"The Starks have retreated to High Heart." Ser Harys Swift reported. The old, yellow-clad knight looked worn and dirty. He had spent the last two days on the road harassing the starks during their retreat from Harrenhal. "They've made camp around the hill."
"Fools." Ser Tytos hissed.
"It is curious why the Stark boy hasn't retreated back to Riverrun." Ser Kevan mused. "How many men have they lost?"
"Some twenty-five thousand," Lord Rykker answered. "Ten thousand more than our own."
"That still leaves the boy with over fifteen thousand." Lord Banefort said, adding his voice to the conversation now. "Riverrun is probably the smallest of the great castles of Westeros."
"You are correct, Banefort," Tywin said, speaking for the first time. "But do not think that the boy will be alone."
"My lord?"Lord Marbrand asked, confused.
"Robb Stark still has many allies, my lord." Prince Oberyn drawled. "He has probably called for aid already."
"Most likely the Blackfish or his bastard brother," Tywin said, adding to the dornishman's point. "Both have hosts that number over ten thousand."
"So what do we do?" Ser Harys asked.
"We march in the morning," Tywin said crisply. "We will attack the Stark boy and finish him off before he has a chance to lick his wounds. We will break his army on the hill of High Heart and send his men fleeing into the western hills. Robb Stark will not be among them. If he is not captured, then I want him killed."
"What of his other armies?" Lord Rykker asked.
"Once the Tyrell's and stormlords are brought to heel, then we shall march on the remaining rivermen and defeat them as well," Tywin answered.
"And the northmen?"
"Roose Bolton can deal with them," Oberyn said, waving aside the man's gesture. "Once they see that there is no longer a point being in the south, they will return to their frozen wasteland."
"You are correct, Prince Oberyn," Tywin said. "We will help the Bolton's as necessary to make sure they retake control of the region. Other than that, I will not march a host into the North to simply deal with skirmishes."
"Wise words, Lord Lannister." Prince Oberyn praised as he leaned back in his seat, sipping on what seemed to be an ever-present goblet of wine in his hand.
Tywin pretended not to notice the compliment. "That will be all," he ordered. "Prepare the men. We leave at first light."
The lords nodded and left the room, leaving Tywin and two others behind. Kevan glanced at the man known as the Red Viper, curious as to why the man has stayed. The younger Lannister usually stayed behind to discuss the battle with his brother.
"Is all well, Prince Oberyn?" Kevan asked curiously.
The dornishman gave the old knight a languid smile. "I would hope so," he said. "If you have stayed behind, then it is to discuss something with your brother, something that could very well include my men and I."
Kevan opened his mouth to respond, then quickly closed it. The prince had a point. Whatever Kevan and Tywin would talk about, the dornish cavalry would most certainly play a part.
"You performed well during the battle, Prince Oberyn," Tywin said, still speaking in his flat, emotionless voice.
Oberyn gave a mock bow, which he somehow managed to look graceful even while seated. "I am happy to be of service, my lord. Once again, Westeros is reminded of Dornish steel."
"Indeed. The battle was becoming rather frustrating until you and your men arrived." Kevan said. "The stark's front was close to breaking our center."
"So I heard," Oberyn responded. "It seems the Stormlands breeds great warriors."
Kevan nodded. "Aye, but your riders made quick work of them. I saw you led the charge yourself."
The dornish prince had done just that. Garbed in leather and bronze armor and golden silk, the man wielded a strange spear tipped with a short blade and a shield that shined like the sun. he was a fearsome sight and looked elegant and extremely deadly when he fought.
Oberyn shrugged. "What better way to prove loyalty to our new allies," he explained. "I hear that your flank was close to breaking before I arrived."
Kevan grimaced. "The tyrell knights fought well," he said. "The Stark boy hammered my flank from the east as well. I was able to bring my host in and put our enemies to our front just before you arrived."
"So the boy was trying to turn your flank." Oberyn mused. "How ironic that it was his men that were driven towards the God's Eye."
"Is there something you both need?" Tywin snapped finally.
Kevan cleared his throat, surprised with how easily he had been pulled into a conversation with the dornish prince. "Sorry, my lord. I thought you should know how many nobles die in battle."
"Any that I should care about?" Tywin asked, still annoyed.
"Ser Lyle Crakehall and Ser Raynald Westerling were lost in the battle. Ser Lyle died fighting Garlan Tyrell and the Westerling boy died from the cavalry charge to my flank." Kevan explained.
"How terrible," Tywin grunted. "Have their bones sent back to their homes when the war is over."
Kevan nodded. "It will be done."
"Is there something you need, Prince Oberyn?" Tywin asked.
Oberyn shook his head. "No, my lord," he said, standing up. "Though, if I may broach a question; has the Stark boy surprised you?"
Tywin raised an eyebrow. "Speak plainly," he said, his voice dangerously low.
Prince Oberyn placed his hands behind his back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Well, my lord, Robb Stark has certainly surprised me," he explained. "He's a boy as green as grass and is doing very well for himself."
"He's surrounded by good advisors. Do not give the boy too much credit." Tywin scoffed.
"He did not have them when he gained the Reach and Stormlands as his allies." Oberyn countered. "The boy has been absurdly lucky that it's getting hard to pass off his achievements as mere good fortune."
"Well, his good luck seems to have abandoned him." Tywin snapped. "He lost the battle and will soon lose his life."
Oberyn, sensing that he had pushed the Old Lion to the brink, simply bowed and left, leaving the two brothers alone.
Oberyn
"My prince?" the rider said, bowing as the prince emerged from the shadows. The two were meeting in Oberyn's personal quarters in the heart of the dornish encampment. There would be no prying eyes there.
"You have word from my brother?" Oberyn asked, looking up from his reading.
The man shook his head. "From Lord Yronwood on Dragonstone." the man replied, handing the scroll to the prince. "And your nephew."
Oberyn raised an eyebrow and opened the scroll, quickly reading it. A sly smile spread across the man's handsome face as he threw the message into the fire. "You have done well, my friend. Go, find yourself a woman a drink."
The man hesitated before looking behind him. "I did not come alone," he said.
Oberyn's smile disappeared in an instant, his hand moving slowly towards the dagger he had on his desk. "You were followed?" he asked.
The man shook his head, moving to the side as another person entered the tent. He wore a red hooded cloak, but it failed to fully cover the golden armor he wore or the blue hair that tumbled out of the hood.
"Hello Uncle." the man said, throwing back his hood.
He was a tall, strapping young man, with elegant facial features that seemed a little off due to his blue hair, which hung loosely down his back and shoulders. His armor was bright gold, with one arm adorned with multiple golden bands. Each band marked with a skull over crossed spears.
The mark of the Golden Company.
"Aegon." Oberyn breathed, standing up. "You are supposed to be on Dragonstone preparing the attack."
"Lord Connington can deal with that," he said dismissively. "I came to hear your report."
"The battle went in favor of the Lannisters, just as we planned," Oberyn said. "The Stark boy has retreated to a hill called High Heart and has dug in there."
"And Tywin will go after him?" Aegon continued.
Oberyn nodded. "He will."
"Good," Aegon said, smiling fiercely. "There is word that the Vale is rising up. Lysono's spies say that Lord Royce is leading them."
"Then they will surely march to Stark's aid," Oberyn said. "This does not bode well for us."
"Perhaps it might," Aegon said. "When Tywin marches on the starks, keep an eye to the east. When the Vale forces are close, leave and return to us at King's Landing."
Oberyn nodded, realizing what would happen if the Vale joined the fight. "I will see it done," he promised.
Aegon grinned, clasping arms with his uncle. "Next time we meet, I will be on my rightful throne."
"You know that if the Vale joins the fight, that puts five kingdoms against us." Oberyn pointed out.
Aegon snorted. "They will see our power and kneel before his rightful king," he answered, his voice filled with a young man's passion.
Oberyn didn't feel the same, but couldn't bring himself to correct his nephew. Something he and his brother Doran had worried about was the boy being raised by Jon Connington.
Would he be told about his grandfather?
It seems like he wasn't.
"I will see you in a few weeks Nephew," Oberyn said finally. "When you are seated on the throne."