even so, the King remains beloved by warriors and hedge knights alike. He simply has little interest in governing," Jorah said in defense of King Robert. Of all of them, he was the most familiar with the upper circles of Westeros. "If he raises his banner, men will answer his call."
Robert's passion for tournaments and hunting had indeed drained countless golden dragons from the treasury. Yet his generosity and openhanded nature had won him the loyalty of many fighters. In his youth, King Robert had been unmatched in battle, like the Storm God reborn.
"If King Robert and Lord Eddard truly decide on war, the Starks and the Stormlands will stand with them without question. Lord Tywin, eager to support his son-in-law's claim and the throne, will surely send both troops and golden dragons. The Riverlands and the Vale will follow as well. The Vale is Lord Eddard's wife's homeland, and Robert Arryn is his nephew. As for the Reach, they will hurriedly provide grain and supplies. That leaves only Dorne. With its sparse population, whether it sends troops or not will not change the overall balance." Qyburn laid out the situation plainly.
Of the Seven Kingdoms, six would march beneath the crowned stag's banner. Their strength could not be dismissed.
"There's no need for undue fear," Gendry said calmly. "King's Landing has more internal troubles than we realize. Their armies may not even cross the Narrow Sea before chaos erupts at home. A direwolf and a lion dancing together? That was never going to last."
King's Landing was a city of powder kegs. Littlefinger's poisoning of Lord Jon, the long-standing enmity between Stark and Lannister, the truth of the King's trueborn children—any one of these would be explosive on its own. Worse still was the possibility that they would all ignite at once, the flames dragging the Seven Kingdoms into the mire of war.
"Even so, we must be prepared."
Gendry could not explain the sudden turn the situation would take, but he knew it was inevitable. Too many Lannisters surrounded the King. King's Landing had already become a pit of fire.
"First, the soldiers. Their training must be strengthened. The Wolf Pack Legion is our main force at present, second to none in combat strength. But the Free Company and the Second Sons must not slacken either."
He looked around at the assembled officers. This was something he had been keeping a firm grip on. Morale could rise, but it must never fall. Before war came, the army's spirit had to be fully stirred.
"Yes!"
"Yes!"
"Second, equipment. I want the best and the sturdiest weapons," Gendry said. "The craftsmen of Myr and the smiths of Tyrosh are now in our hands. Those fine suits of armor, warships, scorpion crossbows, and the triple-shot crossbows, we need them all."
"According to your orders, the armories of Myr and Tyrosh are working at full capacity. The craftsmen are also developing newer and more powerful crossbows and ballistae," the Handsome Man replied.
The Myrish had true dedication to their craft, and the smiths of Tyrosh were skilled as well. The war potential of both cities had to be squeezed to the limit. Their artisans could fashion gilded helmets and armor of gold and silver, shaping helms into birds and beasts, trimmed with precious metals.
"Lord Governor, there is another matter," Brown Ben suddenly said. "Those Dothraki still refuse to wear armor. The horse lords say armor is the mark of a coward."
"For now, leave the horse lords be. Customs are not easily changed," Gendry answered with a trace of helplessness.
The Dothraki excelled at riding, ambushes, charges, and breaking formations. Yet they were stubborn to the core, absolutely unwilling to don armor. Treating Dothraki riders as disposable troops was a waste, but they insisted on fighting that way. It seemed the only option was to train the younger Dothraki boys instead.
"There is another matter, regarding our landing point," Maester Qyburn said. "At the Lord Governor's request, the generals and I have discussed several possibilities."
Qyburn studied the locations marked on the map before explaining them one by one.
"If Westeros falls into chaos, our fleet must land first and seize the initiative."
"There are two castles we must choose between. One is Storm's End. The other is Dragonstone," Qyburn said slowly.
"Storm's End is nearly impossible to take. Even Lord Mace Tyrell failed after a long siege. Dragonstone is no easier. It still carries the stench of Valyrian sorcery and is just as hard to conquer. Why not bypass them altogether and strike King's Landing directly?" Longspear proposed boldly.
"My lord, your courage is admirable, but war at sea is not so simple. It would be better to seize a stretch of land first and make it our base. If we head straight for King's Landing, we may be trapped at sea," Morosh the Myrman emphasized. In naval skill, the Onion Knight, the Pirate King of Lys, and Morosh were nearly evenly matched.
"For now, we leave King's Landing aside," Gendry said, offering an even bolder idea.
He pointed to the narrow, barren peninsula north of the city.
"The third path is to move north to Crackclaw Point, stir up the half-wild clans there, then march off the peninsula and seize Harrenhal, using it to threaten King's Landing. That way, we won't need to commit too many troops to garrison duty, since there are no major cities or towns on the peninsula."
Even with such a force, Gendry believed King's Landing should be taken slowly. The capital had too many mouths to feed and too many unruly mobs. A steady advance was wiser. As for King's Landing, he would wait until all its powder kegs had exploded before making a move. For now, he would hold firm and wait for chaos to consume Westeros.
"That might be worth trying," Jorah said, his eyes lighting up. The Crackclaws were fierce by nature and had long been loyal to House Targaryen. If they truly rose as one, they would surely bring enormous trouble to King's Landing.
...