The brutal demonstration at Runestone had its intended effect. The remaining lords of the Vale, once proud and defiant, now acted like frightened ducks under the gaze of a predator. No longer did they argue about tradition or ancient rights. Instead, they moved with hushed efficiency, packing centuries of accumulated family wealth into long carriage convoys. Under the watchful eyes of Starfire City soldiers, they were escorted to the port of Seagull Town and loaded onto ferries bound for King's Landing.
Even Robert Arryn, the nine-year-old Warden of the East and Lord of the Eyrie, was not spared. His mother, Lysa Tully, gathered the family's vast property and followed her brother, Edmure, onto a steel transport ship—the final vessel leaving for the capital.
While the nobility departed, Colonel Luo remained in the Vale with 30,000 troops. His mission was two-fold: reorganize the local levies and conduct a ruthless sweep of the mountain tribes and bandits. In this new era, law and order were non-negotiable. Criminals caught by Luo's men were publicly executed daily, serving as a grim warning to any minor houses thinking of causing trouble in the power vacuum.
The Sight of the Future
As the steel transport ship entered Blackwater Bay, the passengers were greeted by a scene of chaotic, industrial energy. The North Shore was being transformed into a modern deep-water port. The air vibrated with the roar of excavators, bulldozers, and loading trucks clearing the land under the direction of modern technicians. Thousands of locals, recruited from the streets of King's Landing, worked as laborers, learning the ways of modern construction as they went.
Standing on the deck, Lysa Tully gripped her son's shoulder, her face pale with shock. "What... what are those things?" she whispered.
Young Robert leaned over the railing, his eyes wide with wonder. "Look, Mother! Those carriages are huge! They move without horses! It's amazing!".
Edmure Tully stood beside them, equally stunned. It was his first time seeing the modern machinery in action. "Those are the 'cars' His Majesty brought from the modern world," Edmure explained, his voice thick with awe. "They say they burn a special oil and can run forever. They are magical steel beasts from another world".
Family Ties and Hidden Guilt
As they disembarked, Lysa's awe turned to sharp anxiety. She pulled Edmure aside, her voice trembling. "Edmure, you promised... you said Robert would be safe. You said no one would hurt him".
"Sister, calm yourself," Edmure reassured her. "Sansa is one of the King's queens now. She is your niece; she will never allow any harm to come to your son".
Lysa nodded, but the secret weight of her past crimes—the poisoning of her husband Jon Arryn and her conspiracies with Petyr Baelish—gnawed at her. She hesitated before whispering, "And Petyr? Please, Edmure... I can't lose him. You must save him".
Edmure, still unaware of Baelish's role in the downfall of Ned Stark or the murder of Jon Arryn, felt a flicker of childhood nostalgia. "I will do what I can, Lysa. I'll try to intercede for him if the opportunity arises".
Unlike the Western captives who were treated as war criminals and thrown into military stockades, the migrating nobles of the Vale were granted a degree of dignity. They were placed in grand mansions within King's Landing—estates that once belonged to local lords who were now themselves imprisoned. The Arryn family was escorted to a luxurious mansion formerly owned by Renly Baratheon, now part of the royal crown's property.
Petyr Baelish, however, was given no such luxury. He was taken by Kent's troops and thrown into a high-security prison camp outside the city to await trial.
A Kingdom of Three
Jason returned to the Red Keep by helicopter, landing in the central courtyard to a warm welcome from Daenerys and Sansa. He greeted them both with hugs and kisses, a rare moment of levity amidst the grinding gears of statecraft.
"How have you two been?" Jason asked. "I hope the weight of the realm hasn't been too tiring for my queens".
Sansa leaned into him, blushing slightly. "I'm learning," she admitted. "I'm not as quick with the ledgers as Daenerys, but I'm trying my best to help".
Daenerys stood by with a mature, knowing smile. Having survived years of hardship, she was far more comfortable with power. Backed by Varys and a council of modern advisors, she had already established herself as a formidable administrator. True to his word, Jason was allowing them both to participate in politics, governing the kingdom as a triumvirate.
The End of an Icon
As Jason enjoyed the company of his wives, preparations for the Great Trial were reaching their final stages. Outside the city walls, a massive temporary court had been constructed with wooden stands surrounding a high central platform for the King and Queens.
But inside the Red Keep, one significant change had already been made. Jason had looked at the Iron Throne—that jagged, uncomfortable chair made from the swords of fallen enemies—and found it primitive. He didn't want a seat of pain; he wanted progress. He had ordered the throne dismantled and hauled away to the blacksmiths, where the thousands of ancient blades were melted down to be recast into something far more useful.
The era of the sword was over. The era of the law was about to begin.