Chapter 51: Eddard's Death and Sansa's Despair
The Great Sept of Baelor.
The heart of faith in King's Landing.
Today, however, it had been transformed into a bloody judgment platform and execution ground.
Tens of thousands of King's Landing citizens gathered in the plaza in front of the Sept, excitedly and numbly awaiting the trial of a "traitor."
Eddard Stark, once the incomparably noble Warden of the North and hand of the king, was now dragged out of the prisoner's cart by the Gold Cloaks like a dog.
He was covered in dirt, his hair and beard matted together, and after days of imprisonment, he had long lost his former dignity, appearing haggard and weak.
He was pushed onto the high judgment platform.
On the platform sat the new King Joffrey, Queen Cersei, and Duke Tywin, along with many other important court officials.
"Eddard Stark!"
The High Septon, in his solemn yet hypocritical voice, loudly read out his crimes: "You are accused of conspiring to overthrow the Baratheon dynasty, murdering the late King Robert, and attempting to enthrone a false king. Do you confess your guilt?!"
Eddard Stark raised his head, his grey eyes sweeping over the numb and frenzied faces below, finally resting on a small, thin figure clutching a stone angel statue in the crowd not far away.
It was Arya!
His daughter!
His little daughter had still not managed to escape King's Landing!
Eddard's heart instantly tightened!
He knew he was certainly going to die. But he couldn't... he couldn't implicate his daughter any further!
He recalled Varys's "advice" in the dungeon – as long as he publicly "confessed" and acknowledged Joffrey as the legitimate king, Cersei would spare his life for Sansa's sake and send him to the Night's Watch at the Wall.
For Arya, for Catelyn and the children far away in the North... this Warden of the North, who had been stubborn his entire life, finally chose to bow his noble head in his last moments.
"I..."
He spoke with difficulty, his voice hoarse as if sandpaper was rubbing.
"I confess."
"I am a traitor."
"Joffrey Baratheon is the one and only legitimate King of the Seven Kingdoms."
These words made Cersei on the platform and Littlefingerbelow breathe a sigh of relief.
However, just as everyone thought the trial would end with the "traitor's" confession...
On the iron throne, the cruel and foolish young king suddenly stood up!
He drew the magnificent Valyrian steel longsword named "Widow's Wail," a look of excited and morbid delight on his face!
"He confessed! He is a traitor!"
"My mother, and my future Queen Sansa, both begged me to be merciful to him."
"But!"
His voice suddenly became sharp and exhilarated!
"I, King Joffrey Baratheon, have no mercy!"
"A traitor should meet a traitor's end!"
"Ser Ilyn Payne!" He gave his final command to the silent, tongueless executioner.
"Bring me his head!"
"No!!!"
Sansa Stark let out a piercing scream and fainted on the spot.
Cersei, Varys, and even Tywin Lannister on the platform all changed their expressions drastically!
None of them had expected that Joffrey, this fool, would make such a mad decision at such a moment!
But it was too late.
The executioner, Ilyn Payne, walked forward expressionlessly and pressed Eddard Stark firmly onto the block.
He raised the greatsword in his hand, stained with countless blood...
"Father—!!!"
In the crowd, Arya let out a heartbreaking cry!
"Pfft—!"
Blood stained the entire plaza.
Eddard Stark died.
He died under the "King's Law" he had protected his entire life.
He died amidst the "mercy" he had exchanged with his honor.
On this day, a drizzling rain of blood fell from the sky.
On this day, the last possibility of peace between the North and the iron throne was completely severed.
On this day, the flames of war were fully ignited across the lands of the Seven Kingdoms, never to be extinguished again.
Chapter 52 Aegon the Black and the Declaration of War
The news of Eddard Stark's public execution spread like the fiercest hurricane, centered in King's Landing, instantly sweeping across the entire continent of Westeros.
When the news reached the Northern army camp at Riverrun, the entire camp fell into a deathly silence.
Immediately, earth-shattering, sorrowful wails erupted, along with an even more furious, relentless thirst for vengeance!
All the Northern soldiers spontaneously tied a black strip of cloth around their arms.
Their lord, their protector, their revered Lord Eddard, who was like a god in their hearts, was dead.
He died under the vile schemes and cruel blades of the Southerners.
This blood debt could only be cleansed with the blood of the entire House Lannister!
Inside the main tent.
Robb Stark remained silent after hearing the news brought by the messenger.
He simply walked to the wall, drew his longsword, and repeatedly, furiously sharpened its keen edge with a whetstone.
"Clang... clang... clang..."
The grating sound of friction echoed in the tent, like a beast sharpening its fangs.
No one dared to approach and disturb him.
Everyone knew that the young Young Wolf was using this method to suppress the volcano about to erupt in his heart.
Meanwhile, Lin Hao, upon receiving the news, was standing on the battlements of Riverrun, gazing in the direction of King's Landing.
There was no expression on his face.
No sorrow, no anger.
Only a bone-deep chill, like ten thousand years of profound ice.
He knew that this day had, after all, arrived.
Despite all his efforts, he still couldn't change Eddard Stark's tragic, destined fate.
"I... was too weak."
He slowly closed his eyes, and two lines of clear tears silently streamed down his cheeks.
This was the first time he had shed tears since coming to this world.
And it would be the last.
From today onwards, the last trace of the 'innocence' and 'weakness' belonging to Lin Hao, the modern man, would be completely buried with Eddard Stark's death.
In its place would be a true, ruthless king, who would stop at nothing for survival and revenge.
Or rather... a tyrant.
When he opened his eyes again, all emotions had vanished from his deep black eyes.
Only a dark void, capable of freezing the entire world, remained... That night, the joint council of all the lords of the North and the Riverlands reconvened in the Great Hall of Riverrun.
This time, the atmosphere was no longer one of celebration and fervor.
Instead, it was an oppressive, deathly silence before a storm.
All eyes were focused on the two young men seated at the head of the table.
Robb Stark, and Lin Hao, or rather, Aegon Targaryen.
Robb finally stopped his frantic sword-sharpening.
He stood up, his gaze sweeping over everyone present, his voice hoarse but exceptionally firm.
"My father is dead."
"House Lannister killed him with the most despicable means."
"This blood debt, we must reclaim it."
"From today onwards, I, Robb Stark, and House Lannister, are irreconcilable!"
"Irreconcilable!!!"
All the Northern lords drew their swords and let out angry roars!
Robb nodded, and then he made a move that surprised everyone.
He walked in front of Lin Hao, offering the sword that symbolized the inheritance of House Stark with both hands.
Then, he knelt on one knee.
"My King," his voice was filled with an unprecedented solemnity and resolve, "My father's revenge is a private vendetta of House Stark. But the future of the kingdom is a matter for all."
"Now, the entire North, the entire Riverlands, are awaiting your command."
"Please, lead us to march on King's Landing!"
"Please, lead us to avenge my father!"
"Please, lead us to overthrow that shameless bastard sitting on the iron throne!"
"Please, in the name of the true dragon Targaryen, declare war on House Lannister...!"
"Declare war! Declare war! Declare war!"
All the lords, following Robb, knelt on one knee, striking the ground with their swords, and let out a thunderous plea for war!
Lin Hao looked at the dense crowd of vassals before him, swearing allegiance.
He knew that he had no retreat.
The tide of war had pushed him to the forefront.
He slowly stepped forward and took the sword from Robb's hand.
Then, he turned around, facing everyone.
He drew the sword, its tip pointing directly towards King's Landing!
"I, Aegon Targaryen,"
His voice, though not loud, clearly reached every corner of the great hall.
"Hereby, in the name of the King in the North, Lord of the Trident, and legitimate heir of the Targaryen dynasty, formally declare war on the usurper Joffrey Baratheon, and his maternal family, House Lannister!"
"I will lead you to flatten the Westerlands, and burn King's Landing!"
"I will use the blood of House Lannister to honor the spirit of my uncle Eddard Stark in heaven!"
"I will use the usurper's head to recast the glory of the true dragon!"
"All who stand in my way..."
A cruel and tyrannical flame, like a black dragon, flashed in his eyes!
"Shall be shown no mercy!"
From this day on, the continent of Westeros lost a bastard named "Hodor Snow."
And gained a King in the North, known as "Aegon the Blackheart"—who struck fear into the hearts of all his enemies!
Chapter 53 Tyrion's Countermeasures and the Burning of the Ships
The declaration of war by "Blackheart" Aegon, and his ruthless words of "kill them all, without mercy," quickly reached King's Landing.
Inside the Red Keep, panic spread.
This panic reached its peak, especially when they learned that the combined forces of the North and the Riverlandshad abandoned their siege of Harrenhal and begun a full-scale assault deep into the Westerlands, the ancestral home of House Lannister—Casterly Rock.
No one expected that this newly crowned "King in the North" would deviate from conventional tactics!
Instead of making the capture of King's Landing and the iron throne his primary objective, he chose to besiege Wei to rescue Zhao, striking directly at the heart of the enemy!
This completely disrupted all of Tywin Lannister's strategic deployments.
His original plan was to use the strong defenses of Harrenhal to tie down the main force of the North, then outflank them from both sides, encircling and annihilating the Northern army in the Riverlands.
But now, they weren't interested in a war of attrition!
They simply bypassed him and went straight for his home base!
This forced Tywin Lannister to abandon the strategic stronghold of Harrenhal and lead his army to swiftly reinforce the Westerlands.
Thus, the initiative of the entire war shifted completely from House Lannister to the Northern army!
...In the Tower of the Hand, acting hand of the king Tyrion Lannister was staring at a military map, so worried he couldn't even drink his wine.
"Madman! That Aegon Targaryen is simply a madman!" He paced irritably around the room. "He's using the entire strength of the North to gamble his life against my father!"
"My Lord, what should we do now?" Bronn asked from the side. "The nobles in the city are about to riot. They heard the Northerners have a dragon and are all clamoring to flee King's Landing."
"Flee? Where can they flee to?" Tyrion sneered. "Right now, the safest place in all of King's Landing is this Red Keep."
Although he said this, he knew better than anyone how vulnerable King's Landing's defenses currently were.
Lord Tywin had taken the main army of the Westerlands.
The other two Baratheon brothers, Stannis and Renly, each commanded their own forces, eyeing the iron thronefrom Dragonstone and Storm's End.
If any one of these three parties chose to attack King's Landing at this time, the city would crumble instantly!
Especially... Stannis Baratheon.
He possessed the most powerful fleet of House Baratheon!
"No... we absolutely cannot let them attack from the sea!"
A glint flashed in Tyrion's eyes.
He abruptly stopped and ordered Bronn, "Go now, immediately bring me Grand Maester Hallyne, the chief maester of the Alchemists' Guild!"
"Alchemists?" Bronn was a little surprised. "My Lord, why do you need those madmen who play with potions?"
"Never mind that, just go!"
Soon, an old man in a gray robe, smelling strongly of chemicals, was brought before Tyrion.
"Lord Lannister," Grand Maester Hallyne, the chief alchemist, bowed respectfully. "How may I be of service?"
"Grand Maester Hallyne," Tyrion asked directly, "I ask you, how much 'wildfire' does your Guild have left now?"
Upon hearing the words "wildfire," a flicker of barely perceptible tension crossed Hallyne's face.
"My... My Lord, since the incident beneath Maegor's Holdfast last time, our reserves are not much. Approximately... approximately seven thousand eight hundred jars remain."
"Seven thousand eight hundred jars..." Tyrion's breathing suddenly quickened.
He had originally thought that the great fire had destroyed most of the wildfire.
He didn't expect so much to still be left!
An incredibly insane, yet incredibly bold plan, instantly formed in his mind!
"Excellent!" He slammed his hand on the table. "Grand Maester Hallyne, I now, in the name of the acting hand of the king, command you and your Alchemists' Guild to immediately cease all current work!"
"From now on, your only task is to produce wildfire for me, with all your might!"
"The more, the better! I want the entire King's Landing to be piled high with your green, lovely little darlings!"
Grand Maester Hallyne's face turned pale, frightened by Tyrion's crazed appearance: "My... My Lord, what... what do you need so much wildfire for? This... this is too dangerous!"
"Dangerous?"
A grim and excited smile appeared on Tyrion's face.
"I will use the most dangerous thing in this world to prepare for our enemies the grandest and most magnificent naval fireworks display in history!"
"Burning ships in a chain!"
He would use these seven thousand eight hundred jars of wildfire to turn the entire Blackwater Bay into a green hell, capable of devouring any fleet!
Chapter 54: The War in the West and the Terror of the Night Furies
While Tyrion was in King's Landing, frantically stockpiling wildfire to prepare for a threat from the sea, the flames of war had already reached an unprecedented intensity in the Westerlands.
"Blackheart" Aegon, or Lin Hao, fully implemented his declaration of war: "Slay them all without mercy."
He and his allied forces from the North and the Riverlands, like a red-hot, indestructible warhammer, smashed into House Lannister's rich backyard!
They bypassed all fortified cities and strongholds, specifically attacking the weakly defended towns and villages belonging to House Lannister's vassals.
They burned fields, plundered granaries, and destroyed mines.
Anyone who dared to resist, whether noble or commoner, was killed without mercy!
For a time, the entire Westerlands plunged into a bloodbath.
Countless refugees, dragging their families, wailed as they streamed towards House Lannister's main city—Casterly Rock.
This cruel yet efficient "scorched earth policy" completely disrupted Tywin Lannister's plans to reinforce his lands.
He had initially thought that the enemy would, like in traditional knightly warfare, primarily aim to besiege and capture territory.
But he hadn't expected that this Aegon Targaryenwouldn't play by those rules at all!
He was like the most barbaric Dothraki savages from the continent of Essos, whose only purpose was destruction, plunder, and spreading terror!
This forced Tywin to disperse his main army, which he had originally gathered for a decisive battle against the Northern army, to "put out fires" everywhere.
And once his forces were scattered, the opportunity Lin Hao had been waiting for arrived... Deepwater City, a small castle located in the heart of the Westerlands.
The head of House Crakehall, a vassal of House Lannister, was anxiously awaiting Lord Tywin's reinforcements inside the castle.
Outside his castle, a Northern force of nearly five thousand men had surrounded it tightly.
However, just as he thought he could at least hold out for a few days relying on the sturdy walls, a black nightmare from hell descended.
At dusk, accompanied by a dragon's roar that pierced the clouds, a huge black shadow obscured the sky.
It was Night Fury!
Under Lin Hao's no-holds-barred efforts, fueled by his own Dragon King's Blood, Night Fury's size had grown to an extremely terrifying extent!
Its wingspan exceeded twenty meters!
Its jet-black scales, in the afterglow of the setting sun, shimmered with a cold, metallic luster!
"Dragon... it's a dragon!!!"
On the city walls, the defenders, seeing the legendary terrifying creature circling in the sky, instantly collapsed!
Their bows and arrows seemed so ridiculous and powerless before that colossal, mountain-like figure!
Night Fury didn't give them much time to react.
It opened its massive maw, and a thick, black stream of dragonflame, like a torrent of magma, descended from the sky!
"Boom—!!!!"
Deepwater City's gate, forged from sturdy oak and heavy steel, was like paper before the dragonflame, instantly reduced to ashes!
Then came the second, and third blasts of dragonflame!
The sturdy walls glowed red-hot, even beginning to melt!
The defenders on the watchtowers screamed in agony amidst the flames, one by one turning into burning torches and falling from the walls.
"Open the gates!!!"
"Surrender!! We surrender!!!"
Inside the castle, the remaining defenders were utterly terrified by this god-like spectacle.
Crying out, they opened all the city gates, knelt on the ground, and abandoned all resistance.
Lin Hao, riding his warhorse, slowly entered the castle, which had been taken with hardly any loss of troops, accompanied by Robb Stark and a host of Northern lords.
He looked at the Lannister soldiers kneeling and trembling on the ground, with no trace of pity in his eyes.
"House Crakehall participated in the siege of the Targaryen royal family during the Usurper's War."
His voice was not loud, yet it clearly echoed throughout the entire square.
"According to my rules."
"All enemies of Targaryen..."
"Shall be slain without mercy."
"No—!!!"
Screams of agony echoed throughout Deepwater City's night sky.
That night, Deepwater City ran with blood.
The name of "Blackheart" Aegon, accompanied by the terrifying legend of that black demonic dragon, for the first time, truly made the entire continent of Westeros tremble!
Chapter 55 Renly's Ambition and the Knight of Flowers's Choice
While the lands of the Westerlands were scorched into a wasteland by war and dragonfire, The Reach in the south remained a place of peace and prosperity.
Renly Baratheon, Duke of Storm's End and King Robert's second younger brother, received the fealty of House Tyrell, the overlords of The Reach, here.
And in a grand ceremony, surrounded by tens of thousands of combined forces from The Reach and the Stormlands, he crowned himself King.
Renly Baratheon was handsome, dashing, and charismatic.
He was not as crude as his elder brother Robert, nor as gloomy as his second elder brother Stannis.
He was more like a perfect prince stepped out of a knight's tale.
Therefore, he gained the support of the fertile Reach and all the southern nobility.
His army numbered over one hundred thousand! It was the strongest force in the "War of the Five Kings"!
At this moment, inside his incredibly luxurious tent, crafted with gold thread and silk, he was discussing the next advance plan with his closest companion and most powerful knight, Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers.
"That old stubborn Stannis has also declared himself King," Renly said with a disdainful smile, "His pitiful forces can't even touch the walls of King's Landing."
"And that so-called True Dragon of the North is just a barbarian who only knows how to burn, kill, and loot. The more havoc he wreaks, the more he will lose the people's hearts. When he and Tywin Lannister fight to a mutual destruction, we can just reap the benefits."
"Now, throughout the Seven Kingdoms, only we have the people's support and the momentum of the times!"
Loras Tyrell's handsome face was also filled with adoration and admiration.
He looked at his beloved King and said softly, "Yes, my King. The iron throne was born to belong to you."
"However..." he changed his tone, a hint of worry in his brows, "Regarding that dragon in the North... do we really not need to worry? I heard that Deepwater City in the Westerlands had its gates burned open by a single breath of its dragonfire."
"A dragon?" Renly smiled dismissively, "Those are just exaggerated rumors. Perhaps the Northerners just used some alchemist's tricks to scare those ignorant fools in the Westerlands who haven't seen the world."
"Loras, you must remember," he walked to Loras's side and affectionately patted his shoulder, "In this world, what truly determines victory is not some ethereal magic or giant dragons, but... real, tangible armies and money!"
"And of these two, we possess the most!"
However, just as Renly Baratheon was still dreaming his "King's" dream, the arrival of an uninvited guest stirred up a small ripple in his camp.
"Your Majesty, Lady Catelyn Stark has come to seek an audience, in the name of the King in the North," a guard reported.
"Catelyn Stark?" Both Renly and Loras were somewhat surprised.
They hadn't expected the North to send an envoy at this time.
"Let her in."
Soon, the travel-worn Catelyn Stark, escorted by Brienne of Tarth of the Kingsguard, entered the tent.
"Your Majesty Renly," she bowed slightly, neither humble nor arrogant.
"Lady Stark, you've had a long journey; it must have been arduous," Renly smiled, assuming the posture of a king, "May I ask what important matter my great-nephew, who calls himself a 'True Dragon,' has sent you for?"
His tone was full of mockery and scorn.
Catelyn ignored his rudeness and went straight to the point: "I am here on the command of our King, Aegon Targaryen I, to discuss with you a joint effort to fight our common enemy—House Lannister!"
"Oh?" Renly raised an eyebrow, "Joint effort? How so?"
"It's simple," Catelyn said, "My King hopes that you will lead your great army north immediately to rendezvous with us at Harrenhal. Then, we will attack from both north and south, annihilating Tywin Lannister's main force in one fell swoop!"
"Once Tywin is defeated, King's Landing will be within easy reach!"
"At that time, my King promises that if you pledge allegiance to him and acknowledge the legitimacy of the Targaryen Dynasty, he will confer upon you the title of Duke of Storm's End and Warden of the Stormlands, to be hereditary. At the same time, he will marry Miss Margaery Tyrell, who is with you, as his Queen, forging an eternal alliance with House Tyrell!"
These words were undeniably tempting!
They virtually fulfilled all the core demands of Renly and House Tyrell!
However, after listening, Renly suddenly burst into laughter.
"Allegiance?" He looked at Catelyn, his gaze like he was looking at an idiot, "Lady, have you perhaps misunderstood something?"
"Right now, it is I who commands a hundred thousand troops! It is I who has the support of the entire South!"
"And your so-called 'True Dragon' merely possesses a group of Northern barbarians and a lizard whose existence is questionable!"
"It should be him who pledges allegiance to me!"
"Go back and tell him that if he kneels before me and offers his head and the corpse of that dragon, I might consider pardoning your House Stark for treason!"
These words were utterly arrogant!
Catelyn's face instantly turned extremely ugly.
She hadn't expected Renly to be so arrogant and foolish.
Just as she was about to leave in anger, a clear, cold voice suddenly rang out from outside the tent.
"What if... that dragon is real?"
Everyone was startled and turned to look.
They saw a woman, dressed in a fiery red robe, beautiful beyond mortal comparison, standing gracefully at the entrance of the tent, having arrived unnoticed.
It was Melisandre!
She had come too!
Chapter 56 The Red Witch's Warning
Melisandre's appearance was like a red lightning bolt, instantly tearing through the already tense atmosphere within the tent.
Her beauty was aggressive, otherworldly.
Her burning red eyes seemed to pierce the deepest desires and fears of the human heart.
For the first time, the arrogant smile on Renly Baratheon's face froze slightly.
Although he did not believe in gods or spirits, the powerful, almost tangible aura emanating from this woman still made him feel a little uneasy.
"Who are you?" he asked with a frown.
"I am Melisandre, a servant of the lord of light, R'hllor," her voice was not loud, yet it carried a peculiar penetrating quality, clearly reaching everyone's ears, "I bring an ultimatum for the Seven Kingdoms' only rightful king, Stannis Baratheon."
Stannis!
Hearing that name, Renly's face immediately reverted to its contemptuous smile.
"Oh? My rigid and boring brother?" He picked up a peach from the table and took a leisurely bite, "Why would he send such a beautiful sorceress? Is he trying to use beauty to bewitch me into giving up the throne? What a pity, you've got the wrong person."
His words caused the Knight of Flowers, Loras, beside him, to let out a suppressed chuckle.
Melisandre seemed oblivious to his insult; her red eyes simply gazed at him calmly, a look as if she were observing a... sacrifice about to be offered.
"His Majesty Stannis is King Robert's own brother, and the elder of the Baratheon family," she said slowly, "According to the laws of the kingdom, he is the first in line to the iron throne."
"He commands you to immediately put away your ridiculous crown and banners, and lead your army to Dragonstone to swear fealty to him. If you submit, he can retain your title as Duke of Storm's End and appoint you as a member of his Small Council."
"Otherwise..."
"Otherwise what?" Renly asked with interest.
"Otherwise, you will be destroyed." Melisandre's tone was as flat as if stating an established fact.
"Hahahahahahaha!"
Renly burst into an exaggerated laugh, as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world.
"Destroy me? With his few thousand starving soldiers and a couple of broken ships on Dragonstone? Lady, are you mistaken? Right now, I am the one with a hundred thousand strong army!"
As he spoke, he suddenly turned and, with a kingly demeanor, addressed Catelyn Stark:
"You too, madam! Go back and tell that imposter in the North who calls himself a Targaryen! Don't think that having a fire-breathing lizard means you can challenge the order of the entire world!"
"I, Renly Baratheon, am destined to rule! I am the only king who can bring peace and prosperity to this kingdom!"
"You either submit, or... like my brother, be crushed by me!"
However, just as he was in high spirits, delivering his "king's declaration"...
Melisandre suddenly turned her head, casting her fiery eyes towards the pitch-black, bottomless night sky outside the tent.
She chanted softly in a dreamlike voice, filled with mysterious rhythm:
"The long night approaches, the Others march south."
"Winter has come, the dead are on the move."
"Black dragon soars, awakening eternal flames."
"Stags clash, blood stains the stormy coast."
"Your Majesty," she slowly turned back, looking at Renly Baratheon, a strange and pitying smile playing on her lips.
"Before the true darkness, your hundred thousand strong army is merely a heap of cold flesh and blood, about to be frozen by ice."
"The lord of light has made his choice. And you, you have chosen the wrong enemy."
"Enjoy your... last night."
Having said that, she no longer looked at anyone, turning and her fiery red figure silently merged into the darkness outside the tent, as if she had never appeared.
Inside the tent, a dead silence fell.
The smile on Renly Baratheon's face completely vanished.
For some reason, a bone-chilling coldness slowly crept up his spine.
He felt as if he was being fiercely watched by an unseen beast from the abyss.
Melisandre's departure, like an ominous omen, cast a strange shadow over Renly Baratheon's camp.
Although Renly continued to verbally dismiss the Red Priestess as a "madwoman" and a "deceiver," he still ordered the guards around the entire tent to be doubled.
The next morning, before dawn.
Renly Baratheon had already donned his magnificent, gold and green antlered armor.
He was preparing to personally lead his army to confront his reckless brother, Stannis.
"Your Majesty, please reconsider!"
Catelyn Stark made a final effort, "Right now, our common enemy is the Lannister! Brother fighting brother will only benefit our enemies!"
"Madam, you need not say more." Renly's face had returned to its usual confidence and arrogance, "Once I deal with this small nuisance, Stannis, I will naturally march north to handle that so-called 'true dragon.' By then, I hope you will have prepared the documents of surrender for me."
He turned, allowing his loyal Kingsguard, Brienne of Tarth, to fasten the last buckle of his cloak.
Just then!
The candles in the tent suddenly extinguished, without warning!
An unearthly, intensely cold wind, not belonging to the human world, swept through the sealed tent out of nowhere!
"What's happening?!"
"Guards!"
Loras Tyrell shouted loudly.
However, no one responded.
Outside the tent, a deathly silence fell.
Immediately after, in the darkest corner of the tent, a black, humanoid-like entity, seemingly composed of pure shadow, slowly rose!
The shadow had no features, no physical form, but its outline bore a figure familiar to everyone—Stannis Baratheon!
"Mon... monster!" Catelyn Stark turned pale with fright, her body cold!
Brienne of Tarth immediately drew her longsword, shielding Renly, and let out an angry roar!
But it was too late.
The black shadow, like a wisp of smoke, ignored all physical obstacles and instantly floated behind Renly Baratheon!
It extended a sharp "hand" made of shadow... "Pfft—!"
A faint, muffled sound of a blade piercing flesh.
Renly Baratheon's body stiffened abruptly.
He lowered his head in disbelief, looking at his chest, protected by sturdy, gold and green armor, where a black, sharp blade, composed of pure shadow, slowly emerged through his body.
"Ugh..."
A large amount of blood gushed from his mouth.
His eyes, always full of confidence and spirit, instantly lost all their light.
He slowly turned his head, taking one last look at his loyal female knight and his horrified lover.
Then, his body slumped to the ground.
Falling onto the magnificent carpet that symbolized his kingship.
Renly Baratheon was dead.
He died on the morning he was about to go to battle.
He died amidst the heavy guard of his proudest possession, his hundred thousand strong army.
He died under... a dark shadow he never understood until his last breath.
"No—!!! Your Majesty—!!!"
Brienne of Tarth let out a heartbreaking wail!
The guards outside the tent were finally alerted; they rushed in.
When they saw the king lying in a pool of blood, and only two women present, they immediately drew their swords!
"It's them! They killed the king! Seize them!"
A massive chaos and a huge scapegoat descended at that moment.
Chapter 57: A Gift on the Wall
As the situation in the South became turbulent due to Renly's death, in the distant North, atop the Wall, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Jeor Mormont, the Old Bear, was gravely staring at the captive his rangers had brought back from the Haunted Forest.
Jon Snow.
Eddard Stark's bastard son, and a new recruit who had sworn his vows to the Night's Watch.
A few days prior, upon hearing the news of his father's death and his brother Robb raising an army, he had briefly considered deserting the Wall to join the war in the South.
But in the end, persuaded by Samwell Tarly and other good friends, he chose to uphold his oath to 'guard the realms of men'.
Today, while on patrol with a ranger squad, he unexpectedly discovered something extremely eerie.
"Lord Commander," Jon's voice, tinged with unconcealed shock and lingering fear, said, "We found them at the Fist of the First Men."
He pointed behind him at two human-shaped objects wrapped in black cloth.
"They are two corpses. We recognize them; they are Orell and Jaffer, two rangers who went missing a few days ago."
Jeor Mormont's brows furrowed even deeper: "Corpses? What's strange about that?"
"What's strange is..." Jon's lips were pale, "They had no wounds on their bodies. And their eyes were blue. That kind of ice-like blue, not belonging to the living!"
Upon hearing this, all the senior officers of the Night's Watch present changed their expressions dramatically!
They knew what this meant!
"Others..." an old Maester stammered, uttering the forbidden name.
"We brought them back," Jon continued, "But just now, when we were about to cremate them... they... they suddenly 'came back to life'!"
"They killed several brothers! Their strength was terrifying! Ordinary swords couldn't even cut them!"
"Finally... finally, my direwolf Ghost bit through the throat of one of them. And the other was burned to death by the flames I lit with an oil lamp."
Wights!
These two words, like a massive stone, weighed heavily on everyone's hearts.
Just then, a steward responsible for managing ravens rushed in, looking flustered.
"Lord Commander! From the South... two strange ravens arrived from the South!"
"One is from Dragonstone, bringing a letter from Stannis Baratheon. The letter states that he is the rightful king and demands that the Night's Watch pledge allegiance to him."
The Old Bear snorted dismissively at this.
The Night's Watch never participates in the kingdom's civil wars.
"And the other one?" he asked.
"The other one... the other one is very strange." The steward's face was filled with confusion, "It didn't fly from a castle in the South; it seemed to have flown a long way north from the direction of King's Landing to get here."
"It had a very small, black scroll tied to its leg. The scroll had no seal, only a three-headed dragon emblem drawn in blood."
"And that raven had three eyes."
A Three-Eyed Raven?!
Everyone present immediately thought of the ancient legend circulating in the North!
"Quick! Bring the scroll!" the Old Bear said urgently.
The steward hurriedly presented the small black scroll.
The Old Bear, with trembling hands, opened the scroll.
On it, written in an extremely ancient and elegant script, was just one sentence:
"The Long Night approaches, the dead march."
"For a chance at life, seek the Dragon in the South."
These eight characters, like eight heavy hammers, struck hard at the heart of Jeor Mormont, the Old Bear.
Coupled with the firsthand intelligence about 'wights' brought back by Jon Snow, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch finally realized that what they faced might not be as simple as the wildlings beyond the Wall.
A terrifying threat, forgotten for thousands of years, capable of destroying the entire continent of Westeros, was quietly awakening beyond the Wall.
And that mysterious letter, brought by the Three-Eyed Raven, pointed them to the only, faint glimmer of hope—the Dragon.
"Aegon Targaryen..."
The Old Bear murmured.
He, of course, knew that in the entire Seven Kingdoms, the only one currently associated with the word 'Dragon' was the newly crowned King in the North, who had stirred up a bloody storm in the South.
"Lord Commander," Jon Snow stepped forward, his eyes firm, "I believe we cannot sit idly by any longer! We must send someone South, to Riverrun, to see... to see my brother and the others, and tell them everything that has happened here!"
"We need reinforcements! We need weapons! We need... all the strength to resist the dead!"
The Old Bear looked at the determined young man before him, then at the mysterious letter on the table, and finally made up his mind.
"You're right, Snow," he said in a deep voice, "We can no longer place our hopes on those southern lords who are only concerned with power struggles."
"You, and I, and a hundred of our most elite rangers, we will go South ourselves!"
"We will not only see your brother, but also meet this so-called 'true Dragon'!"
"I want to see with my own eyes if his dragon can truly breathe flames hot enough to burn the dead!"
...Meanwhile, in Riverrun in the Riverlands.
Lin Hao, also known as Blackheart Aegon, had just received news from King's Landing about the Lannister-Tyrell alliance.
"As expected."
He looked at the intelligence in his hand, with no surprise on his face.
"Littlefinger is indeed a formidable opponent. He always finds the right allies at the most crucial moment," Robb Stark said, standing to the side, full of worry. "Now, we are caught between a rock and a hard place. To the south are the Lions and Roses of King's Landing, and to the west is Tywin's main force from the Westerlands. Our situation is very dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Lin Hao smiled, but his smile carried a chilling coldness, "No, Cousin Robb. This is precisely our opportunity."
"Opportunity?"
"Exactly." Lin Hao walked to the military map, his finger tracing a long arc from King's Landing to the Westerlands.
"What is Tywin Lannister's biggest weakness right now?" he asked.
"His... supply lines?" Robb, being a natural military genius, immediately saw the problem.
"Absolutely correct!" Lin Hao nodded approvingly, "To relieve Casterly Rock, Tywin's army has already penetrated deep into the Riverlands. The provisions consumed daily by his tens of thousands of troops are an astronomical figure. And these provisions must be continuously transported from King's Landing or the fertile Reach."
"And this long supply line, stretching across the entire Riverlands, is his most vulnerable lifeline!"
Lin Hao's eyes gleamed with a cruel and excited light, like a hunter's.
"I don't need to fight him in a direct battle."
"I only need to send out countless small, fast-moving cavalry units, like a pack of wolves, to constantly harass, plunder, and burn his supply lines!"
"I want his tens of thousands of troops to be unable to eat a full meal or find a single grain of food on our land!"
"I want him to watch his army, from fierce lions, starve into a pack of sick cats!"
These words made Robb and all the Northern lords present feel their blood boil!
This was a tactic they had never heard of, extremely rogue, yet extremely effective!
"But," the usually steady Brynden the Blackfish raised a question, "Tywin is no fool. He will surely send heavy troops to protect his supply lines. Our small units, once they encounter them, I'm afraid..."
"So, we need a bait of sufficient weight." Lin Hao's gaze fell on a solitary castle on the map—Harrenhal.
"I want you, Cousin Robb, to personally lead the main army of the North to attack Harrenhal!"
"What?!" Everyone was greatly surprised.
Harrenhal was the strongest and most famous cursed castle in Westeros.
A frontal assault would be tantamount to suicide!
"Of course not a frontal assault." Lin Hao's smile became even more enigmatic.
"You only need to make a grand show, putting on a posture as if you want to fight Tywin to the death. Keep Tywin's main force firmly drawn around Harrenhal."
"And I, will personally lead another unit..."
His finger traced an extremely cunning and daring route on the map.
"To deliver our enemies a grand gift they will never expect."
This was an audacious gamble, using the entire main force of the North as bait, with Harrenhal as the chessboard, aimed at completely severing the Lannisterarmy's lifeline!
Everyone looked at the black-haired king, who was pointing at the map, commanding the world with a flourish.
It was as if they saw not a young man barely twenty years old.
But a god of war, strategizing from afar, winning battles thousands of miles away, holding the entire world in the palm of his hand!
Chapter 58: The Ghost of Harrenhal
Once the plan was made, the war machine of the North once again operated with astonishing efficiency.
Robb Stark, a born military genius, perfectly executed Lin Hao's decoy plan.
He personally led 20,000 main forces of the North, making a big show, with banners flying, and launched a fierce 'attack' all the way towards Harrenhal.
Just as Lin Hao expected, Tywin Lannister, upon learning of the movement of the main forces of the North, immediately reassembled his armies that were scattered across the Westerlands putting out fires, and retreated them all back to Harrenhal, preparing for a decisive battle with Robb.
The two young commanders thus faced each other across Harrenhal's colossal, ghostly walls, melted by dragonfire.
For a time, the eyes of the entire continent of Westeroswere focused on this ominous giant city.
Everyone thought that an unprecedented bloody decisive battle, one that would determine the future direction of the kingdom, was about to erupt here.
However, they were all wrong.
All of this was just a prelude.
The true protagonist had already quietly appeared outside everyone's sight...
Harrenhal, dungeon.
It was dark, damp, and the air was filled with the smell of blood and despair.
Arya Stark was curled up in a dirty corner.
After the chaos in King's Landing, she was covered by her sword-fighting teacher, Syrio Forel, with his life, and escaped the Red Keep.
But on the way to escape, she was unfortunately caught by Lannister soldiers and, along with a group of commoners, was taken as a prisoner of war to Harrenhal, becoming an unknown servant.
Her daily job was to serve tea and water, avoiding the crude teasing and beatings of the Lannister soldiers.
She hid her identity, and she also hid the hatred burning like wildfire in her heart.
But her gray, wolf-cub-like eyes were constantly observing everything in this castle.
Until today, she discovered a strange person.
It was a newly arrived prisoner of war, with black hair and black eyes, and he did not look strong.
He was assigned to the kitchen, doing the dirtiest and most exhausting work.
But he was completely different from the other numb, despairing prisoners of war.
His eyes were too bright.
Bright like the stars in the sky.
And so bright that it gave her a strange, inexplicable sense of familiarity from the depths of her bloodline.
That night, Arya encountered him again when she went to the kitchen to steal food.
He was sitting alone in a dark corner, wiping a small dagger he had gotten from somewhere with a piece of rags.
Arya, as if possessed, walked over.
"Hey."
She lowered her voice and, in a probing tone, spoke the 'code word' that only children of the Stark family understood.
"Winter... is coming."
The young man wiping the dagger suddenly paused.
He slowly raised his head, his astonishingly bright black eyes in the darkness looking at Arya.
Then, a familiar smile slowly appeared at the corner of his mouth, a smile that instantly made Arya's eyes well up.
"And,"
he replied in an equally hushed, hoarse voice.
"The North, never forgets."
"Hodor... Cousin?"
Arya's voice trembled violently with excitement and disbelief.
She never would have dreamed!
The 'King in the North' who led the Northern army and was fighting the Lannisters fiercely outside!
He would... he would actually infiltrate this most heavily guarded hell on earth, alone and disguised as a prisoner of war!!!
"Shh."
Lin Hao put his finger to his lips, signaling Arya to keep quiet.
His deep eyes vigilantly scanned outside the kitchen, and only after confirming no one was there did he pull Arya to a more secluded corner.
"How are you here?"
Arya's eyes were filled with tears and the joy of reunion; she had too many questions to ask.
"It's a long story."
Lin Hao's expression remained grave, "Now is not the time for reminiscing. Arya, listen, it's very dangerous here, you must leave as soon as possible."
"No! I'm not going!"
Arya's stubbornness flared up, "I want to be with you! I want to avenge father!"
"Leave the revenge to me."
Lin Hao's voice was unyielding, "Your mission is to survive. Listen, tomorrow I will create a huge disturbance here. At that time, you find an opportunity to blend in with the fleeing commoners, head north to the Wall, and find your brother Jon. He will protect you."
"But..."
"No buts!"
Lin Hao interrupted her, "This is an order! It's your brother's, and also your... King's order!"
Hearing the word "King," Arya pouted, but finally, she nodded reluctantly.
Seeing her expression, Lin Hao's heart softened.
He took something from his embrace and placed it in Arya's hand.
It was a small, delicate rapier, like a sewing needle.
"This is..."
Arya's eyes instantly lit up!
"I promised you I would bring you the best'sewing needle' from King's Landing."
Lin Hao stroked her head, "Now, I give it to you. Use it to protect yourself."
Arya gripped the sword tightly and nodded heavily.
After comforting Arya, Lin Hao's eyes once again became cold and sharp.
The reason he took such a great risk to personally infiltrate Harrenhal was not just to support Robb's frontal feint, but more importantly, he needed to find a crucial 'chess piece' here that could change the future course of the war.
Following his memory, he came to the deepest and dirtiest prison area of Harrenhal.
Here, a group of prisoners about to be sent to the Wall were being held.
Among them were three of the most dangerous felons from Braavos.
When Lin Hao found the prisoner cart, he saw the three prisoners lying half-dead on the dirty straw.
One of them had peculiar hair, half red and half white; even in despair, his eyes remained as calm as deep water.
Jaqen H'ghar.
The future 'Faceless Man'.
Lin Hao knew he was the man he was looking for.
He had no superfluous words.
He walked straight up and, with the Valyrian steel dagger that was always with him, cleanly cut the thick chains on the prisoner cart.
"Creak—"
The door of the prisoner cart opened.
The three prisoners looked at him with extremely surprised eyes.
"A man owes the Red God three lives."
Lin Hao looked at the man with red and white hair and slowly said.
He spoke in Valyrian, and it was the oldest dialect, one that only circulated in the 'House of Black and White' in Braavos.
"A man saved these three lives."
"Now, these three lives belong to you."
For the first time, Jaqen H'ghar's face showed a truly astonished expression!
He looked at the black-haired, black-eyed young man before him, his eyes like he was looking at an incredible monster!
How did he know the teachings of the 'Red God'?
How could he speak the oldest 'Faceless Man' secret language?!
"Who... exactly are you?"
Jaqen's voice was hoarse and full of vigilance.
"Who I am is not important."
A profound smile appeared at the corner of Lin Hao's mouth, "What's important is that I need you to repay three debts for me."
He handed in three small pieces of parchment.
Each parchment had a name written on it.
The first name: Amory Lorch. The Mountain's deputy, and a pervert who tortured prisoners.
The second name: 'Weasel' Wess. Harrenhal's torturer, who enjoyed tormenting people.
The third name... When Jaqen H'ghar saw the third name, his usually imperturbable face, his pupils suddenly constricted!
Because what was written on it was—
"Tywin Lannister."
"A man will repay his debts."
Jaqen slowly put away the three parchments.
He bowed slightly to Lin Hao, using an ancient gesture of the highest respect.
"All men must die."
"All men must serve."
Lin Hao smiled and responded to him.
A most deadly transaction from the shadows was thus concluded.
Chapter 59 Chaos at Harrenhal
The next day, the curse of Harrenhal seemed to descend once more.
The first to die was Ser Amory Lorch.
He was found dead in his tent.
A sharpened iron spit, used for roasting boars, had pierced him through his back and chest, pinning him to the table.
His face still held the expression of extreme terror from his final moments.
There were no signs of a struggle at the scene.
No one knew how the assassin had silently dispatched a battle-hardened knight within the heavily guarded military camp.
This incident caused a minor stir among the Lannisterofficers.
But it was quickly suppressed by Duke Tywin, who attributed it to "Northern assassins."
However, this was only the beginning.
The next night, a second name was also crossed off.
Weese, the cruel torturer who delighted in tormenting others, was found hanged on his favorite rack, the one he used to interrogate prisoners.
His death was even more bizarre.
There were no wounds on his body.
But black, ink-like blood flowed from all seven of his orifices.
His face bore a strange, contented smile, as if he had seen the most terrifying thing in the world.
Panic, like a plague, began to spread throughout Harrenhal.
The soldiers started whispering.
They said the ghosts of Harrenhal had returned.
The vengeful spirits of those tortured and murdered by Harren the Black and his descendants had returned for retribution!
Even Tywin Lannister felt the strangeness of the situation.
He ordered increased patrols and guards throughout the castle.
But he didn't know that what he was facing was no ghost at all.
It was a top-tier artist of death from Braavos.
Just as the entire castle was enveloped in an eerie, foreboding atmosphere, Lin Hao lit the last, and most ferocious, fire!
Using his control over Dragon King's Blood, he silently ignited the largest granary within the castle!
The towering flames instantly dyed the night sky of Harrenhal blood-red!
"Fire—!!!"
"The granary is on fire—!!!"
Piercing shouts shattered the night's tranquility!
Harrenhal was plunged into complete chaos!
Soldiers ran in disarray, frantically carrying buckets of water, trying to extinguish the uncontrollable blaze!
And amidst this chaos, Arya Stark, gripping her "Needle," escaped this living hell.
Meanwhile, another assassin from the shadows also used the confusion to silently infiltrate the most central and heavily guarded area of the castle—
Tywin Lannister's bedchamber...
Tywin Lannister's bedchamber was located in the tallest and strongest tower of Harrenhal, the "King's Flame."
It was heavily guarded; even the most elite assassin couldn't hope to infiltrate it silently.
However, tonight's Harrenhal was a chaotic Harrenhal.
Everyone's attention was drawn to the raging inferno of the granary, which seemed to swallow the sky.
Even the guards stationed below the tower seemed somewhat distracted.
This gave the "ghost" from the shadows a perfect opportunity.
Jaqen H'ghar, like a weightless falling leaf, silently scaled the mottled outer wall of the tower.
He avoided all sentries, nimbly slipping through an extremely tricky, unguarded window into the tower, like a gecko.
At this moment, Tywin Lannister was not in his bedchamber.
He was on the top floor of the tower, in his temporary study, calmly directing the firefighting and castle defenses.
His always impassive face showed no sign of panic.
It was as if what had burned down was not the grain supplies essential for his tens of thousands of troops, but merely a pile of insignificant firewood.
"Deliver my orders," he commanded his messenger methodically, "Order Ser Kevan to immediately lead five hundred cavalry to blockade all roads out of the city! Not a single rat is to be let out!"
"Order the castle commander to abandon the granary. Focus all efforts on protecting our armory and stables! Grain can be plundered. If we lose our weapons and warhorses, we will become lambs to the slaughter!"
"Furthermore, send out those under the 'Mountain'! Have them search the city! Anyone suspicious, regardless of status, is to be executed on the spot! I will use blood to extinguish the undue ambitions of certain individuals!"
Calm yet ruthless orders continuously issued from his mouth.
Even in desperate circumstances, this Lion of the Westerlands still displayed his terrifying, iron-like will and cold blood.
However, just as he finished giving his last order and prepared to personally oversee the battle, an unexpected voice suddenly echoed from the darkest corner of the study.
"A remarkable man. Calm in crisis, decisive in action."
"Alas, a man, ultimately, must pay his debts."
Tywin Lannister's body stiffened abruptly!
He slowly turned around, his pale green, hawk-like eyes fixed on the man with half-red, half-white hair who had, at some unknown point, silently appeared behind him.
His hand instinctively reached for the sword at his waist.
But it was too late.
A poison needle, as fine as an ox's hair and tipped with potent venom, had already silently shot from Jaqen H'ghar's sleeve.
It precisely struck a fatal pressure point on the back of his neck.
Tywin Lannister felt only a slight numbness in his neck.
Immediately, an immense, irresistible drowsiness, like a tidal wave, swept over his entire body.
His body began to stiffen.
His breathing became difficult.
His eyes, always filled with authority and power, for the first time, revealed fear and unwillingness.
He wanted to call for help, but found his throat could not utter a sound.
He wanted to resist, but found his body no longer obeyed him.
He could only watch, helplessly, as the man, like Death itself, slowly walked towards him.
"A man does not die by sword."
Jaqen's voice was as calm as if he were reciting a poem.
"But by a father's arrogance."
With that, he no longer looked at Tywin Lannister's face, which was gradually turning blue from asphyxiation.
He turned and, like a phantom, merged back into the darkness.
As if he had never appeared.
A few minutes later.
When the messenger returned to the study, he saw their invincible, god-like commander, Duke Tywin Lannister, sitting "peacefully" in his chair.
His face still held that composed and dignified expression, as if he were merely asleep.
However, his body was already cold.
His heart had already stopped beating.
The Lion of the Westerlands, the pillar of House Lannister, the most feared man in the Seven Kingdoms—Tywin Lannister, was dead.
Dead in his most proud, heavily guarded castle.
Dead silently.
Dead inexplicably.
Chapter 60: The Death of the Lion King and the Panic in King's Landing
The death of Tywin Lannister was like a sudden, devastating avalanche, instantly pushing the entire House Lannister into an abyss of no return!
When this news spread throughout Harrenhal the next morning...
All of Lannister's soldiers and commanders were stunned.
Their commander, their backbone, the invincible god in their hearts—dead?
How could that be?!
Last night, he was still perfectly fine, directing the firefighting efforts!
Panic, like the fiercest plague, spread wildly through the army!
Coupled with the burned granary fire, and the two officers who had died mysteriously before... "It's a curse! It's the curse of Harrenhal!"
"This castle is cursed! Ghosts killed Lord Tywin!"
"Run! If we don't run, we'll all die here!"
The Lannister army completely collapsed!
The soldiers, like madmen, threw away their armor and weapons, and began to flee in all directions!
Tywin's brother, Ser Kevan Lannister, tried his best to stabilize the situation.
But in the face of such an unexplainable terror, akin to a "divine punishment," any military orders or suppression seemed pale and powerless.
He could only watch, helplessly, as the invincible Western army, which his brother had spent his entire life building, disintegrated and fell apart within a single day!
And just then, outside Harrenhal, the Northern army that had been confronting them for several days moved!
Robb Stark seized this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!
He personally led twenty thousand Northern warriors, like tigers descending from the mountains, launching the most fatal, all-out assault on the terrified, disorganized Lannister deserters!
This was a one-sided slaughter with no suspense!
The Battle of Harrenhal ultimately ended with the complete annihilation of the Lannister army!
Tens of thousands of people were either dead, surrendered, or captured.
Only a few commanders, such as Kevan Lannister, managed to escape back to the Westerlands, protected by their desperate personal guards.
This news, along with the death of Lord Tywin, reached King's Landing.
The entire King's Landing was plunged into a doomsday-like, deathly panic!
It's over!
Only these two words remained in everyone's hearts.
Lord Tywin is dead!
The main army of the Westerlands is gone!
And the terrifying king of the North, known as Blackheart Aegon, who possesses a Night Fury, already has his forces pointing directly at King's Landing!
This city has become a defenseless, isolated city, waiting to be slaughtered!
Inside the Red Keep, it was even more chaotic.
The new hand of the king, Tyrion Lannister, looked at the battle report in his hand, and for the first time, a truly desperate expression appeared on his face, which was always full of wisdom and sarcasm.
He knew his father was dead, and he was finished.
The entire House Lannister was finished.
"Prepare the ships! Go and prepare the ships for me!"
Queen Cersei was even more terrified, her face pale, screaming like a madwoman, giving orders to the maids and guards around her.
"I want to go back to Casterly Rock! I don't want to die here! I don't want to be burned to ashes by that damned Night Fury!"
Only the foolish and cruel boy king, Joffrey, on the iron throne, was still blustering with false bravado.
"What's there to be afraid of?! I still have the Gold Cloaks! I still have the Kingsguard!"
"Let that Northern traitor come! I will personally cut off his head! Just like I cut off the head of his traitor uncle!"
However, his roar, in the doomsday-like atmosphere of panic throughout the hall, seemed so ridiculous and pathetic.
The death knell of King's Landing had already sounded.
Everyone knew that the black true Night Fury, and his vengeful, unstoppable wrath, were about to descend upon the world!
...The victory at Harrenhal, rather than being a military one, was a psychological, mythical crushing.
When Robb Stark ordered Tywin Lannister's "peaceful" head to be impaled on a spear and placed on the highest tower of Harrenhal, the terrifying myth of House Lannister's "a Lannister always pays his debts" on the continent of Westeros was completely shattered.
In its place was a new, darker legend—Blackheart Aegon, and his man-eating Night Fury.
The military council after the victory was held in the eerie hall of Harrenhal.
For the first time, the lords of the North and the Riverlands looked at the young, black-haired king on the main seat with an awe-filled and fearful gaze, as if looking at a god.
"Tywin is dead, and the main Lannister army has disintegrated," Robb Stark began, his voice trembling slightly with excitement. "Now, the entire Westerlands are wide open! We can strike while the iron is hot and march directly to Casterly Rock!"
"Take Casterly Rock!" the Greatjon Umber roared excitedly. "We'll seize all their gold mines! And their women..."
"No."
A cold voice interrupted their revelry.
Lin Hao slowly stood up and walked to the giant military map.
His black eyes did not look in the direction of the Westerlands, but fixed intently on the easternmost side of the map—King's Landing.
"Casterly Rock is just an empty shell now," his voice echoed in the hall. "By killing Tywin, we have already cut off the lion's head. There's no point in flogging the corpse now."
"Our true enemy is not in the Westerlands."
His finger heavily tapped on the "King's Landing" icon.
"It's here."
Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, frowned: "Your Majesty, although King's Landing is lightly garrisoned, its walls are tall. If we attack directly, our losses will surely be heavy. And..."
He glanced at the other side: "Stannis Baratheon has already taken the Stormlands, and his fleet is rushing day and night towards Blackwater Bay. If we go now, won't we be caught between two enemies?"
"No." A smile that sent shivers down everyone's spines appeared on Lin Hao's lips. "We are not going to attack the city."
"We are going to... witness a ceremony."
He looked around and slowly spoke his astonishing plan:
"I predict that the dwarf in King's Landing, Tyrion Lannister, must be frantically hoarding wildfire now. All his defenses are aimed at Stannis, who will come from the sea."
"He will never expect us to appear from behind him."
"Cousin Robb," he looked at Robb, "I need you to personally lead fifteen thousand main infantry forces, and all the siege engines, to break camp immediately and, at the fastest speed, occupy the King's Road north of King's Landing. Set up camp there, and make a show of an all-out assault! But, only besiege, do not attack!"
"Your mission is to completely cut off all land connections between King's Landing and the outside world! Don't let even a single mouse escape!"
"And I," his eyes gleamed with a terrifying light, "will personally lead five thousand of the most elite Northern cavalry, and the Night Fury, to detour south and ambush in the Kingswood, south of King's Landing!"
"This..." Robb instantly understood. "You want... to let them fight among themselves?!"
"Exactly!" Lin Hao sneered. "Stannis believes he is destined to rule. Tyrion believes he has wildfire in hand."
"Let them have a good fight in Blackwater Bay."
"Let them use their fleet and green flames to exhaust each other's last strength."
"And we," his voice became like a devil's whisper, "only need to..."
"...deliver the 'mercy' from the Night Fury from behind them when they are both injured and exhausted!"
What a vicious, yet perfect, plan to profit from others' struggles!
All the lords present gasped.
They finally understood why their king was called Blackheart Aegon!