Chapter 14: Book 2: Twyin VII & Olenna III (AC 289)
Tywin VII
The Lord of Casterly Rock remembered the tourney, six months gone, in King's Landing. Along with the jousting, the melee, the horse races and the archery, the King had enlivened the evenings by having the alchemists put on a display of coloured fires, some on the ground and others launched up into the sky with siege weapons from the walls. It had been a grand affair, celebrating the end the first winter of Robert's reign.
As a precaution, all the displays had taken place out in Blackwater Bay with the populace watching in comfort from the seats around the bowl-like arena that had been constructed on top of what used to be Fleabottom.
Now there was another riot of fire on the waters, crimson and gold like those launched in honour of House Lannister on the night he had hosted that day's grand banquet.
But this wasn't artistry or embellishment. Spring was ending and the first harvests were in. War called and this was Lannisport, ablaze with fires visible from the heights of Casterly Rock. The great port was burning and in its harbour the mighty (and expensive) warfleet of the Westerlands was dying impotently as the Ironborn ran amok.
"Tygett has the horse ready," Kevan informed him.
"Good." Tywin twisted from side to side, testing how far his armour would let him turn. Thus far, as it should. "Have Jaime take half of them north along the coast and check for outliers. Tygett is to do the same riding south."
Kevan nodded. "So I told them."
Where would we Lannisters be without Kevan? Tywin nodded to his brother and they went down the stairs towards the gates. "Ravens?"
"Ravens and riders both, although only to your own bannermen. The king..."
"The King will be told when I have a full report for him. I'm Warden of the West and he'll hear from me after the battle, not while it is undecided."
Out into the yard where their horses were waiting. At his raised hand the portcullis rattled upwards and with a grand cry, Tygett led the first of the horsemen out. Jaime, wearing golden armour but a properly crimson cape now and not the white of the Kingsguard, drew his blade and saluted before his own company followed.
Both men rode at the head of their men. Tygett was teaching Jaime his recklessness. Tywin himself would lead the second company of footmen, not the vanguard, and Kevan's men would come third.
Lannisport was still below as he rode out the gate. The spearheads of the footmen in the lead glittered with reflected flames. It was a mile to the city, more than that following the broad road that was safe even at this time of night and Tywin drove them as fast as he dared.
The gates were still in the right hands for they were closed until the vanguard and then swept open in time for the first men, crimson and gold banners standing unstained over the gatehouse towers. Tywin shifted aside, not entering until one of his officers signalled it was no trap. Such things could happen all too easily to an unwary leader.
Inside the town, the Lannister troops had to force their way past smallfolk as they flocked away from the harbour, carrying every valuable they could.
"Push them aside," Tywin ordered grimly. The way the fires were spreading, they had to get to the docks and contain both the fires and the Ironborn, or half the city would be destroyed.
The smallfolk protests were easily dealt with - once spears were lowered only a handful insisted on objecting to the point of being made object lessons.
The centre of the city was marked by the House of the Lannisters of Lannisport. It was a large mansion, obvious enough as a place to plunder that Tywin wasn't surprised to see Ironborn trying to get into it. The vanguard company weren't in any doubts as to how they should respond to that: it took a mere moment for them to spread out into a rough line and advance.
The Ironborn fought hard, but they were outnumbered, out-flanked and their initial response wasn't under any consistent direction. Despite the losses they inflicted, the tide went further and further against them.
Twyin moved aside and directed the second company to swing around the rear of the mansion and finish securing the area. "Kevan!" he called. "Take your men and move north. Save what you can and make sure we have a firebreak between the docks and the rest of the city. Don't take any chances with Ironborn offering surrender, their word is worthless."
Kevan touched his visor in salute then began giving the necessary orders.
Shaking his head at the destruction - down the broad avenue from the mansion to the docks, he was sure he could see the mighty war galley Lion of Lannister ablaze from bow to stern - Tywin waited for his men to finish exterminating the Ironborn present here so he could begin organising efforts in the south. Fortunately the geography of the city meant the northern districts were less exposed. With Kevan's usual efficiency at least half the city should be safe enough. The dockfronts and warehouses were being consumed by fire, but at least the stonework would survive as a foundation for rebuilding.
"I'll bring these fires to Pyke," he murmured, mentally composing a letter to the King.
Olenna III
"Expect a raven from Casterly Rock," she informed the King as they sat in the Small Council chamber. "Not today, but tomorrow or the next day."
Robert Baratheon was carrying more weight than he had when he first took the throne but there was nothing dull about the look he directed at her. "What news, Lady Olenna?"
"The Ironborn," she informed him. "Balon Greyjoy's Iron fleet savaged Lannisport and the Westerlands fleet is no more. They did this, I am told, in the name of the Iron King."
"I hear you," he said quietly. "Well, I cannot say I am surprised."
"What's this?" asked Jon as he arrived. "Is there news, Lady Olenna?"
"We're at war, Jon. We'll deal with our usual business today, but best we do so with an eye to my being out of the capital for at least the next year. I'll be counting on you as my Hand and as the Warden of the East."
Jon took a seat and listened to Olenna's report. Then he shook his head. "With the Westerland fleet gone, there's no one near enough to contest Balon except the Reach's fleets and they do not love you, Robert."
"They aren't very fond of the Ironborn either. We'll need to reinforce them from the east though. Can you spare half your fleet from Gulltown?"
"Aye. And Ned Stark's bannerman, Lord Manderly – he has a good number of ships."
"My own thinking exactly." Robert looked to Lady Olenna. "Safe to say you've informed your nephew Paxter that he should be onguard."
"For all that he'll likely dismiss them as the whittering of an old lady."
"His loss if he does. I'll write to Randyll Tarly as well. And while I won't ask Dorne for ships, Doran Martell is too canny not to want to blood this generation of his lords and knights."
"You don't expect he'll make common cause with Balon?"
Olenna cawed at Jon's concern. "Have more faith in the man!"
"Dornish honour isn't a byword, my lady."
"No, but their Prince is too canny to throw his support to such a feeble cause. Balon would be a weaker and less reliable ally than my son was when Doran served Aerys. He'll stack the deck better before he moves." She pursed her lips. "Mind, I would watch young Viserys carefully. Some might find this a convenient opportunity to remove him from your hands."
"I'll name him my squire," Robert decided. "He's old enough and the experience may do him good."
Olenna nodded thoughtfully. She'd been watching Robert as a ruler for years, but this would be her first sight of him as warlord. He was famously something of a blunt instrument there but the Ironborn were grossly outnumbered and if it was merely bringing overwhelming forces to bear against them then a blunt instrument might be sufficient.
Still, what she was seeing now was more the cool administrator she'd grown accustomed to. "A kraken may be soft compared to a dragon," she warned, "But a stag doesn't swim so well or that's how I recall it from hunts that run a deer up against a river."
Robert nodded. "Stannis is utterly reliable and he knows who the best seamen are in the fleet. There's no use trying to decide on an exact route for the fleet until he's here to discuss it. However, the western coasts are the most vulnerable. If Balon takes Moat Cailin he'll cut most of the North off from the rest of us."
Calm. confident. Not the fiery temprement she'd heard of from the Trident and previous battles. Had fatherhood cooled his temper? Certainly he doted on his daughters - Mya, Bella and his first legitimate daughter Cassana. Then again, he was almost as kindly disposed to little Daenerys Stormborn. Daughters were a weak spot for so mamny men.
Which wasn't to say he wasn't attentive to little Eddard but the boy was the apple of his mother's eye, a crown prince, and perhaps it wasn't a bad thing to have the heir have to work a little for his father's approval. Perhaps Mace would have turned out better if Lyonel hadn't... well, spilt milk now.
"We'll assemble the eastern armies at Harrenhal," Robert decided. "It's near enough to the Kingsroad and central enough we can get there without difficulty and the Gods know it's large enough to shelter an army."
Jon nodded. "It's fortunate that you had the roads repaired before winter. The armies from the Reach and Dorne to gather at Lannisport?"
"That makes sense. It's to early to say if we can use it as a port for the assembled fleets, but Lord Tywin will no doubt want to use his home as his initial base of operations. I'll need to leave you here, of course."
"Of course, your grace."
"I'll take five hundred King's Men with me, but you'll have Lord Bolton's City Watch to support you and I think we can authorise raising another five hundred King's Men to replace those I take with me."
"Now that harvests are coming in and the treasury is refilling, I agree." Jon tapped the map he was examining. "You intend that Ned and Lord Tully guard their coasts first and only muster what they can spare from that?"
"Basically. Where do you suggest they assemble?"
"Seagard. It's as close as the Riverlands have to a major western port."
Robert nodded. "Right. And now for the bit I'm dreading."
"Finding out if you fit into your armour?" asked Olenna.
The king chuckled. "I will miss your humour, dear lady. No, telling the girls I won't be reading them bedtime stories for a year or so. My daughters will be terribly disappointed in me."
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