In the days of relative peace, Roman made a habit of visiting the newly annexed territories. He walked among the work crews building roads, irrigation canals, and workshops according to his central directives.
The old Crownlands nobles had been so notoriously cruel that Roman's progressive policies took root almost immediately. Even the few conservatives who still clung to their former lords quickly changed their minds once Ser Barristan the Bold began patrolling the streets. The sight of the legendary knight was usually enough to silence any complaints.
Barristan had also taken charge of training the latest wave of Vanguard recruits alongside Roman. The most promising soldiers, hand-picked from across Harrenhal's territories, were placed under his personal command.
These young men first endured brutal physical testing. Then Vanguard officials examined their family backgrounds, moral character, and local reputation. Only the best reached Barristan.
They came from honest peasant families: strong, healthy, disciplined, and fiercely loyal. Many owed their lives, or their families' survival, to House Whent's medical care or financial aid.
Looking down at the perfectly aligned ranks of thousands of heavily armored soldiers, Barristan could not help but sigh in awe.
"By the Gods… these common-born recruits are fitter and more muscular than the best-trained heirs of minor noble houses. No wonder Lord Tywin could never gain the upper hand. The difference in raw manpower is staggering."
The longer Barristan stayed in Harrenhal and studied Roman's grand strategy, the more impressed he became. Harrenhal's military power was simply a byproduct of its economic and agricultural success.
Roman poured far more gold into improving the daily lives of the smallfolk than into expanding his army. From the industrial heart of Harrenhal, engineers built paved highways reaching every new territory. Within a week of annexation, starving locals could already buy subsidized goods produced in Harrenhal.
Roman also funded irrigation, clean water systems, sewage treatment, public sanitation, free medical care, public education, and mechanical workshops — distributing wealth as if it cost nothing.
Barristan had studied every aspect of the Vanguard's logistics. What impressed him most was the quality of the soldiers' daily meals, made possible by Harrenhal's agricultural revolution.
With advanced irrigation, magically bred seeds, and synthetic fertilizers, House Whent needed far less arable land to feed its people. The surplus allowed vast areas to be dedicated to livestock. Intensive animal farming and modern veterinary care produced abundant meat, eggs, and milk.
Specialized nutritionists planned the troops' diets. Barristan was convinced these men would become the finest army in the history of Westeros.
He threw himself into training the new recruits with genuine excitement. He felt honored to shape such outstanding young soldiers — something only possible because of Roman's visionary leadership.
For the heavily armored Harrenhal soldiers, training under the legendary Ser Barristan the Bold was the highest honor imaginable.
Yet not everyone in the South was pleased.
High-ranking envoys from both King Renly Baratheon and King Stannis Baratheon arrived at Roman's borders at nearly the same time. Upon seeing the scale of Harrenhal's industrialized Vanguard army, both delegations were struck by a mixture of dread and desperate hope.
To both warring Baratheon brothers, Roman was a force they had to win over. Even if they could not secure him as a close ally, they could not afford to make him an enemy.
Stannis desperately needed Vanguard troops to make up for his lack of ground forces. He had the stronger legal claim but almost no army to support it, and his rigid personality had driven away most southern lords.
Renly, meanwhile, was deeply alarmed by Roman's defeat of Tywin and rapid conquest of the Crownlands. With Storm's End mysteriously fallen to Stannis, Renly's supply lines were in chaos. He was eager to befriend Roman to avoid being crushed from both north and sea.
When the ornate envoys entered Roman's territory, they were dazzled by the advanced infrastructure and disciplined army. The display only strengthened their conviction that the mission was vital.
Upon learning of their arrival, Roman set aside his ledgers and invited both groups into his newly built meeting hall.
"You have both traveled a long way," Roman said politely from his weirwood chair. "You must have something important to discuss. How may I help you?"
The two rival delegations glared at each other before speaking in near unison:
"Lord Roman! King Renly requests you pledge your army to his righteous cause!"
"Lord Roman! King Stannis commands you to pledge allegiance to his true legal claim!"
Roman felt the sudden urge to rub his temples. They were far too direct.
"Gentlemen," he sighed, raising a gauntleted hand for silence. "I understand what both Lord Renly and Lord Stannis want. But first, allow me a simple legal question: of the three Baratheons currently claiming the Iron Throne, which one is genuinely qualified to inherit it?"
He began counting on his fingers.
"Joffrey? Everyone whispers he is the product of Jaime and Cersei's incest, yet the High Septon has formally acknowledged his legitimacy."
"Lord Stannis? He is first in line after Robert's death, and Robert granted him Dragonstone — the traditional seat of the crown prince — suggesting he once saw Stannis as heir."
"Or Lord Renly? He is second in line, yet Robert granted him Storm's End, the ancestral seat of House Baratheon, implying he favored Renly over Stannis."
Roman let the weight of his logic settle over the hall.
"All three can claim to be the rightful heir, but none have an indisputable legal basis without starting a bloody civil war. So tell me — which one should I bleed my Vanguard for?"
The envoys fell silent. They had not considered the historical complexities so clearly laid out. Robert Baratheon's erratic favoritism had created this mess, especially by granting Storm's End to his youngest brother.
The envoys knew they would likely return empty-handed, yet they still tried.
"Lord Roman!" Stannis's envoy shouted. "If you help Lord Stannis take the Iron Throne, he will recognize your permanent sovereignty over the entire Crownlands!"
"Lord Roman!" Renly's envoy countered. "If you join Lord Renly's alliance with the Tyrells, he will grant you rights and status equal to a Lord Paramount once he sits the throne!"
Roman raised his hand again, stopping them.
"Gentlemen, forgive me, but I cannot choose between Lord Stannis and Lord Renly. Taking either side now would disregard royal law. Therefore, Harrenhal and my Vanguard will remain strictly neutral in your southern civil war."
Both envoys' faces darkened.
"However," Roman added with a faint smile, a predatory glint in his eyes, "if either of you truly intends to move against the cruel Joffrey and House Lannister, we will still be effective indirect comrades-in-arms."
The South
When the exhausted envoys returned to their kings, both Stannis and Renly expressed deep frustration.
Stannis focused on what legal misstep he had made, yet he still respected Roman's principled stance. For him, it was enough that Roman continued weakening Joffrey and refused to openly support Renly.
Renly, far more anxious, pointed out the danger to Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns.
"Roman Rivers's ambitions clearly go far beyond the Riverlands and Crownlands," he murmured. "He is probably waiting for us kings to weaken each other so he can seize even greater power unopposed."
Olenna nodded slowly, her wrinkled face grave. "We must act quickly, Your Grace. The more territory the Dragon Lord occupies while we squabble, the harder it will be for our Tyrell armies to restrain him when he finally marches south."
Now Get The FULL AVAILABLE NOVEL at Once!
Get 70% OFF for limited time only.
@patreon.com/Authorizz/shop