Chapter 163 — Lannisport
Among the Seven Kingdoms, the Westerlands were neither the largest in territory, nor the most populous, nor even the most agriculturally abundant.
But without question—
they were the richest.
The land was mountainous, and its veins of gold and silver were so abundant as to be staggering. Casterly Rock, Golden Tooth, Castamere, Nunn's Deep, and Pendric Hills were all major sources of gold.
Because of this, the Westerlands had long invested immense manpower into mining and extraction—and even now, that remained unchanged.
---
After half a month of travel, Podrick and his small group of four finally reached their destination—
Lannisport.
Still about three leagues away, Qyburn—now fully settled into his role—raised a hand and pointed ahead.
"My lord, that is one of the principal ports of the Seven Kingdoms, and the largest city in the Westerlands. In size, it is far smaller than King's Landing or Oldtown, yet larger than Gulltown or White Harbor."
"But in terms of prosperity… it surpasses them all."
Under the clear skies of a late afternoon, Lannisport basked in golden sunlight.
The Sunset Sea shimmered beneath the descending sun, casting rippling light across the waters. White gulls wheeled between sea and sky, their cries carried by the wind.
Atop a low hill stood a fortress of pale stone, its gray-yellow walls rising in layers. Square towers crowned with sharp spires stood watch, encircling the central keep.
Crimson banners bearing the golden lion of House Lannister snapped proudly in the wind.
Below the castle, houses of stone and timber spread down the slope in uneven clusters, forming a bustling town. At the lowest point lay a crescent-shaped harbor, where ships with white sails crowded the docks like a forest of masts.
It was a scene of undeniable beauty.
Yet Podrick's gaze barely lingered on the city.
Instead, it drifted past Lannisport—
and settled on something far greater in the distance.
A colossal rock rose from the coast of the Sunset Sea, vast beyond measure. Carved into it was a fortress—immense, imposing.
Against the fading light of dusk, it stood like a silent lion, watching over the land.
"Other than King's Landing, this is the only large city I've seen," Podrick said casually. "As for Gulltown or White Harbor, I've never been."
He raised a hand, pointing toward the distant giant.
"That… is Casterly Rock, isn't it?"
The Rock stretched for leagues—two in length, two miles in width—and soared to a height of over two thousand feet, nearly three times that of the Wall or the Hightower.
It loomed over the western coast of the continent, silently overlooking Lannisport and the Sunset Sea.
"Yes, my lord," Qyburn replied, following his gaze. "That is Casterly Rock."
"It is said that in the Dawn Age and the Age of Heroes, this place was ruled by the House Casterly, from whom the Rock takes its name."
"Their founder's son discovered gold within the Rock and moved into its caves, reinforcing the entrances. His descendants delved deeper, carving halls, tunnels, and vast chambers beneath the stone."
"But after only a few generations, their numbers grew too great for the Rock to contain."
"As for the House Lannister… their rule began with Lann the Clever."
"Unlike the Casterlys, he did not expand downward. Instead, he sent the surplus members of his house to settle less than a league away."
"That settlement eventually grew into Lannisport."
"In that sense, Casterly Rock and Lannisport are two halves of the same whole."
"Later, when the Andals came to Westeros, the Lannister kings forged alliances through marriage with powerful Andal warlords, granting them lands while taking their children as wards—raised in Casterly Rock as squires and companions."
"And during Aegon's Conquest, King Loren Lannister allied with King Mern IX Gardener of the Reach to oppose Aegon I Targaryen."
"But they were defeated in the Field of Fire."
"After the battle, Loren bent the knee and was confirmed as Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West."
As Qyburn spoke, history flowed as steadily as the road beneath their feet.
And ahead of them—
the golden lion of the Westerlands waited.
Legend had it that when Visenya Targaryen first beheld Casterly Rock, she silently thanked the gods that King Loren Lannister had chosen to march out and meet her brother Aegon I Targaryen in the Field of Fire. Had he remained within those walls, even dragonflame might have failed to breach them.
And so, to this day, Casterly Rock had never fallen.
It was a castle steeped in epic and romance—
a symbol of enduring glory.
The ancestral seat of House Lannister.
Podrick stood there, gazing at the Rock in silence, his thoughts unreadable.
Qyburn, who had been waiting for him to speak again, glanced over. Noticing the look in his lord's eyes, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.
"My lord… do you think the Lannisters will ultimately get what they want?"
The recent series of wars led by Tywin Lannister made his intentions obvious to anyone with sense.
Yet now, with King's Landing fallen to Randyll Tarly and Lannister forces forced into retreat, most would say their fortunes were waning.
And yet, Qyburn chose this moment to ask.
Podrick turned to him, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
"And why would you think Tywin Lannister can still achieve his goals?"
"Right now, Robb Stark of the North seems to have the advantage. Even Stannis Baratheon is beginning to gain ground."
Qyburn tilted his head slightly, a faint, ambiguous smile forming.
"But no one has ever defeated the Lannisters from the outside, have they? Just like that castle."
"To be honest, I don't think much of the King in the North. He's still just a young wolf—his fangs and claws may be growing, but he's far from ready to rule the forest."
"He lacks the authority and gravitas of his father, Eddard Stark."
"As for Stannis… whether he can even hold onto his crown remains to be seen."
Podrick neither agreed nor disagreed.
The game was far from decided.
No one could say who would emerge victorious until the very end.
So he only replied calmly, "It has nothing to do with us."
"Whoever sits the throne, the hungry will still starve, prostitutes will remain prostitutes, and sailors will remain sailors."
With that, he nudged his horse forward, continuing along the Goldroad.
The setting sun stretched his shadow long across the road.
Behind him, Qyburn and the others exchanged puzzled glances.
Jalabhar Xho was sharper than Gendry. As a prince exiled through political defeat, he sensed something unusual in Qyburn's earlier words.
"What exactly were you trying to say?"
He frowned, clearly unsettled.
Gendry, meanwhile, still looked as confused as ever.
Qyburn glanced at Jalabhar, a trace of surprise in his eyes at the man's intuition. Then he smiled faintly.
"I was merely reminding our lord… that there is no need to seek far when what he wants may already be close at hand."
With that cryptic remark, he urged the carriage forward.
Dusk was approaching.
The tides of war shifted by the day, and the Lannisters had already begun to lose ground. Arriving here now, no one could be sure what awaited them.
After all, their little group was… unusual, to say the least.
A man who could be considered a defector from the Lannisters.
An exiled prince from a foreign land.
A bastard of a former king.
And a disgraced maester obsessed with the dead.
"Eccentric" didn't even begin to describe them.
Jalabhar, riding at the rear, frowned deeply as he replayed Qyburn's words in his mind.
His gaze drifted toward the peaceful harbor in the distance… and the towering Rock beyond it.
His expression twisted with indecision, but in the end, he found no answer.
With a quiet sigh, he simply followed.
---
Just before sunset, the group finally made it into Lannisport, slipping through the gates moments before they closed.
Fortunately, Podrick kept a low profile, and both Qyburn and Jalabhar followed suit. No one could have guessed that this modest-looking caravan—neither poor nor particularly large—
was responsible for stirring chaos across the continent in recent times.
Qyburn assumed the role of the caravan's leader, posing as a merchant from Lys.
Jalabhar became his "slave."
As for Gendry and Podrick, they were simply young apprentices learning the trade.
War was a meat grinder—but it was also opportunity.
Across the Seven Kingdoms, especially in the Riverlands, countless caravans like theirs followed armies, profiting from the chaos. Weapons, food, luxuries—even flesh—everything could be sold.
And so, when Qyburn claimed they had come to Lannisport to replenish supplies before sailing to the Arbor to purchase wine from House Redwyne for trade in Essos, no one questioned them.
There were simply too many like them.
With the fall of King's Landing and the shifting frontlines, merchants flooded into Lannisport—making fortunes, then fleeing at the first sign of danger.
And despite the worsening situation, Stafford Lannister did not turn them away.
On the contrary, he welcomed them.
The Lannisters needed soldiers.
They needed supplies.
Money, however, was the one thing they did not lack.
So merchants and refugees alike became useful—
a chance to replenish manpower and resources.
---
"…So you're saying we're stuck in Lannisport for now?" Podrick asked later, seated in a modest tavern.
He picked up a slice of meat from his plate and ate with an unhurried calm.
Across the table, Gendry and the others watched him in silence.
Gendry, eager to learn everything, still found himself fumbling awkwardly, struggling more than succeeding.
---
Qyburn tore his gaze away and replied thoughtfully:
"After leaving Harrenhal, Tywin Lannister ordered Stafford to strictly control all imports and exports."
"The reason given is to prevent strategic resources from falling into enemy hands."
"At the same time, the Lannisters are openly recruiting soldiers with generous rewards. I saw several recruitment points along the way… though not many seem eager to join."
"That's all I've learned so far."
Jalabhar Xho slammed his hand on the table.
"What kind of excuse is that?!"
"They're not planning to force people like us into their army, are they?"
No one responded.
Qyburn simply watched Podrick.
Podrick paused, his expression growing thoughtful.
This matter… wasn't large, yet it wasn't small either.
And somehow, they had arrived at exactly the wrong time.
He rested his fingers lightly against his chin, frowning slightly.
"So… is Tywin Lannister trying to guard against his enemies—"
"Or is he preparing to make another move?"