Dragonstone received news of the catastrophe at Casterly Rock half a day later than Varys.
The little birds sent word to the spymaster immediately after the incident. With Casterly Rock having lost its backbone, it took another half day of turmoil before they brought in Ser West from Lannisport—Tywin's distant cousin and the commander of the rebuilding Lannister fleet.
Yes, just like the Dragon Queen, the lions had also turned their navy to nearshore fishing.
The first thing Ser West did was write to Dragonstone. Not to the Dragon Queen, but to the Imp.
Casterly Rock had now fallen to the point where, even as a bastard, the Imp's bloodline was still considered "nobler" than anyone else's.
The direct line and even the closer collateral branches had all been poisoned to death.
Although delayed by half a day, the letter contained more complete information than what the little birds had delivered to Varys.
It was a poison never seen before by the maesters, mixed into the summer red wine that Walder Frey had brought from Riverrun.
The onset occurred half an hour after drinking, with no warning signs beforehand. Once it took effect, there was no cure. In an instant, the victims' eyes turned bloodshot, and they died in madness.
At Casterly Rock, not only did 874 people die, but another two to three hundred guards were killed by the frenzied attacks of the poisoned victims.
At the time, the main hall of Casterly Rock was like a living hell. The drinking Lannisters, their eyes blood-red and dark veins surfacing across their bodies, attacked one another with longswords, forks, chairs, wine bottles, even teeth and nails. They clawed and tore at each other, then turned on the guards and servants who tried to restrain them.
"It was likely mixed with basilisk venom. Warm-blooded creatures infected by it become frenzied and lose all reason. Rats infected with basilisk venom would even bite lions," said Archmaester Marwyn, known for his bull-like neck.
Maester Pycelle added, "In Archmaester Vograve's writings, the methods used by the Faceless Men to poison their targets are mentioned repeatedly.
One method that stands out involves spices infused with blood of the stone lizard.
When these spices are applied to meat and roasted, they release an irresistibly enticing aroma. No one can refuse it."
Well, thanks to the revelations of the "great writer from another world," the entire world now knew the methods of the Faceless Men.
And they were genuine. The Faceless Men did indeed favor poison. The first target Arya killed was with poison—she smeared it on a silver coin, then handed it to a moneylender who liked to bite coins with his teeth.
In the House of Black and White, Arya learned hundreds of ways to concoct poisons.
"It really does seem like the Faceless Men. Doesn't the letter say so?" the old crab said, waving the parchment in his hand. "Old Walder attended the feast and, right after it began, invited everyone to toast to Casterly Rock.
Everyone raised their cups, gave a toast, and drank.
But when the bodies were collected, only Old Walder was missing. Later, when they checked the kitchen, they found bones in the stew pot suspected to belong to Walder Frey."
"Mother have mercy! Everyone at the feast drank Walder soup!" exclaimed the dark-skinned girl Laresa, standing on the first step below the throne.
A collective gasp followed.
"That's ruthless," someone muttered.
"King's Landing serves brown stew every day. What's the difference?" the old crab said dismissively, shaking his head. "That's not the point. The point is, Walder was clearly dead, yet appeared at the feast and invited everyone to drink. That's the work of the Faceless Men!"
"Exactly. It's almost certainly them," Marwyn and the others agreed.
"Didn't Casterly Rock keep any Faceless Men hounds?" Bronn asked curiously.
"Probably not. Not everyone guards against the Faceless Men. Some noble houses go centuries without ever dealing with them," Marwyn said hesitantly.
Then he added, "The real question is, who hired them? Killing that many people must have cost an enormous number of gold dragons!"
Bronn stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I heard Winterfell made a fortune reselling grain recently. Not only did they pay off their debt to the Iron Bank, they even earned several million gold dragons. The Starks have the means to hire the Faceless Men, and they're the only ones with such a deep grudge against Walder Frey."
In truth, there was no need for speculation. The moment Daenerys received news of the massacre at Casterly Rock, she had already guessed the culprit, the method, and the motive.
Who else could it be but Arya?
Even so, Daenerys found it difficult to remain calm.
It was too ruthless.
While she marveled at Arya's brutality, she could not help but feel a trace of envy.
Arya was free and unrestrained, able to do whatever she wished, guided only by her own will.
But she herself had become a queen, an empress, the embodiment of the Seven, a savior of the world. All these identities demanded one thing: that she be just, merciful, and kind.
There was no doubt that this was politically correct, but it was also an immense constraint.
When Walder Frey had refused to take his own life as she had demanded, Daenerys had wanted to mount her dragon and fly to Riverrun immediately, to cleanse the city with dragonfire. She imagined herself standing atop the walls, laughing wildly against a backdrop of blazing flames and the wails of the dead.
Well, even in her most indulgent thoughts, that was a bit too extreme for her.
"Your Majesty?" the old crab called softly.
"What is it?" Daenerys snapped out of her thoughts.
"How should we handle the situation at Casterly Rock?" he asked.
"What does it have to do with us? This is a Lannister family matter. And the letter was addressed to Tyrion, let him deal with it," Daenerys said casually.
"Tyrion isn't on Dragonstone."
"Where did he go? Tarth or Sunspear?" she asked.
"Prince Gendry received a letter from the Faith and went to the Great Sept two nights ago to retrieve Duke Tywin's coffin. He hasn't returned yet," Maester Pycelle said.
"King's Landing is at war. Could he be trapped there?" Bronn asked.
The old crab shook his head. "Our people have been watching the battle. It's all street fighting. There hasn't been any dragon battle.
Tyrion rides a wyvern. No matter who attacked him, there would have been some sign."
At this point, the old earl's expression grew worried as he looked at the queen.
"Your Majesty, the war in King's Landing is even more brutal than we expected.
It isn't a clash of high-level supernatural forces, but a grinding battle between ordinary soldiers.
The fall of the city gates was only the beginning. Euron deliberately abandoned the walls, which had become fixed targets for wildfire, and spread his forces throughout the streets and alleys.
The Iron Throne's army and Stannis's men are fighting for every street, every alley, every building.
The soldiers are mixed together, with civilians caught in between. Neither the two-headed dragon nor the wyverns can intervene.
In terms of total forces, Stannis is still inferior to Euron. This war may not be decided in just a few days."
"I am aware of the situation," Daenerys said calmly.
"What I mean is, should you intervene? The losses are too great. What will we do when the White Walkers arrive?" the old crab asked anxiously.
"Who would I help?" she asked.
"No one. King's Landing belongs to you," he said excitedly.
Daenerys pressed her forehead, exasperated. "I thought you pitied the suffering of the people in King's Landing. Now it seems you think they haven't suffered enough."
"Better a short pain than a long one—"
"That's enough." Daenerys raised a hand to stop him and spoke sternly. "Let me repeat this. The greatest enemy in the Long Night is the God of Cold.
If we cannot defeat the God of Cold, a hundred King's Landings would be no different from sandcastles on a beach. The tide will come and wash everything away.
The God of Cold is a true god. Even R'hllor was beaten into submission by Him, and I am only a mortal.
It is already extremely difficult for a mortal to oppose a true god. I cannot waste my time and energy on a useless iron chair.
To be direct, unless the God of Cold descends, I will not leave Dragonstone.
No matter what happens in the Seven Kingdoms, even if the White Walkers breach a city, do not come to me. That is the responsibility of the Dawn Warriors and the Anti-Walker Council.
Matters of mortals belong to mortals. I am responsible only for the God of Cold.
If any noble asks, tell them the same. Understood?"
"Understood."
That very night, the Dragon Queen contradicted herself and hurriedly left Dragonstone.
Because Casterly Rock had fallen.
Harrenhal stood as yet another testament to the bug-like architectural feats of the world.
It consisted of five massive towers, each over a hundred meters tall, connected by suspended stone bridges. From the top of the towers, siege engines outside the castle looked no bigger than insects.
The castle's total area was three times that of Winterfell. Its godswood alone covered twenty acres.
The kitchens of Harrenhal were as large as the great hall of Winterfell. Its main hall was called the Hall of a Hundred Hearths, supposedly containing a hundred fireplaces.
Of course, that was an exaggeration. There were actually only thirty-five.
Even so, one could imagine the grandeur of the hall.
In fact, Harrenhal was the largest castle in the Seven Kingdoms.
Not only was the castle immense, its walls were thick and high. The gatehouse was as large as the Stark keep. Standing outside the gates, one could only see the tops of the five towers.
The walls were simply too tall, blocking all view.
Despite its current ruined state, Harrenhal was still chosen by the Dragon Queen as the base for the Dawn Warriors after the Battle of Winterfell.
It was well-fortified and ideally located for supporting the Riverlands.
"We must immediately go to the aid of Casterly Rock!" said Ser Boros Hightower, acting lord of Harrenhal.
The shadowbinder Tam shook his head. "I've already sent word to the Dragon Queen. She is on her way and told us to hold position. She'll take us with her to Casterly Rock."
Indeed, the Dragon Queen had not only left hundreds of Valyrian steel armors here, but had also stationed the head of the royal mage corps.
"Why not set out first and let the queen catch up?" Ser Boros asked.
"Harrenhal received a raven from Casterly Rock. Do you understand what that means?" said the white knight Garth grimly.
"It means Casterly Rock is in dire need of rescue," Boros said urgently.
"No. It means whether we go or not makes little difference," Garth sighed, shaking his head. "From Casterly Rock to Harrenhal is over a thousand kilometers. By the time we received the raven, the White Walkers had already been attacking for two days.
More importantly, this is no ordinary siege.
Casterly Rock had just suffered a mass poisoning incident. Over a thousand people died and instantly turned into wights, causing chaos from within."
"The queen is here!" Tam suddenly pointed into the dim sky.
"So fast? It hasn't even been an hour—"
A low hum filled the air as a point of red light suddenly appeared, expanding in an instant into a pale red mirror forty meters across.
With a sharp whoosh, a black figure shot out from the surface.
The black dragon roared, its wings beating violently and stirring the clouds.
Cries of shock rang out from Boros and the knights atop the gatehouse as the Dragon Queen leaped from the dragon, plunging rapidly toward them.
"She's fallen off the dragon!" someone screamed.
But after shouting for a moment, they noticed something strange. Her descent was not accelerating—it was slowing.
At thirty meters above the wall, she drifted like a leaf, gliding gently toward them.
"By the Seven… she can fly?" Ser Boros said in disbelief.
"Ah, Lyra?!"
As the Dragon Queen removed her helmet and looked around, about to speak, Ser Boros suddenly cried out in shock.
Daenerys frowned and looked at him. The tall, gaunt knight had tears in his eyes, filled with nostalgia and affection as he stared at her.
What was going on here?
(Note:)
Beyond its grandeur, Harrenhal's location is also exceptional. It lies at the geographical center of the Seven Kingdoms, backed by the Gods Eye and surrounded by fertile plains. If not for the lack of natural defensive passes, it would almost resemble the "Guanzhong" of another world.
Harrenhal was originally the foundation of a would-be conqueror.
Though the Ironborn are now in decline, their ancestors were once immensely powerful.
Before Aegon's Conquest, the Riverlands belonged to the Ironborn under House Hoare.
They did not stop there. The Vale, the Westerlands, the Reach, and the Stormlands were all targets of their conquest.
Under Harren the Black, hundreds of thousands of people were enslaved to build Harrenhal over forty years, cutting weirwood trees and quarrying massive stones.
Because of Harren's expansionist wars, the Storm King even invited Aegon to join forces against him.
Aegon refused, saying he intended to conquer them all.
Harrenhal became his first target.
At the time, the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms had grown complacent over thousands of years and had no real understanding of dragons. They were arrogant and overconfident.
Harren the Black mocked Aegon, claiming that stone does not burn.
Enraged, Aegon used Balerion to turn Harrenhal into a massive oven.
Even three hundred years later, the five great towers still bear twisted, melted marks, as if the stone itself had been softened by fire.)
(End of chapter)
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