Before the herald had even finished speaking, Robert's loud laughter echoed into the hall.
Because of the pressure coming from Viserys, Robert had not allowed himself to grow as bloated as he once had.
Though he was heavier than a few years ago, he still remained within a normal range.
If anything, the added weight made him look even more imposing and powerful.
As he entered, he had his arm wrapped tightly around Eddard's shoulder, pulling him along with him.
The grip was strong enough that Ned felt slightly uncomfortable, but in such a public setting, he would never embarrass his king.
"As long as you stand with me, even if the Black Death himself returned, we would have nothing to fear! Hahaha!"
Robert deliberately laughed loudly so everyone in the hall could hear him.
This brother he had grown up with was one of the very few people he truly trusted. He intended to keep him close at all times.
After entering the hall, Robert walked straight to his seat and sat down.
Behind him followed a golden-haired boy, none other than Prince Joffrey, who had been brought along to serve as a cupbearer.
At only eight or nine years old, Joffrey found the entire experience fascinating and exciting.
"My king."
The assembled lords all rose and bowed.
Robert gave a slight nod, signaling them to sit.
"I believe Lord Arryn has already conveyed my intentions to all of you. If anyone has objections, speak now."
His gaze swept across the gathered representatives like a stag surveying its herd.
Among them, Willas could clearly feel that most of the pressure was being directed at him.
Of everyone present, he was the only one who belonged neither to the Baratheon-aligned alliance nor to House Lannister.
Before leaving, his grandmother, Olenna, had warned him that House Targaryen was a looming shadow over Baratheon rule, one that was gathering thunder.
But whoever charged first against that storm would suffer the worst fate.
Because of that, Willas had already decided on his approach. He would cooperate to a certain degree, but maintain balance.
He could not afford to anger the Targaryens, nor could he give Robert an excuse to target House Tyrell.
"The suggestion made by Lord Brynden is quite reasonable," Willas said. "Highgarden is connected to the Crownlands by the Mander River. We can provide grain."
Robert was clearly not satisfied.
Having grown up in the Vale, he had always lived in noble comfort.
In his mind, food was as abundant and effortless as sunlight and air. What Highgarden offered fell far short of his expectations.
"The Reach possesses the most fertile lands in Westeros, second only to the North in size.
In addition to grain, Highgarden will provide ten thousand men to join the royal army."
Willas's expression tightened slightly.
Ten thousand men, spoken as casually as if it were nothing.
More importantly, Robert had specifically demanded that Highgarden provide them.
But the Reach was not solely controlled by House Tyrell. The House Hightower of Oldtown and other powerful lords held significant influence.
This demand was clearly meant to weaken the Tyrells.
"Your Grace, it is currently the farming season. A large conscription would disrupt food production.
Perhaps the number could be reduced, or the timeline extended."
Willas did not refuse outright. Instead, he chose to negotiate.
"Tyrell! Do you think this is some marketplace where you can bargain? This is a king's command!"
Robert's voice rose, carrying the full weight of royal authority.
Beside him, Joffrey watched with shining eyes.
"This is a king's command," he whispered to himself, repeating his father's words.
In his mind, when he became king one day, he would speak just like this.
Willas met Robert's gaze but quickly realized he could not withstand the pressure.
Even so, he did not fully yield.
At that moment, Jon stepped forward.
"Mercy is a king's virtue. His Grace does not require immediate conscription. After the harvest season, Highgarden can begin gathering men."
It was summer, and south of the Neck, crops could be harvested multiple times a year.
Which harvest they referred to could always be negotiated later. The priority now was to prevent the situation from escalating.
However, Robert was not willing to let it go.
"Then after the next harvest. Three months at most. I want to see a Reach army standing before me."
Even Eddard, seated beside him, felt the urge to intervene.
Around the hall, many lords watched with amusement, eager to see how Willas would respond. Only Tyrion gave him a look of faint sympathy.
Just then, a young assistant to the Grand Maester hurried forward and handed a letter to the maester, his expression grave.
The maester's face changed immediately.
He turned to pass the letter to Jon Arryn, but just as Arryn reached for it, Robert spoke.
"Your king is here."
The words instantly made the atmosphere tense.
"Your king is here," Joffrey repeated quietly from the side, his excitement almost overflowing.
He looked at the gathered lords, thinking that lions, wolves, and falcons alike all had to bow before the crowned stag.
Jon showed no sign of displeasure. The Vale had only one path—loyalty to House Baratheon.
He calmly handed the letter to Joffrey instead.
Joffrey proudly accepted it, then presented it respectfully to his father.
Robert took the letter but did not read it immediately. Instead, he looked around the hall once more, letting the moment settle.
His display of authority had clearly strengthened his presence.
Beside him, Eddard remained expressionless, though tension had already begun to build in his heart.
After what felt like several long heartbeats, Robert finally looked down at the contents.
The authority on his face melted away almost instantly.
"Fake. This must be fake!" he said, his voice rising. "Ned, take a look. How could this be possible?"
"Even if there were sixty thousand Dothraki, even if they were pigs, Viserys couldn't slaughter them all in three days!"
He handed the letter to Ned.
Ned quickly scanned the report, his eyes moving rapidly over the battlefield details before settling on two lines of additional information.
Viserys had invited Pentos, Braavos, and Volantis to Gohor.
And together, they were preparing to march on Vaes Dothrak.
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