Westeros.
Crackclaw Point.
Dyre Den.
To ensure only the best warriors from Crackclaw Point were selected for the Order of the Dragon's Wings, they had to engage in a brutal battle. So far, over thirty men had been injured, and four had even lost their lives. After such fierce competition, 300 elite warriors, clad in black armor and cloaks, were finally chosen.
"These lads could charge through an army of 1,000 men!" Bennard exclaimed, practically drooling as he gazed at the 300 carefully selected knights. If he weren't so old, he would've joined them himself.
"1,000 men? If Your Grace gives us such fine armor and we can only charge through 1,000 men, they don't deserve to wear it! If these boys can't take on ten men each, they might as well go home and breastfeed their babies. Put these beautiful suits of armor on the nannies!" Eustace Brune, head of House Brune, bellowed. He was deaf in one ear, and his voice made those around him wince.
The reason for his harsh words? Twenty-seven of his sons and grandsons had been selected for the Order of the Dragon's Wings. Including his cousins, one in every five members of the Order was a Brune. It was a source of great pride for him.
"Your Grace's letter said he'd land on Crackclaw Point in no more than three months. He's bringing back over a thousand warships from Slaver's Bay! And he'll have at least 100,000 soldiers! No one can withstand that force!" Eustace said, gazing longingly to the east, as if he could already see the warships massing on the horizon like waves.
"But we still have to watch out for that old fool from House Staunton," a middle-aged man in his forties remarked. It was Dickon Crabb, patriarch of House Crabb.
"Back when King Aerys reigned, Staunton was the one who made him suspicious of Prince Rhaegar. And when Robert attacked, the man didn't send a single soldier!"
Before Viserys arrived at Crackclaw Point, Dickon's own sister had been forced to work as a prostitute in King's Landing just to survive. Viserys had changed the fortunes of the peninsula's nobles, and now they were all eager to win military glory in his name.
"Why don't we take Rook's Rest before Your Grace makes his move?" Eustace exclaimed eagerly.
"No!" Dickon replied firmly. "Your Grace specifically said in his letter that we're not to take any action without his permission."
"You're not bullying me just because I can't read, are you?" Eustace shouted angrily, taking a fighting stance. The people around him quickly stepped forward to calm him down before things got out of hand.
...
King's Landing
In the past year, fewer than thirty warships had been built across Westeros.
House Baratheon, House Lannister, House Tully, House Stark, and House Arryn—these great houses were all actively preparing for war. But troubling events had arisen in the Vale and the Riverlands. Chaos reigned: weapons were being stolen, warehouses destroyed, and refugees were increasing by the day.
In short, the Lords and Sers had one message:
"We're suffering here, and the number of troops we can send may be reduced in the future."
It was as if they were giving their feudal lords a warning.
If that news could be likened to boiling a frog slowly in warm water, then Viserys's looting of Slaver's Bay and his crusade against Qarth was like tossing them directly into scalding oil. It signaled that the alliance of 'stag, falcon, wolves, fish, and lion' had little time left.
"He's brought back more than a thousand warships."
"His army is endless," they whispered.
In King's Landing, when it was first learned that Viserys had sailed to Slaver's Bay, many wealthy merchants and nobles began returning to the city, feeling it was a safer place to be. However, when word spread that he had returned with an unprecedentedly large fleet and army, panic set in once more. Those same nobles, now in a hurry, attempted to flee west.
The wealthier districts of the city were clustered near the Old Gate. Upon hearing fresh reports from across the Narrow Sea, the wealthy began packing their belongings and preparing to leave. But just as they were about to depart, a group of gold-cloaked guards blocked the Old Gate.
"By order of the Hand of the King, no one is allowed to leave the city!" the captain of the guard declared.
The long line of carriages piled up at the gate, and their passengers—rich and impatient—began cursing Tyrion, blaming him for their predicament.
"This damned Imp! He wants us all to die with the Baratheons and Lannisters!"
"No wonder he's a dwarf—this is the gods' punishment for Tywin!"
"Seven hells, we never should have come back!"
The rich and noble grumbled furiously, but the Gold Cloaks stood firm, unmoved by the outcry. Tensions quickly escalated. A noble, who looked like a landed knight, lashed out at one of the Gold Cloaks. Predictably, he was quickly overwhelmed by a group of them, and blood soon splattered the ground. The nobles and wealthy who had been clamoring to leave King's Landing now hurriedly turned back the way they came.
Tyrion stood not far away, watching the chaos unfold alongside Bronn, his face expressionless. Bronn, however, wasn't one to hold back.
"Damn it, I should've let you die in the Eyrie," Bronn muttered, clearly irritated.
Tyrion let out a dry laugh. "Haha, but you didn't. And now you've got my money and a knighthood from the king. You won't find a better employer than me, even if you leave now."
Bronn sighed, exasperated. Back when Viserys had warned the mercenaries of Westeros, he'd made it clear that anyone who joined the usurper's army wouldn't be pardoned. Bronn had taken the risk for a hefty reward, but now he was stuck. When he had escorted Tyrion back to King's Landing, the news of the fleet's destruction hit like a hammer blow. There was no choice but to stay with Tyrion. Without him, Bronn wouldn't even have enough to eat.
Resigning himself to his fate, Bronn sighed again. Tyrion, sensing his frustration, changed the subject.
"How is King Robert? Didn't he say something about wanting to marry Lord Ned's daughter? Still thinking about that?" Bronn asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Our king is not Aerys, and he's not mad enough to do that," Tyrion replied dryly.
The two had seen little of Robert since the day he stripped Ned Stark of his titles. The Starks had been exiled to a mansion outside the Red Keep, and Robert's temper had only worsened since. Cersei was pregnant, but Robert couldn't have cared less. When he found out, he cursed and said, "If she gives me another blonde, I'll sell her to a brothel."
Neither Cersei nor Tywin had dared respond to the humiliation. It was common knowledge that Robert had even beaten Cersei in public, right there in the Throne Hall, with the entire court watching. Tyrion, watching the spectacle, had half-expected his brother Jaime to kill Robert on the spot.
As Tyrion and Bronn prepared to turn back, they were interrupted by bad news: The Red Viper had escaped!