A Book of Ice and Fire / Game of Thrones : Magic Network

"'Sweet as a Song!' That is the motto of House Caron of Nightsong! Your Grace, they are so brazen they do not even trouble to conceal their identity!" Baron Rosby Mallister's face contorted with righteous indignation as he addressed the throne.

Perhaps by mere chance—though few in the Red Keep believed in such coincidences any longer—the Kingsguard assigned to flank the Iron Throne that day were Ser Loras Tyrell and Brienne of Tarth. As sworn members of the white cloaks, they maintained rigid silence, their eyes fixed forward, betraying nothing of their thoughts.

King Joffrey sat in cold repose upon the Iron Throne, his gaze sweeping over the assembled petitioners who sought the crown's justice.

Beside Baron Mallister stood Earl Joshua Mooton and Earl Triston Massey, with a huddle of gray-faced, bedraggled smallfolk kneeling behind them—men and women whose haunted expressions spoke of horrors witnessed and endured.

"You," Baron Mallister said, turning toward a one-armed youth among the petitioners. "Tell His Grace everything you have seen. Speak without fear, and report truthfully."

The ministers seated at the council table and the courtiers lining both sides of the hall fixed their attention upon the young man, who might once have been handsome before grief and trauma had carved their marks into his features.

The one-armed youth's face remained as still as a death mask, his words emerging flat and emotionless. "There were hundreds of them, all in armor and bearing shields with the black stag. They rode into Strand to proclaim Renly's decree, and they brought Old John's head as proof of their resolve."

Baron Mallister hastened to add context: "John Bywater was a knight I had personally elevated to his station. His fief was Strand village."

The maimed youth continued: "First they demanded half our grain stores. Then they stayed the night. Come morning, two of their number lay dead, and they put the entire village to the torch. The black-haired captain said, 'Sweet as a song,' then took my arm at the elbow."

A weathered fisherman standing nearby added his voice to the grim testimony. "It weren't just that, m'lords. They took every valuable thing, every morsel of food. They destroyed our boats and fishing nets—all means of feeding ourselves!"

A farmer whose face seemed carved from ancient oak wailed in anguish: "Those men were beasts in human form! My poor daughter, just 14 namedays old, was defiled by them throughout the night. When they departed, they took her with them. Only the gods know if she lives or has found merciful release in death!"

A ripple of horrified murmurs passed through the assembled courtiers.

Baron Mallister spoke again, his voice tight with barely contained fury. "The two men who supposedly died were villagers from Hayford, which also lies within my lands. It, too, was put to the torch on the same day as Strand. Other towns and villages have suffered similar fates in swift succession, revealing this as no random violence but a deliberate, coordinated campaign of terror."

Another farmer, his clothes still bearing the scorch marks of recent fire, raised his voice: "I come from Hayford. After the black-haired knights departed, another company arrived, led by a red-haired commander."

"The red-haired man's soldiers also suffered mysterious deaths," he continued, his voice breaking, "and our village paid the same terrible price."

An old man with a trembling white beard pushed forward, his aged voice quavering with rage rather than fear. "These were no mere raiding parties. I witnessed their approach with these failing eyes. Their cavalry and wagons all came from the south. The caravans brought scores of empty carts for the sole purpose of carrying away our life's possessions."

His rheumy eyes burned with indignation. "The merchants with the caravans paid the knights directly for their services! They are worse than common bandits! We have lost everything, so we have come to King's Landing to beg His Grace's protection."

Joffrey's gaze settled on Baron Rosby Mallister, who stood at the forefront of the petitioners and had spoken most forcefully on their behalf.

House Mallister was among the minor nobles of the eastern bank of the Wendwater. Their lands were barren, their commerce declining, their strategic position unremarkable, their role in the greater politics of the realm insignificant.

Yet Baron Mallister had demonstrated unwavering loyalty to the crown.

He had served at court for many years, and when Renly raised his banners in rebellion, Mallister had answered the throne's summons promptly, contributing 20 knights and 100 infantrymen to the royal army. Though modest in number, these forces represented the majority of House Mallister's military strength.

By both sentiment and reason, the Iron Throne could not ignore the atrocities committed within its loyal vassal's territory.

Joffrey shifted his attention to the two men who stood slightly behind Baron Mallister—Earl Joshua Mooton and Earl Triston Massey.

House Mooton was the most powerful family along the Wendwater, their lands lying south of House Mallister's modest holdings. Though not Mallister's direct liege lord, House Mooton clearly wielded considerable influence over its smaller neighbor.

Earl Mooton had thus far maintained a conspicuous silence.

Baron Mallister, perhaps sensing the king's assessment, hastened to add: "The rebel forces continue their northward advance, Your Grace—toward Massey's Hook!"

Northeast of the Wendwater lay the narrow peninsula known as Massey's Hook, which curved around the southern half of Blackwater Bay, effectively controlling a key approach to King's Landing by sea.

Without a strong navy, this promontory presented more liability than advantage.

Yet House Massey had evidently not dismissed the danger. Earl Triston Massey had personally sailed to King's Landing to join the other lords in their petition.

"Earl Mooton," Joffrey said at last, breaking his silence, "what is the situation within your territories?"

Joshua Mooton offered a respectful bow. "The rebels employed similar methods throughout my lands, Your Grace. Initially, they used severed heads to frame various towns and villages for imagined crimes. Later, they dispensed with even this pretense, simply declaring all within my domain to be traitors before destroying everything—leaving only people's lives, and not always those."

He gestured toward the bedraggled smallfolk behind him. "Your Grace, most of these souls have fled from lands under my protection."

Joffrey's voice deepened. "What course of action would you recommend?"

Earl Mooton maintained his respectful composure. "With war looming so close, all actions must be weighed with the utmost caution. I dare not request anything specific. I ask only that after victory is secured, those who have perpetrated these evils receive the justice they so richly deserve."

Such beautiful, thoughtful words. Joffrey almost believed their sincerity.

"Earl Massey," the king continued, "what are your thoughts on this matter?"

Triston Massey's face hardened with apparent indignation. "House Massey and its loyal subjects stand prepared to make whatever sacrifices might be required, Your Grace. The realm's greater welfare must take precedence over all other concerns. Massey's Hook, though dear to us, is of limited strategic importance. If defending it would disperse our strength and imperil the larger conflict, we must bear that burden."

Not a single word of truth.

Joffrey divided his mind, entering the virtual Small Council meeting through his divine grace light screen, engaging in silent deliberation with his ministers while maintaining his outward presence in the throne room.

Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Arryk Cargyll provided a summary of the latest intelligence:

"Renly's forces have completed their assembly, Your Grace.

10,000 cavalry and 20,000 infantry are currently stationed at Highgarden in the western Reach under the command of Earl Mathis Rowan, positioning themselves against Casterly Rock.

10,000 cavalry and 50,000 infantry have gathered at Bitterbridge in the eastern Reach, with Earl Randyll Tarly leading the vanguard and Duke Mace Tyrell as overall commander. They harass the Gold Road while securing their own supply lines.

According to reliable sources, the Bitterbridge contingent intends to march directly northward, crossing the Blackwater Rush at its upper reaches, then circling through the Riverlands to attack King's Landing from the north bank of the Blackwater.

7,000 men at Haystack Hall and 10,000 infantry at Bronzegate in the northern Stormlands and eastern Kingswood respectively await further orders.

5,000 cavalry are advancing northward along the Kingsroad from Storm's End and will soon arrive at Bronzegate."

Arryk's tone grew more somber as he continued:

"Additionally, 2,000 cavalry have invaded the Crownlands, burning, killing, and plundering along the Wendwater, driving the smallfolk before them like chaff before the wind.

The primary participants include knights from House Caron of Nightsong, House Buckler of Bronzegate, House Fell of Felwood, and House Grandison of Grandview.

Though they have made token efforts to conceal their allegiances, these knights continue to wear their family crests openly—a deliberate provocation, in my assessment.

The destruction they have wrought is systematic and thorough.

As of this morning, more than 52,000 refugees have sought shelter within King's Landing. Our estimates suggest that nearly 200,000 more are fleeing toward various parts of the Crownlands or making their way toward the capital.

The rebel vanguard has now entered Massey's Hook.

The majority of the Crownlands' military strength is concentrated here in King's Landing. Facing 2,000 veteran cavalry with more reinforcements likely en route, Massey's Hook's defensive capabilities are woefully inadequate. The more than 300,000 souls who dwell within its borders..."

Arryk's voice trailed off, the implications of his final words hanging in the air like a headsman's axe.

The ministers fell into contemplative silence, each weighing the grave situation confronting the realm.

A single question burned in every mind, though none dared voice it aloud:

What did His Grace the King intend to do?

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