The journey back to the Lion's Den was far more spectacular than the march out.
The size of the column had grown by more than double: Heck's brothers, Bolin and the warriors under his command, and those bandits who had surrendered along the way — all of whom would later be distributed evenly among the military townships to receive land and begin farming.
When the column reached the entrance to the valley, everyone who had newly joined came to a halt.
Heck's jaw dropped, unable to believe what his eyes were showing him. Bolin froze as well, staring at the scene ahead, the shock in his heart beyond words.
Even Solomon was taken considerably aback. What stood before him was no longer a simple deep ravine — in the time he had been away, Evelyn and the settlers within the valley had worked yet another miracle.
The steep face of the cliff had been carved with countless dark openings, honeycomb-like, riddled all across the rock.
These openings were not scattered at random. They were distributed across different heights, forming a crisscrossing network of firing positions.
One could easily imagine: should an enemy force its way into the valley, it would face an inescapable rain of arrows and projectiles from every direction, with nowhere to hide.
"By the Seven." Heck was thunderstruck, muttering to himself. "Are we... are we going to live inside the mountain of the cliff?"
"This was Lord Solomon's stroke of genius." Lushen gazed at the arrow slits with burning eyes, lifting his chin with pride. "This will be a fortress that can never be broken."
Solomon walked at the front of the column. Seeing Evelyn waiting to receive them, a slight smile crossed his face. This woman is worth her weight in gold.
Evelyn stood at the valley entrance to welcome him. The mountain wind lifted her golden hair. Her blue eyes mirrored the victorious column returning before her.
"You have done well." Solomon smiled as he spoke to her. He was never stingy with his praise.
"Welcome home." Evelyn raised her chin proudly, her smile gentle and serene. "It is only a simple modification — there is still far to go. The internal tunnels are still being excavated, but it already has the skeleton of a fortress."
The new members followed the column into the valley. Seeing the dwellings and passages carved into the cliff face, every one of them let out a cry of astonishment.
They had never imagined that human beings could build their homes in sheer cliff walls, like birds.
Solomon walked into the council hall, which had been refurbished and redecorated — now elegant and luxurious, even laid with carpets. Truly extravagant, he thought. He believed money shouldn't be spent this way, but he had handed financial authority to Evelyn before leaving — she could draw from his treasury for whatever she deemed necessary.
"Any word on Bronn, the one I asked you to watch for?" Solomon turned to ask Evelyn. "Or any mercenary company that has recently risen to prominence?"
Evelyn shook her head, expression a little odd. By the time she had arrived, Bronn had already taken his money and gone. She had learned of the sellsword only through some old soldiers: "No. I sent people to ask around among the sellsword community. No one knows this person."
Solomon's heart sank. That son of a bastard. He didn't actually take the money and run, did he? He'd better hope I don't catch him. If I do, he won't like what's coming.
Still, compared to that scoundrel, he had more important matters to handle. Solomon didn't like leaving debts of revenge overnight — and this time, rather than being the one to start trouble, he had been the one to have trouble brought to him first.
"Issue my orders." Solomon's voice was unhurried, yet it drew every nerve in the council hall taut. Without turning his head, his words were directed at Lushen and Rosalyn, who had been standing at the door the entire time. "Summon the administrative officers of all four military townships. Now. Immediately."
In the lord's hall, Solomon sat high in the lord's seat. The flames in the hearth licked at the firewood with quiet crackling.
Twelve men stood in two rows to either side — the administrative officers of the four newly established military townships. Though most were commoners Solomon had elevated on the spot, they now carried the bearing of officials.
Even so, they were clearly tense. Standing in this hall, they had lowered their breathing, waiting for the orders of their young lord with a mixture of awe and unease.
Solomon looked toward Bolin and nodded for him to step forward with the map. Bolin walked in wide strides before the administrative officers and unrolled the map with both hands. The officers crowded forward to look.
On the map, the outline of the Mountains of the Moon had been traced in charcoal with remarkable precision. A circled red dot marked the very ground they stood upon: the Lion's Den.
Bolin's finger pressed on the red circle, then drew outward along five lines, connecting to five marked peaks on the map.
Bolin could see that the administrative officers were stunned by the detail of the map — though in truth he was stunned too, he simply hadn't shown it. To have a map this precise.
"My first directive." Solomon's voice was not loud, yet it tightened every nerve in the room. "Beacon fires signal my will."
Solomon rose from his seat and descended the steps toward the assembly, his gaze sweeping across the gathered men.
"With the Lion's Den as the center, you will return immediately to your respective townships and establish beacon fire stations at these five key peaks and passes that I have marked — all within your line of sight."
"By beacon fire station, I do not mean any complex structure. I need nothing more than a pile of oil-soaked dry timber — enough to send smoke shooting into the sky."
Solomon walked before them, his fingers tapping lightly on the map Bolin held up.
"Remember: when you see the first column of black smoke rise from the Lion's Den, you must — in the shortest possible time — light the signal fire assigned to your military fortress. That smoke is the horn of war."
He paused, letting the weight of those words sink into every man present.
"When the signal fires rise, it means war has begun. You must immediately concentrate all civilians within the township — men, women, old and young alike — back inside the walls."
"Mobilize every male between the age of fourteen and sixty. Have them take up arms. Seal the township gates. Enter full combat readiness. The military officers assume command of all affairs."
"Once the Lion's Den signal fire burns red — immediately march through the roads of the Mountains of the Moon and assemble at the Lion's Den!"
"And this is not only for the Lion's Den! From this point forward — should any enemy come raiding — any township under attack may light its fire!"
"One fortress lights the beacon — every township responds — the army gathers at the Lion's Den — and rides to reinforce at once!"
The officers looked at one another.
"Furthermore! I will be igniting the beacon fires once in the near future as a drill! The military fortress that arrives first will be rewarded! The one that arrives last will be punished!"
The glances exchanged among them shifted instantly to expressions of wide-eyed alarm. The slowest will be punished. They shot looks at the officers from the other townships — and the atmosphere in the room suddenly changed. A faint, inexplicable scent of gunpowder drifted through the air.
Only Lushen and Rosalyn caught the undercurrent of meaning. They sensed that Lord Solomon was most likely about to make his move against House Lege — this was preparation for war mobilization.
Solomon observed the questioning looks from the crowd. Only Lushen and Rosalyn had a half-formed understanding. Evelyn wore an expression of knowing clarity. This is exactly what I planned. Nominally a mobilization drill, in reality a preparation to strike. In the age of cold iron, whoever mobilized their army first, struck first, had already won half the battle.
He was supremely confident in the superiority of the Three-Township System.
Time to give the lords of Westeros — who take months to drag their old farmers to war — a little shock of what proper institution looks like.
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