299 AC

Tywin Lannister

The lost opportunity to rescue his prized daughter was for naught, but the war was still in the balance. Not only had he tied up the armies of three kingdoms in the Riverlands, with his extensive wealth, he had created something of a distraction further south. He knew that as soon as the Tyrells heard that the King had divorced Cersei, they would jump at having him marry their only flower, Margaery Tyrell.

He also knew that there were many houses in the Reach that wished they held Highgarden instead. As such, he only needed to funnel some funds into certain houses and send a respectable host led by his cousin and goodbrother, Ser Stafford Lannister down the Ocean Road, and chaos would reign in the Reach. Since Selyse Florent died on the birthing bed, Alester and his ilk had sailed back to their seat of Brightwater Keep. But they were still the scheming foxes as ever.

He knew that the King was in the Stormlands from the first raven from Pycelle, no doubt he would want to march north to crush him. But Robert Baratheon was never one to back down from a fight, and if there was one thing he hated more than him, it was the Reach. As soon as Robert Baratheon found out that the Reach wouldn't openly support him, he would try and take it.

Perhaps he would. It didn't matter. If he was able to distract him long enough, Tywin could win this blasted campaign in the Riverlands before turning his full strength against the 'Demon of the Trident'…what a silly name.

That was his plan. Distract the Stag long enough in the Reach, weaken both sides as he won in the northern campaign. Once won, he'd be in an excellent position for negotiation. He would of course demand that his daughter be reinstated as the recognized Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and the reinstatement of his grandchildren to their rightful places as Princes and Princess of the Blood.

For all his life, he always wanted his plans to have multiple exit strategies. However, he annoyingly recognized how much his plan was risky.

His entire war plan hedged on whether or not his forces could control Harrenhal. As long as he held the great, ruined fortress, he could call the cards in this war. Control over the castle granted him hegemony over the Riverlands, enabled him to split the Realm in two, and effectively block any attempt from forces of the south to reinforce their allies in the north.

Only a few factors were against him. As much as he tried to privately deny it, he could not but relent to the fact that Robb Stark, and his brother, Edwyle, were brilliant tacticians. Oh, they had a long way to go before they could be called remarkable, but they were far better than any their age.

Robb Stark took his lessons from his father seriously apparently for he was good at planning and leading battles, while his brother had effectively created Tywin's second problem; supplies.

The other successful move of Tywin's was the news that just came this morning. After more than a moon's turn, the Siege of Riverrun had ended. The ancestral seat of House Tully finally fell to forces of the West.

Lord Crakehall suffered an injury in the final assault, but he'd live according to the camp maester. Lord Hoster Tully, the once powerful lord of the rivers, had been withering away for years now. The stress of the siege against his childhood home was too much though it seemed. When Westermen troops entered the aging lord's chamber, Hoster Tully had already breathed his last.

His son and heir, the new Lord of Riverrun, Edmure Tully had been taken prisoner some time before…the foolish lad had attempted to raid his supply lines. But Edmure Tully's skill at guerilla warfare was not close to that of his uncle, the Blackfish, nor his nephew, Edwyle Stark. Tywin silently thanked the gods that the Blackfish was, or still is, in the Vale for now.

But Lord Tully was not the one who had led the defense of Riverrun, tying up Tywin's resources for many moons. No, that honor went to Lord Tytos Blackwood. Tywin respected the man. He was a brilliant defensive commander, able to resist a siege of over twenty thousand men, with only a few thousand himself.

Of course Riverrun was an incredibly formidable castle regardless of if a dolt led the defense; if only his lords were as dependable as Lord Blackwood. Oh they listened to his orders, but in the years since the Reyne-Tarbeck Revolt…he had matured. He was still only an heir when that happened.

It was anger that spurned him to conduct such a brutal action. Oh he wouldn't go back and not do it, but how he would change it. He learned the years since Castamere, never to act out due to anger or any other emotion. He was a Lannister for the sake of the gods' not a petulant child.

He should've killed most of the Reynes and Tarbecks, but allowed young children to live on, to prove his strength, but also keep valuable resources available…now the mines of Castamere are inaccessible for eternity.

It also had another, drastic impact on his other lords. His intended affect was to force the Westerlands lords to see that the Lions of House Lannister were still strong. But he did not make them respect him…his actions made them fear him.

It was useful, yes, but in turn, it caused many to turn into sycophants, eager to please and never have their own opinion. Contrary to current thinking, he was not immediately hostile to those who disagreed with him. Despite popular belief, he didn't run the Realm of Aerys II by himself. He had his wife, his brother, and the Small Council.

He could count on one hand which lords of the West were actually worth their weight in salt. Lord Crakehall and his sons were dependable. Lord Garrison Prestor and his cousin, Ser Forley Prestor were also dependable. A half a dozen others could be considered, but for the most part, his lords were no better than many of the bickering Riverlords.

Ser Harys Swyft, Lord Damian Serrett, and Ser Rolph Spicer were among the worst. Oh Ser Rolph believed himself brilliant, but a veteran of the Mad King's court such as himself was able to see through all the glorified merchant's schemes.

But enough of that, back to the present.

He had hoped to demoralize Lord Blackwood by sending Ser Gregor to siege his home of Blackwood Hall, but that growing annoyance, Robb Stark, foiled his plan.

If it wasn't for Lord Blackwood's obvious loyalty, he'd have offered a Western lordship, he could use men like him. He cursed Lord Hoster for having such a man wasted.

He moved himself into the former lord's chambers. He may have been his enemy, but the aging lord was still a Tully, and had been a formidable Lord Paramount in his younger days. He allowed, with strict supervision, for Edmure Tully and the gathered Rivermen to hold a small ceremony for the former lord. Even conducting the Tully's ritual funeral ceremony.

But after that, all his prisoners were put into the dungeons.

Now, he found himself inspecting the state of the castle and keep. The walls were still sturdy. As per the words from Lord Blackwood himself, it was, mostly, a lack of food that made him surrender.

Which had been a problem. Because however ineffectual Lord Edmure's raiding had been, the Northerner's was not. His outriders had reported bands of Northmen and free Rivermen attacking their supply lines. There was still a steady supply, but much less than wanted.

And their new quarters also lacked food now.

This was a result of Edwyle Stark's raiding of his lines.

He of course had select spies in the enemies ranks. He knew for a fact that some Freys were annoyed at the decision of Robb Stark to recognize one of their own vassals as the leader of the Riverland contingent, some lad from House Erenford.

Of course it was an intelligent move, Tywin Lannister would sooner trust a lion not to eat him over a Frey leading men in battle, but it was a fracture he was willing to lean on.

He only needed to move coin to all the right places and soon enough, the North's forces will crumble; and with them gone, the fractured Riverlords and the foolish Knights of the Vale would crumble soon after them.

Taking a restock, he had roughly twenty-five thousand men with him. Most of course were camped outside the walls of Riverrun. Another roughly five to eight thousand were in Harrenhal, holding the strategic avenues under lock and key.

Walking along one of the walls, he observed as Ser Harys Swyft, his brother's ridiculous goodfather, oversee the executions of captured River footmen.

"Ser Harys?"

"Lord Tywin! My lord, I wasn't expecting you."

"Evidently not." He replied humorlessly. "Why are these prisoners being killed?"

"The cells are over-flowing my lord. After a bit of fun, we just…with the heads…" Ser Harys muttered off, pointing to some heads they attached to pikes.

"Are we so well manned that we can afford to discard able young bodies and skilled laborers?"

Ser Harys simply looked down. He internally cursed for having so many fools for vassals. Ignoring him and walking past, he approached a young-looking man with his head on the chopping block.

"You." The young man looked up in fear, trembling at the reputation of the old lion. "You have a trade?"

"Fletcher, mi' lord."

He turned to look back at Ser Harys with an open hand. Putting it back down, he began to walk away, back to his new, temporary solar. Without even facing him as he passed Ser Harys, he spoke.

"Get these prisoners to work."


Edwyle Stark

It had been some time, but finally he was able to swing a blade once more. He knew his command was one of necessity. His brother needed him but could not field him. And so with the assistance of the Greatjon and his brother's goodmother, he was able to organize many cavalry raids.

The recent skirmish, the Action at Lychester, had been a low point, but there were few of those. For the most part, his riders and their captains have been able to consistently raid Lannister supply lines and successfully raid Westermen outposts and garrisons.

Though Atranta and Wayfarer's Rest were still under nominal suzerainty of Westermen, through his men's efforts, they were constantly under raids and routinely cut off from communication lines.

But now was a time for better turn of emotion. For finally, today was the day that the main Vale force was expected.

Lord Hunter had been attached to his force by order of his brother. He had explained to him that while normally Lord Yohn Royce would lead any Vale force as all the lords knew he was Jon Arryn's favored commander, due to his position as one of the two Regents of the Vale, he had to remain behind.

As such, the main Vale force was led jointly by a commander chosen by both of the Regents. Lord Royce had chosen his eldest son, Ser Andar Royce as one of the two, and his mother had chosen his great uncle, Ser Brynden Tully as the other.

He was admittedly excited to meet Ser Brynden, better known as the Blackfish. He had grown up with stories about him and finally meeting such a man was to be an honor. Especially as he was blood related.

And he had the honor of riding out and meeting the advance party of the Vale forces. If the last word was to be believed, the forces had already left the High Road and turned northwest, marching first for Nutten, then continuing on to his quarters in Kneeling Man. He had decided to meet them just to the east, in Sallydance.

"Lord Umber, is our party prepared?"

"Aye mi' lord. A hundred riders have been assembled."

"Good. You'll remain here and assume command until I return. Lord Hunter, will you give me the honor of riding with me, to welcome your kinsmen?"

"I'd be honored my lord."


And so he found himself at the front of a large party as they rode eastward.

They had rode for many hours before a few outriders had reported back on a large host marching their direction. Flying the banners of the Falcon.

"Come Lord Hunter, let's ride hard to meet your countrymen."

Spurring his horse, the party rode hard for only about half of an hour before they reached the Vale's host.

The leader had a set of silver-colored steel plate. Inscribed on it appeared to be runes from the First Men. Edwyle need not even look at the banner. House Royce of Runestone was famous for doing such things to their armor.

"Hail!" He shouted out, raising healed arm. "I am Edwyle Stark, son of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell! I have come to greet you on behalf of my brother, Robb Stark!"

"It is fine to see you Lord Edwyle! I am Ser Andar Royce, heir to Lord Yohn Royce."

Reaching down, Ser Andar removed a parchment scroll from his small satchel on his horse. "This is a scroll signed by both of the Regents of the Vale."

Snapping his reins, Edwyle urged the horse slowly forward. Reaching out, he grabbed the scroll.

-0-


Robb Stark

Commander of the North's forces

By order of the Regents of the Kingdom of the Vale, we hereby order that command of the Vale's banners shall be given to Ser Andar of House Royce. In the event that the unfortunate happen, and Ser Andar Royce is no longer capable of leading, it is the express order of the Regents of the Vale that command be given to Ser Morton of House Waynwood, and Lord Gilwood Hunter after him.

It is, indeed, also a matter of great importance that the safety of Ser Harrold Hardyng be paramount. House Arryn is in a precarious position and after Lord Jon, and young Robin, Ser Harrold is the last of the line.

This is ordered by the Regents of the Vale on behalf of Lord Jon of the House Arryn.

Signed,

Lady Catelyn of House Stark, Regent

Lord Yohn of House Royce, Regent


-0-

Edwyle looked up at the knight upon his horse. "Ser Andar, have you read this scroll?"

"Nay, my lord. However I was informed about it by my lord father, and your lady mother. I am aware of the contents."

Edwyle nodded in approvement. "That is good. Was Ser Morton informed of this?"

"He was Lord Edwyle. However, Lord Hunter has not."

At the mention of his name, the Vale lord approached upon his own mount as well. "Pardon me my lords, was my name mentioned?"

"Aye. Lord Hunter, allow me to be the first to inform you." Lord Hunter attentively listened. "Command of the Vale forces is rested with Ser Andar here, in the event he can no longer lead, command will be given to Ser Morton Waynwood."

"Very well?"

"And after he, command is to be given to you."

The older man's eyes went wide, his mustache twitched as well.

Instead of waiting to hear from the lord, Edwyle simply turned his attention back to Ser Andar. "Regardless, there is much to do, Ser Andar, come, let us discuss with ale to wet our tongues, and a roof to keep the drizzle out."

"And the matter of Lord Arryn's spare heir…?"

Edwyle stopped for a moment. As a Knight of the Vale, Ser Harrold would need to see battle, to build respect with his countrymen, on the other hand, his safety was paramount.

"Another time, Ser, another time. For now, let us discuss other matters."