"They were tall enough last time," Loren said. "We don't need them taller, just stronger." The wind whipped his hair backwards as he looked over the southern boom tower. "If Lord Stannis had known they were there from the beginning he could have taken the southern tower earlier, if he had, he would be on the throne right now. "The small moat was good, useful. Could we do something to improve it?"

"What about spikes?" Gerold commented. He pointed around the tower. "It may not help against a ground assault, but strong spikes in the water around the tower could break up any attacking longboats, stopping an assault by sea."

That would've stopped the tower falling in the first place. "Add that to the list," he said. The list of what was needed to prepare the city for a second assault was getting rather long. No matter, it's father's money after all. "Double the number of spikes."

"For the other tower as well?"

"Double it again." He smiled as he looked over towers, still not satisfied with their potential to withstand a ground assault. One good stone throw from a trebuchet could bring down the tower, and the chain with it.

"This is becoming a long list," Gerold commented, but he didn't object.

He looked at the towers again. He needed time to think on the towers. Thankfully, Stannis wasn't yet looking to attack King's Landing again, so there was time. "Take us back to the city." Gerold called out to the captain to turn the ship around and take them back to King's Landing.

There was an official with a lion on his breast waiting for him on the jetty. No stag, just a lion, this was certainly his father's regime. "Lord Marshall," the official said, bowing at his waist. "Your father summons you-"

"To the small council?" He finished. "I am aware that there is a meeting." Father couldn't even trust him to remember when there was a small council meeting. "You can run along now."

The official scurried off like a rat. Varys has his birds; Littlefinger his cutthroats and hirelings, Cersei her pawns and father his rats; big rats, small rats, rats with spears and swords, rats with sigils and sails, but rats all the same. "No need to bore yourself outside the door to the Small Council chambers," Loren said to Gerold as they mounted their palfreys. "Go, have the rest of the day off, I'll give the list to father."

He was the last to arrive at the council chambers. Father, Cersei, Mace Tyrell, Tyrion, Varys, Littlefinger and Pycelle all turning to him as he entered.

"You're late," his father noted.

"I am," he replied. "My apologies." He slid into his chair at the far end of the table, as far from his father as he could be. Tyrion was to his right and all the others were at the other end. "I have the list of requirements for the city. He slid it down the table, reaching halfway. Lord Mace took it up and, instead of passing it down, he got up and went down to Tywin to give it to him personally.

"Thank you, Lord Tyrell." His father read over the list, his face not moving, not one raised eyebrow or twitch of the mouth. Nothing. "Is all of this truly necessary?"

Loren nodded. "Yes. Three gates suffered damage in the battle and will need to be replaced, all of their defences are outdated and need updating with proper machicolations as a counter to rams that make it to the gates, our Wildfire stocks being depleted. A dozen new warships dedicated to the patrolling and defence of the Mouth of the Rush in the long term, repairs to the southern tower and upgrades to both their defences. I terms of manpower, of course the fresh swords, spears and mail for the Goldcloaks, but also the restocking of our siege supplies, a fund for a force of crossbowmen to hold the walls, at least until the end of the war. I can't remember the rest of the list off the top of my head, if I'm honest, but there were a fair few other things as well."

"There are," Tywin said. Your teeth seem rather clenched father. "Do you know how much this will cost?"

"No," he replied simply. "I am the Marshall, father, I simply say what is needed to secure the city against the enemy and direct the war front, we have Lord Baelish here for matters of funds." Littlefinger shot him a look of barely contained venom, the man still hadn't forgiven him for locking him in the dungeons for the battle.

"And he and I shall discuss this," he said, putting the list face down on the table, but for now there are other matters to discuss."

More important matters, I'm sure, Loren thought, and sat back to hear them. "We've received word from Lord Tarly. His men are slowly but surely pushing down through the Kingswood, they have taken a dozen villages, but they face fierce opposition from Lord Stannis' woodsmen who oppose them. He asks for another two weeks before he has pushed them out enough to say the southern bank is secure."

Loren smiled, but he couldn't catch Lord Tywin's eye. Pushing into the Rainwood was the one concession his father had granted him, and it seems it was a success. He'd wanted more, his father had wanted less. But if this worked, his father would be forced to accept that it was their best option.

"Soon we can catch what's left of the traitor's army and crush it." Lord Tyrell puffed out. "I would be honoured to lead the men to do so."

"For now let us wait and see," Loren said. "Once Lord Tarly has finished clearing the kingswood, then we can consider more."

"Quite right." His father's voice cut across them like ice. "We must also wait for Lord Tarth's return to the fold to bear its full fruit. Stannis Baratheon is a hard man to follow and I expect that more of those who have pledged themselves to him will return to us. Let Stannis bleed before we march on him."

"I think that's a mistake, we cannot assume that any others will return to us. In the company we were marching against-"

"We don't need tales of your sellsword days," Lord Tywin said. "This is a different war, we fight with iron here in Westeros, not gold."

Loren bit back his retort. "As you say, father."

"For now there is the more immediate matter of the Lady Margaery's arrival. Everything is in order?"

"It is, my lord," Mace Tyrell replied. Loren saw Littlefinger nod to Lord Tywin surreptitiously, and from Tyrion's expression, it would seem that things were indeed ready, and not too heavily biased in favour of the Tyrells. Still Lord Mace had wanted him to accompany Lady Margaery, he had the largest component of the royal forces at his command, and best of all he hungered for a battle he could call his own.

After the meeting was done, Loren let Lord Mace get far enough away that his father's witnesses were not there before hurrying to catch up with him. "Lord Mace!"

The Lord of Highgarden turned, his guardsmen standing fast to his shoulder. "Lord Loren," he smiled, arms stretched wide genially. "How can I help you?"

"I was hoping we might speak, my lord, are you busy?"

"Not at present, walk with me."

Loren nodded and fell into step with him. "What is your opinion on the war, where do we stand now?"

"In a position of strength, here at King's Landing we have nearly a hundred thousand men together, and I can raise more at a moment's notice should I need it. We need only pick a foe and we can crush it."

Interesting. "So my lord, where should we march, we have two foes at present. Stark or Stannis?"

"Stannis, he is weakened, lame. I would relish nothing more than to push against him and finish what I started fifteen years ago."

Loren nodded, this was going well, a little more prodding. "I agree, if we can march against Lord Stannis, that will secure us for winter, then, when the snows fall, we can re-conquer the realm of the Stark King."

"Oh I don't see why we have to wait, Lord Marshall, why not deal with them both. Move to crush Lord Stannis in one move and then we can turn on Robb Stark. After all, Lord Stannis won't take too long. Though I would relish the chance to crush him, when my army descends on the Stormlands in full force, the lords will return to us rather than face it all."

Loren suppressed his grin and instead nodded slowly. "Yes... that could be done, but we would have to move far more quickly than my father would like. He would rather we wait for the wedding of your daughter to his grandson. I fear he would not permit such an action without it."

Lord Mace waved away Loren's comment. "I see no reason for that my lord, I believe we should aim to have crushed both by winter. And think on it, together, you and I can make a gift of the traitors to the new royal couple."

"It would be quite a gift," he let a hint of his delight slip onto his face. "If the Hand of the King could be persuaded-"

"Leave that to me, Lord Loren, I will speak with him."

"I think not, my lord."

"Marshall?"

"Think my lord. I suspect my father's nerve has been touched a little by his defeats. We should move together to reassure him, and do so only when we hear good news."

"You have a plan?"

Loren nodded, leaning in. "Let us wait until we hear Lord Tarly clears the woods. Instruct him to send word to you and you alone when he has done so. Bring it to bear at the next council meeting and I will give you my full support. With news of the victory and the support of myself, I believe my father will give us permission to march."

Lord Tyrell tapped his nose knowingly. "I see my lord. I shall have word sent to Lord Tarly at once."

"Very good Lord Tyrell, now if I may beg your pardon, there was somewhere I had to be."

"Of course my lord, do call on me again if you need anything else."

"I will lord Tyrell, I will indeed." He waited for Lord Tyrell to turn to corner before he let his face split into a grin.

He was still smiling when he returned to his chambers. "What's made you so happy brother?" Tyrion asked.

His smile vanished. "What are you doing here?"

"Drinking," Tyrion replied from his seat at Loren's table, wiggling his cup at him. "Where were you keeping this vintage brother?"

"I was Hand of the King for a while, it gave me certain privileges," he said. He'd been forced to sneak more than one bottle away to cope with the preparations for the siege, thankfully they hadn't been discovered after the battle, so he'd been able to bring them to his new accommodations.

"And you used them well, care for a cup?"

He was feeling generous. "Why not." He pulled another chair up to the table and settled opposite his brother. Tyrion slid the cup of deep gold vintage over to him.

"You have a lot of maps here, "Tyrion said gesturing to the end of the table where he'd piled up his maps from the hours he spent pouring over them to plan for the wars that weren't being fought.

"Reports as well, droll and dreary, but essential for our war."

Tyrion nodded. "It makes sense. But I must ask, you know father isn't going to send you to war any time soon, why bother, why not just..." he held up the cup.

"Because eventually I am going to have to go and fight. Even if father disapproves now, one day, it will happen, and as King's Marshall it is my duty to be ready for that day. I owe it to the men I'm going to lead to know all I can, so that I can win without their being asked to sacrifice more than is needed."

"Your men, not father?"

"What do I owe father?" He demanded, his mood sour. "I know what I know of war because I sought it in Essos, you know as well as I that King's Landing would have fallen before father arrived had I not been commanding the defences. What has father given me that I have not earned?"

"Your name, you wouldn't be a Lannister without him."

"Your right, I should go and thank him, I'm sure it was such a burden on him the night I was conceived to have sex with our mother."

Tyrion chuckled. "A fair complaint. We both of us owe our existence to Lord Tywin's pleasure." He raised his glass in a mocking toast to Tyrion's statement before downing it in one go. "But he has also given you the best learning money can buy, arms and armour fit for a king, and Casterly Rock will be yours."

"Thanks to our dear brother, if Jaime hadn't taken the white I would be where you are now."

"With claim to a castle of my own, a very big castle, bigger than even the Rock. The littlest of the Lannisters with the biggest castle."

"Don't think you owe father for that, he did it to increase Lannister prestige and power, not to reward you."

"Are you saying that I would have Harrenhal if he hadn't pushed it? Whatever his reasons I have it because of father."

Loren drank, hating that Tyrion was, perhaps, a little bit right.

Perhaps seeing the stormclouds gathering on his face, Tyrion didn't press the matter of their father further, Loren buried it deep in his stomach and drowned it with wine. "What were you going to say about the east?"

He raised an eyebrow to Tyrion.

"At the meeting," Tyrion explained. "You started mentioning the east before father cut you off. What were you going to say?"

"You noticed?"

"I see rather a lot, you just don't see when I see, you see?"

He blinked. "I see."

Tyrion laughed and he let a breath of air escape from between his teeth, enough that it almost threatened to become a chuckle. "We were marching to confront an army of Qohorik mercenaries who'd rallied three companies of horsemen to their sides to try and confront us. I led a raid to capture much of the enemy war chest. One of the enemy companies deserted, and we assumed the others would as well. When we marched to battle and found they hadn't, we were taken by surprise. We still won the battle, but we lost more men than we should have." It was after that battle he was given command of the outriders of the company, to ensure that they fought with all the available knowledge of the foe.

"You think that Lord Tarth's treason may not inspire others?" Tyrion asked.

He nodded. "Yes. Sellsword companies fight for gold, we took their immediate gold supply yet still they fought. Those at Lord Stannis' side fight for many reasons, wealth, ambition, loyalty, honour and more; dealing him one temporary defeat is unlikely to break all of these reasons, particularly if we take our sweet time taking advantage of it."

He sat back, cup drained. Tyrion looked quizzically at him, like some wizard's little assistant. "I know little of war, but what you say has a certain sense to it."

"Well I know a lot of war, and I would appreciate it if more people accepted that."

Tyrion nodded before draining his own cup. "You know what you're problem is brother?"

"Enlighten me."

Tyrion got to the door and pulled it open, looking back over his shoulder at him. "You think that your experience at war means everyone should listen to you, failing to see that the rest of your record doesn't make you worth listening to."

Loren's mouth opened and closed like a fish as Tyrion left him, the door clicking shut behind him.

It took him several moments to storm after Tyrion and wrench the door open. "Tyrion!" He yelled at his brother who was waddling down the corridor. His dwarf brother turned to look at him, not look of levity on his face, only cold hard stone. "What do you mean, my record?!"

Tyrion laughed, not with him this time, but at him. "What do you think I'm talking about Loren?"

"I don't know, dwarf, what are you talking about?"

"Your family!"

Loren took a step back. "What about them?"

Tyrion laughed again, a fat, hard sound. When he'd recovered, he looked up at Loren. "Tell me, what it Joanna's favourite colour?"

"Joanna's... what?"

"Her favourite colour."

"I..." he thought back. "Blue."

"Wrong, purple. What about Lelia, how many times did we have to pull her from the sea because she was trying to swim after you?"

"I don't-"

"Sixteen. I tried to keep your wife company as best I am able, and I don't know how many times Tion asked why he'd never seen his father, or why his father had abandoned him. And let's talk about your wife for a second, do you know what your leaving did to her?"

Loren stiffened. "She didn't object."

"Of course she didn't, how you managed to get such a dutiful wife I don't know, actually I do, it was father again, but by the gods do you not deserve her. Particularly after what you put her through."

"Put her through?"

"You left, barely a year and a half after she had given birth to the son you desired for so long, you up and left to go and fight for gold in some desolate wasteland. She was completely shamed. And the rumours she had to deal with-"

"What rumours?"

Tyrion shook his head. "I'm not going to tell you that, you should already know."

"Tyrion!"

"Yes yes, threaten me brother. Then go and brook on how superior you are to me. Then do yourself a service – look in the mirror."