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Inside and outside Harrenhal lay the bodies of assault troops, defenders, and prisoners. Large numbers of northern and riverlander soldiers were clearing the battlefield.
Lord Tytos watched his men gather what remained of Lord Jason's mutilated body. Grief showed openly on his face.
The Mountain had hacked Jason's corpse so many times that the men collecting the dead could not piece the body together. Only the larger part of the head remained recognizable.
"Lord Tytos, the enemies inside Harrenhal have all been cleared out. There is still a great deal of grain, fodder, and spoil in the underground stores. I have already ordered men to count it.
"As for the Brotherhood Without Banners, after collecting the spoils from the Lannister riders, they are preparing to leave with the Mountain and some prisoners.
"Those Lannister horses, weapons, and armor are worth a great deal. Should we..."
A Blackwood officer came up behind Lord Tytos and quietly reported the latest situation.
"The Brotherhood Without Banners... I have heard their name for a long time.
"For more than half a year, they have harried House Lannister's rear. If they had not helped our foot break the Lannister cavalry, more of our corpses would be lying on the ground now.
"King Robb is fighting in the Westerlands. Lord Brynden is rebuilding Riverrun. Most of the men we have left are new soldiers. We will not make enemies for no reason.
"What the broken Riverlands needs most now is peace."
Lord Tytos weighed the value of the Lannister cavalry's spoils against the cost of turning on the Brotherhood, then shook his head.
"Yes. I understand."
And so, the battered Riverlands finally began to recover a measure of calm order. Large numbers of riverlander commoners who had survived by luck, yet lost their homes, began rebuilding them.
In the Reach, at Highgarden, several days of clearing and repairs had erased more than half the bodies and damage left by the battle that had drawn more than a hundred thousand men.
Highgarden had recovered its rough former appearance so quickly because tens of thousands of commoners had gathered there.
After the battle, House Tyrell had issued an order calling commoners to work as laborers. The pay was only coarse food supplied by the Tyrells, but thousands upon thousands of commoners still fought for the chance to take the work.
There was little choice. Because of Highgarden's earlier scorched-earth defensive strategy, nearby fields, trees, and villages had all been burned into black earth.
With ash piled over the lands around Highgarden, next year's planting would surely bring a rich harvest. But ordinary commoners had no stores, and there were far too many of them. How could they last until next year?
The commoners who had been forcibly gathered into Highgarden before the war to keep them from being driven into the siege had become nothing but a burden after the battle.
As House Tyrell saw it, once the war ended, they did not want to concern themselves with these commoners. They had planned to disperse them.
After all, the Reach was the grain basket of the Seven Kingdoms. Its broad, fertile lands fed more people than any other region in Westeros. The lives of a mere few tens of thousands of people did not weigh heavily in their eyes.
But in Robb's eyes, those tens of thousands were precious labor.
In his previous life, one simple idea had been common knowledge: labor itself was a resource.
People could create value. They only needed to be put to the right use.
In the end, Robb proposed a method from his previous life: work in exchange for relief. House Tyrell, having only just sworn to him, dared not object in the slightest, and so issued the order recruiting laborers to repair Highgarden.
Of course, Highgarden's badly damaged south gate still looked as it had before.
Leaving aside the two round towers destroyed by the black oil explosions from the flamethrowers, the stretch of white marble wall burned black would not be restored quickly.
Still, for House Tyrell, which held several million gold dragons in stored gold alone, the losses from this war remained within what they could accept.
Robb sat deep in thought on Bloodwind's broad back, traveling from the west gate toward Highgarden's inner castle.
When the battle had ended a few days before, he had refused House Tyrell's invitation and kept the northern army camped in the stretch between the west gate and the harbor district.
After all, the two sides had only just begun dealing with each other. Keeping some distance made both feel more at ease.
When Robb's party passed along the avenue from the west gate, crossed the plant maze, and reached the commoners' district behind it, the surrounding people immediately began whispering.
"Father, look! It is the Ice King of the North! Paul did not lie. That giant wolf really is as tall as a house!"
"Hush. Lower your voice. Kneel."
A commoner boy spoke excitedly of Robb and Bloodwind, only for his father to press his head down and make him kneel.
As father and son knelt, the surrounding commoners seemed to come back to themselves. A dark mass of people dropped to their knees.
'Ice King?'
'Who gave me that name? It has no dignity at all.'
Robb, who had been thinking over recent matters, heard the boy's words and rolled his eyes inwardly.
In truth, the nickname had spread from House Tyrell's cavalry and the infantry army that had arrived at the end.
When they had passed along the Ocean Road, crossed the Mander bridge, and entered Highgarden through the west gate, they had looked down and seen a hundred yards of the Mander frozen solid. The sight had shocked them deeply.
Tens of thousands had seen Robb and Bloodwind freeze the river. As the story spread, they took the name of House Stark's ancestral sword, Ice, and coined the title Ice King from it.
Facing the mass of commoners kneeling around him, Robb, now fully part of this world, did not tell them to rise. He passed before them calmly.
When he reached the west gate of the second wall, Robb saw the beautiful Margaery at once among the crowd. She and Lord Mace had returned from Partridge Hall the previous day.
Margaery wore an exquisite pale green embroidered gown. The fitted bodice showed the graceful lines of her figure and left her pale shoulders and upper chest exposed.
Her soft brown curls had not been arranged in a formal style as they had been last time. They fell loose over her white shoulders, the waves almost reaching her waist.
At the moment, she was focused on handing out roughly equal pieces of rye bread to the common laborers queued near the second wall.
'She truly knows how to win hearts.'
Watching Margaery take bread from a maid and hand it to the laborers who had finished their work, speaking to them with concern on her face, Robb quietly admired her.
Anyone looking only at the surface would think Margaery the very model of a gentle, kind noblewoman, deeply loved by the people. The fervor on the commoners' faces proved that much.
During the time Robb watched, the hem of her fine gown was dirtied by mud, and a commoner child left a black handprint on her white hand.
Margaery still wore a warm smile and continued without the slightest sign of caring.
Robb moved his will, and Bloodwind went straight toward her.
"Your Grace!"
Margaery, who had been focused on her work, seemed not to notice Robb's arrival until everyone around her knelt. Then she reacted, lifted both sides of her gown, and gave him a perfect curtsy.
"Good. Rise, all of you. Margaery, my beautiful betrothed, you have worked hard.
"Is there enough food to continue distributing?"
As Robb spoke, Bloodwind lay down on the ground. Even so, Robb still looked down at Margaery from the wolf's back.
"Your Grace, if I could not endure even this little hardship, how could I be worthy to become your queen?
"Please rest assured. We have prepared more than enough food for all the commoners to fill their bellies."
A smile immediately bloomed on Margaery's delicate face, and she nodded as she answered.
"Good. Since my subjects can fill their bellies, it proves my decision to let them trade labor for food was correct."
Robb looked at the surrounding commoners as they slowly rose and spoke loudly.
"Did you hear? It was the Ice King who gave us the chance to work!"
"Yes. Without this work, we would have gone back to our burned villages and starved."
"Mighty and merciful King Robb, beautiful and gentle Queen Margaery. They truly are a perfect match!"
Hearing the voices around her, Margaery's smile stiffened for an instant.
She regained control of her expression with remarkable speed, then nodded and agreed. "Your Grace is wise. House Tyrell will always support every decision you make."
Seeing Margaery declare her position so readily before so many commoners, Robb nodded inwardly, and his expression softened.
He suddenly reached his right hand toward her and gave her a warm smile. "Lady Olenna invited me to visit House Tyrell today.
"Margaery, would you guide me through Highgarden, where I have never been before?"
"Gladly, Your Grace."
Margaery's smile grew brighter. She answered and took Robb's outstretched hand.
Margaery's weight was nothing to Robb, whose strength had surpassed the Mountain's. He easily lifted her onto Bloodwind in front of him.
Feeling a stranger on his back, Bloodwind's lively ice-crystal eyes narrowed with displeasure. Reluctantly, he stood and continued toward Highgarden's inner castle.
Robb smelled the faint fragrance that came from Margaery's hair or body and felt the curve of her body brush against him, whether by accident or design. Heat stirred in him.
As long as there was no mysterious force at work, such as the Moon Singer's blessing, Robb had confidence in his self-control.
He drew a quiet breath, then spoke beside Margaery's ear, half hidden by her brown curls. "Margaery, we will live together in the future.
"You will become my queen, and you will also be the only queen in Westeros.
"Perhaps you may even become the first queen of Essos as well."
Hearing those words, Margaery's heartbeat quickened and her breathing grew faster. She knew Robb was painting a future for her, yet longing still showed on her face.
"Your Grace, I am afraid I do not quite follow what you mean."
Margaery forced herself to calm down and turned her head slightly to ask him.
"Margaery, I said just now that we will live together. I would rather face the real you comfortably than the mask you are wearing now."
"Your Grace, the woman speaking to you now is real enough. Of course, that friendly, loving image before the commoners is what Grandmother taught me.
"But a queen with such an image will better support your rule, will it not?"
When Robb spoke so directly, Margaery's eyes flickered. Then she let out a long breath and answered in a lighter tone.
"Lady Olenna taught you well. You can keep that image of a queen who loves the commons. I also think the people will like you as queen."
Seeing Margaery no longer so cautious, Robb discussed her public image with her openly.
"Your Grace, what does that word mean?"
"Forget I said it. Margaery, what else did you hear in what I said just now?"
Robb waved the question away and moved past the subject.
"Your Grace, thank you for choosing and trusting House Tyrell.
"Our house will be your greatest support. We will help you take the Iron Throne and become the only king of the Seven Kingdoms."
How could the clever Margaery fail to understand the meaning in Robb's words? Her voice was sincere as she made her promise.
"Good. It seems we will understand each other well enough.
"But this matter is not yours to decide. I still need to hear Lady Olenna's view.
"She invited me today because she wants to discuss this, does she not?"
Robb, fairly satisfied with Margaery, looked toward the third wall drawing closer and spoke leisurely.
"Today, I seemed to be distributing food to the laborers, but in truth I was waiting for you. That was Grandmother's idea, so her meaning must be the same as mine."
"We will know soon enough."
Robb's answer was noncommittal. With the serious matter finished, he placed his free left hand around Margaery's slender waist and let it move.
After the faintly intimate ride to the green-gardened inner castle, Robb and Margaery dismounted beneath Lord Mace's very satisfied gaze and walked forward hand in hand.
In the meeting that followed, Olenna, always sharp-tongued, spoke to him with great care. The king's own manner was courteous and polite, showing House Tyrell ample respect.
The result was exactly as he expected. Though Olenna was very old, her mind remained clear, and she did not dare make any excessive demands of him.
She sincerely asked Robb to help House Tyrell destroy the rebellious houses of the Reach and hold a grand wedding with Margaery, worthy of a king.
Of course, both the grain and military expenses for Robb's campaign and the cost of the great wedding would be borne by wealthy House Tyrell.
Beyond the gold and goods worth two million gold dragons that House Tyrell had already promised Robb for saving Highgarden, which would soon be delivered to him, they would provide an additional million gold dragons as dowry.
They would also provide five million bushels of wheat, two million bushels each of barley, oats, and rye, as well as fifty thousand cattle and eighty thousand sheep.
To be honest, the wealth of the southern regions kept refreshing Robb's understanding of the world.
Nothing else needed to be mentioned. The five million bushels of wheat alone would be enough for an army of sixty or seventy thousand from the North, Riverlands, and Iron Islands to eat their fill for nearly a year.
Hearing such a rich dowry, Robb's face broke into a brilliant smile. In his eyes, everyone in House Tyrell looked like a walking treasury.
With Margaery's wealthy family providing such powerful support, he felt there was no need to wait until the Westerlands stabilized as he had planned. He already had the strength to tear House Lannister down from the Iron Throne.
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