Capítulo 14: Between Entry Ten and Eleven - POV Tywin
Date: 298 After Landing, Autumn
TYWIN
Tywin Lannister scowled slightly as he looked out from a window in the Tower of the Hand and down upon the bridge that ran out and connected the Red Keep to the rest of King's Landing. The piles of supplies, large stacks of both food and weapons, were being crawled over by an ant-like army of Lannister men and the spaces between them were thick with siege materials; logs, brush, boulders, and the several stacks of clay pots guarded closely by pryomancers and Goldcloaks as they were carefully maneuvered into the castle courtyard to later be disseminated among catapults. The sea water was foaming high under the ant's feet, with spray launching high enough to strike their faces. The roaring power of the ocean making the shouts and yells of men seem like the buzzing of distant insect.
One of the few practical things the citizens of the city were doing was moving carts and other would-be obstacles off the main roads in and around the Kingdom's capital. Otherwise the number and nature of their assorted idiocies had astonished even a former and current Hand of the King who'd given up everything for a family who hated him and a nation who feared him; they'd disregarded how much in the way of useful metals for arms, armor and barricades those carts had in them, as well as the cargoes inside.
But not the food, he thought. Even those whom the Gods punish with half a brain aren't that stupid.
King Joffery, his grandson, stepped next to him and peered down at the city and then smugly up at him, "Why are you watching these simpletons? You are supposed to be helping save this city."
Tywin didn't move to look at the impudent child's face, instead merely replying, "I'm thinking, Your Grace. Trying to figure out a way for you to keep your throne while also saving the city."
"Who cares about the city? I'm their King and they should be doing everything they can to protect me," he replied, looking as if he'd like to stamp his foot by was only a little too well-mannered. Too well trained.
And who will be left to protect you if you don't protect them, he thought, beneath his chuckle.
He remembered the look in the eyes King Aerys, the Mad King, would get when panicked or scared. The cold fear painted across his face like an artist had spent a lifetime perfecting it, and he could see the same look on his grandson now. Perhaps it was his imagination, but perhaps it wasn't. Only the Gods knew.
Tyrion, his youngest son and great disappointment, sitting at the great oak table occupying the room with a letter between his small, thick hands, spoke up, "While you may not care about their lives, I guarantee they care about their own just a little bit more than yours. And Father and I are doing everything we can to keep you safe."
The Dwarf tosses the scroll he was reading on the table and continued, "Our forces have stalled Renly's south of Bitterbridge by knocking down bridges and setting fire to various forests, but that will only buy us a few more days at most. Renly will have to go miles out of his way to cross the Mander river closer to Tumbleton, but he is still heading this way. And from all the reports, Stannis and his fleet are prepared to launch at any time. He could be here in two days, and we would only know he is attacking us once he sails into the Blackwater.
"Let him come!" Joffery declared, turning on his uncle and raising a fist in mock victory. "Our fleets will smash him against the rocks and see him drowned!"
"Our fleets will set sail for Essos and never look back." Tywin declared, his eyes still firmly locked on the activities below. "As anyone who is outnumber a hundred to one would do in their right mind."
The Hand of the King finally turned away from the window and shot his grandson a cold look, "Renly can be dissuaded, but this is Stannis Baratheon. The man will fight to the end and then some."
"Our attempts to dissuade Renly aside," Tyrion began, "We haven't been able to get anyone close to him."
"I have a few things in motion that may help us with the Renly problem." Tywin declared, while moving to sit down at the table, "I will give you all the details later."
Cersi, his daughter and Queen Regent, sat at her father's right hand with a glass of wine in right hand. She took a sip and asked, "And what if we would like to know the details now?"
He shot her a look that he knew would get his point across; don't say another word, and then looked down at the papers in front of him. I'll deal with my foolish child's drinking problem later, he thought.
The Hand said, "The Baratheons aren't the problem. The problem is the North's crusade that is going devastatingly well."
Tyrion, for all his many faults did have a keen mind and he knew exactly what his father was speaking of. "The latest from home is that Ser Rogers has captured Sarsfield, which opens the Westerland to attack in nearly every direction and form. All with, if it's to be believed, a few thousand men. Meanwhile, Robb Stark and his growing army have pushed the last of our armies from the Riverlands. We've been knocked on our ass, separated from our strength, and left to wonder what can we do next."
Joffery exclaimed, "What are you talking about? The Capital is here, and its safe."
With a scholarly voice that surprised even him, his son explained, "We may be safe here, but the crown is bankrupt. It can't pay for its armies, so your family has been. But if the gold from Lannisport and Casterly Rock stops coming, which it soon will, you may as well surrender to Stannis now."
"Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot, Dwarf!"
Tywin announced, "He's right. Without gold, our men won't fight. Rogers is more intelligent than your average man. He doesn't plunder the lands or burn farms and fields, he even treats the captured like they were his own men, with no torture or threat of death. He tells them openly, that they will be released when the war is over. And he means it. Without a threat to their life or wealth, the only way to motivate an army is with greed. And all Rogers has to do is block the Gold Road to end that."
"Or capture Casterly Rock. And with his impressive record, I actually think he could do it." Tyrion cool added.
"Impossible. Castlery Rock has never fallen." Cersei argued, her face slightly flushed from the wine.
"There is a first time for everything. Golden Tooth and Sarsfield had never fallen before either, but he did it with just a few hundred men." Tywin retorted.
Travel and trade and reviled a bit of what happened at Riverrun and the other castles, painting a picture of madness that could only be true. He also strongly suspected that the North was slipping bits of information out on purpose to distract everyone. A very recent rumor had been the death of the Mountain, beaten to death with bare hands by Rogers. Lies wasn't the sort of thing Tywin expected out of the North, but he had to admit the story was interesting. It also made sending men into the Riverlands harder as they grew to fear the rumors were true.
"I had the opportunity to talk with Rogers when Robert took us to Winterfell." Tyrion started. Tywin could see the look of disgust mixed with anger cross his inebriated daughters face. "Rogers isn't from the North originally, but he does have the Stark compulsion for honestly and honor. He won't stop until the war is over. And if we wait much longer, he will drag us all down."
Joffery asked, "Why don't we just kill him? Send out word that whoever brings me Rogers head on his shield will receive a lordship and fifty thousand gold dragons."
Tywin answered, "I already have. No one can get close to him. Those who do, don't live. His own reputation as the Warrior-made-flesh seems to scare away most."
"He isn't the Warrior come, he is just a man. I asked him once about the star and he said it held a special meaning in his homeland." Tyrion absently replied.
Cersei spoke up, "And I'm sure he just loved having you follow him around asking questions."
Tyrion smirked as his sister, "I'm sure I learned more about this man during the hour we spoke than you did about Robert in your entire marriage."
Before his children could start an argument, Tywin declared, "Enough! Bicker on your own time!"
Once everyone was quiet he continued, "I think we should give the North what they want. Let them win." Everyone looked at him as if they had just turned the corner and found the Great Septon raping a horse in the middle of a busy street. "We sue for peace, let the Northerners have the freedom they want, and focus our energy on the Baratheons. Then once the threat is over we deal with the North very simply. As the Starks are fond of saying, Winter is coming. Let's see how much they enjoy their freedom when they need food from the South and we refuse to sell it to them."
There was a rap at the door, and a Kings Guard entered to apologize for the intrusion. Behind him came a boy, no more than six or seven, struggling to drag a box bigger than he with a letter atop it. The boy kneeled to Joffery, and with head bowed he said, "I was asked to deliver this by a man near the docks."
After dismissing the boy everyone gathered around the box and waited for the Guard to pry it open. It was at least eight feet long, half that wide and tall, and opened quickly as a knife pried the nails from wood. Joffery and Cersei took a step back as they saw the contents, Tyrion leaned closer, and Tywin just stood their quietly fuming. Inside was a suit of armor, larger than any man could wear, with cleaned white bones laying inside them. A yellow cloak was folded atop the warriors chest, with three black dogs emblazoned on it.
But what was most worrying was the state the armor was in. Tywin has seen plenty of battlefield wounds, but he had never seen armor so thick so badly damaged. It looked like it had been beaten with a Warhammer, over and over again, but the impacts took the distinct form of a fist. After studying the sight for a moment he opened the letter and read it to himself, before handing the paper to his son.
After a long moment, Tyrion quietly asked, "Why do you think they kept the helmet and skull? Trophy?"
Tywin sighed, "A warning."
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