A/N: Sorry for the delay in publishing. Besides job hunting, I have been occupied with writing original work. But I hope this was worth the wait!

BRANDON V

Brandon observed the movements of the troops closely, taking care to keep his hair covered with his cap. He took note every time the guards changed posts, which always happened at dawn and dusk. He also observed their weapons, the number of their arrows, and how much oil they had at their disposal once they would finally retaliate against an assault. But more importantly, he saw their faces. Every man armed with a weapon and every man in the Oldtown City Watch was weary, the dragons flying overhead making them nervous as to when the fires would rain on them and the worrying straining their minds. It was something that the rest of the smallfolk had in common, as they too were growing increasingly impatient and also tired of having to put up with the conditions that the war had made them endure. There is just no limit as to what the Hightowers will do to protect their pride, Brandon noted as he recalled the last conversation he had while in Oldtown's underbelly.

He tried to gain information about the city's defenses by trying to seduce one of the Most Devout or one of the captains in the Oldtown City Watch in his female disguise, only to find that the siege had made all of the senior commanders and Hightowers fast and reject all "worldly desires" in an effort to please their Seven so that they can gain final victory. He kept at it for several days, even imitating what the whores in Oldtown were doing in their brothels as they attracted clients, but he had to give up when he found no sucesss. Devotion… just perfect, he grumbled.

Brandon then decided to switch his approach. If he could not gain information held in confidence from one of the commanders, he would have to look over the defenses in detail and search for a weakness that could be exploited. Shedding off his wig and his dress, he took the clothes off a man who starved to death because of the food shortages in the city, as all food stores were given to the troops while the poor had to languish and fight for scraps. Brandon saw in the Thieves' Market five men fighting over single slice of apple, as there were no more fruits to be purchased and all supply routes from the sea were cut off, thanks to Orys Baratheon tightening the blockade at the mouth of the Honeywine. Makes me want to take a boat and sail out to Lord Orys for a treat, he thought to himself before he focused on his task.

However, Brandon still had to remain cautious, for the City Watch were also on the lookout for spies and anyone suspected of consorting with their enemies. But they were quite incompetent at that task, for rumors were considered good enough reason to round a dozen smallfolk and hang them in the highest wooden arch of Ragpicker's Wynd, with a sign that said, "We have grumbled against the Seven and have therefore wished harm onto the Most Devout." Brandon shook his head, especially after he saw the hate growing in the people's eyes. These men… they are killing themselves already with their incompetence.

Still, Brandon learned to not take unnecessary chances and decided to hide in the underbelly. Whoever called that place by that name knew what they were talking about, for beneath the shine and aura that came off of Oldtown's surface lay an entirely different world, a world where sun's warmth did not penetrate, darkness reigned both outside and inside of the mind, the wretchedness of man reigned despite being unseen, and the people there never having the chance to emerge into the light, believing the outside world to be but rumors. And I thought the wildlings did not know of the world, Brandon noted with disbelief. Being in the underbelly was like stepping into the underworld itself, only this was something that Brandon knew that he was not imagining and that made it all the worse for him.

Brandon put his feelings aside, as he assumed the role of a crazed beggar and intentionally provoked prowling gangs of men into fighting him, most of the time in order to prevent them from hurting anyone else. However, as soon as he was able to get them alone, he was able to beat them down without breaking a sweat, which soon gained him much love from those less fortunate in the underbelly. It was from them that he was able to gain a complete picture of the situation in Oldtown.

Ever since the war began, Lord Hightower and his heir Lord Addam had raised taxes and levies of men to fight against the dragons. At the beginning, the poor and rich alike gave generously, as they genuinely believed that they were contributing in a holy cause against a heathen enemy. For a time, there was great celebration, as music filled the streets and festivities were galore, while they burned shapes of dragons to symbolize the final victory against the dragons. In a rare act of generosity, free wine and massive amounts of bread was distributed amongst even the underbelly of the city, which made the smallfolk sing their praises to House Hightower all the more. Of course they would think that.

But as the war dragged on, the people were tired of seeing no end in sight, paying taxes to feed troops who were struggling against the fight against the dragons and they saw the food slowly being taken away from view in the markets as food prices soared to unreachable amounts. Meanwhile, the smallfolk saw the lords and others with means still celebrating a final victory, songs that eventually became hollow and whose melodies increasingly became repetitive. There was less celebration in the streets, less wooden dragons being burned, and less enthusiasim for the war effort while grumbling and bitterness replaced all sense of celebration amongst the people of Oldtown. The smallfolk began to starve while House Hightower and their subordinates continued to live as if nothing was happening.

Although Lord Hightower tried to keep the news contained, word quickly spread about the death of King Mern, his sons, his brothers, and his nephews at the Field of Fire outside of Goldengrove, with everyone going in an uproar. With their king dead and his immediate heirs either dead or captured, many expected the war to be over, with the taxes gone and food to reenter the markets. But that never happened, as Lord Hightower took this moment to declare House Hightower as the rightful rulers of Oldtown and the southern parts of the Honeywine, as it once was when they ruled independent of the Gardener kings. There was no celebration, no outpouring of joy, and no crowds forming in support for their supposedly new rulers.

Instead, some leaders of the smallfolk decided to take their case to the High Tower and marched with a crowd to submit a petition to end the war, only for the City Watch to block their way and order them to turn back. When they refused, the City Watch drew their swords and began to hack away, the leaders' bodies being strung up as a warning while an orgy of violence and death broke out in the docks and among the bridges of Oldtown over a period of a few days. Although the smallfolk and those without means in Oldtown remained angry and hateful towards Lord Hightower and his ilk, they found it pointless to fight, not after how the savagery of the City Watch was exposed before their eyes. That is what happens when they expect too much from a group of over-glorified guards.

Brandon, on the other hand, began to feel that the people were about to find their courage once again. With the dragons flying above the city, even some of the Hightower bannermen began to lose heart, a few trying to leave their posts. As expected, the Commander of the City Watch ordered that any deserters would be hung without a trial and two more men plucked straight from the crowds would have to take his place. The war is pretty much over, and they still cannot see that. Deluded idiots, Brandon shook his head at how the behavior of the leaders in Oldtown were only increasing anger among their citizens despite the cause already being lost.

After hearing that story from more than a few people in the underbelly, Brandon asked them the most important question, "If the dragons entered this city tomorrow, would you fight them?"

"No," they all said quickly and with certainty. "For all I care, they can have this city and they could get rid of the Hightowers as a favor to us. I just want to eat again, eat until my belly is full and I do not have to worry about some City Watcher beating me for not paying my taxes or not praying hard enough."

That was the exact answer that Brandon was looking for, since the conditions made it ripe for another rising. However, he did not intend to have them go through a repeat of the sufferings that they already went through, so all that was required now was their indifference as to who would win. And that was what he got.

Now came the next obstacle to Brandon's planning: finding someone who was willing to take the step forward to allow the dragonriders to finally win the siege without having to suffer casualties from a direct assault. But it was if the old gods had answered his prayers, for he found a City Watcher soon enough. Seeing him trying to squeeze out the remaining few drops of wine in his wineskin, Brandon approached him discretely and offered him a drink, which he accepted without hesitation.

"Thank you, good ser. I do not know how to repay you," the City Watcher said with a big smile on his face.

"We shall see," Brandon stated.

The mood on the City Watcher's face changed instantly as he gave Brandon back his wineskin. "What do you mean by that?"

"Is it not common courtesy to repay a man who gave you a drink with a favor?" The City Watcher nodded his head cautiously. "Very good. Are you ready to listen?"

"What is this favor you want of me? If it is about food, I cannot help you," the City Watcher answered.

"I do not need food. I just need you, and you to do something at a certain time of the day when I tell you to," Brandon said.

The City Watcher became more cautious. "What do you mean?"

"I am guessing that you are the one who oversees the north gate, particularly as the one who can open them."

The City Watcher's eyes narrowed his eyes. "What is it to you?"

Brandon cleared his throat. "When I tell you… you will open them." The City Watcher's eyes widened and he attempted to flee, but Brandon pinned against the wall and pressed his dagger against his throat. "Why did you have to make this complicated? What you did just now makes me think that you are an ungrateful bastard and also cannot be trusted to keep this secret, so I have to kill you."

The City Watcher shook his head and looked at Brandon with pleading eyes. "No, no. Please do not kill me."

"Then listen to what I have to say," Brandon told him firmly. "This war is over and we all know who is going to win, the only issue being when. I for one am tired of how long this war lasted and I want to end this quickly. If you will not help me open the north gate, I will find someone else who will. But if you help me and you make my task easy… I shall see that you are rewarded beyond your wildest imaginations and that you will never have to thirst for wine ever again."

The City Watcher gulped, but Brandon could see that his words got through to him. Seeing him no longer struggle, he let him go. "Wait for my signal. And if you tell anyone what I just told you…" Brandon gave him a piercing look, the consequences clear to the both of them.

Now came the more difficult part, which was communicating with the outside and letting them know of the plan. There was no way that he could send a message through the walls or out through the harbor, as the plan would come crashing down if the enemy found out what would happen. And everyone depended on him, since that the difference between the army suffering many casualties and suffering minimal casualties depended on how they would take the city. It was tempting for the dragonriders to simply burn the city, but it did not make sense, as Oldtown was a large port and just needed to be ruled by someone else in order to be useful for the future rulers of Westeros. It was better to simply repurpose the infrastructure and the trading connections to and from the outside world rather than just burn it all down. The dragons are not that shortsighted.

That was when he had an idea. During his ultimately successful time trying to entice the powerful near the Starry Sept as a woman, he came across a female seller of cloth named Meryan, who had a house built into the city walls. Her husband had died years ago and she was left to care for their family, which consisted of a boy and a girl. Brandon saw that she had made a good living selling cloth, as people still needed to wear clothes, while she was increasingly approached by the City Watch and the rest of the garrison to help sew up the wounded and the dead. While she was a tempting source of information, her house was of more value to him, since it was right next to the gate that he had intended to use as the entrance for the army to take Oldtown.

Climbing out of the underbelly, Brandon decided to approach Meryan and offer her the same deal that he gave to the City Watcher. But the problem was that she did not know him and would be suspicious if he just came to her out of the blue, so he had to plan it carefully.

Seeing her sell cloths on the street, he walked towards her. "This is some fine sheets," Brandon remarked. "How much?"

"One silver coin for each feet you buy," Meryan answered.

"That is a good deal." Brandon pulled out his sack of coins, pulling out twenty silver pieces. "Would this be enough?"

Meryan nodded, her eyes widened as she eagerly took the money. "How very generous of you, good ser. You just allowed me to sell more than I did last moon."

"I am always happy to help out a woman in need, especially one with such fine cloth to sell," Brandon answered. "May I ask what you will do with the money?"

"As you know, food prices has have soared to unreachable levels. Perhaps with ten of your coins, I can buy a chicken or some lamb slices for my children to enjoy tonight. They deserve meat," Meryan answered.

"I am sure they would," Brandon remarked, while admiring how she was still devoted to her children during this crisis. "I guess I can help you and your family eat better, not just for tonight but for the rest of the week."

"And how do you intend to accomplish that, good ser?" Meryan asked.

Brandon shrugged. "How does twenty more silver coins sound to you?"

Meryan chuckled. "No one has that amount of money, at least not in this part of the city."

"And who does?" Brandon asked, even though he knew the answer.

"Mostly the lordlings who took refuge here when the dragons came, including Lord Hightower. But you do not look like any lordling that I know of."

"Have you met many lordlings?" Brandon inquired. I am not one, not in its purest form anyway.

"I have seen someone from House Roxton visit me to buy cloth, and you do not carry yourself as one."

That is because how we northmen view nobility is different than those south of the Neck. Brandon was not going to answer her question of whether he himself was a lordling, for that would make her more curious. Instead, he took out more coins and showed it in his palm. Meryan was instantly intrigued and her mouth was open wide.

"Would this be enough for me to ask a favor of you?" Brandon asked her.

"Who are you? Where did you get all that coin?" Meryan raised an eyebrow.

"Is that important, fair woman?"

"I suppose not," she accepted. "But if this favor is that I join you in your bed tonight, you are going to have three times as that. You are not the first one to ask me to be one's whore."

Brandon shook his head. "No, I am not going to ask you to do that. I just need you to sew something."

"Sew what?"

"A large sheet with a bear on it," Brandon said.

Meryan blinked in confusion. "Why do you want me to do that? And why a bear, out of all creatures?"

"Do you want my coin or not?" Brandon closed his hand and was about to put it back in his pouch.

But Meryan acted quickly and reached out for his hand full of coin. "Now, do not be like that. I naturally get interested whenever one makes that kind of offer, especially your request. That is a lot of coin to give, especially if you just want me to sew something with a bear on it."

"Not just sew it. I need you to hang out in front of your window outside, away from the wall."

"Why?" Meryan asked. But she backtracked when Brandon threatened to pocket the coin again. "All right. I will do it. No need to be so tight with your pocket."

"Look, fair lady. While I am more than willing to answer one's questions on most days, today and this week are not filled with them and I just need you to do what I will pay you to do. Is that fair enough?"

Meryan shrugged and raising her arms midway up her body. "As you wish." Brandon then gave her coins, which she took. "This is only ten. I can count, good ser."

"Ah, ah," Brandon shook his head. "Half now, half when you actually sew it and hang it outside your window. It is the only way that I know to give you a reason to work for it."

Meryan groaned before she put the ten silver coins in her pouch. "Come back tomorrow, then. I will have it ready and hanging by them."

Brandon chose the bear because it represented House Mormont, the family from which Torrhen's mother Gilliane came from. He knew that if he chose a wolf, it would have been too obvious and thus he would be caught. She better not stab me in the back, or there will be the White Walkers to pay.

Brandon had no way of knowing when they will begin the assault, but the day after he made the order for the bear banner from the clothes woman, he walked towards the City Watcher. "Good ser, it is time. In three days, leave the gate unlocked."

The City Watcher sighed sadly before nodding. "My name will be burned into the memory of those who will never forget who sold out Oldtown."

"No," Brandon shook his head. "You will be rewarded richly, that I can promise you. There are moments where you have to choose a side and you did, even though it was under less than ideal circumstances."

The City Watcher scoffed. "Just who are you, really? If I am going to betray my people, I might as well know the name of the one goading me to do it."

Brandon crossed his arms, but he raised his chin. "If you want to know, fine. My name is Brandon Snow, son of King Harald Stark. I am also Hand to the new rulers of Westeros, so you have my word that you will not be harmed. Rather, I will make sure to protect you, since my word is good."

The City Watcher froze in shock. "So… it is you. The famous bastard of the northerners."

Brandon scoffed. "That I am. But apparently, that does not really matter at this point now, does it?"

The City Watcher slouched his shoulders. "I suppose not. All right, the gates will be left unlocked. What would you suggest that I do in order to avoid being killed?"

"When the moment comes…. Take off your armor and drop your weapons. Do not resist and keep yourself visible to me, because that will be the only way that I can keep the others from killing you and anyone unwise to fight. Is that understood?"

"Yes, I understand."

"Good. I shall be waiting."

Later, Brandon returned to the woman, who brought him into her home. Taking him to the window, she pointed the banner that was hanging outside. "Is this sufficient for you, good ser?"

Brandon leaned his head out of the window. Against a yellow background was the black bear of House Mormont, something that Meryan was not aware of. Brandon wished that he picked a different one to make it, as the bear looked ugly. I cannot complain because I could not afford to be selective.

"It will do," Brandon said to her before handing her the other half of the promised payment. Hopefully, Torrhen is able to know that it was me that put it up here, and the meaning.

Finally, Brandon discretely entered the housing quarters for the City Watch. Needing a weapon and a way to observe that the City Watcher would not botch his plans, he snuck out while dressed in the City Watch's armor and one of their swords strapped to his waist. He was dressed in chainmail while it was covered over by a white surcoat with the sigil of the High Tower, and he wore a simple steel helmet. He was able to pass through the quarters without anyone becoming the wiser and made his way to where the City Watcher would be. Walking up to the gatehouse, he had to resist the need to scream in frustration as he saw him slumped over, with a wineskin freshly squeezed in his hand.

Deciding that he could no longer trust him, he tied him up while his eyes remained closed and observed the fields below. Brandon smiled, as he saw a group of mounted northmen riding around in a circle in front of where the bear banner was hanged. Yes! He got the message!

Walking down the stairs from the top of the gatehouse, Brandon looked and saw Balerion descend from the sky and open up his mouth to unleash black flames onto the defenders. Shit! The assault has begun! But knowing Torrhen and what the others might have planned, Balerion's attack would merely be a distraction, as everyone would be focused on the big dragons and where it would attack next. Right now, the dragon was bathing the east and south sides of Oldtown's walls with his fire while he saw an arrow barrage rain down on the defenders. Bells rung, men shouted, and people screamed while the city prepared itself for the dreaded attack from the "Valyrian heathens."

Seeing two men on guard in the north gate, Brandon approached them while he mustered the best imitation of the southron speech he could. "Men, I have orders to relieve you! Go help your brothers further south!"

The guards looked at each other in confusion. "Ser, we have orders to remain here."

"Orders have changed! The heathens are attacking the east and south gates. If they break through, it is all over! Go there now!"

"What about you? Why are you here?" one of them asked.

"Right now, the north gate is not under attack and therefore not a priority to the defense of the city. Thus, only one man is needed and they sent me," Brandon answered.

The guards exchanged a look. "Who gave you the orders?" the other asked.

Remembering one of the conversations he overhead while in the housing quarters of the City Watch, he gave the first name that came to his mind. "Ser Garth Roxton."

The guards, seemingly satisfied, nodded to each other and ran off. Brandon kept his eyes on their backs, but after seeing that they were completely out of sight. Assessing the gate, he moved to get the bars off the of gates, which were fortunately not heavy and the north gate was not large in comparison to the south and east gates.

But just as he put the key into the keyhole to unlock them, which he snatched from the drunk City Watcher, someone shouted behind him, "Don't you dare!" Turning around, he saw a dozen City Watch members had arrived, pointing their spears at him while one of them came forward. "What in the Seven Hells are you doing?"

Brandon knew that there was no point in putting the façade any longer, so he stood straight. "All of you, I am not part of the City Watch. My name is Brandon Snow, brother of Torrhen Stark, and I am here to ensure that this city falls by tonight. But all of you can survive the coming battle if you help me right now."

"Really?" the leader expressed his skepticism. "And how exactly do you intend on helping us? We know your reputation, Brandon Snow, so you will forgive us if we do not trust the world of a bastard hermit."

"Interesting choice of words, although I am far from a hermit," Brandon answered. "But nonetheless, hear me out. I am offering you all a very good deal. If you put down your weapons and help me open this gate, I will make sure that you all leave here with not only your lives, but rewards beyond your imagination. I can make sure of that, and my word is good, as you all know who I am and how close I am to the ones who will rule Westeros. It is a given that this war is already over and that further fighting is pointless."

The leader exchanged glances with the group and for a moment, Brandon hoped that they would consider his offer. But instead, they laughed heartily amongst each other and kept their weapons pointed at him.

"You really are a bastard, aren't you? Offering us false promises of riches and land in exchange for being turncoats? That is exactly what bastards like yourself would do," the leader barked.

"My promises are not false. I am a northmen and I do not believe in offering those sorts of things unless I can deliver. None of you have to die here."

"Sorry, northerner. But we are men committed to the Faith of the Seven and we will never bow to your heathen trees and your dragon masters. And we will make sure that before this city falls, we take as many of them with us." The leader then readied his sword, intending to fight Brandon.

Sighing, Brandon shook his head. "Have it your way, then."

He pulled out a knife he also stole from the City Watch's quarters and threw it at the leader's right eye, instantly killing him as he fell to the ground with a blade piercing into his brain. Seeing the other men charge at him, he charged at them all, miraculously avoiding their spear thrusts and sword swings by spinning and ducking under each. Unsheathing his sword, he slashed at the ones nearest, catching their legs while he moved to kill one by swinging across his neck.

But one of the ones who managed to survive his initial assault was able to close the distance and swing his sword downwards. Fortunately for Brandon, being cut in the shoulder from his earlier attack made him swing too early and his sword hit merely collided with the blade, knocking it out of his hands.

Not waiting for him to get a second chance, Brandon quickly spotted a dirty broom on the ground and picked it up. Having played with sticks and practice swords in his younger years and, he knew how to use like an actual blad and he applied that knowledge to using the broom's handle as a club to strike against his attacker's belly. Seeing him double down and grab his stomach in pain, he did not hesitate as he brought down the broom's handle on his back, putting him on the ground.

Brandon, spinning around, hit all of their spears, causing them to jolt and put them upwards. Picking up his sword, he hit one with the pommel while decapitating another with a horizontal slash. Wanting to put more distance between himself and his attackers, he found a bag of milled grain nearby. Grabbing it, he used it as a secondary blunt weapon, blocking a spear strike here and hitting another's head. Eventually, one of the City Watchers tried to slash at him a second time, which Brandon block but it cut the bag and dust spread around them.

Closing his eyes at the last moment, he was able to shield them and thus avoid interfering with his fighting abilities while the rest were distracted and temporarily blinded by the dust cloud that leaked from the cut bag of milled flour. Going over to the leader's corpse on the ground, he picked up the dagger from his eye and moved to cut every one that remained standing. He slashed across one's throat, cut down on another's wrist, and stabbed another in the back of his knee despite sliding down. He could not keep track of how many he wounded since the dust was too thick, but when it cleared, all of the city watchers were either dead or too hurt to continue fighting.

Or at least most of them, as one was grabbing onto his leg wound and tried to walk away. Before he could, Brandon threw the knife and it nearly entered his skull, but the intended mark was on the basket of meager oranges on his right side. The City Watcher who remained was wise to stop in his place before he slowly turned his face back to Brandon.

"All of this could have been avoided if you had just accepted my offer, but instead, you decided to fight." Brandon went close to him and pressed the sword against his neck. "But I will give you one last chance. Help me open this gate and…. You listened to what I said?" Brandon was getting bored and was not in the mood to repeat the same speech over again. The City Watcher nodded and Brandon pushed him, where they unlocked and unbarred the north gate before pulling it open, the wood creaking.

Grabbing a horn from a dead City Watcher, Brandon blew on it hard as he stood outside of the open gate. He did not have to wait long, for the northmen cavalry that was riding outside came towards him. He was pleased to see Lord Ethan Reed ride on his horse, which was a rare sight since crannogment were not known as horsemen.

"Lord Ethan," he greeted him.

"Lord Snow. By the old gods, you actually did it," the head of House Reed remarked as more of the northmen came to the open north gate. "It will not take long for the rest to follow, but panic should spread among the defenders now."

"If they are smart, they will throw down their weapons and surrender. No need for anyone else to die," Brandon stated. He smiled at the sound of a howl, as he saw the unmistakable red shape of Autumn run towards him. His direwolf jumped onto his chest, licking his face while Brandon scratched his ears and neck.

"I will leave you two to it," Lord Reed jested before joining the others through the north gate.

"I miss you too, boy," Brandon chuckled before he got himself up.

But that was not the end. He felt a dragon land behind him and he dipped his head in respect, for it was Jaenyx Belaerys as he slid down Cloudwynd.

"Prince Jaenyx," he addressed.

"Lord Snow. Impressive," Jaenyx surveyed the open gate. "You will make every shinobi proud of what you did. Time, preparation, and deception… you continue to surprise me with what you can do, Lord Snow."

"I just did what I thought was best, Prince Jaenyx. And I am guessing you are to get what I had learned of the city?"

"Not now," Jaenyx shook his head. "But I do have to survey the city and ensure that the future place for my cousin is taken intact."

Brandon knew that Jaenyx's maternal cousin, Taygor Leniar, was promised the overlordship of Oldtown when it was successfully captured. "That is a good deal for him and I know that he will rule Oldtown well. But might I ask what you are doing here?" In all honesty, he did expect to see Rhaenys arrive on Meraxes.

"I have to fly out to the Shield Islands soon, in order to begin surveying the ironborn and hunt for Darvin Hoare," Jaenyx answered. "Once the Shield Islands are secure, I will move on to Casterly Rock and help Lord Kenzou in subduing the remaining Lannister loyalists there. Afterwards, we shall see about a full-on assault on the Iron Islands."

Brandon nodded in understanding. "So… already planning on cleaning up the rest of our enemies?"

"I have to," Jaenyx replied. "Only after everything north of the Red Mountains is secure can we start to properly rule in Westeros. And since I am the new overlord of the Reach, that is important since I cannot just spend my entire time fighting."

"Hmmm," Brandon let out while scratching Autumn's nose while he saw Jaenyx rub Cloudwynd's snout. "Perhaps you can be more persuasive in that role than I can, since it took me two times to convince at least one of the guards here to help me open the gates."

"Trying to talk to those to side with you can get complicated," Jaenyx told him. "And it does not matter now, since Oldtown will soon be ours. The question now is how much of the city will not be burned because of the people's obstinance."

On that note, Brandon gestured him to follow. "Perhaps there are some people who can help us, down in the city's underbelly? After all, the first people we can trust to work with us are those who had to be under the foot of the Hightowers."

Jaenyx bobbed his head. "That is a good idea." He turned to Cloudwynd, who took off into the air. "Perhaps offer them part of the spoils in order to start working for us."

"And also erase the City Watch of anyone disloyal," Brandon added. "It is full of hardheads, people you cannot reason with because of their fanaticism."

"Oh, that will be rectified, I assure you," Jaenyx said as they walked through the gate. Hearing a horn sound, they turned to see Torrhen finally arrive.

"Ah, brother. Late as always," Brandon joked.

"I am not late. You just enjoyed yourself too much in there," Torrhen jested back, surprising Brandon a bit.

"Is everyone else coming?"

"You can count on it. Prince Jaenyx," Torrhen addressed before he and his personal guard rode through the gate also.

"With Oldtown taken, the war should end," Brandon noted.

"It should, Lord Snow. It should. And the next thing we should do is to establish our dominance."

A/N: The gate thing was inspired by the final assault of Constantinople in 1453, while Brandon's exploits was loosely inspired by those of Richard Meadows in Tehran (really encourage you all to look him up). And now, Oldtown is taken. The war should be over soon.