"Aegor, you're really making things difficult for me," Tyrion said, visibly troubled. "Father agreed to let me come and negotiate with you because we're close, and there's the best chance of reaching terms acceptable to both sides. But now that Daenerys has proposed such harsh conditions, isn't she forcing the Westerlands to choose another path? Golden Tooth has three thousand defenders. Lannisport has assembled over ten thousand elite troops, and in Oxford, the ten thousand new recruits trained by my cousin, Ser Stafford, have taken shape and are ready for battle at any time. Adding in the mercenaries and freeriders we can hire... the Westerlands can field an army of thirty thousand. Whether that force raises the red dragon banner to fight for the Queen, or becomes her enemy, depends entirely on the outcome of our talks today."
Tyrion hadn't meant to sound so threatening, but the truth was, after remaining neutral for years, the Westerlands were indeed the power in the Seven Kingdoms that had preserved most of its strength. They possessed the leverage and qualifications to negotiate with any faction. From another angle, the terms Aegor had presented, to someone unfamiliar, might sound as if Daenerys's army had already broken through Lannisport, surrounded Casterly Rock, and pushed House Lannister to the brink.
Left with no choice, he could only flex their strength to prepare for the bargaining ahead.
"The Westerlands can take on the Iron Bank's debt left by Robert Baratheon, all of it," Tyrion directly offered the bottom line Tywin had set for these talks. "If Daenerys is still not satisfied, she can receive another one hundred thousand golden dragons as a loan to stabilize her finances during the early days of her reign..."
Aegor raised his hand, interrupting him.
He didn't want this conversation between friends to become too tense either, but politics wasn't about personal feelings.
The Westerlands could indeed muster thirty thousand soldiers. That figure wasn't an exaggeration. And given Tywin's cunning, it was likely Dragon-hunting ballistae had already been mass-produced and equipped. Such formidable strength gave House Lannister both confidence and ambition. If Aegor didn't show equal strength to blunt their edge, and merely used words to bargain, Tyrion would likely feel he was being taken advantage of under the pretense of friendship.
"It's a bit stuffy in the tent. Come out for a walk with me. There's something new I want to show you."
Was that a sign that talks had broken down and he was being shown out?
Tyrion frowned but, seeing that Aegor didn't look angry, jumped down from his chair and followed him out of the tent.
They headed toward the western edge of the temporary camp.
"Who's commanding the garrison at Golden Tooth now?"
"My uncle Kevan."
For someone of Kevan's rank, a simple border fortress shouldn't have required his personal presence. Tywin's message was clear in sending such a high-ranking figure to the frontlines—the Westerlands were ready for war. If they couldn't come to terms with Daenerys, then the armies from Lannisport and Oxford would rush here. From this point, they could enter the Riverlands, march along the Kingsroad to King's Landing, and support the king—of course, that meant King Stannis.
Even though the Stag's second son had treated the Westerlands with some disdain, at least he had no intention of taking House Lannister's lands or lives.
Tyrion hoped a clever man like Aegor would understand the message.
"Excellent."
Aegor said this calmly, as if it had nothing to do with the current situation, and continued walking.
War is on the verge of breaking out, and that's excellent?
Tyrion nearly blurted it out, but held back. The two of them, followed by guards, climbed the west wall of the military camp—which was more a wooden platform than a real wall—and looked toward the Westerlands.
Although winter had not yet ended, the climate in the Riverlands was slightly warmer. The snow-covered wilderness wasn't completely white like in the North, but mottled, with patches of exposed earth. The road carved by carts and horses stretched like a thick black line from beneath their feet all the way to the distant Golden Tooth, which looked like a toy at this distance.
The temperature here was about ten degrees higher than in Winterfell, but due to the humidity, it felt colder. Standing high up, a gust of wind made Tyrion shiver.
"Where's the new thing?"
"Over there."
Following Aegor's direction, Tyrion saw a large boulder several dozen meters away.
Rocks were common in the Westerlands, rich in mines, and even more so near Golden Tooth. But this one stood out. It was a vertical column about fifty feet high, slightly tilted, with a cap of snow on top. The rest of it was the usual brownish-grey, like a half-rotten log stuck into the ground by the gods.
It was just a rock, but anyone who often traveled this road would remember it. Standing by the River Road, anyone entering or leaving the Westerlands would see it. Tyrion certainly remembered it. As a child, he'd even wanted to smooth its surface and carve "Welcome to the Westerlands" on it. But after consulting a mason, he'd learned the rock was brittle and hard, not well-suited for carving. Doing so would require too much time and cost—more than his monthly allowance, enough for dozens of visits to the best brothel in King's Landing. So he gave up.
"A rock. So what?"
Aegor didn't answer. Instead, he nodded at a nearby soldier. "Begin."
A soldier raised a bugle, blew a blast, then signaled toward the large boulder.
Only then did Tyrion notice people moving beneath the rock. After the signal, they emerged from cover and started making adjustments Tyrion couldn't quite see from this distance. At the same time, soldiers nearby lowered their weapons, raised large shields, and moved to protect the two commanders.
???
Tyrion was completely confused and about to ask, but in the next instant, the workers below the boulder started running, fleeing behind another large rock nearby.
A dozen seconds later, the base of the large boulder suddenly flashed several times. A deafening roar followed a moment later, and the ground beneath their feet trembled.
Aegor had arrived outside Golden Tooth the day before and had already begun preparations. He ordered his men to select a large, visible boulder between the camp and Golden Tooth, then had the sappers dig beneath it and plant explosives, laying fuses in a setup similar to a demolition blast. This wasn't an act of war, but a calculated display—meant to show the Westermen just how laughable their might was before the force Aegor now wielded.
Cannons could have done the job, but their barrels had a limited lifespan, and bombarding Golden Tooth without a declaration of war would be reckless. Demolishing a seemingly immovable rock became the ideal solution.
Controlled blasting was an advanced technique. Aegor didn't know how to do it himself, nor did he have specialists under his command. His solution? Quantity over precision. Use enough Powder to ensure the demonstration was effective.
Boom! Boom! Boom!...
Lacking high-end detonation technology, the result of using only fuses was that the charges didn't explode simultaneously. Instead, they went off over two to three seconds. The overlapping booms first pierced the ears, then echoed back from the cliffs surrounding Golden Tooth, creating a rolling thunder effect.
It wasn't a perfect blast, but the sheer volume of destruction overwhelmed the senses. The column-like boulder, which had likely stood at the Westerlands' border for thousands of years, had its base destroyed. It toppled under its own weight and shattered on impact, producing a deep rumble that shook the ground.
A fine spray of debris shot more than a hundred meters away, rattling against the wooden walls of the coalition camp and the raised shields of the soldiers. Tyrion, standing under one of those shields, was frozen in place, completely stunned.
A hundred catties of Powder was worth a thousand words.
Only after the smoke from the blast slowly dissipated did Aegor speak again.
"You know, I could have hidden the second condition entirely. I could have lured the Westerlands to join Daenerys, then revealed my true intentions after the Seven Kingdoms were unified. By then, how could you have resisted?" His tone was calm, as if he were talking about someone else entirely. "But I won't do that, because I truly consider you a friend. I sincerely hope you'll serve as Master of Coin under my rule. That's why I refuse to let this become a rift between us. The Iron Throne's control over the Westerlands' gold is non-negotiable. Either House Lannister accepts it of their own accord, or some unknown noble from the Westerlands will do so after becoming Daenerys's new favorite."
Tyrion's mouth was dry and bitter. He couldn't think of a single clever retort.
"I have good news for you, though. Daenerys doesn't need the Westerlands to send troops to attack King's Landing. She has other plans for the Lannister army. So you don't need to answer me right away. Before Daenerys captures King's Landing and reclaims the Iron Throne, you'll have plenty of time to speak with your uncle Kevan, with your father, Lord Tywin, and decide whether to accept her terms."
"Oh, and I nearly forgot Her Grace's most important declaration. No matter what banner the Westerlands army flies, no matter whom they claim to support, if they set foot in the Riverlands without her explicit permission, they will be treated as enemies... and meet the same fate as that rock."
(To be continued.)