Eddard Karstark of the Twins?
Ser Kevan Lannister, the Acting Hand of the King, set down the thick stack of provision documents and looked up at Titus Rowan. His brow was deeply furrowed, his expression one of growing irritation. "This is ill news indeed. Did Lord Tarly mention anything else? Did he ask for more pikes or grain?"
Titus Rowan shook his head, his silver plate armor catching the morning light. "Lord Tarly only asked me to deliver the message to Lord Tywin. He said nothing else."
"I understand," Kevan said, his frown deepening. He stared at the map of the Riverlands, his mind racing. "Lord Titus, Lord Tywin's exact whereabouts are currently unknown. King's Landing hasn't received a raven from Copper Gate or Haystack Hall in three days, which implies those fortresses are still held by the rebels or under heavy siege. If you have the courage, you can travel along the Golden Road through the Kingswood toward Storm's End. If you are lucky, you will catch the main host. But be warned, that forest is a war zone."
"I am willing to go," Titus Rowan said firmly, his eyes bright with a youthful thirst for glory. "I was trained by the finest masters at Goldengrove. I have won my spurs in the tourneys. I will find the Hand."
"Good. Go prepare. The quartermaster will provide whatever you need."
As the young Rowan departed, Kevan felt a headache beginning to throb behind his eyes. He leaned back in his heavy chair and shouted toward the door, "Go! Invite Lord Varys and Ser Addam Marbrand, Commander of the City Watch, to my solar immediately!"
Time passed slowly. The morning sun moved westward, casting long, jagged shadows across the stone floor of the Hand's Tower. The door finally opened to admit the Master of Whisperers. Varys was a vision in lavender silk, his movements as graceful and silent as a shadow. His pale, plump face wore a fawning, apologetic smile.
"My Lord, I heard you called for me?"
"Yes, Varys," Kevan said, not offering a seat. He scrutinized the eunuch with a cold, suspicious gaze. "I have just received word that the current master of Harrenhal is Eddard Karstark, not the Blackfish. You are the Master of Whisperers. What is your opinion on this?"
Tywin's warning echoed in Kevan's mind: Besides the veterans of the West, do not trust anyone. Everyone has a scheme.
"Ah, esteemed Ser Kevan," Varys said, his voice a soft purr. "I did receive reports of a new banner on the walls, a golden sun. But the news was vague. I assumed it was a Karstark contingent sent to reinforce the Tully garrison. My spies are working to confirm the details, but they have not yet returned. As you know, I cannot trouble you with unconfirmed rumors."
"I suspect your spies aren't coming back because they've been fed to a direwolf," Kevan muttered. "Tell me then, where is Brynden Tully?"
Varys spread his hands helplessly. "Even the Spider cannot weave a web in a house that changes masters every moon, My Lord. Harrenhal has been a charnel house. The servants are dead, abducted, or terrified. The Riverlands are a dark room at the moment."
Before Kevan could retort, the door was burst open by Archmaester Pycelle. The old man was gasping for air, his long white beard trembling against his chest. He held a crumpled letter in a shaking hand.
"No... this is bad! It is a disaster!" Pycelle wheezed. "The West has been breached! Brynden Tully used some devilish trick to bypass the Golden Tooth and ambush Ser Davos. Our host has been decimated! Lannisport is under siege, and Casterly Rock is surrounded!"
Kevan felt the world tilt. "Davos? My nephew? What of him?"
"He is greivously wounded and unconscious," Pycelle replied, handing over the letter. "Ser Jason of Lannisport sent the raven. He says the Northmen appeared at their rear like ghosts. There is no force left in the West capable of stopping them."
Kevan rubbed his temples, his mind a tangled knot of panic. Inform Tywin. Send reinforcements. Call the Reach. The list of "must-dos" was a mountain he couldn't climb.
"My Lord," Varys added, his voice dripping with a fake, oily concern. "I must remind you: our good King, Queen Margaery, and the Queen Regent are currently on the Golden Road, heading straight for Casterly Rock. If the West has fallen, they are riding into a trap."
"By the Gods!" Kevan shouted. "We must bring them back! Send more men! Where is Marbrand?!"
"I am here," Ser Addam Marbrand said, stepping into the room. His face was grim, his golden cloak dusty. "Kevan, I have more news. My outriders spotted a band of cavalry rapidly approaching the city from the north. They'll reach the Gods Gate by sunset."
"Judging by their sigils," Addam continued, his eyes locking onto Varys with a flash of anger, "they are House Karstark. The 'Winter Wizard' is at our door, and we didn't receive a single whisper of warning from our 'birds'."
Kevan's composure finally shattered. "Tarly was defeated? But he had ten thousand men!"
"And what of Dickon Tarly?" Kevan asked suddenly. "Is he still in the city?"
Addam Marbrand's expression darkened further. "The guards at the King's Gate say Dickon Tarly and the Horn Hill knights rode out at noon, heading for the Reach. They claimed they had private business."
"Betrayal," Pycelle squeaked. "Blatant betrayal!"
"Quiet, old man!" Kevan snapped. He turned to Addam. "How many men do we have to hold these walls?"
"Two thousand Gold Cloaks," Addam said. "But they are better at catching thieves than fighting Karstark veterans. I have four thousand Lannister infantry and a thousand cavalry in the barracks. It's too few if the entire Northern host is behind those scouts."
Kevan gritted his teeth. "Varys, who is the closest ally we can recall?"
"Lord Royce and the Vale," Varys replied instantly. "They have twenty thousand men at Copper Gate and Haystack Hall. They are barely two days' ride if they push their mounts."
"Order them back!" Kevan commanded. "In the King's name, tell Bronze Yohn Royce to abandon the siege and reinforce the capital! King's Landing cannot be lost!"
Addam Marbrand nodded and turned to leave, but then paused. "My Lord, the Redwyne fleet... what's left of it. Seventy warships and a hundred cogs have returned to the Blackwater. Should I have them act as a bridge at the Mud Gate? It would allow the Vale army to enter the city without being slowed by the river."
"Do it," Kevan said, his voice hollow. "Do whatever you must. Just save the city."
As the officers scrambled to execute the new orders, Kevan looked out the window. The sun was setting, and the shadows were longer than they had ever been. He realized then that the "Winter Wizard" hadn't just captured a bridge; he had unraveled the entire Lannister world.
[Status: King's Landing under immediate threat.]
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