Chapter 10.
The Blackfish, Brienne and Podrick stood outside the Giant's Theater.
To call it a theater was, by now, something of a misnomer. The addition of more kitchens, a few barracks, a fancier laboratory for the Pyromancer, a better dueling pit with better seating and other things had taken it's toll. Several of the surrounding buildings had been bought, torn down, built up, connected, renovated or rebuilt to where the whole mess looked like two palaces slapped together.
Over it all flew a banner of a scarred lion against a red hill.
The guard at the gate asked with bored calmness, "What do you want here?"
They had agreed on the answer that would get the swiftest response. "Tell Lord Tyrion that Podrick Payne wishes to speak with him."
########################################################################
"Pod! Damn me to all Seven Hells! Pod, it's good to see you!"
Several servants found an excuse to be present and gawking when Lord Tyrion came down to the courtyard to greet the newcomers personally. They had never seen the Giant look so happy.
The young man whom he addressed was beaming as well. He was trying to maintain his composure as he knelt, but his grin was wide and his eyes were damp. "My Lord."
Tyrion clapped Pod on the shoulders and said, "Rise, Pod. I'm not the damned High Septon." He grinned. "I see you still have the ax I gave you."
Pod looked almost guilty. "I still haven't used it in battle, my lord."
Tyrion's grin turned sardonic as he said, "I didn't want to use it in battle in the first place."
He looked past Pod at the very tall woman standing behind him. "Lady Brienne." He narrowed his eyes at the third person and, after a moment, came up with a name. "Lord Brynden Tully."
The Blackfish inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Your memory is excellent, my lord. Especially considering how drunk you were when we last met."
"Memory is a skill that grows better with practice." Tyrion added, dryly, "As is drunkeness."
The group snicker that was generated was cut short by Brienne's startled, "Arya?"
Arya had come into the courtyard to see what the commotion was and was brought up short by the sight of Brienne. For a moment, the girl looked like she was ready to run or pull her ever-ready blade.
Fortunately, she didn't have to do either. In the next moment, Arya recognized her uncle from a previous visit to Winterfell. With a breathless cry of joy, she tackled him in a ferocious hug.
########################################################################
Tyrion called for a feast to be held that very night and introductions were made to the rest of the group.
Pod insisted on serving and Tyrion didn't argue too much. It would have taken a heart of stone to refuse the lad.
Jelena outdid herself, producing roasted Sea Bass with ginger and lime. Ranulf and the Blackfish talked about war and weapons. Dellyne was busy getting tales out of Brienne for future sagas. Ally took one look at Podrick and spent the entire night making eyes at him before reluctantly going home to her grandfather. And the Pyromancer, replete from two helpings of fish, was content to doze until dessert was ready.
As the blackberry and honey cakes were being served, Tyrion could no longer rein in his curiosity.
"So, what brings you all to see me?" He eyed his new guests. "It must be important for both the Maid of Tarth and the Blackfish to show up at my doorstep."
Brynden spoke bluntly, because there was no way to be delicate about this. "We know where Sansa is."
That rendered Tyrion speechless, a feat he would have thought impossible with all that he had seen.
With a clatter and a crash, Arya dropped her plate and launched out of her chair, as if she wanted to attack whoever held her sister. "Where is she!?", she barked. "Where!? Where?!"
"In the Eyrie, with Littlefinger."
Tyrion's eyes narrowed as he rapidly made the connections. "That makes sense.", he said after a long moment. "Littlefinger now controls one kingdom, holds the key to a second and probably collected an enormous sum to kill Jeoffrey. More than enough profit to run the risk of regicide."
Despite their time away from the Seven Kingdoms, the rest of Tyrion's crew had kept up with politics and were mentally looking at all the angles. "I wonder who hired him," mused Dellyne.
"That doesn't matter." Almost without thought, Tyrion poured some wine and sipped as he thought out loud. "The list of people who wanted the Royal Shit dead is too long to go through. Besides, whether we know or not has no bearing on what comes next."
"And, what comes next is Westeros." Ranulf slapped the ax at his side and took three cakes off of the serving tray.
"No."
"No?!", everybody chorused.
"No." Tyrion raised his goblet and said, "First, we go to Kasta."
Silence, finally broken by Arya asking, "Where in the Seven Hells is Kasta?"
########################################################################
To the southeast of Braavos lay Norvos, ruled by a theocracy of priests, famous for it's axes and textiles.
Kasta lay in between of Braavos and Norvos. Too big to be a town, not quite a city, it had changed hands between the two a few times over the centuries.
The switching of allegiences had occurred due to how much influence each city had at the moment. Sometimes it was because of war, sometimes because of a trade agreement. Whatever the cause was, somebody would show up in Kasta and tell the Council where to send the tax money to. The taxes usually stayed the same, so who they belonged to was never a huge issue with the people actually living there.
Now, for the first time in memory, the people of Kasta had actually chosen to be a part of Norvos.
########################################################################
"The story truly begins at the village of Twin Forks, some thirty-odd miles to the southwest of Kasta."
Tycho Nestoris handed Tyrion a goblet of wine and sipped his own as he continued his tale.
"For centuries, Twin Forks was unimportant. A conjuction of roads that gave the town it's name made it an ideal place for farmers to sell their goods to passing caravans."
"Then, a few years ago, the village blacksmith was out hunting and saw an outcropping of what proved to be copper ore. Not as dramatic as gold or iron, but useful nonetheless."
Tycho shrugged. "When the time came for expansion, it would have been best if they came to us for funding. However, the blacksmith has a cousin in Kasta who crafts wagons. The cousin, in turn, knew some wealthy merchants in Norvos and they were the ones who helped to fund the copper production."
Tyrion raised an inquiring eyebrow and the Braavosi banker shook his head at the unspoken question. "The Iron Bank exists because people know that our integrity is unshakable," Tycho said. "That includes other business agreements as well as our own. We regretted the lost opportunity, but, as long as the taxes were paid, we did not interfere."
"And, recently, Norvos offered a better deal regarding the taxes?", Tyrion guessed dryly.
"Yes. Several large veins of copper was found about five months ago and dozens more have been found since. Norvos decided that they did not want to share the profits and convinced Twin Forks and Kasta to swich their loyalties."
After draining his glass and pouring himself another, Tyrion looked Tycho in the eye. "Interesting. What does this have to do with me?"
"We know that you are hiring men and assembling an army and that you are about halfway there. It does not take a genius to guess that you'll be returning to the Seven Kingdoms with them." Tycho finished his own wine and set the cup aside. He knew better than to try to match the Little Lion when it came to drinking.
"The nameless warlord that originally founded Kasta had been a skilled builder or had one working for him. They have thick stone walls, a large moat and several springs located within the town. They have a tradition of laying in extensive food supplies and have withstood sieges that have lasted months at a time."
When he saw the detailed maps in Tyrion's office, Tycho had immediately copied the useful notion and had created several "Map Rooms" within the Iron Bank. As he spoke, he indicated the area and the two places in question. "The only roads from here to Twin Forks go right past Kasta. If one goes directly to Twin Forks, forces from Kasta will come up from behind and catch the army in a pincer. If one beseiges Kasta, they'll be delayed long enough for forces to come from Norvos or Twin Forks. Probably both."
"I find that the best way to deal with a difficult problem is to hand it off to somebody else. So, what I am offering is simple. We will fund the rest of your forces, as well as any losses you may incur, if you agree to conquer these two towns."
########################################################################
"-And, that was this morning.", Tyrion finished explaining. "I told him that I would have to talk it over with my advisors before I would commit to anything. But, that the answer would probably be yes."
There were some protests, mostly from Arya. She had visions of immediately going back to Westeros, stealing Sansa away and being a family again.
Protests died when Tyrion pointed out that a large, well-equipped army would be needed to retake the Riverlands and defeat the Freys.
That surprised Lord Tully. The Blackfish had hoped for some help, but he hadn't expected the Imp to provide an entire army. Not from a man who's only tenuous connection was a hollow joke of an unconsummated marriage. "You truly intend to defeat the Freys?"
"Yes," Tyrion said, simply. "Of course, we still have to take Twin Forks and Kasta and whatever Norvos intends to throw at us." He stabbed a cake that was in front of him as if picturing the future battles. "But, I have a few ideas for that."
########################################################################
With Ranulf, Dellyne, The Blackfish and Brienne on hand, the forces were assembled quite quickly. More time was actually needed to make sure that the business affairs were going to be run properly during everybody's absence.
Tyrion cynically noted to himself that, if he died on the battlefield, the Iron Bank would be in a perfect position to take over his various money-making schemes. While they had too much integrity to break thier word, the Iron Bank had no problem in taking every possible advantage that they could find.
Rather than being offended, he found himself admiring thier strategic thinking. Even if they lost, they gained. No wonder the Iron Bank had rose to such power.
Although nothing official was said, Podrick went back to serving Tyrion and Arya became Brienne's squire.
Lord Brynden attempted to stop Arya from coming along on the campaign, everybody else knew that it was a futile effort before he even tried. After all the storming and sulking was done, what truly defeated the Blackfish was logic.
"I survived on my own with no-one to look out after me. A battlefield will have nothing that I haven't already seen before."
Brynden looked into his niece's eyes and knew that she had taken lives. Pretending that the killing darkness inside her did not exist wouldn't help. Instead, him and Brienne could only guide Arya and try to temper what she possessed.
Once they got past the awkwardness of their first meeting, Arya and Brienne got along like a house on fire. The older woman took no excuses and demanded results.
If Arya honestly didn't know how to do something, Brienne would patiently show her how to do it. Any other reason for delays got short shrift.
########################################################################
One of Arya's duties was mending Brienne's clothes.
After listening to her friend cursing a blue streak over hated needlework that she'd thought she'd never have to face again, an amused Ally showed her how it was done. The blonde proved to be a talented seamstress and, a few days later, gave Arya a tunic with the Stark Sigil embroidered on it.
"Do you like it? That's the problem with surprise gifts, you never know if somebody will like it. If they ask for it, you'll know they like it. But, it's kinda rude to ask for a gift anyway. I'm really proud of the grey of the wolf. It's just the right shade to bring out the grey in your eyes. I wasn't sure about the rest of the colors. If you want we can-"
"I love it," Arya interrupted. "I completely love it."
The night before everyone departed, a furiously blushing Ally gave a similar tunic, embroidered with the House Payne Sigil, to Podrick.
"Here," she squeaked, practically throwing it at Pod and running off.
Arya sniggered as Pod gave the departing girl a puzzled look.
But, as they all rode out of the city, Pod wore the tunic. Watching from her bedroom window, Ally was beside herself with happiness.
For his part, Pod didn't understand why Arya's friend would go to the trouble of making clothes for him.
On the horse next to him, Arya just rolled her eyes. In the hierarchy of Tyrion's household, Pod was rapidly becoming the one that everybody liked and, occaisionally, wanted to smack upside the head.
########################################################################
The travel was uneventful, broken only by rain that was more of an annoyance than a hindrance.
They were to attack Kasta first. The forces were seen coming long before arrival and the gates were sealed tight as the Giant's forces arrayed themselves at a safe distance from the walls.
Kasta came from the High Valyrian for "Blue-Green", apt considering the town's location. A river flowed down from a nearby mountain and was split into two sections to form the moat.
A small group led by Tyrion headed towards the river, along with some wagons bearing casks.
The Pyromancer, by now, had about a dozen lab assistants and, under his watchful eye, they broke open the casks. These proved to be well-padded, with smaller ceramic jars inside. The jars were taken to the river and and a brilliant green substance was poured onto the water.
"Wildfire," Tyrion explained to the rest of the group.
"They use the springs inside the city for drinking, sensible if any enemy ever takes the time and trouble to dam the river." Tyrion pointed to where the river forked against the town's walls. Barely visible at the water's edge was a fifteen-foot wide hole with a steel grate. "But, they still use the river to flush the sewers out. The current pushes the water in there and comes out where the moat drains on the other side."
With a flourish, Tyrion turned to the Blackfish and said, "Lord Tully, if you will do the honors."
Smothering a wild grin, wondering if this insane stunt would work, Brynden drew back his bowstring and fired off a flaming arrow. It flew in a long arc and splashed in the moat, about ten feet from the opening.
The brilliant green flame erupted and snaked it's way into the sewers, where most of the Wildfire had gone.
And, they waited. A minute went by. Then, another.
Tyrion smirked and said to the Pyromancer, "Not as impressive as the Blackwater was."
Inside the town, however, you could see more results. The earth shuddered and groaned underneath the cobblestones, steam and flashes of green light erupted from drainage points and a man emptying his chamberpot got the surprise of his life when a sewer opening suddenly inundated him with a shower of shit.
Oddest of all were the cracking noises. The temperature differance between the cold mountain stream water and the Wildfire was causing the underground masonry to snap, pop and, in some cases, explode. It sounded like a ancient giant's bones creaking.
A short distance from the main sewer opening, Kasta's main street suddenly developed a rift that sped it's way towards the town's outer rim. Citizens watched with horrified fascination as the road caved in, leading up to and underneath the massive stone blocks that were thier protection.
For a moment, it looked like the wall would hold.
Then, one of Tyrion's catapults launched a stone block and hit the wall exactly twenty feet above the sewer entrance. It splintered and a sixty foot section split, crumbled and fell.
After a moment of stunned silence, Tyrion's forces cheered. The smaller group by the river echoed that with hoots and whoops of delight.
Hallyne, in particular, was almost dancing with joy. He liked the money and influence that the Drowned God's Wine brought him, but Wildfire remained his one and true devotion.
As the noise died, Tyrion said, (Smugly, it must be admitted) "Send messengers to the gates and tell them that we wish to discuss terms."
Less than an hour later, the Mayor, the Commander of the town's soldiers and a half a dozen of the Council came out to meet with Tyrion and his crew.
The Mayor, just as prideful as any Targaryen that sat on the Iron Throne, took one look at Tyrion and began to sputter out that they didn't have time for jests.
"Shut up," Tyrion said, cutting the man off. "You are not here to talk. You are here to listen."
"We have three choices in front of us. First choice, I sack your city."
Involuntarily, all the men from Kasta looked at the gap in their walls and winced.
"But, I don't want to do that. Forces from Twin Forks and Norvos will either be dispatched soon or are already on their way. I don't wish to waste time or manpower, even on plunder."
"Second choice, you switch your allegience back to Braavos." Tyrion tried to gauge the temperment of the men listening. He doubted if the Mayor ever listened to anyone, but at least the Commander was paying close attention.
"So far, there's been no lives lost. A penalty will be paid, you'll join us and help fight the Norvoshi forces and we'll forget about the entire matter."
"Third choice, you join us and, later, turn on us once battle has begun."
"If that happens, extra forces will arrive from Braavos. Even from here I can tell that the wall's foundation is cracked and that it will months to fix. Norvos won't post an army here to protect you. All the profit comes from Twin Forks and that's thier priority. Everything that lives in your town will be killed, everything that doesn't live will be burned and the ashes will be poisoned afterwards."
The Little Lion didn't raise his voice or sound especially menacing. But, there was a look in his eyes that convinced even the Mayor.
Still, the Mayor didn't like the sound of "penalties". As the richest man in town, it would take a big bite out of his pocket. As well as the town treasury, which he regarded as the same as his own pocket.
"Before we can agree, there are many things to consider, from many viewpoints. I'm personally inclined to say yes to what you propose and I'm anxious to see that all your needs are met, but others need to be asked-"
He broke off as he felt the edge of a knife blade carress his throat. Turning his head carefully, he saw the grim face of the Commander inches away from his own.
"He's not going to believe your horseshit, and I'm not dying because of your greed," he growled. "All in favor of the second choice?"
"AYE!"
"Opposed?"
Silence.
Tyrion's army moved out with thier new allies the next day.
########################################################################
The men had been pushed hard, but any complaints about the blistering pace had died when they saw the ambush site.
Summoned by messenger pigeon, the Norvoshi forces were expecting the siege of Kasta to be measured in weeks or, worst situation, days. Certainly not hours. They were less than halfway along the planned route to the destination when they fell unsuspectingly into the trap.
The enemy, led by armored horsemen, wended thier way through a canyon flanked by two bluffs. The horsemen were almost to the end when archers and men armed with rocks appeared atop the bluffs. In moments, dozens were struck down.
Those few that managed to fight through the gauntlet faced a line of Kastan spearmen and were easy prey. The ones that turned back found the way choked with the rest of the army.
A horn's triple note heralded the charge of Tyrion's own mounted warriors, sweeping down from the slopes of one of the bluffs. The Norvoshi archers had barely enough time to string thier bows and cut loose a volley before they were trampled underfoot. This cut a wedge in the rest of the forces and the split was widened by the Braavosi footsoldiers that followed in thier wake.
The Siege of Kasta lasted less than a hour. The First Battle of Kasta lasted less than two.
########################################################################
Lord Enoch Presteri walked slowly through the enemy camp, sore from where his horse had thrown him and twice as sore from where the Braavosi ruffian had punched him.
That had been a prelude to the man taking his purse, rings, necklace, sword, dagger and cloak. When he had complained, the dog's reply had been, "Count yourself lucky that those boots won't fit me."
Coming to the largest tent, the ruffian told the guards, "Need to see the Giant. This man says that he's the General for the Norvoshi's." He shrugged. "Sword was fancy enough."
One of the guards jerked his head towards the flap and the pair went inside.
Enoch could see why they called this man "The Giant". Over seven feet tall and hairy as a hound, the man was eating and talking, alternating words with tremendous bites of cheese and sausage.
"The Blackfish is looking over the supplies that we captured, Brienne's looking over the armor we salvaged and Dell is judging what horses that survived."
"Most of the horses didn't and the Kastamen are butchering them now. The weather's cool and we'll wrap them in cloth salvaged from the enemy tents. The meat'll keep until we get back and can smoke and salt them."
"How's your shoulder?"
For the first time, Lord Presteri noticed a dwarf sitting in the corner. A dark haired girl bound an arrow wound in his shoulder while a young man fixed him a plate of food.
"Not bad. Not as deep as my other shoulder wound, nor as disfiguring as my scar. I'm becoming quite the judge of mutilations." The dwarf's gaze shifted to the newcomers. "Arrigo. Who's this?"
"M'lord, he says that he's the General of the Norvoshi forces." Arrigo added, "He was richer than a pig in shit, so I believe him."
Any inclination to disbelieve that this little man was the Commander was quashed by the quality of his armor, the deference everybody else gave him and, most importantly, the air of authority that he carried. So, Lord Enoch immediately launched into a tirade about how he was treated and a litany of all that had been taken from him.
Tyrion listened patiently and, after the man finally ground to a halt, said, "Arrigo?"
"Yes, M'lord?"
"You missed his money belt."
Lord Enoch turned to face his captor just in time to catch a fist to the jaw.
Groggily, the Norvoshi lifted his head off the floor and saw Arrigo gleefully counting his latest windfall. Of more interest to Tyrion and Ranulf were the messages that he had received from the Commander of the Second Army. Through the cobwebs in his brain, Enoch berated himself for not destroying the papers after receiving them.
They revealed the route that General Lord Donno Presteri (A cousin to Lord Enoch) was using to get to Kasta. The good news was that it was a longer route and they had plenty of time to get back. The bad news was that the route had no good ambush spots or terrain points that could be taken advantage of. It would have to be a straight up fight back at the town.
"Arya, go tell the others that we'll be meeting tonight to discuss this, about an hour after sunset. Pod, have the tables and chairs set up and tell the cooks to salvage the best that they can find."
The Little Lion turned to the grinning Braavosi and said, "Arrigo, take him to a tent and have him provided with food and wine. See to it that he is guarded, but not chained. If a ransom is offered, it's yours."
"Thank you, M'lord!"
Tyrion regarded Lord Enoch, who was cautiously probing a loose tooth and swearing softly and bitterly. "My Lord, let me offer some advice, as somebody who has seen both Royal Throne Rooms and Royal Dungeons."
"Enjoy the good, endure the bad and, above all else, don't complain. Trust me, nobody cares."
########################################################################
Some battles begin like a cyvasse game, a slow build-up as both sides move into positions and vie for advantages before committing.
The heavy cavalry was the fist that most led with, well-armored and mobile. Lord Donno saw no reason to deviate from that. His horsemen were in the front, his bowmen were off to the side to provide covering fire and soften up the defenders before the charge. The footsoldiers would follow in thier wake and provide the back up blows.
A solid plan, simple and effective.
Especially since this "Giant" or "Little Lion" or whatever this foreigner chose to call himself had made a crucial error.
His spearmen had marched out with the bowmen and catapults following and thier own armored horsemen off to the side. The footsoldiers were even further behind the others.
The intent was obvious. When the Norvoshi cavalry charged, the bowmen and catapults would fire. The weakened forces would break on the defender's spearpoints and the Braavosi would counterpunch with thier own charge.
A good plan, save for a few things.
The catapults were too far away. Not surprising. People didn't take into account how slowly they moved and the other forces would outdistance them. The horsemen were too far to the left, as well. Contrarywise, people tended to overestimate how quickly the horses would move while carrying men with armor.
The bowmen would not be enough. The spearwall will break. By the time the horsemen start thier charge, the archers would be in position and putting them down with volleys of arrows.
Beginner's mistakes. Fatal ones.
He signaled to the herald and the horn's blast started the Norvoshi charge. Within minutes, hundreds of men were thundering towards the defenders.
And, all six catapults cut loose. They were loaded with dozens of ten pound rocks and struck down countless men and horses.
This was impossible!
If lightening bolts had fallen from the sky, it wouldn't be any more shocking. But, the impossible happened again and then again.
Gaps were torn in the line, snarls that were made worse by injured and thrashing horses.
Meanwhile, the Giant's Cavalry began circling around in a flanking move, clearly intent on going after the footsoldiers. The Captain of the Archers for the Norvoshi barked out orders and they prepared to rake the enemy with arrows as they passed.
And, it happened again!
Three catapults on the left shot even further than they had before and wreaked havoc on the bowmen. Barely a third of them were able to loose arrows as the horsemen thundered past and half of those were lousy shots.
By now, the Norvoshi charge had broken. Tyrion's footsolders moved past the bowmen and helped the spearmen finish off the armored cavalry.
It was surprisingly easy. The Little Lion had given the men wooden staffs and trained them to work in twos. The man on horseback would focus on one person, the other would dart in and break the horses' leg. The attacker would then be dumped to the ground and promptly beaten to a pulp by the pair.
Once that task was done, the spearmen and the footsoldiers moved up to assist the horsemen with the destruction of the rest of the Norvoshis.
The Second Battle of Kasta wasn't the one-sided rout that the first one was. It took nearly six hours to completely destroy the enemy.
########################################################################
Like his cousin, Lord Donno was brought to Tyrion's tent after the battle. Unlike his cousin, it was apparent that the General was not long for this world. He had taken a lance wound to the guts and had to be carried in.
He didn't wish to see Lord Enoch. They were family, but too distant to really give a damn about.
Tyrion laughed. "With most of my family, Damns are the only thing that have for each other."
The General was in surprisingly good humor about his situation. He'd dealt death to so many others during his life, there was no point to being bitter about it when it was his turn.
But, before he passed, there was one question he wanted to be answered.
"How the Devil," Lord Donno husked, "Did you pull that trick with the catapults?"
Tyrion poured himself some wine. He'd offered some to his guest, but the fallen General said that it would just make his belly wound hurt worse.
Dying without the comfort of wine. Horrid fate.
"I find that what most people call cleverness is merely asking the right questions. Half of the time, they'll say "You can't do that." and the reply is "Why not?"'.
Sipping his wine, Tyrion continued, "Catapults work with a counterweight. Increase the counterweight, increase the distance that you can throw things."
"You can't do that."
"Why not?"
"The shaft would snap." Lord Donno chuckled tiredly. "Saying "Why not?" won't make wood stronger."
"Then, use steel instead."
The other man was too far gone to flinch or jump with surprise, but there was a double-take in Lord Donno's eyes as he looked at Tyrion. "You can't do that. Do you know how much that would cost?"
"Having built them, yes. A lot of steel is used, especially since the rest of it has to be re-inforced with more steel as well. But, the craftsmenship doesn't have to be as involved or as elaborate as armor or swords."
"All in all, each one costs over ten times what a normal catapult costs." Tyrion gestured at the battlefield. "Still cheaper than losing."
"True." Lord Donno closed his eyes and then opened them for one last look at the world. "See you in Hell, Giant."
"Not me. I've gotten out of every mess so far." Tyrion raised his cup in salute and added, "I'll try to cheat my way out of Hell as well."
Lord Donno died in mid-chuckle.
Tyrion bowed his head in a moment of respect, drained his cup and yelled for Pod.
"Yes, my Lord?"
"See to it that Lord Donno's body is cleaned. He'll be sent back to Norvos with full honors. Then, get a count of how many ravens we have. I have several messages to send."
"At once, my Lord." Pod bobbed his head and ducked back out of the tent.
After losing two armies, Norvos will wish to negotiate. The Iron Bank will want to be on hand for that and the whole process will probably take about a month to a month and a half.
Plenty of captured supplies. Probably be a bit sick of horsemeat before we're through.
Back in Braavos, ships and supplies can be prepared and will be ready by the time they get back. A few more weeks of further preparation. Some men will quit, some will be hired and most will want to run wild with thier earnings.
And, then...
"The Seven Kingdoms." Tyrion poured himself another cup of wine and raised it in salute again, this time to the future. "To my beloved home and my welcoming family."