The Catspaw Succeeded - Moves and Countermoves

The events in this chapter take place of a longer period of time. I will note where and when each section takes place in reference to each other.

These are my best guesses on timeframes on travel through Westeros. So if you disagree with them - ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The Kingsroad - two weeks after Lord Tywin received the raven from 'Pycelle'

Gregor Clegane was a simple man with simple needs. Nothing made him happier than a large dose of milk of the poppy for his headaches, a wench for him to have, with or without their consent, and men to kill.

Clegane had visited Lord Tywin immediately after his summons. Whenever the old Lion needed his service he knew it was always worth his time because it usually involved killing. He sent his men to gather supplies and prepare to head for the Golden Tooth while he saw his Lord. Most of his best men were always with him on his rare travels. But some were spread out and would be summoned. When he arrived he was given a succinct list of things to do. Gather his men at the Golden Tooth and take the River Road as swiftly as possible to get to the Kingsroad. He was disappointed to hear he was to avoid any delays and avoid trouble. But once they were at the Kingsroad he was to find out if Prince Joffrey's escort had passed by. If they had passed by he was to chase them down from behind. If they had arrived before the escort met this intersection of roads, he was to scout out an ambush location and wait or them. Regardless he was to kill all but Prince Joffrey. He was told of Prince Joffrey's false arrest and he was to be escorted back south towards King's Landing immediately where Lord Tywin was going to resolve the issue

Gregor rode his men hard. Any beast that was looking like it could not continue was traded for a fresh one in a village they passed. Gregor had his squire deal with any smallfolk when doing so. They arrived at the Crossroads Inn as evening fell. The Innkeeper had been very apprehensive at the sight of The Mountain and stuttered out that the escort had only just departed that morning. A group of travelers had already taken up all the space in the Inn so Gregor had his men camp for the night. They made that camp off the road in a small clearing. The next morning they rode north. A few scouts rode ahead at a quick pace and eventually returned with news. They had spotted the escort. A traveling group of 20 Baratheon soldiers were escorting a secured carriage with barred windows and padlocked doors. The carriage had broken a wheel that was being repaired.

The Mountain had 30 men with him. They were all lightly armored since they needed to travel quickly. A group of their size traveling with all their heavy armor would have looked too suspicious and slowed them down. Gregor though had an extra mount with his massive plate armor strapped to it. He wore it despite knowing they would make quick work of these men.

The location could not have been better. The broken wheel occurred in a heavily wooded area just after a sharp bend in the road so the view for the escort was obscured. Gregor was about to begin when his squire spoke up.

"Ser…don't you find this just too….convenient?" Gregor turned to his squire and bashed him on the top of his helmet with a clenched fist. He was out cold before he hit the ground. Gregor gave the signal and they charged hard.

They were on the escort quickly. The soldiers had done a good job of staying alert but had gotten lazy with no rearguard. Gregor led the charge and cut through the first few men with his giant long sword. He took no effort to defend himself since his armor would stop any man's sword strike. With half the escort dead the men left fled. Gregor removed his helm and spat in disgust as he and his men dismounted from their horses and walked to the carriage. It was a large one. About 15 feet wide and 10 long - one meant to escort a large number of men to the wall. He could hear screaming from a boyish voice in the carriage to get him out. He called out in his own rumbling voice. "Prince Joffrey, we are here for you. Stand back from the door". He bashed at the lock with the banded edge of his shield and it broke. He swung the door open and instead of the Prince and a disgraced Kingsguard he saw half a dozen men kneeling with crossbows leveled at them, with another half dozen standing behind them, also with crossbows. A voice suddenly shouted from behind. "Surrender Clegane!" He whirled around and saw two men on horseback leading a group of what looked to be two dozen mounted knights and 50 men at arms behind them. The Mountain's anger rose up so quickly his head felt like it was going to explode. He screamed aloud and swung his great sword at the men in the carriage. He decapitated three crouching men in front of him as the rest all fired their bolts into he and his men

Clegane brought up his shield to stop any from hitting his unprotected face but he felt the annoying sting of several embedding into his arms and legs. His chest plate took a bolt but spent all its energy getting through the thickest plate in the realm and was stopped by the chainmail underneath.

His lightly armored men were less fortunate. Many were killed or greatly wounded. How do they keep firing? Gregor wondered.

He had no time to think. His men were surrounded and outnumbered. But he would never surrender. He would cut his way out and take what men he could. Before he could begin his way was blocked by the knights and the two leaders. One was dornish wearing a tabard with a large spotted cat over his armor. The other was a red headed man with a fish on his. A Tully! I need him alive thought Gregor. Getting back to the Golden Tooth would be easier with a prisoner.

The Tully and the dornishman were no fools. They kept their distance from the Mountain and rotated around him. One to the front and one behind, always moving.

Edmure

Edmure Tully's heart was beating a mile a minute. He had always laughed at his Uncle's cautious words about his exploits in the War of the Ninepenny Kings. Now he wished he had taken care to listen closer. Edmure knew his recent change in training was nowhere near enough to defeat a well seasoned knight, let alone a beast like the Mountain, but his recent martial efforts did lead to some personal discoveries. Namely strategies. When the letter from Kings Landing arrived ordering his Lord Father to be on the lookout for any movements from the West, Edmure initially wanted to wait right by the Tooth and simply bar their way. But after a moment he dismissed that as foolish. He had no idea who would be coming and in what size. But after some discussion with his Father they surmised anyone trying to intercept the 'prisoners' would have to be quick. That ruled out a large force. But a smaller one could. And even he could deduce that likely meant Gregor Clegane. Edmure took a gamble that they would stay on the River Road the whole way. The 'rescuers' could have gone North and tried to get ahead of the escort by crossing at the Twins which would let them come from the south on the Kingsroad. But a raven from Riverrun to Darry and a runner to the Crossroads Inn had let them know their possible quarry was doing as they had expected.

The third letter warned them that they suspected Lord Tywin might not take this news well and could try to force a crisis by rescuing his Grandson. The letter did not say where Joffrey was though. Edmure and Hoster did not know if the letter had been a brilliant but paranoid idea of caution or if they had an indication Lord Tywin would try something. At this point Edmure did not care. All he cared about now was staying alive. Once Ser Aron Santagar arrived at the Crossroads Inn they had talked and Edmure explained his idea. A story he had been told as a child of a prince rescuing a kidnapped maiden from highwaymen had been the inspiration. They loaded the carriage with a dozen of the best crossbowmen from Riverrun. The "travelers" at the Inn were his men at arms, his household knights, and a few of his fellow heirs. Edmure himself bedded down in the stables to avoid being spotted, his signature red hair being too noticeable. Edmure had displeased his friends with his strategy. They wanted to confront the Mountain and his men right away.

Another idea of his was that the crossbowmen wouldn't be able to reload in the carriage with such tight confines. So each man had two extra crossbows with them. Ready to fire right away. One dozen men in all. Thirty six shots total. And what a job they had done. Even with three men taken out right away and several shots wasted on the Mountain, they had taken out or severely wounded a large number of the Mountain's men. The men at arms were instructed to handle the rest while the knights were to surround the Mountain.

This had been a point of worry for both Ser Aaron and Edmure. Two dozen knights, armored and shielded, could surround the man. But how to bring him down? Ser Aron and Edmure were both trying to convince the Mountain to surrender but he simply charged at them. Edmure darted under a vicious swing of the man sword but was suddenly airborne as he was struck by a reverse blow from the monster's shield. Edmure saw stars and was fighting to stay conscious. His vision was tunneled due to a lack of oxygen. The shield's blow had dented his chest plate and he felt sharp pains while trying to catch his breath. As he staggered up he realized he landed next to the largest armored helm he had ever seen. A single slit for vision and a massive metal fist the size of his own head sticking out of the top.

Meanwhile, Ser Aron was using a spear to keep his distance and try to find a soft spot to attack. But the Mountain's armor was so thick he could not land any of the normally disabling blows he trained on. One of the knights tried his luck from behind and was practically cut into two, the Mountain's sword slicing the man from a shoulder to the opposite hip. Ser Aron silently thanked that fool because it allowed him to get directly behind the Mountain and he found a small gap in his armor and stabbed him right below the calf. The spear blade thrust through his massive lower leg and clanged against the armor on the shin's side. The Mountain bellowed in pain and fell to one knee. But his joy was short-lived as Ser Gregor let go of the sword and shield .He had turned quick as a cat and had grabbed Ser Aron's spear and pulled him into his enormous reach. Clegane, despte being on one kneww, lifted Ser Aron off the ground, both massive hands covering his entire head. The Mountain began to squeeze. Ser Aron screamed in agony and just when he thought he couldn't bear anything more he heard another man yell and then a horrendous sound like a large melon being dropped from a great height.

Ser Aron was dropped to the ground. Dumbly he thought that melon sound was his own head...but that could not be. He was alive. But his head felt like it was still in a vice. After his vision finally came into focus he saw the Mountain nearby on the ground. He stood up and stared in shock. The Mountain was clearly dead. The right side of his head was a misshapen mess. His right eye had popped out of the socket. Blood intermixed with grayish white matter was visible through the broken skull between his cheek and ear. Standing in front of the Mountain, taking heaving breaths, was Edmure Tully. He had the Mountain's massive helm in his hands. Blood and brain matter covered the giant fist atop the helm. The knights that had ringed the three combatants were shouting in sheer awe at what their Lord's heir had done. With the giant man still down to a knee he had rushed at him. As he neared the Mountain he spun himself around in a complete circle with his arms extended out and holding on to the giant helm in both hands. The sheer weight of the helm combined with the momentum generated as he spun created enormous power. The fist atop the helm had struck the Mountain just as he began to look towards the motion he saw. Instead of catching the man from behind it had crushed in his skull at his temple. One morbid knight was walking around collecting the teeth that had been dislodged.

As both Edmure and Ser Aron stood next to the fallen knight they took stock of the situation. The few men of left still alive had surrendered. They also had the Mountain's unconscious squire. The survivors and the squire would be able to tell them of their plans. After a few moments Ser Edmure dropped the helm and walked away. He found a tree stump and sat down. The shock and adrenaline was coursing through him. The blue of his tabord was splattered in blood. The words of his Uncle Brynden that he had previously scoffed at in his head.

War is no game, boy. I hope you never experience it but we cannot control our fate. For most men of our station, the first taste of combat is over too quickly. A cavalry charge through untrained peasant levees and you think you are Barristan The Bold reborn. But the lucky ones are those that face moments of great danger and overcome it. You savor that taste of victory but it is grants you the knowledge of being lucky to have survived. As I heard Lord Rickard Stark once say to a young knight who survived near death: 'Nothing removes the scent of green summer grass from a man like blood, shit, and brains.'

Kings Landing - The day before the executions - two weeks earlier

Stannis Baratheon was in his office when Ser Brynden Tully arrived. Ser Brynden had requested some time to speak about a troubling matter concerning Houses Stark and Tully. After refreshments were provided Stannis asked what the issue was. Brynden gave a succinct rundown of the facts. That his brother, Hoster, had been receiving letters from the Septa in Winterfell at his direction. At some point it had been discovered by a third party who intercepted their letters and had been providing misleading and inflammatory information about the goings on in Winterfell to Hoster. And they were giving false suggestions to the Septa. That both locations involved a brothel and the letters were being given to someone in King's Landing.

Stannis sat for a few minutes thinking this over. He pulled the rope that chimed and summoned Ser Davos. He asked Ser Davos to get Maester Pylos. Once Pylos arrived Stannis asked Davos to stay as well. Stannis directed Ser Brynden to repeat what was just said. After doing so he looked at Davos.

"Ser Davos, what do you know of information dealers in King's Landing?" Asked Stannis.

Davos did not take offense to this. He knew his previous work was something many in the Red Keep were uncomfortable with but Stannis used it to his advantage. "I know there are many people who can find out information for a price. This is quite ambitious though. Normally one would just keep tabs on their letters. Not alter them. Tell me Ser Brynden, the letters you were able to obtain from the Septa that she said were from your brother, did it look like it came from him?"

Ser Brynden nodded. "I have read several of them. Their script was like his. I recognized the signature. The letters used his…." Brynden struggled for the right words. "…I don't know, It just sounded like his words if you know what I mean?"

Davos mulled it over. "I have heard of men with talents at forgery but I do not know of any personally. Just rumors. I cannot read or write well myself, but I know you can't just write a letter and say it's from someone else. Something like this was possible because they were supposed to be secret. None of these fancy seals I see you folk drip all over your letters." At the mention of seals, Pylos and Stannis shared a look.

Stannis spoke up. "This news concerns me. Beyond someone meddling in the affairs of two Lord Paramounts. The day we arrested Pycelle I had his quarters, office, and the rookery guarded. The next day I asked Pylos to gather up all the important documents and his official seal. Pylos here is adamant that the Grand Maester's seal was on the desk next to his supply of letter wax during the initial search. But when he came back the next day on my orders it was gone. The news that false communications to and from a Lord of the realm occurring has ties here in King's Landing is concerning enough. But add to that the now missing seal of Grand Maester Pycelle and I dread if they are connected."

Davos was still uncomfortable questioning highborn men and women, but pressed on. "Ser Brynden, do you know what the man with the next 'letter' from the Riverlands looks like? Or when he is due to arrive here?"

Ser Brynden nodded. "The man at the brothel near Riverrun said the contact always takes a moon's turn to get to King's Landing. He evidently has a few more locations to visit. I estimate he should arrive sometime next week. As far as appearance, he is a rather inconspicuous looking man. Average height. About twenty five name days old. Brown hair." Ser Brybden then snorted. "But the fool favors an absurd dark blue cowl with a single shoulder cape from Bravos."

Davos mulled that over. "That is an unusual item for someone to wear here in Westeros".

Stannis looked at Dovos and said "Ser Davos, it stands that if the information is coming from brothels, then the information may very well be going to one as well. I need you to arrange some trusted men to be the Street of Silk looking for this man."

Davos nodded. "I know whom to talk to. They are expensive but discreet. They do the work and forget about it afterwards. There are half a dozen brothel owners I can think of with the gold and brains to be capable of this misinformation.

Stannis then turned to Pylos. "Maester Pylos, how hard is it to train ravens to go to castles? Can ravens be taught by anyone?"

Pylos seemed uncomfortable with this question. "The training of ravens is something only maesters are taught to do. It's not a skill in any written book outside of the Citadel. Why do you ask?"

Stannis gave him a hard stare. "If someone sends a message using the Grand Maesters seal it will be by raven. The rookery here is now under constant guard. I need to know how easy or difficult it could be for someone to send a raven without a maester present."

Pylos looked abashed at this. "My apologies, Lord Hand." After a few moments he spoke again. "As you know, we do have people who visit the Citadel and even forge some links but do not take the vow. Oberyn Martell is an example. The link for ravenry is one of the last studies begun and only for those that will take the vow. However, It is possible someone may be in this 'information brokers' service who has gained that knowledge."

Stannis ground his teeth at this. He hated this ugly city and these even uglier games. But he was duty and honor bound to serve his family. He made a note to speak to Pylos later about an idea he had to catch any rogue ravens. He knew he lacked the subtlety that many Lords tried to pull on one another. For Stannis, everything was black and white, cut and dried.

"I refuse to take a chance that what has transpired in this castle has stayed a secret. If someone does send a letter pretending to be Pycelle, it would be to cause trouble. I can think of no better way to cause more trouble than a message to Tywin Lannister. Does anyone disagree?"

Everyone thought it over and agreed it was the first logical choice and the only one with immediate consequences. Ser Brynden asked what was the ultimate goal and Stannis had no answer. But now that they had a possible move, what should be the countermove…or countermoves? "Ser Davos. Is Black Betha still docked?"

Davos was puzzled. "Yes, my Lord. Why do you ask?"

Stannis simply said "I have a job for whichever son of yours you trust most."

While pleased and concerned at the same time, Davos replied that his eldest, Dale, was in the city and was quite capable.

Stannis nodded. "Good. Inform him to make ready to depart the docks on the morrow. I know it is short notice but this needs to be done quickly. And discreetly."

"And where would he be sailing to, My Lord?" Asked Davos

"White Harbor"

Ser Brynden cottoned on to the plan first. It was obvious that he meant to send Joffrey and Ser Meryn to Winterfell via ship. But Stannis said he wanted it done discreetly. Why discreetly unless you didn't want others to know. And if he didn't want others to know...You clever man. "Ser Aron is still going to be leaving with the prisoner carriage, isn't he?"

Stannis simply nodded. Ser Brynden frowned. "You want to see if Tywin tries to free his grandson? That man does nothing by half. He will send the Mountain or Amery Lorch to do his dirty work." Ser Brynden was not happy. He owed Ser Aron and did not want him used as bait.

Stannis could see it written all over Ser Brynden's face. "Peace, Ser Brynden. We will be sending out the ravens tomorrow to the realm announcing the events and Lannister's confession. The raven for Riverrun will have extra instructions for your brother. I mean to have him help monitor and capture anyone who tries to stop that carriage.

White Harbor - Around the same time as the ambush

Dale Seaworth loved sailing. He had grown up on the water and felt alive with the sea air on his face. But he could not remember a voyage he wanted to end sooner than this one.

He had been quite happy to be able to captain Black Betha on his own for and do a service for the crown. He provisioned the ship as quickly as possible and with the bare minimum crew back on board. When ready to sail in the morning he was provided with two large crates, a contingent of Baratheon soldiers, and two sealed scrolls handed over. His orders were to open the first scroll that was meant for him after exiting the harbor. The other was for Lord Wyman Manderly's eyes only.

Dale simply raised an eyebrow at this when his father gave him his instructions. So once they set sail and cleared the harbor he went to his cabin and opened his letter.

Captain Seaworth,

Thank you for taking this mission for the crown. I will get straight to the point. You are transporting Joffrey Hill and the disgraced former Kingsguard Ser Meryn Trant to White Harbor so they may be taken to Winterfell for Lord Stark to dispense the appropriate punishment for their crimes. I know your father explained the crimes committed by the boy, the former Kingsguard, and the fate of his parents.

Their meals last night were dosed with sweet sleep. They should wake by midday. A word of warning I suggest you move them to the ship's brig before they wake. The former Prince has refused to accept his new status or believe he has committed any crime and is quite vocal about it. Ser Meryn has tried to assault or escape whenever anyone brings food. I tell you this that you are aware of the most unpleasant company you will have on this voyage. For the soldiers we have provided to accompany you, I suggest that you rotate them frequently to prevent any….mishaps. They are a disciplined group of men but everyone has their limits. You and your crew will be in the crown's debt for this service.

Once in White Harbor, keep the prisoners onboard until a proper escort and transportation for them is arranged. The second scroll is to be placed, by you, directly into Lord Wyman Manderly's hands.

Stannis Baratheon, Hand of The King

In retrospect this was a debt he would rather not be owed. The 'Prince' as he referred to himself had only stopped screaming a few days ago because his voice had finally given out. He had spewed insults and threats of violence and death whenever he could. He swore his grandfather, Lord Tywin Lannister, would kill them all and once he was freed he would piss on their graves.

The former Kingsguard was no better. He said little but took every chance to try and escape. He broke the nose of one guard and almost strangled a young sailor who had just been walking by the brig to deliver food to the guards. The door was not opened anymore. Food was given through a small gap and his chamber pot left to fill.

The ship was now flying the crowned stag of House Baratheon, the flag raised as they approached White Harbor. As they approached the docks he could see a group with a Manderly standard waiting for them. As far as he knew White Harbor was not aware a ship representing the crown was going to be arriving. So he was not surprised at this 'greeting party'.

Once they docked he had the gangplank lowered and he walked towards the waiting men. He was met by a very large man with a bushy mustache. The man walked up and greeted him. "Hello, Captain. My name is Ser Wendel Manderly. While we get new ships in port every day, it's not normal to receive one flying the Baratheon Stag unannounced.

Dale noted there was no actual question asked but an answer was expected. "Yes, my name is Dale Seaworth. My Father is Ser Davos Seaworth, aide to Stannis Baratheon, Hand of the King. This was a voyage on short notice. I have orders from Lord Stannis to give this sealed scroll to Lord Wyman Manderly. I have been directed to give it to him, and only him, personally."

Ser Wendel raised an eyebrow at that. This young man was the son of a well known smuggler. While it was known Davos Seaworth hadn't smuggled much into and from the North, he was still a smuggler. But he was also an excellent sailor, skills his son had as well. "I will escort you to my Father. Let us head there now."

Dale was not one for horses but accepted a mount and rode to New Castle. Ser Wendel was a jovial man who spoke most of the way. He did not inquire as to why he was here but Dale could sense his curiosity.

After arriving in the Merman's Court he was presented to Lord Manderly. If Dale thought Ser Wendel was large, then his father was gigantic. After pleasantries he exchanged he stated he had a sealed letter for Lord Wyman. He handed it over and the fat Lord opened the letter. His face betrayed no emotion with the exception of his eyes narrowing.

He rolled the scroll back up, dismissed all but Dale and Ser Wedel, and invited him to meet in his solar. After a short walk they settled in. A glass of Arbor Gold was provided. Dale took a measured sip. He waited for Lord Wyman to speak but he let his son read the letter first. Before Ser Wendel finished they were joined by another large man. This, he was told, was Ser Wylis, Lord Wyman's heir. Dale was amazed how such a large and spacious room could become so claustrophobic with only four occupants.

Lord Wyman finally spoke after Ser Wylis had read the letter as well. "Do you know what this letter says, Captain Seaworth?"

Dale was quite nervous here. He was used to being the man in charge of a ship. Dealing with harbormasters and docking agents led you to learning how to argue with the best and how to smooth talk people. But these were highborn men. He spent the majority of his life the son of a smuggler. He was not as well rounded as his younger brothers were having grown up with more opportunities. But he was not about to disappoint his father.

"I do not know the contents of that letter. But I do have an idea what it tells you in regards to why we sailed for White Harbor." said Dale.

Lord Wyman grunted. "You would be right. Your ship contains the most foul cargo that has ever been brought to White Harbor or the North. I want those two…criminals…out of my city as soon as possible. But luckily for you, that is not your responsibility. Your work is done here. I am directed to allow your men a well deserved rest here and to provision you for your journey home. I can provide you…"

Lord Wyman was interrupted by a knock at his door. He bellowed out for the man to enter. It was a guardsman. He seemed excited. "My Lord! A large group of men and banners have been sighted approaching the city gates! Stark Banners!"