Game of Thrones: Knight's Honor-Chapter 347: The Impact of the Proclamation

The renewed marriage alliance between Tywin and the Reach was easily the most sensational event of the time—not because the Westerlands and the Reach had formed an alliance, but because Tywin Lannister had actually bowed his proud head and accepted such humiliating terms.

This act of submission reminded many of the time when the Laughing Lion, Tytos Lannister, married his daughter Genna Lannister to a Frey. Back then, all the nobles of the Westerlands mocked Tytos, and House Lannister's reputation sank to rock bottom. It wasn't until the rains of Castamere that their standing began to recover.

Though everyone agreed that Tywin had lowered himself, no one dared to mock him as they had mocked Tytos. It was clear to all that, even in humility, Tywin was still the old lion whom most nobles and lords had no choice but to look up to.

What's more, the alliance between House Lannister and House Tyrell hadn't diminished Tywin's power—it had strengthened it. The crisis brought about by the fall of Harrenhal was now effectively erased, and the pressure had shifted squarely onto Stannis Baratheon and Robb Stark.

...

At Riverrun, Robb Stark stared at Tywin's proclamation with a grim expression. He hadn't expected the situation to turn so quickly—in less than ten days, everything had flipped, and he hadn't even had time to react.

"What do we do now? Lord Brynden, do you have any ideas?" Robb turned to Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, a trace of worry in his voice.

Though rumors painted the Young Wolf as brilliant, brave, and wise beyond his years, Robb was still just a teenager. His life experience was far from enough to handle a crisis of this scale alone.

In moments like these, he had no choice but to rely on others. But while Northern warriors were excellent in battle, strategy wasn't their strength—letting them plan would only make things worse.

At this point, the only man in Riverrun capable of offering real counsel was the renowned Blackfish himself.

Brynden didn't reply at first. Instead, he turned to glance at Edmure Tully, who was also deep in thought about the current situation.

Robb followed his gaze, realizing what Brynden meant. frёeωebɳovel.com

Edmure, however, hadn't noticed that he'd become the center of their attention. He continued to brood until a thought struck him, and he suddenly said, "I've got it! We could—wait, why are you both looking at me like that?"

Just as he was about to share his idea, he caught sight of the way Robb and Brynden were staring at him, and froze in confusion.

But the meaning behind their looks quickly dawned on him. His face went pale.

"You want me to accept the Weasel's terms? Marry one of the Frey girls?" he snapped.

"It's the best way to solve our current problem," Brynden said gravely. "Yes, the Westerlands and the Reach have joined forces, and on the surface, that looks formidable. But it hasn't solved Tywin's crisis. His forces are still split. King's Landing is still under siege from Stannis, and because of the torrential rains, Tywin is currently trapped near Pinkmaiden Castle with no clear route back to the capital. That's our window. If we concentrate our entire strength at Pinkmaiden and force Tywin into a decisive battle, we can end him. Once Tywin falls, the Westerlands army will fall apart. Even if the Reach sends reinforcements, they won't be able to turn the tide."

Edmure scowled. "Then why not gather all the troops at Riverrun and strike? Why do I have to marry a Frey?"

"If we still had Lady Dacey and Lord Bolton's forces, we might be able to match Tywin," Robb said, fixing Edmure with a firm gaze. "But we don't. Riverrun's army alone isn't enough—we need House Frey's support."

Edmure's voice rose with fury. "You didn't want to marry a Frey and broke your oath, and now you want me to do it instead?"

Robb looked back at him calmly. "You don't have to. We can march out with the forces we have and die on the field. My mother—and your sister—will be handed over to Tywin by House Frey as gifts. If they're lucky, they'll die quickly. If not, they'll die slowly and in agony."

Edmure's face darkened further, shifting through a mix of emotions. In the end, he could only sigh in bitter frustration.

"Fine. I agree."

When Edmure finally gave in to the marriage alliance with House Frey, both Robb and Brynden exhaled quietly, faint smiles breaking across their faces.

...

Meanwhile, in King's Landing, Stannis Baratheon read Tywin's proclamation without much visible reaction. To anyone watching, it seemed a trivial matter. But those who knew him well could see the subtle tremble in his fingers—the only sign that his heart was far less calm than his face suggested.

"Davos, is everything ready?" Stannis tossed the proclamation aside and turned to the Onion Knight beside him.

"Everything's ready," Davos replied with a nod. Then, after a brief hesitation, he asked, "Your Grace, are you truly going to use wildfire?"

As he spoke, his right hand unconsciously touched the bandages on his left. He had narrowly escaped death in the Blackwater, but the wildfire had still burned his hand. That wicked flame—capable of burning even on water—remained a vivid nightmare.

"If they could use it, why can't I?" Stannis said calmly.

This batch of wildfire had only recently arrived from Dragonstone, purchased at great expense by the red priestess Melisandre from pyromancers across the Narrow Sea.

After it was delivered, they tested its power in a hidden location. This batch proved far stronger than the wildfire used at King's Landing—potent enough to melt steel.

But it wasn't without drawbacks. It was dangerously unstable, requiring extreme caution during transport. Reports said several shipments had exploded en route from across the Narrow Sea. In the end, only two ships of wildfire had safely reached Dragonstone.

Even so, Melisandre had assured them that she had "calmed" the wildfire's inner forces. As long as no one deliberately exposed it to flame, there would be no risk of explosion.

Stannis wasn't sure whether Melisandre's claim was true, but the wildfire had indeed arrived without incident—both at Dragonstone and now at the forward positions.

He hadn't wanted to use it. But the situation now left him no choice. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Without addressing Davos's concern, Stannis turned to Ser Guyard Morrigen of the Crow's Nest.

"Ser Guyard, I'm entrusting this task to you."

"Yes, Your Grace," Guyard responded with a slight nod, then asked, "If I take the Stormlands men, won't your forces here be stretched too thin?"

"No. They'll be enough," Stannis replied with unwavering confidence.

It wasn't blind confidence—he had laid preparations within King's Landing even before the war began. But those preparations were a one-time advantage. Once used, if he failed to breach the city, he would be forced to storm it directly. And if that happened, even if he took the city, he wouldn't be able to hold it.

That's why he had waited all this time, holding back that trump card for the perfect moment. And though this wasn't quite the ideal time, it was now or never. If he waited any longer, he might not get another chance.

Stannis stepped out of the tent and gazed at the towering walls of King's Landing ahead.

"I want us to be the ones standing on those walls in a few days... watching the Westerlands army from above."

...

At that very moment, Tyrion stood atop the city walls, armored, peering out at the enemy lines. He too had received Tywin's letter. And while he was glad that his father had finally made the right choice—winning back the Reach's army and offering King's Landing a glimmer of hope—he couldn't help but feel the letter had come at the worst possible time.

He still vividly remembered the madness in Cersei's eyes. It was no exaggeration to say she had been ready to kill everyone around her. Thank the gods he'd locked her away when he did—who knows how much worse things might have gotten.

"She's going to hate your guts," Bronn said with a grin, clearly enjoying the thought. "Once she's out, she'll gut you for sure."

"She wouldn't dare go after Father. So I'm the easy target—just her dwarf little brother," Tyrion said with a shrug, then grew serious. "What about her favorites? What happened to them?"

Bronn chuckled.

"Relax. They're all out on the walls. We've taken control of the Red Keep—our men are in place. They won't cause trouble." He pointed outward. "What you should be worrying about is how we're going to survive Stannis's next assault. I might not have your clever little tricks, but even I can tell—he's going to throw everything he's got at us before the Reach shows up. It's going to be worse than anything we've seen yet. You think we can hold with what we've got?"

As he spoke, Bronn gestured toward the tired and hollow-eyed defenders around them.

Siege after siege had worn them down. For the attackers, it was grueling—but for the defenders, it was pure hell. Tyrion had raised funds and food by looting noble houses, and with it, he'd hired cityfolk to help man the walls. But with losses mounting and rations dwindling, it had become nearly impossible to recruit more.

Even forced conscription wasn't enough. He'd set up enforcers to drive the defenders into battle, but it no longer worked—the fighting was simply too brutal.

Worse still, the Gold Cloaks, who served as enforcers, had dwindled to barely a thousand men. Their presence was losing its impact—and in some cases, making things worse.

Just recently, there had been an outright mutiny on the walls. Some of the city guards had turned on the Gold Cloaks mid-battle and sided with Stannis's troops. If not for Addam Marbrand's quick command and fierce defense, the wall might have fallen then and there. They'd be rotting in dungeons by now if he hadn't held the line.

Tyrion let out a sigh.

"Do you have any ideas to boost morale?"

"Do you have money?" Bronn asked.

Tyrion shook his head. The wealth he'd seized from the noble families had nearly run dry. Unless he pulled the same trick again and looted a few more, but doing that now would spark furious retaliation from the city's elite. At that point, Stannis might not even need to storm the gates—the lords of King's Landing would open them themselves and hand him the city.

"Food?" Bronn asked next.

"I have it, but I can't use it," Tyrion replied.

In King's Landing, food had become more valuable than gold. Though Tyrion still controlled the stores confiscated from the noble houses, those were earmarked to feed the entire city's daily needs.

If he diverted that supply for any other purpose—if it failed to meet even the bare minimum for the city's population—it wouldn't take a full day before the starving masses rose in revolt. And if that happened, the city guard, made up of commoners from King's Landing, likely wouldn't follow orders to put the uprising down. With only a little over a thousand Gold Cloaks remaining, they wouldn't be enough to stop a full-blown riot.

"I've only got one idea left," Bronn said, glancing around. He grabbed Tyrion by the arm and pulled him to a quiet spot, away from prying ears.

"You could gather the families of the city guard in one place," he said in a low voice, "then ring the area with the last of the wildfire. Let the guards know—if the walls fall to Stannis..."

Tyrion cut him off, his face hard.

"Enough. I won't do it. Even if Stannis breaches the walls, I won't become that kind of man."

He stared at Bronn.

"How could you even come up with something like that? You sound just like the Mad King Aerys."

Bronn didn't seem bothered that his suggestion had been shut down. He simply shrugged in response to the accusation.

Tyrion glanced out toward the horizon. Stannis's forces were on the move again. He raised his voice.

"Ready the defenses! Prepare for battle!"

From the walls nearby, sentries began sounding the horns.

Bronn, too, dropped his usual swagger and grew serious.

Then, unexpectedly, Tyrion grabbed the front of Bronn's tunic.

"If the walls fall," he said quietly, "go to my residence. Take Shae. I've had Podrick prepare a small boat at the dock beneath the Red Keep. You can row across to the Kingswood. Once you reach Summerhall's lands, you'll be safe."

Bronn hesitated.

"And you?"

Tyrion gave a small smile.

"I'm a Lannister. I have to at least try to act like one."

...

Outside the city walls, the horns of Stannis's army blew once more. The siege forces, reassembled and fully equipped, began advancing toward the ramparts again. A new round of battle had begun.

And while Stannis unleashed his full strength in an all-out assault on King's Landing, another battle was poised to erupt just three leagues away—in the ruins of a small, abandoned town called Stone Tooth.

But unlike the brutal, back-and-forth clashes at the city walls, what was about to happen in Stone Tooth wasn't a battle.

It was a slaughter—planned and waiting.