Inside the Lord's solar of Harrenhal, Earl Walter, Ser Lucas, and Arthur were gathered together.
Surrounding the heavy oak desk, they studied a map of the Riverlands. Their eyes locked onto a single, bloody point.
The Trident. The Ruby Ford.
From here north to the Twins, there were no other crossings along the Green Fork. The Battle of the Trident had decided the fate of House Targaryen, and with it, the rise and fall of countless vassal houses across the realm.
As for analyzing that disastrous campaign, the survivors on the losing side had already replayed it in their minds a thousand times over.
The Griffin hadn't made it to the Battle of the Trident, but the tolling bells of the Stoney Sept would haunt the rest of his life. Earl Walter Whent was a veteran of the Trident, and Ser Lucas Dayne was no stranger to the war himself. After all, House Martell had mustered ten thousand Dornish spearmen for the cause, drawing manpower and blood from all their major vassals.
As one of Rhaegar's closest loyalists, House Dayne had remained fiercely true to the Targaryen dynasty. Just like the Riverlands houses of Whent, Darry, and Mooton, they had fought bitterly for the crown.
"It was a muddled, confused war, especially when you look at Rhaegar's performance," Earl Walter sighed. "The enemy captured Gulltown. Ned marched north to raise his banners, and Robert returned to the Stormlands. After the rebel victories at Summerhall, they only grew stronger. Even after Robert's defeat at Ashford by Randyll Tarly, he quickly reclaimed his momentum at the Stoney Sept, joining forces with Stark and Tully reinforcements to crush Jon Connington."
He traced a finger over the map. "After the Battle of the Bells, the King exiled the Griffin. Arryn, Stark, and Baratheon united, and thanks to two highly advantageous marriages, House Tully threw their lot in with them."
Even as a loyal supporter, Earl Walter couldn't fathom Rhaegar's bizarre choices. When the sparks of rebellion first ignited, the Crown Prince vanished without a trace. It wasn't until the inferno was raging completely out of control that he finally rushed back—only to embrace his doomed fate.
"What's your take, Arthur?" Ser Lucas prompted.
"An ugly war," Arthur said bluntly. "Especially on the Royalist side."
The conflict had erupted far too abruptly. Both sides were essentially learning as they fought, giving the entire war a highly chaotic, dramatic feel. On one side, the commander-in-chief was Robert, a vanguard fighter with little prior military leadership before the rebellion. But Robert was a renowned warrior—a man who seemed genetically engineered for the battlefield.
The rebels only grew stronger with every clash, fueled by the combined leadership of Robert, Ned, and Jon. On the opposing side, Rhaegar's only real claim to martial fame was winning a tourney; he had no actual combat record to speak of. While the Royalists had historically relied on battle-tested commanders, this time around, their performance was simply abysmal.
Their forces were fractured. The Griffin was exiled. Three Kingsguard knights were off babysitting a pregnant woman. The Tyrell army was essentially dragging their feet outside Storm's End. Add Rhaegar going completely MIA and the toxic, dysfunctional relationship between father and son, and it was a strategic nightmare. Instead of fighting as a united front, the Royalist army marched to war as a disjointed, fractured mess.
"Ugly indeed. It was a war that defied all expectations," Ser Lucas agreed, his gaze sharp.
"Before the Trident, there were several critical flashpoints—Gulltown, Summerhall, Ashford, the Stoney Sept. The Iron Throne failed to secure a single one of them," Arthur noted, studying the battle lines.
The Mad King had kicked things off with a bloodbath in the Red Keep, executing nobles from the North, the Vale, and the Riverlands. Aerys murdered the Lord of the North, Rickard Stark, and his heir, Brandon. He also executed Brandon's companions: Jeffory Mallister, Kyle Royce, and Elbert Arryn, the nephew and heir of Jon Arryn. Ethan Glover was the only squire to survive the purge, though he would later meet his end at the Tower of Joy.
Jon Arryn called his banners in the Vale, and the rebellion officially kicked off with the successful storming of Gulltown. Robert fought at the absolute vanguard, scaling the walls to kill Lord Grafton himself, forcing Lyn Corbray to surrender to the rebel cause.
Once the port was secured, Ned and Robert managed to slip away by sea to their respective domains. They called their vassals to war, and the rebel army swelled. Ultimately, it all came back to the dragons. Without dragons, House Targaryen lacked the ultimate deterrent and the ability to execute decapitation strikes. Without that primal fear, the Great Lords grew increasingly bold and independent.
While there were pockets of Royalists in the Vale and the Stormlands, the vast majority sided with their liege lords. The North was even more unified—they followed Ned into rebellion without a second thought. Bound by the Old Gods, their First Men heritage, and sheer geographical isolation, Northerners were fiercely independent. Stark, Arryn, and Baratheon were all ancient, royal bloodlines; their prestige naturally eclipsed that of ordinary lords. Even the Baratheons possessed royal blood through their maternal Durrandon lineage.
"Even if Rhaegar was absent for the early stages of the war, he still made it for the final showdown."
"Rhaegar commanded the Royalist center, flanked by the levies of Crackclaw Point, alongside the main forces of Houses Whent, Darry, and Mooton. They faced Robert's vanguard directly," Earl Walter recounted, meticulously outlining the historical battle lines. "The Royalist right flank was held by Prince Lewyn and his Dornish spearmen, engaging Jon Arryn's Valemen on the rebel left. The Royalist left was commanded by Ser Barristan and Ser Jonothor Darry, clashing with the rebel right—the Northern and Riverlands forces led by Ned Stark and the Old Trout. Hoster Tully was in poor health at the time, so the primary adversary there was Ned."
Even minus the three Kingsguard knights Rhaegar had dispatched elsewhere and the exiled Jon Connington, it was still a formidable roster.
"I heard Rhaegar marched to the Trident with roughly forty thousand men, but barely a tenth of them were true knights," Ser Lucas noted. "The rest were freeriders, archers, and spearmen. The moment Rhaegar fell, the bulk of the army simply dropped their weapons and routed."
"Which points to a severe lack of troop quality," Arthur pointed out. He wasn't just nitpicking; it was the cold, hard truth.
"The Dornish spearmen didn't live up to their potential, either. Frankly, many of our soldiers had no desire to march halfway across the continent to fight a war—especially when their Princess was being held hostage in the capital, and her husband was at the center of a massive, scandalous affair," Ser Lucas explained.
It was a complete mismatch of tactics. The Dornish excelled at guerrilla warfare—harassing the enemy, utilizing hit-and-run strikes with spears and arrows, and letting the punishing desert heat kite their foes into exhaustion. Forcing Dornish infantry into a grinding, head-to-head clash with the Vale's heavy cavalry was a glaring strategic blunder on the commander's part.
"Robert commanded fewer than forty thousand men that day, as a large portion of the Stormlands forces were pinned down in the south," Earl Walter sighed, staring at the map. "But his men were battle-hardened veterans, and he fielded far more heavy knights. The rebels actually held the tactical advantage. But the final nail in the coffin was Robert's warhammer. After that blow, everything fell apart."
The Trident was a slaughter. Lyn Corbray cut down Prince Lewyn Martell. Ser Barristan Selmy carved through dozens of men, while Lord Jason Mallister personally slew three of Rhaegar's sworn knights.
Yet, the defining moment—the strike that would echo through history—was Robert crushing Rhaegar's chest with his monstrous warhammer.
Rhaegar was undoubtedly a skilled fighter, but against a beast like Robert, he simply fell short. Considering he wasn't wielding Valyrian steel, the fact that Rhaegar managed to severely wound Robert with a standard longsword was impressive in its own right. But Robert's blunt-force weapon bypassed armor entirely; that single, devastating strike snuffed out Rhaegar's life instantly.
"The Royalist defeat hinged on countless factors," Earl Walter said somberly. "The Griffin and three Kingsguard were missing, tucked away at the distant Tower of Joy. Rhaegar marched in haste, leading poorly trained levies with too few knights. But ultimately, the Warrior favored Robert in that final duel. It all came down to single combat between two men."
The people of Westeros loved their heroic duels, their single combat. And right now, no champion was more famous than Robert Baratheon.
From Gulltown and Summerhall to Ashford, the Stoney Sept, and the Trident, Robert always fought at the vanguard. He was a supreme commander who treated himself like a shock trooper.
"Tacticians are respected, but Westeros truly worships the fearless, unstoppable warrior. Remember that, Arthur," Ser Lucas advised.
"If I am ever handed an opportunity like that," Arthur replied coldly, "I intend to take it all."
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