I was impressed with my Stormguard. Their plans were a little rough, but they all got into the spirit of it. As a fun exercise, I had each of them present their plans and then ask them to champion someone else's plan instead. Ser Theo, Ser Gladden, and Lum of all people did the best. Brienne was a bit of a disappointment, but given the slow rate she had to speak at, it was fine. Ser Jaspar and Ser Barlow were not good at this; it seemed they were basically blunt instruments. I'd try to develop them a bit more, but if nothing else, they were great warriors and still a value-add to the Stormguard. Ser Lyle was somewhere in the middle in terms of practicality.
In the meantime, I ultimately chose to take the army west. We sent a messenger to Ser Barristan to turn around and head north and west. It would take him a few days to catch up, but the enemy did not seem to be looking for a fight. In fact, based on my outriders' reports they had little in the way of mounts, which matched what our earlier reports had suspected.
The banners of Karstark and Bolton were the only Northern ones spotted; the rest were those of the Riverlands. That probably didn't mean that it was only Karstark and Bolton levies and men-at-arms – other houses probably detached their foot to serve alongside them. Or at least I suspected as much; either way, with the numbers in play, they had us outnumbered, but no longer unreasonably so.
The enemy army veered north, and it became apparent that they would be bunkering in Harrenhal. The fortress was absurdly formidable. It was the largest castle in not just the Riverlands but all of Westeros. Its size had not saved it from the dragons during Aegon's Conquest, however. The dragon fire had done incredible damage, and the fortress was not nearly so impenetrable as it had once been. It still had a ridiculously large curtain wall that not even the tallest siege tower or ladder could reach. It also had a ready source of fresh water via The God's Eye, the largest lake in Westeros. Taking the castle was basically an impossibility, so of course it was time to take it.
"Take it?" Ser Gladden asked in confusion. "You mean besiege it. It is risky with the disparity in our numbers, but if they don't want to try to face us in the open field, we can pen them up."
I smiled. "I mean what I say, ser. It will not be easy, but the apparent impossibility of it is what allows the possibility of it."
I was met with looks of disbelief, which was fine. It was a tall order to attack even a damaged Harrenhal.
"Remember, the whole secret lies in perplexing the enemy, so they cannot fathom our real intent."
The whole operation would be predicated on catching whoever commanded them with their pants down. If I had to guess, it would likely be Edmure Tully as heir to the Riverlands as the person in charge. My uncle would have gone with the horse, and without the Stark banners, likely Eddard and Robb went with him. I could be wrong, of course, which was why it was good that I still had a couple of Riverland knights to offer to ransom up at a parley.
If conditions were different than I thought, or if something surprising occurred, I could always not attack. I'd have a bit of egg on my face with my Stormguard, but that was fine. I was not so proud that I believed myself infallible. The entire point of a General Staff was to have your ideas challenged.
We marched and sure enough, the enemy occupied the fortress of Harrenhall. The rest of my army arrived, and we set up our usual defensive perimeter, even the anti-cavalry holes, despite the lack of steeds on our opponents' side. Habits were important to engrain – just because we didn't think that we had to worry about a mounted assault didn't mean that we shouldn't prepare for the eventuality. I wasn't the only one who could come up with a surprise; best to be prepared and not need it rather than to be unprepared and need the defenses.
Ser Barristan, along with many of the Stormlords, was eager to meet with me. So I convened with my principal commanders, which included Lord Caspar Wylde, Lord Alesander Staedmon, and Ser Bonifer Hasty. I brought them up to speed on the outrider battle, the split of the enemy forces, and our arrival here at Harrenhal. Ser Bonifer was most curious about the rumors about me healing Lum, and I simply told him that I did my best to patch him up and the rest was out of my hands. How he took that was up to him.
"The first part of our plan is to give every appearance that we want to draw them out of Harrenhal and fight them. If they accept, all the better. You are my Stormlords; they outnumber us, but anything less than two-to-one means that we have the advantage!"
My lords roared with pride, though frankly speaking, my statement wasn't quite true. Quantity mattered. However, we had some critical advantages. One, my men were simply better. I had a higher elite-to-levy ratio than the forces in Harrenhal. I had more knights, and they were better equipped. Two, they had also tasted victory recently, while the Riverlands had suffered a dispiriting march. If they did meet me in the field, I would be well pleased.
"Lum knows what I need in terms of resources to make this a success. He will speak with our quartermasters and take the necessary steps. I also want any and all instruments of noise within the camp found, be they horns, trumpets, drums, or anything else. We will shame these River lords and their Northern allies."
That was good enough for now. We sent the messenger to ask for a parley to discuss the ransom of the two knights, as well as a discussion on terms. I left the message vague, as curiosity would cause the Tully lord to bite as much as anything else. As before, a simple five from each side would meet. They insisted on meeting within arrow range of Harrenhal, and I had no issues with it. The house that held the words "Family, Duty, Honor" was highly unlikely to stage an ambush, especially if their young lord was within Brienne range.
Brienne of course was at my side, as well as Ser Jaspar, as my two Stormguard protectors. With me as well were Ser Bonifer and Lord Alesander. Ser Bonifer annoyed me, but he was useful. We approached when they opened the great gates of Harrenhal. Up close, the damn thing looked like it was built for the rumored giants north of the Wall rather than mere humans.
Riding out to meet us was Lord Edmure. With him were Lord Rickard Karstark, Lord Jonos Bracken, Lord Tytos Blackwood, and Lord Clement Piper. I knew the Bracken and Blackwood rivalry was a fierce thing; it was surprising that Edmure brought them along. Piper was likely unhappy about the death of his son, so I was glad for his involvement.
"Lord Edmure, thank you for meeting with me. I have a pair of knights who long to return home."
Edmure looked at me, keeping his face unnaturally smooth.
"Name your ransom price and speak of the terms you wrote of."
"Oh yes, that." I let my voice change in pitch. "I have no desire to put the Riverlands through more war and sorrow. You have sworn fealty to a false King, but I do not seek to hold grudges. Renounce your fealty to Stannis and swear to the true King of Westeros, and we can depart the Riverlands in peace."
Lord Jonos snorted. "Surely you jest; we are winning this war. Even as we speak, Mace Tyrell is likely storming King's Landing and putting your family to the sword."
My thoughts went to Tommen; for Mace Tyrell's sake, he had better not be doing that. I knew that grandfather was outnumbered, but he had Lord Beric with him and the strength of the Marcher Lords.
"I think not, my lord. You are not the Paramount Lord of the Riverlands; what does Ser Edmure have to say?"
Edmure shook his head. "Please don't waste my time. My answer is no; we will not swear to a bastard born of incest."
Ser Bonifer raised his voice loudly. "Do not blaspheme against the Seven, Edmure of House Tully. This has already been decided by the Trial of Seven. Joffrey of House Baratheon is the trueborn son of Robert Baratheon."
Edmure sighed. "We don't care what farce of a trial you had; the answer is no. Now name your ransom."
I looked him square in the eyes. "I propose this – take your men out of Harrenhal and face me in the field. Prior to your doing so, I will release both knights to your care. You outnumber us – if my scouts are right – by more than 8,000 men. Should you lose, my terms would be quite generous, the same as I offered – forswear your oaths to the false King and be welcomed back into the fold. Should we lose, we will surrender unconditionally."
Edmure's façade finally cracked as he laughed. "You are a bold one, but I'm no fool. You've blinded us, so we don't know how many more of you are out there. This isn't even half of the Stormlands' muster."
"The rest of the Stormlands are not here; I swear that upon the honor of my house. Shall I bring Ser Barristan up to swear the same thing?"
Lord Blackwood looked down at me from his absurd height, "We aren't going to leave a perfectly good, defensible position to fight on your terms, girl. This is as good as won – there's no need to risk battle."
My companions bristled at his tone and words, but I merely locked eyes with him and smiled.
"Girl? You fear facing a girl in battle? Did my grandfather unman you so much in his brief time pillaging your lands?"
Blackwood moved his horse forward as his faced reddened, but Edmure pulled him back.
"I was told by Stannis not to even engage with you, but I do care about my knights. I will not ride out and face you; I have my orders from my King, and no base taunting will make me forswear them."
I allowed my face to twist in irritation. "Give me a moment then, my lord."
I conferred with Lord Alesander for a moment – well, not actually, but it should look that way from the outside. Then I turned back to the impatient men.
"Two hundred gold dragons are acceptable for the pair of them, but I do not think that you have thought this through. If you are holed up in Harrenhal, we have free rein to take what we need from your lands. I… I don't want to do this. Let us have one glorious clash and then that be it. Should we win, we will have all your stores in Harrenhal and will have no need to forage. Should we lose, I and the Stormlands will be done with this war. Please."
Edmure's faced softened. "If I did not move despite the suffering my people faced at the hands of Tywin, I will not move now."
I let a bit of concern and faux panic enter my voice. "Another Trial of Seven then!"
Ser Bonifer echoed it, "Yes, let the Seven decide. I have no fear of a second trial. We'll face a trial in every kingdom of the Seven Kingdoms, if necessary!"
Edmure shook his head. "No, Myrcella. There will be no trial; there will be no battle here. I will have the gold brought out within the hour in exchange for the knights."
I let full-blown panic show on my face, pretending to allow my mask to fall. "Lord Alesander, what do we do now – you said that Edmure was a rash fool, who thought with his pride…"
Brienne put a hand on my shoulder, and I quieted down.
Edmure now looked at Alesander. "Bring your captives, my lord, if you have any honor left."
As they left, we rode back, and Alesander looked at me. "I'm not opposed to mummery, but what was the point?"
"They view me as desperate now, and you as the one acting as Ser Cortnay's political proxy.
We'll further reinforce the idea that we are desperate to shame them into battle. Ready our 'musicians' and our strongest voices. Let our enemy know just what cowardly knaves we think they are."
He looked bemused, "Aye that will shame them, but to what end?"
"The noise will mask our movements. This is a tired, sick, frustrated fighting force. They think that they are safe, that they can finally rest their eyes without fear. We are going to brutally disabuse them of that notion. We will move under the cover of darkness and the raucous taunts. Then we will strike."
We got back to camp, and I checked in with Lum and Ser Barristan, ensuring that all was ready for the most audacious assault in the history of Westeros.
***
Kevan watched as the boy King advanced to the parley. He cut a regal figure with his gilded armor. Next to him loomed Sandor Clegane, not quite as large as the Mountain had been, but still someone who towered over everyone else.
Lord Beric Dondarrian was the fourth member of the parley; the Marcher Lord wanted to take the measure of his opposition before battle began. The Tyrells would no doubt wonder why Tywin was not here, but they didn't understand his older brother like Kevan did.
Mace Tyrell rode in; with him was Randyll Tarly. Kevan was pleased to see Heartsbane; the great two-handed Valyrian blade was on Randyll's back. With them were Lord Orton Merryweather and Lord Aruther Ambrose, though Kevan suspected they would do little talking.
Immediately, Tarly asked, "Where is Tywin?"
"My brother is a busy man; he has more enemies than just you," Kevan replied.
Joffrey spoke up even as Kevan finished his words.
"My grandfather rules the Westerlands, but I rule the Seven Kingdoms. You are traitors, and unless you get down on the ground and grovel for your lives, all your heads will decorate the Red Keep's walls," Joffrey hissed.
Mace looked at him furiously. "Is it true? Did you do it, boy?"
"Do what?"
"KILL MY SON IN OPEN COURT!"
Joffrey smirked. "Oh, that. Yes, the sword swallower should have kept his mouth shut instead of spouting slanderous lies. I was prepared to offer him mercy, and he spat on it."
Mace practically growled. "Pray to the Seven that you die in battle."
Kevan interjected, "We are prepared to broker a peace. If you swear allegiance to the one true King, we will forgive your misjudgments. If you agree to the terms, we will only take a few lords hostage to ensure your good behavior, and we can avoid this. However, if you persist in your treat, the Tyrells will be attainted and another house will rise to the Paramountcy of the Reach."
Mace shook his head in disbelief. "This is why you wanted to meet? A waste of time. You, Ser Beric, why are you and the Stormlands serving a King borne of incest?"
Joffrey's hand went to draw the sword at his waist, but the Hound stopped him.
"The Stormlands fought in the Trial of Seven; Lady Myrcella's champions were victorious. His Grace is the trueborn son of Robert Baratheon."
Mace spat on the ground. "Come, Randyll, we've wasted enough time."
Joffrey was fuming. "What was the meaning of that, dog? He was spouting lies and…"
"Your Grace," Kevan interjected, "we were under the banner of truce. No matter how foul the words, we were obligated not to use violence."
Kevan knew that Tywin did not care for honor; however, if you broke parley once, there would be no lord across Westeros who would ever enter a truce again with you. That was too damaging, and so there was never a thought to try to use the ruse of a parley to slay Mace or Randyll.
Joffrey complained until Kevan finally told him that he'd have his chance to properly chastise Mace during the coming battle. They traveled deeper into the Kingswood, and the riders who had had to keep their distance from the parley rejoined them. Keven knew that Tywin's entire army was several kilometers into the forest. Their plan required the Tyrells to be within the wood, not just at its entrance.
Battle would begin the next day. Kevan began to write his customary letter to Dorna Lannister. She should be safe in Casterly Rock – despite the numerical superiority of Garlan Tyrell's force, the Rock was nearly impenetrable. As he finished writing the letter, his thoughts returned to the battle plan.
Gold Cloaks alongside some Lannister levies would hold the center. Lord Beric and all the Stormland cavalry he brought would be on one flank. Jaime Lannister had half of the Westerlands and all the Crownlands' horse on the other flank. Kevan was in overall command of the Marcher Lords' foot as well as the Lannister foot. They were positioned further back from the Gold Cloaks, and to their right and left. And further behind them were Tywin Lannister and Ser Addam Marbrand with the remaining horse.
The spacing was key, as the Gold Cloaks and the Tyrells were going to burn.
***