The exact moment Ser Jaime Lannister captured Edmure Tully at the Battle of the Golden Tooth and successfully laid siege to Riverrun, Lord Tywin set his grand strategy into motion.
The Old Lion marched his primary host out of the Westerlands, aggressively advancing toward the Golden Tooth to secure Jaime's supply lines.
The massive Lannister army swept through the western Riverlands with absolutely unstoppable momentum. Without Edmure's central leadership, the decentralized, fiercely independent Riverlords crumbled at the slightest military pressure.
Previously, Edmure had foolishly scattered his massive defensive forces across the Riverlands in a futile attempt to actively pursue and hunt down the Mountain's raiding parties. Even after Roman had personally executed the Mountain, the Riverlands' armies remained dangerously dispersed and wandering. Before they could ever properly regroup into a cohesive fighting force, Jaime had violently crushed Edmure's vanguard.
Absolute, catastrophic division.
Edmure Tully had never truly understood why his father, Hoster, would always beat his chest in profound, agonizing frustration over the decentralized, fiercely divided nature of the Riverlands nobility. But locked in a cage, watching his vassals fall one by one, Edmure finally understood it deeply.
Several days into the siege, Jaime Lannister dragged a shackled Edmure directly to the front of Riverrun's towering walls.
"Tell me, Edmure," Jaime smirked, his golden armor gleaming. "If I were to actively send you up to those massive gates right now, do you genuinely believe your fiercely loyal vassals would unconditionally surrender this impregnable fortress simply to save the life of their lord?"
"I am absolutely not shameless enough to exchange my own pathetic life for the safety of my people!" Edmure spat angrily.
Jaime chuckled softly. "Hehe. We shall wait and see."
The scattered Riverlords were entirely bewildered and paralyzed by Jaime's rapid advance. Having first suffered a catastrophic, crushing defeat at the Golden Tooth, and then being violently routed in every single positional skirmish against the heavily armored Lannister vanguards, they were now utterly, hopelessly powerless against Tywin's massive primary host.
Currently, Tywin Lannister possessed absolutely no strategic intention of permanently conquering and holding the Riverlands. His primary objective was to aggressively plunder as much wealth and winter grain as physically possible, and forcefully redirect those massively vital logistical supplies directly to the starving capital of King's Landing.
Therefore, whenever Tywin's massive host arrived at a Riverlands castle, they would meticulously strip it of absolutely every ounce of grain, steel, and gold, and then violently burn the fortress to the ground.
From the Golden Tooth to Pinkmaiden, and all the way to the western shores of the Gods Eye, Tywin mercilessly swept through the land, utilizing a horrific, systematic policy of burning, killing, and looting. The local Riverlands residents were either brutally slaughtered by Lannister outriders or forcefully conscripted into brutal, unpaid slave labor to haul Tywin's massive siege trains.
Back in Harrenhal, Fili was desperately receiving a massive, daily influx of starving refugees fleeing from the apocalyptic destruction west of the Gods Eye. The young woman could only offer a sad, exhausted sigh as she meticulously organized shelter for thousands of traumatized Riverlanders whose families and livelihoods had been entirely torn apart by Lannister steel.
This terrifying, endless influx of refugees also deeply unsettled the common citizens of Harrenhal, who constantly heard horrific, bloody rumors regarding Tywin and Jaime's brutal exploits.
Although the citizens of Harrenhal fundamentally believed that their draconic lord could not possibly lose a war, human nature dictated that they still felt a lingering, suffocating anxiety, terrified that they too might one day be reduced to starving refugees if the Vanguard fell.
However, this suffocating, pessimistic mood violently vanished the exact moment a blinding, roaring cloud of crackling White Flame violently crashed down from the sky.
Having flawlessly secured the crucial defensive lines at Sow's Horn and Antlers, Roman Rivers immediately returned home. He flew through the clouds at absolute maximum velocity, his massive draconic form violently overflowing with crackling lightning and superheated plasma. A tremendous, deafening thunderclap violently resounded through the sky, shattering the tension. The moment the citizens of Harrenhal looked up and saw the white comet, they instantly knew their Lord had returned.
Fili watched in absolute awe as Roman landed heavily in the center of the Vanguard training grounds. She quickly sprinted forward, her voice trembling with profound joy.
"Lord Roman! You have finally returned!" Fili cheered. "Is the situation in the Crownlands entirely secure?"
"Fili, thank you for your relentless, brilliant hard work," Roman smiled, gently reaching out to straighten the collar of the girl's tunic. "I have completely finalized the impenetrable defensive infrastructure at Sow's Horn and Antlers. Now that Tywin Lannister is actively approaching the sovereign borders of Harrenhal, I will absolutely not stand idly by and watch him burn my continent."
Roman patted her shoulder affectionately. "You have performed a genuinely miraculous job managing the logistics lately, Fili. You are officially ordered to take a mandatory rest. I am going to the war room to strategize with Elder Jessy."
Roman completely refused to give Fili a single chance to stubbornly object, playfully but forcefully handing her over to the maternal care of Lady Shella Whent to ensure she actually slept.
Roman immediately strode into the massive, heavily fortified council chambers to aggressively formulate a counter-offensive with his intelligence chiefs and the Vanguard Castellan, Elder Jessy.
"Lord Roman," Elder Jessy reported grimly, pointing to a massive map. "Tywin Lannister is an incredibly cunning, paranoid commander. He is actively utilizing several heavily armored body doubles and decoy command tents. Even our most advanced Apostle ravens cannot pinpoint his exact, personal location within the massive host. Furthermore, Tywin has actively deployed elite squads of archers specifically to shoot down any ravens or suspicious scouts they encounter along the march, deeply frustrating our localized intelligence gathering."
Roman nodded slowly. Tywin was intimately aware of Harrenhal's terrifying aerial capabilities and fundamentally wasn't foolish enough to parade his true self openly across a battlefield. However, Roman possessed absolutely no immediate plan to assassinate Tywin directly; he possessed vastly more agonizing methods to forcefully drag the Old Lion out of hiding.
Elder Jessy continued his grim report. "Furthermore, Tywin has aggressively adopted a scorched-earth policy, actively killing, burning, and looting every single acre of land he marches across. With the exception of the heavily fortified Trident and the northern coast of Seagard, the entirety of the western Riverlands has been violently reduced to ashes. Hundreds of villages, prosperous towns, and ancient castles have been entirely destroyed."
"Tywin is absolutely determined to push this brutal, apocalyptic strategy to its absolute limit," Roman analyzed coldly. "He possesses zero intention of seeking a peaceful resolution. Tell me, have any of the surviving Riverlords explicitly requested military reinforcement from Harrenhal?"
The assembled intelligence officials shook their heads slowly. "No, my lord. They have maintained absolute radio silence ever since they arrogantly refused Harrenhal's initial offer of Vanguard assistance before the siege of Riverrun."
Roman pursed his lips into a dark, cynical smirk. "They are likely physically incapable of sending a raven now. Their ancestral castles are burning rubble, and the surviving lords are either currently rotting in Lannister cages or frantically fleeing through the mud like terrified rabbits."
Roman stepped forward, aggressively pointing a gauntleted finger directly at the massive, fertile expanse of land situated entirely west of the Gods Eye.
"Ignore the stubborn Riverlords entirely," Roman commanded smoothly. "Our absolute first strategic objective is to aggressively occupy and permanently annex all the sovereign territory directly west of the Gods Eye. Do not attack or relieve any neutral castles. Our immediate, exclusive concern is the Lannister host. Harrenhal currently possesses the absolute largest stockpile of winter grain in the entire Riverlands. Tywin will inevitably be forced to come knocking on our impenetrable doors sooner or later."
The massive strategic directives were rapidly assigned. The Harrenhal Vanguard, functioning exactly like a flawless, heavily lubricated machine of war, instantaneously roared to life.
Relying entirely upon its massive, brilliantly constructed logistical network of subterranean granaries and advanced armories, the massive Harrenhal heavy infantry and cavalry immediately crossed the borders of Harrentown and aggressively initiated their violent westward advance.
West of the Gods Eye. A Lannister Forward Encampment.
A small detachment of heavily armored Lannister scouts were lazily, half-heartedly shooting arrows into the overcast sky. Their strict commanders had explicitly ordered them to actively shoot down any black birds they saw to prevent Harrenhal's espionage, but the arrogant soldiers had long since lost interest in the tedious task.
"Every single day is the exact bloody same!" a Lannister spearman groaned, lowering his bow. "This is incredibly boring! Are all the lords of the Riverlands pathetic, spineless cowards? Is there absolutely no one left in this wretched kingdom who can actually put up a decent fight?"
"Shut your mouth and just shoot down that flock of ravens," his sergeant snapped tiredly. "If the commander catches us slacking, he'll have us whipped."
The arrogant Lannister soldiers simply did not care. They had been aggressively stalked by these strange, highly organized flocks of ravens ever since they marched out of Casterly Rock. So what?
Every single Riverlands castle they had besieged had been effortlessly, violently captured. The ravens were nothing more than a minor, creepy annoyance, and they certainly possessed no ability to halt the unstoppable might of the Westerlands army.
Initially, the Lannister rank-and-file had been absolutely terrified by the horrific, mythological rumors surrounding Roman Rivers, constantly paranoid that the Dragon of Harrenhal would launch a devastating surprise attack. But after weeks of relentless, victorious campaigning without encountering a single ounce of effective resistance, their paralyzing fear had completely rotted into sheer, arrogant complacency. They simply stopped caring about Harrenhal.
"I am telling you, sergeant, you take this bird-hunting nonsense vastly too seriously," a soldier laughed, leaning against his spear. "Instead of shooting at blackbirds, you should be actively deciding which pretty Riverlands peasant girl you want to drag into your tent tonight!"
The soldier's crude, vile remark provoked a massive chorus of lecherous laughter from his comrades, and the entire detachment began loudly, violently discussing exactly what they planned to do to their newly acquired prisoners of war.
A single, highly disciplined Lannister archer completely ignored his comrades' vile banter. He actively climbed to the top of a steep, grassy hill, hoping to utilize the elevated terrain to finally secure a clean shot at the massive raven circling above.
However, the highly intelligent Apostle raven effortlessly dodged the arrow and flew safely away. Before completely disappearing into the clouds, the massive bird let out a series of sharp, mocking caws, actively taunting the frustrated Lannister soldier.
"Damn you!" The archer furiously picked up a heavy stone and hurled it into the sky in the direction the raven had fled.
The futile attack obviously possessed no real effect. However, as the soldier's eyes followed the trajectory of his thrown stone over the crest of the opposite hill, he suddenly noticed something deeply, terrifyingly unusual on the horizon.
Years later, whenever that specific soldier recounted that horrifying moment in the taverns of Lannisport, he would always tremble violently and whisper:
"It was a wave! A massive, unstoppable wave of solid silver steel violently crashing over the hills directly toward us!!"
Several days later, deep within the dense, heavily guarded forests of the western Riverlands, Tywin Lannister received a catastrophic, breaking intelligence report from his forward scouts.
The massive, heavily fortified Lannister garrison specifically deployed to hold the recently conquered fiefdoms west of the Gods Eye had been completely, utterly annihilated. The sheer speed and devastating kinetic force of the absolute slaughter strongly indicated the enemy was Harrenhal's legendary heavy shock cavalry.
Lord Tywin frowned deeply, his green eyes narrowing into dangerous, calculated slits. He intimately knew Roman Rivers had finally made his grand move.
"Come then, boy," Tywin murmured softly into the darkness of his command tent. "Let me personally witness exactly how powerful this mythological 'Dragon of Harrenhal', who has so effortlessly intimidated the Starks and the Riverlords, truly is!"
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