บท 19: Chapter 17: The Road to Bitterbridge - Part 1
"And thus, ended the trial for the murder of Ser Jaime Lannister, My Lords and Lady," Lord Mathis Rowan, who had been present in Kings Landing as the representative of the Reach, reported to the inner council of Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden, Lord Paramount of the Reach, and the Warden of the South. It had been four days since the infamous trial of Tybald Reyne and its effects were being felt all over Westeros.
In attendance were Mace Tyrell, Olenna Tyrell, Leyton Hightower, Alester Florent, Baelor Hightower, and most surprisingly, Randyll Tarly.
After the massive defeat at the Battle of Starpike, Mace had quickly recalled Randyll Tarly to Highgarden for consultations, over the protests of his Lords who were still wary of an Ironborn attack. Mace had rebuffed those concerns stating that as long as the Redwyne Navy was present, the Ironborn would not make a concerted effort to attack, which thankfully for him had proven true.
Amongst all the members present in the room, Olenna Tyrell was feeling very apprehensive as she took in the presence of all the Lords in the room. More than the ill news that they were receiving, it was the cold shoulder that she had received from the survivors of the Starpike massacre after the battle that worried her. Ever since they had returned from the battle, she had discerned a marked difference in the behavior of certain Lords of the Reach especially with regards to her personally.
Even more concerning was the fact that upon returning from the battle, Leyton Hightower had asked Mace to come with him on a hunt, so that they may use it as an excuse to discuss something in private and in confidence away from prying eyes and ears. Of course, once she learned that Leyton had taken Mace aside to convey terms he had actually received from Quentyn Martell himself, she had tried to interject herself into that conversation, but Leyton had curtly rebuffed her and told her that the words were for Mace, and Mace alone.
While she had been taken aback at the fact that a vassal lord, even if he was related to her by marriage, had dared to say no to her; she had furiously launched a diatribe against Leyton displaying why she was called the 'Queen of Thorns'. After everything was said and done, Leyton had calmly asked his son-in-law a simple question.
Are you the ruler of the Reach or is it your mother?
For the first time in his life, Mace had been well and truly taken aback. Leyton had pressed on heedless of Olenna's outrage. The old lord had calmly asked his son-in-law if he trusted his bannermen to deal with him in good faith or not, and asked him if he needed his mother to hold his hands in every single matter? The fact was that Leyton Hightower by virtue of being Mace's father-in-law, was the only man alive and something akin to a father figure that the Lord of Highgarden had; and as such, was the only man alive who had the capability and the right to speak to Mace in that way. And it had worked, even though it had earned Leyton Hightower the undying enmity of Olenna Tyrell.
Against the wishes of a spluttering and shocked Olenna Tyrell, Mace had simply asked his good-father to get on his horse, so that they could discuss the terms sent by Quentyn Martell in private. For two days, Mace and Leyton had gone to Mace's private hunting lodge, along with all the commanders who had survived that massacre at Starpike. Her spies in the lodge could not tell her anything as Leyton Hightower had taken care to ensure that only his servants were allowed to take over the maintenance of the Lodge during that trip, and the usual complement of servants had been kept at arms bay, which also, she knew had kept her own spies from learning anything of significance. Once they had returned, there had been a marked difference in Mace Tyrell's behavior.
For one, he was seen interacting with Alester Florent on decent terms, which was a gargantuan improvement in his behavior. Considering the fact that the two men had nearly come to blows just a week ago when the initial news of the defeat of Starpike had arrived, and only her intervention had kept it from descending into bloodshed, this change was nothing short of miraculous.
Second was the message to recall Randyll Tarly from the front where the Ironborn had attacked. However, all of that had come to a standstill when a news that rocked Westeros to its core had come forth. The murder of Jaime Lannister. The prized heir of the Old Lion of the West. The son that Tywin Lannister valued above all else. The sheer fact that someone in Westeros had the means to commit such an act, let alone possess the gall to do something like this to Tywin Lannister of all people had thoroughly shaken her to her core.
In the depths of her mind, she knew it. It was the work of that cursed demon brat from Dorne. She knew it in the depths of her soul. But she did not dare voice it out loud. Not when it seemed like her hold on her own son seemed so tenuous.
"What do you make of it, good-father?" Mace asked Leyton with a deep frown marring his face, even as the old Lord of Hightower paused to think before replying. There was another unwelcome change. Ever since that trip to the hunting lodge, Mace had begun to ask Leyton for advice more often than her.
"In warfare," Leyton began after a pause, "the one who hits the opponent's vulnerable point wins. Usually, the two opposing sides in war always stay put, until the enemy exposes his vulnerable side, and then attacks it ruthlessly to win. That is one of the most basic essences of waging war. And the Prince of Dorne, it seems has just demonstrated that to the world. What say you Randyll, do you agree with this assessment?" the Lord of Hightower asked his fellow general who had been listening impassively to everyone from the beginning.
"Aye," the Lord of Hornhill replied in a guttural tone. He was a very physically imposing man. Tall, stern with a sharp face, and balding of hair, he cut an intimidating figure to all who came across him. "Before battle," the top-most general of the Reach continued, "one must use diplomacy, mindset, strategy and if necessary … assassination."
Here he paused, while everyone in the room absorbed the words very carefully.
"Prince Quentyn," there was a definite tinge of respect in Randyll Tarly's tone, "is one who has embodied these concepts flawlessly from the beginning. He has grasped the fact that wars are not fought solely on the battlefield alone but are fought on multiple fronts where the enemies least expect it. With Jaime Lannister's assassination, there can be no doubt. His primary enemy is House Lannister, above all else. To that effect, I would not be surprised if he considers the entire Rebellion to be a mere thorn in the way of destroying the Lannister's, no more no less. The only reason in my opinion as to why he is waging war against the Rebellion, is because they have accepted Tywin into their fold. If they had but refused Tywin and had taken steps to bring the perpetrators of Elia Martell's death to justice, he would have bent the knee. Since they have not, he has proceeded to take matters into his own hands. And now, he is treating the entire Rebellion like a weed which must be cleared before he moves further on his road to destroying the Lannister's!"
After a moment's silence, there was a scoff. Predictably, it was from Olenna. Most of the Lords in the room managed to suppress their irritation, but Mace did not. Tarly was impassive as ever, like a block carved from granite.
"From what I can see, his reputation as a genius is well-deserved. In just one battle, he has displayed multiple capabilities, which are not visible from the get go. Not only does he possess brilliant battlefield planning, which the battle of Starpike can attest to," Randyll continued at a motion from Mace, who shot a withering glare at his mother.
"The heart of it is his magnificent pre-battle diplomacy. Closing of his enemy's support and preparing contingency plans for any unforeseen situation. This can be seen through the actions of the Ironborn. Generally, the Ironborn have always stuck to reaving and pillaging, never have their actions resembled anything remotely akin to a strategy like what they are showing now. Attacking multiple targets at the same time through stealth, and taking away valuable resources needed by the Rebellion for war purposes is a masterstroke, whose effects cannot be denied. By using the Ironborn in such a way, he has kept the Rebellion distracted. Due to the possibility of the reavers attacking anytime, already Tywin Lannister and Hoster Tully have sent back the bulk of their forces to their homelands, thereby drastically reducing the overall strength of Robert Baratheon's forces. Second, due to the reaving of the Ironborn, all seaborne trade has slowed down to a trickle, which makes the Rebellion depend upon land routes to resupply and replenish their armies. It forces an unbearable strain on their forces when they have to cart tons of supplies over hundreds of leagues in hard terrain, which is not feasible over long-term. Already, there are rumors of shortages of food around the Crownlands. In this scenario, it is very easy to slip in a team of raiders to sabotage the supply trains. And finally, by taking direct action, he is forcing Robert Baratheon to come and meet him in these unfavorable situations. If Robert Baratheon dallies anymore, his men's morale will drop, and the lack of supplies will make them near mutinous. To avoid this, Robert Baratheon will be forced to march into a desert with a depleted army that is ill-supplied and ill-prepared to face a superior foe. That is the overall gist of the situation at hand, My Lord," Randyll finished his observations while everyone looked at him in no small degree of awe, for the succinct and precise way in which he had summarized the whole situation.
"And what say you, My Lords of the Reach?" Mace Tyrell asked after a few minutes of silence.
"You have bent your knee to Robert Baratheon. Keep to it," his mother rudely interrupted as was her wont, while the members of the council became silent.
"Mother, I asked them, not you, do not interrupt," Mace asked his mother with as much dignity as he could muster. Olenna brushed him off again, as she was used to doing so often.
"Pish-posh, Mace," she scoffed, "Listen to me, all of you. It is now clear, that we are in a civil war," she continued, while the eyes of the Lords of the Reach hardened. Though they all disliked her behavior, they could not deny that she could be surprisingly insightful at times.
"I admit, that I underestimated the boy from Dorne, badly," and that was a supremely generous concession from the woman who was notoriously averse to accepting her faults, even when she had realized that she was in the wrong.
"However, despite the humiliation at Starpike," here she glanced imperiously at Leyton who returned her gaze with a cold stare, "we are still one of the key powers in Westeros. It is now obvious to me, as to why the boy has not taken any further actions against us, despite his victory. He desires us, and our resources, and wants an alliance with us," she concluded triumphantly much to the shock of everyone present.
"So," she crowed imperiously, "My guess was right, he has invited Mace for talks on a one-on-one basis? Am I correct, Leyton?" she finished with a smug look on her face.
Knowing that it was impossible for him to hide it any further, Leyton nodded.
"Hmph, that boy is grasping at straws now," she scoffed, "Despite all the successes he has had, he is starved for resources. And now, he wants us to throw in our lot with him. I say, you deny him, and join up with Robert Baratheon. If we help the new king on the Iron Throne to wipe out the Martell's, we will be in an unassailable position in the new world order that is developing. It will wipe off all the bad blood between us and the Baratheon's. We will gain a seat on the small council, and perhaps even a marriage for one your sisters with Stannis Baratheon, who is the current heir apparent, and the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands as well. Against all this, what can the boy from Dorne offer?" she challenged, while the other Lords absorbed her words.
Then, Alester Florent replied with a scathing tone, "Those were oddly specific terms of rewards that you spoke of, My Lady! How is it that you can so certainly say that these are the very rewards we can gain? Are you perhaps in direct contact with someone from the Rebellion?" he asked, as a very grave silence descended in the room.
After all, Lord Florent had all but accused the mother of his liege lord of conspiring with the Iron Throne behind the backs of her own son, the ruling Lord of the Reach.
"Watch your words, Alester, that is my mother you speak to," Mace stood up in anger, his jowls quivering, and his eyes bloodshot. Though he had gained a newfound tolerance of the Florent's behavior, he drew the line at this. Despite all her shortcomings, Olenna was still his mother, and he refused to believe that his mother would so blatantly go behind his back.
"I beg your pardon, My Lord, but I have irrefutable proof that your mother has been in direct correspondence with the Iron Throne behind your back, and has made decisions that may very well affect all of the Reach, without your leave or your knowledge," Alester shot back in anger, while all the Lords in the room jumped to their feet.
"How dare you? You worthless piece of trash!" Olenna screamed as she stood up, her face red in anger, and displaying quite a bit of shock at the blatant accusation. "You are worthless beggars, trying to beg any and all sundry to press your claims over the Reach, claiming your descent from the Gardeners! Oh, we should have wiped out your miserable no good house from the start! How dare you lay an accusation on your liege lords? Who do you think you are, you swine? You, who could not even prevail against a little boy on the battlefield! You worthless excuse of a warrior!" she began to rant, at which the other survivors of Starpike stood up unable to bear that insult.
Say what you would about Alester Florent, the one thing that no man on the planet could not deny was his courage on the battlefield.
"I presume you have proof of your accusations, Alester?" Mace asked after a moment, shocking everyone, including his own cantankerous mother as well into stunned silence.
"Mace!" Olenna whispered in a strangled silence, "How could you? You would believe him over your own mother?" she asked with tears springing to her eyes, while Mace Tyrell for the first time visibly in front of his bannermen, hardened himself.
"I am the Lord Paramount of the Reach, mother! I may not be the best of Lords, or the wisest, or the bravest, but I am their lord and I have an obligation to hear them out. If there is one thing my father taught me before his death, it was that a lord who does not listen to his vassals does not remain a lord for long," he smiled wanly, as the assembly watched him thunder-struck displaying a sense of magnanimity rarely seen.
Olenna was so shocked at hearing her son make such sense, that she lost her composure for a minute.
"I hope you have your proof, Lord Florent," Mace replied with a hint of steel entering his tone, "If it is as you say, then you will have done the Reach a great service, and I will deal with my mother, as the situation demands. But if you are wrong, I will have your head for falsely accusing my mother!"
"I would not have dared so, if I did not have it, and I would not have made this accusation in the first place," Alester growled, as everyone took their seat.
"Well, let us see it, Florent," Tarly asked, with a hint of a smile approaching his lips.
At that, Alester Florent stood up, and walked to the door of the hall and knocked thrice. Immediately, the guards opened the door from the other side, and after a few moments Alester moved aside and let a new person walk in.
Instantly, Olenna Tyrell's heart sank, and she slumped into her chair. It was Maester Lomys.
"What is the meaning of this?" Mace asked, as he and everyone observed Olenna's reaction, while Lomys entered and bowed.
"Proof, My Lord," Alester replied with a savage grin, "Proof that Lady Olenna has been engaging in correspondence with the Iron Throne without your knowledge or your consent, Maester Lomys has the details," he concluded as all eyes turned to the old man.
"Is this true?" Mace asked, rather breathlessly, as all eyes turned towards the old maester. He wilted for a second as Olenna glared at him, but Mace whirled at him. "You are a maester of the citadel! You are sworn to serve the Lord of your keep and no one else! I hold you to your oath! Answer me!" he roared, while Lomys lowered his eyes.
"It is as Lord Florent says, My Lord!" Lomys replied as he averted his gaze from Olenna who shrunk into her seat. "Three days ago, I received a message from King Robert addressed to your mother with orders for the Reach!"
His reply rocked all the Lords to their bones, and they all turned to look at Olenna Tyrell who was trying very hard to avoid their gaze.
"What? Why would he write to her and not me?" Mace whispered in shock, as he sank into his chair listlessly while the other Lords seemed flummoxed.
"Because he does not consider you as the Lord of the Reach," Leyton Hightower growled, "Or rather, he considers your mother to be true ruler of the Reach!"
At this, all the men in the room bristled. Regardless of how capable or incapable he was, Mace Tyrell was the undisputed Lord of the Reach, and a Warden of Westeros. For even a King, to ignore and humiliate him in this manner was unprecedented and unseen. It offended the senses of all the Lords of the Reach greatly. Did the stag really consider a woman to be worth more than all the Lords of the Reach combined?
"How dare he?" Mace trembled in anger, "Who does he think he is?"
"What does he write?" Randyll Tarly asked with a dark look on his face.
At that, Lomys took out a scroll with a broken seal of the Iron Throne out of his pocket, while Olenna glared at him.
"The King has stated," the maester began, before he collected himself, "No, rather it is safe to say, he has ordered us in no certain terms, that we are not to make common cause with House Martell. He warns us that if we do so, then the fate that befell House Targaryen will pale in comparison to what he will inflict upon House Tyrell, and consecutively, the Reach!" here he paused, while the faces of all the men in the room turned murderous at the blatant threat.
"That fucking piece of shit! Who does he think he is?" Mace roared in anger and kicked his chair aside, trembling in rage, while all the Lords of the Reach fumed in their seats, their tempers clearly matching their liege's.
"Did he forget the thrashing we gave to him at Ashford?" Leyton Hightower growled.
"We should have stormed Storm's End and put an end to his miserable family! If we had done that, he would not have dared to dictate terms to us! He thinks us weak and malleable! His victories over Rhaegar Targaryen have made him arrogant beyond belief," groused Randyll, while most of the men's faces turned sour as they remembered their greatest blunder in the course of the Rebellion.
"What else does he say?" asked Mathis Rowan, from the corner of the table, to which Lomys looked down.
"He states that if we remain loyal to the crown, then our service will be rewarded suitably. A position on the small council," here all lords turned as one to look at Olenna who winced, "as well as a marriage for one of the sisters of Lord Tyrell to Prince Stannis Baratheon," now, the glares all turned murderous as they all visibly fumed at the condescending tone of their new king.
"Does he take us for beggars, to be satiated with a few crumbs? What does he think we are? That we lack any honor, that we will shamelessly grovel in front of him for his favor? He is not even officially crowned, and he already assumes such airs! What will he do once he actually crowns himself?" Mace visibly fumed, while the other men of the Reach were of a similar bent of mind.
"Here is the letter, My Lord," Lomys handed the letter to Mace who took it and began to read it personally. After he finished reading it, he threw it to the table in disgust, while Leyton Hightower picked up the letter. Once he finished, he scowled even as he passed it on to Randyll Tarly who began to read it for himself. Once Tarly finished, he growled and similarly passed it on to the next person beside him. Once all the Lords present at the table had finished reading it, Mace took a deep breath and turned to his mother who had defiantly turned her chin up and was glaring at all of them daring them to challenge her.
"Mother, what is the meaning of this? How do you explain your treachery?" Mace growled, as he looked at his mother as if he was seeing her for the first time.
"Treachery! Foolish boy! I was doing what was right for our house! To save us all from the wrath of Robert Baratheon! If you call that treachery, then I will do it a thousand times over!" she retorted harshly, while Mace colored up.
"That is not your decision to make!" he growled, even as he glared at her. "By accepting this letter, you have revealed to the world that my opinion does not matter in the Reach! Can you not see or understand how that weakens the Reach as a whole? You should have let me know that you had received the letter as soon as it reached you! What were you doing hiding it like this? Were you hoping to badger me into accepting this when we were alone?" he asked in a pained tone.
As he noticed Olenna looking rather peevish at that, he finally made a decision. "Mother, leave this room! Now!"
As one, all the Lords of the Reach in the room jerked back, their eyes wide in shock.
"What?" Olenna whispered, unable to believe her own ears.
"You have betrayed my trust! I cannot in good faith, allow you to have any more say in the affairs of the Reach!" Mace growled, while Olenna trembled in shock.
"Don't be daft, Mace! You need me! You are not capable of navigating the game of thrones without my aid!" she growled, while Mace reddened up spectacularly.
He turned around and looked at Olenna's two bodyguards, two huge men, whose names no one knew, but were generally called left and right, and ordered them to come in.
Once they entered, "Take my mother to her chambers! She is to stay there, until I say otherwise," he ordered, and he turned to Lomys, "And Maester! My mother is no longer permitted to send any messages via ravens to anyone without my say! And if anyone writes to her directly, you are to bring those messages to me first!" he ordered, at which, Lomys bowed in agreement.
He turned around and froze as he saw that his mother's bodyguards just stood there blankly, while Olenna stood defiantly between the two men.
"What the hell are you two fools doing? I gave you an order! Escort my mother to her chambers!" Mace roared in anger, to which the two men blinked and stared at Olenna as if asking her what to do.
That action, more than anything else wounded Mace's soul deeply. Was he considered so weak that even the servants deemed his mother as the true ruler of the Reach, instead of him?
The next moment, he saw red and a haze of anger descended upon him like a hawk descended upon its prey. In an instant, he drew his sword from the side of his table, and lashed out at the man called left, one of his mother's guards.
The stroke caught the man precisely on his neck and sliced it deeply open. The man collapsed to the ground like a puppet which had its strings cut. He struggled for a few minutes and went still, as his blood flowed freely on the floor.
"I AM THE LORD OF THE REACH! YOU OBEY ME! NOT HER! YOU FOOLS SERVE AT MY PLEASURE, NOT HERS! DO YOU UNDERSTAND? DO AS I COMMAND!" he roared with anger, while the other man, Right, blanched and clearly, from the smell of it, had soiled himself. He immediately bowed as deep as he could and grabbed Olenna Tyrell by her hands and forced her to move forward.
All the people in the room paled in shock, and looked at Mace with disbelief rife in their eyes.
Olenna looked at her son, with sorrow mixed with a faint hint of pride and said, "Mace, all I did, I did for our family! You must understand that," she spoke out, while Mace forced himself to calm down.
"I know, mother," he spoke out, "but in doing so, you betrayed my trust, and that, I cannot forgive, at least for now," he spoke as kindly as he could, while Olenna gave a sad smile and walked out of the room.
As he watched his mother leave, Mace Tyrell sighed and felt as if he had been relieved of a great burden which he had not realized. Meanwhile, at Leyton's orders, the servants had come in and carried out the corpse of Olenna's unfortunate bodyguard out and cleaned up the floor as much as they could.
"My apologies, My Lords," Mace spoke out softly, "I was remiss in not realizing the extent of my mother's actions, and they may have unwittingly harmed the Reach, even if they were well intended," he spoke out, while Randyll pulled out Mace's chair from the ground and set it up again.
"No apologies are necessary, My Lord," Tarly continued, "Please, take your place," the Lord of Hornhill continued, even as he pointed out the empty chair.
As he moved forward, Mace turned around and looked at Alester Florent, "I thank you Lord Alester, and beg your forgiveness for the harsh words uttered by my mother. I will see you suitably compensated for the insult given by my mother, and will ensure that she apologizes to you, in person. And I thank you for bringing my mother's indiscretions to my notice."
Alester, who had clearly not expected this development, was more than gracious in his victory. He and the survivors of Starpike were quick to realize what the exile of Olenna Tyrell from the affairs of the Reach meant. He could afford to be gracious in this case, "No apologies are necessary, My Lord. I acted only as a loyal Reachman should."
Nodding, Mace took his seat. He realized that all of his vassals were now looking at him with a level of respect that was absent from before. And to gain it, all it had cost was his relationship with his mother. It was a bitter pill to swallow.
Mace turned around to look at his father-in-law, "Good-father," he began, "I am in desperate need of advice. Advise me, what should I do next? How do we proceed?"
After pausing to reorganize his thoughts after the momentous occasion that had occurred, Leyton Hightower replied.
"We have heard, or rather been dictated terms, by our new King, Robert Baratheon. Seeing as we have heard one side of this civil war, I think it only fair that you accept the terms set by Prince Quentyn Martell and meet with him to see what the other side has to offer as well," he advised.
"I agree," Alester Florent rumbled, "At the very least, the young Prince of Dorne has dealt with us far more respectfully than the stag, despite having no need to do so, after winning the battle against us. And he has shown more respect to you, than Robert Baratheon ever has, and most likely, ever will!"
"I too agree, My Lord," Randyll Tarly spoke out, "Clearly, Robert Baratheon has not forgotten that we stood with House Targaryen and that we came close to starving his brothers to death. He will never respect us and will always view us with suspicion. Furthermore, he is a very prideful man, and the results of Ashford will always make him deal with us in an aggressive manner. A man who is ashamed of something, will always lash out in anger to hide his shame, and we, the cause for that shame in the first place, will bear the brunt of his wrath. At the very least, we must hear out the Prince of Dorne. We owe it to him. We cannot make decisions arbitrarily or be cowed by threats. Let us hear the offer of the Prince of Dorne, at least."
Mace considered the suggestions very carefully, knowing that the next step he would take, would decide the fate of the Reach. Then, as he caught sight of Mathis Rowan, he paused.
"Lord Rowan," he called out, "Correct me if I am wrong, but did not the murderer of Jaime Lannister identify himself as a Reyne? And did he not say that the Reyne's had been promised Starpike for their actions?"
"Yes, My Lord, he did," Mathis Rowan admitted, while Mace frowned.
"And yet, the Prince of Dorne stated to my good-father that he would return Starpike to me, if I agreed to meet with him? What am I to make of this duplicitous behavior?" he growled, while Leyton Hightower frowned.
"Indeed," he admitted to his son-in-law, "I too am at a loss in understanding this. He did not come out as a deceitful person or one who lies so capriciously!" he paused, "Either way, we will know the truth of it, when we go to meet with him! We can ask him the truth of it directly," he pointed out, and after a moment's consideration, Mace nodded in agreement.
"Very well, make preparations! Maester Lomys, send a raven to Starpike, and inform Quentyn Martell that I accept his request for peace negotiations! And Lord Tarly, I will not allow Robert Baratheon to threaten the Reach as he pleases. As I have said earlier, Paxter Redwyne can handle the Ironborn, but we need your army to act as the shield of the Reach, now! Send ravens to your commanders and have them move the army of the Reach towards Bitterbridge!"
Though he did not know it at the time, Mace Tyrell's last order would prove very fortuitous in the near future.
KINGS LANDING, AT THE SAME TIME,
At the middle of the night, Robert Baratheon was rudely interrupted by his bodyguard, who came inside his room to wake him up.
Groggily, he woke up, "Hmmm…Othell, what is it"
"Beg pardon, Your Grace, but Lords Varys and Lord Hoster Tully are outside, and they say they need to speak to you on a matter of great importance."
"Admit them in," Robert spoke quickly, as he put on a robe, and cleaned himself up.
Soon, Varys simpered in, in billowing robes with both his arms stuck inside his sleeves, followed by Hoster Tully, who was also in his nightclothes. Varys was unflappable as ever, while Hoster seemed unusually agitated.
"Yes, Varys, what is it?" Robert directly came to the point. Hoster would have waited till daybreak if it was something he wanted to discuss, but seeing the look on his face, he could surmise that their spymaster had tumbled upon some grave information which he wished to convey immediately.
"Your grace! My little birds have informed me that Lord Tywin has countermanded your order to Ser Tygett and has ordered him to sack Bitterbridge! He has asked his brother to, and I quote "Make sure that the sack of Kings Landing pales in comparison to what you do at Bitterbridge! Let the world know that Lannister's will not be toyed with! The Lannister army will reach Bitterbridge by daybreak, and there is nobody who can stop them at this time!"
For a moment, Robert was taken aback as he stared at Varys with jaws wide open in disbelief. Disbelief turned to incredulity and then, incredulity turned to rage.
"Damn him! Damn the man to seven hells! Who the hell does he think he is? What is the meaning of this treachery? Does he not know that such an action will push the Tyrell's on the side of the Martell's?" he snarled, as he began to pace around.
"I fear that is exactly what he wants," Hoster bit out angrily, as he sank onto a chair. "I am afraid that the resurgence of House Reyne and his son's assassination at the hands of the Martell's has pushed him to the edge of his sanity. This is the greatest defeat he has suffered in his entire life. All his life, he has been acknowledged by the world because he wiped out the Reyne's and established himself as a man to be feared. For the lowest of the Reyne's to return at the twilight of his life, and kill his dearly loved son, has in the eyes of the world rendered all that he has accomplished till now, irrelevant! The very reason for his existence and his legacy has been threatened like never before! He is lashing out in anger and desperation! I fear that Quentyn Martell may have broken him for good! He is now like a wounded lion which is at its most dangerous and does not differentiate between friend and foe!"
"I must agree with Lord Tully!" Varys admitted, "Lord Tywin's mind-state since the death of his son has been rather alarming, so much so that people are actually fearing to stay near his side! I believe that Lord Tywin now no longer cares about anything except revenge against House Martell!"
"Which is detrimental to our cause!" shouted Robert in anger. "Damn it, I have no choice! I will have to order him to call back the Lannister Army!"
"That would be most unwise!" Hoster Tully interjected, "Right now, Tywin's alliance with us teeters on a knife-edge. If you order him to do something against his will, he might very well rebel and secede from the Iron Throne in a bid to pursue his revenge independently! Then our cause is truly lost!"
"Then, what do you suggest we do?" Robert asked, as he bit on his hand to force himself to calm down.
"As of now, Tywin cannot be reasoned with. He is making his way towards Starpike, I am certain of it! And Bitterbridge is in the path, and he is dealing with it in the usual manner in which he deals with his enemies. And because of Bitterbridge, and as a consequence of what will happen there due to his orders, the Tyrell's are most likely lost to us! Once the Lannister's sack Bitterbridge, Mace Tyrell will throw his lot in with Quentyn Martell, and we cannot do anything about it! Our threat to Olenna Tyrell will lose its value, as every man, woman and child in the Reach will be screaming for revenge! If he values his life and his honor, Mace Tyrell will have no choice but to declare war against us," Hoster rapidly calculated, as he began to pace around.
"I would say the same, but Lord Hoster puts it more eloquently," Varys admitted.
"Then, what will be our next course of action?" Robert asked as he poured out three cups of wine and handed over two of them to the two men.
"Let Tywin do all the heavy lifting and take upon himself the responsibility for all the evils that his men will commit. At the rate he is carrying on, he will soon self-destruct and ruin himself and his house. Our aim should be to make maximum use of him and his men, before we dispose them off once their use runs out. In a way, this works out to our advantage. Tywin does the dirty work, but you reap the benefits. Even in his maddened state, Tywin is capable of wreaking terrific damage, and all the better for us, if it is directed at our enemies, rather than us."
Robert looked at Hoster with something akin to horrified awe, while Varys reeled at the callousness of the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. The eunuch again reminded himself forcefully, that Hoster Tully was not a man to be underestimated by any means. There was a reason why House Tully had ruled the Riverlands for four hundred years without any issues; the lands which had seen more warfare from the beginning of time than anywhere else in Westeros.
"So be it," Robert ordered after a moment's contemplation.
STARPIKE CASTLE, AT THE SAME TIME,
At the same time, in Starpike castle, Quentyn had received the same message that Varys had delivered to Robert. Oberyn had been shaken by the contents of the message, while Quentyn was silent as ever, even as both of them sat in Quentyn's chambers discussing what this meant for their overall goals.
"Did you plan for this?" Oberyn asked after a moment's contemplation, as he gazed at his nephew, wondering whether he was capable of orchestrating death on such a scale just to suit his needs.
"Of course not," Quentyn replied back, "I am a general, not a mindless beast! Such senseless slaughter serves no purpose! I had expected my strike to unbalance Tywin, yes, but not to this extent! To sack an innocent city to prove his strength! What nonsense! I had anticipated that killing his son and humiliating him in such a manner would make Tywin do something rash that would be to our advantage militarily, but this is beyond my expectations! Perhaps I gave him too much credit after all!" he mused as he sat down.
"Well, not to be too callous, but I believe that this does work to our overall benefit," Quentyn continued after a moment's thought, as Oberyn paused, and then reluctantly agreed.
"So, what have we gained from this?" Oberyn asked as he handed over a cup of wine to his nephew, who took it gracefully.
"Once Robert learned of my overtures to Mace Tyrell via Leyton Hightower, I fully anticipated him to make a move to threaten Mace into rejecting any terms I might have offered, which he has done by sending that letter to Olenna Tyrell," he spoke, even as he carefully moved a pawn on a cyvasse board in front of him towards the opposing King.
"This, I knew," Quentyn continued, "Would not be received well by the Lords of the Reach. Due to my revealing the fallacy of their actions in deliberately losing their siege of Storm's End, they have by now realized that they themselves have converted a victory into defeat. As such, to be threatened in such a manner by a man who should have been defeated by them by all counts, will only dig the wound deeper. More so, when that letter is addressed to a woman and not them. That is an insult they will not be able to forgive," here, he smirked as he moved another pawn on the board forward.
"Contrasting that," he continued, "My request for Mace Tyrell was couched in as polite terms as was feasible, as opposed to the blunt threats of Robert Baratheon. Second, by insisting that I deal with Mace Tyrell personally, I have elevated his status, at least in his mind. He has, until now, despite being a Lord Paramount, never been treated as respectfully as his station deserves, partly due to the fact that his mother's actions have ruined his image in the eyes of the other Lord's Paramount. They usually dealt with him only because they had no choice. I am dealing with him because I want to. That will make all the difference in his mind, as he will see that I am perhaps the only ruler in Westeros who has treated him as a genuine equal," here he smiled, as he moved another pawn forward on the board.
"I am surprised that Hoster Tully allowed Robert to write such a threatening letter," Oberyn observed, as he refilled his wine cup. "I expected better from a man acclaimed as the greatest politician in Westeros."
"Ah, but you fail to take one thing into consideration," Quentyn smirked, "Being a politician is one thing, being a diplomat is entirely another. They are not always mutually exclusive. There is a reason why Jon Arryn is the one who deals with the other Kingdoms as their representative and not Hoster. Simply put, Hoster Tully is no less a prideful man than Tywin Lannister, though it is not well known. Hoster Tully is renowned for disparaging or humiliating people who he instinctively believes are lesser than him. One only needs to look at his behavior towards Walder Frey. Despite the fact that it was Walder Frey who saved the lives of Hoster and Arryn when Rhaegar crushed them during their battles in the Riverlands, to this day, Hoster still treats Walder with disdain. Hoster Tully has the bad habit of allowing his personal opinions to color his decisions, which is not wise in a ruler. In the same way, Hoster does not consider Mace Tyrell as a true Lord Paramount, and as such, I believe, did not caution Robert to the potential downfalls of such a thing. If Jon Arryn had been there, that threatening letter to Olenna Tyrell would never have been sent in the first place."
"And now," he smirked as he moved the final piece on the board to checkmate his opponent, "Due to my man assassinating Jaime Lannister, Tywin has gone berserk and has focused single-handedly on revenge. As such, he will do anything to force a battle between us, regardless of what Robert Baratheon wants. He will force the issue by attacking Bitterbridge, even if it means forcing the Tyrell's to our side. To reach Starpike, he has to go through Bitterbridge. And Tywin's actions at Bitterbridge will cement in the minds of Mace and his vassals that the Rebellion will never deal with them fairly, and that they cannot trust them. And so, we will gain the Reach and its resources without having to do a single thing to convince Mace Tyrell to join us," he concluded as Oberyn looked at the board only to see that it had been checkmated.
"In the end, Uncle," Quentyn paused, "My plan was fairly simple and straight-forward. Defeat the Tyrell's and then make a public showing of offering them terms. Ensure that this news reaches the Rebellion. And once it reached the Rebellion, they were guaranteed to threaten the Tyrell's from joining us. At that point, cause enough friction in the Rebellion by killing Jaime Lannister, and force Tywin into action against us, action that would conveniently force him to take a path through the Reach to get to us. And by predictably doing as we expected him to, Tywin has handed us an alliance with the Reach. An alliance with which we will crush him. He has the intelligence of a sardine, the poor fool," here he chuckled, while Oberyn laughed heartily.
"After all," Quentyn continued, "To achieve victory while having both friend and foe dance alike in your palms … that is what it means to be a great general," he smirked as he made a show of deliberately holding out the palm of his right hand.
"You, my dear nephew," Oberyn groused, partly in fondness and partly in exasperation, "are a most troublesome person to work with!"
"Fine by me!" his nephew replied, crossing his arms behind his head, and leisurely putting his legs on the table, "After all, I am not the one being troubled! Hahaha …"
Author's Note:
I know, I had promised the interlude with the Reyne's next, but I reviewed that chapter and found that it needs a bit of rework. But it will be there, soon. Count on it. On the other hand, we are now on the road to the Battle of Bitterbridge, finally!
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