[Chapter Size: 1200 Words.]
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While Theon was tending his garden, an unprecedented uprising erupted in King's Landing.
The High Sparrow was accused of treason and surrounded by the Westerlands army.
At the same time, the High Sparrow proclaimed that a devil's incarnation lurked near His Majesty and that he must purge the king's side.
Thus began a street battle unlike any King's Landing had ever seen. Facing the Sparrows, who knew the alleys better than anyone, the soldiers of the Westerlands found themselves locked in stalemate.
Yet the fighting brought disaster to the smallfolk and minor nobility alike. Refugees rioted, looting, burning, and killing at will. Many noblewomen suffered unspeakable abuses.
As the war reached its peak, Tywin suddenly died. According to the Grand Maester, his cause of death was a heart attack.
Tywin's passing immediately halted Kevan's campaign against the High Sparrow, for Cersei, as queen regent, summoned the ministers to prepare her father's funeral.
To Cersei, the priority now was honoring Tywin, not spilling more blood. King's Landing was already mired in chaos, and with Tywin gone, the city was as fragile as an eggshell.
By then, Kevan understood Cersei's intent. She was determined to side with the High Sparrow.
Looking down at the royal decree in his hand, Kevan sighed in resignation and called off the siege.
Watching Kevan's forces withdraw, the High Sparrow finally straightened his bent back. He was at the edge of his strength, with only a handful of fighters still standing.
This battle had shown him clearly the gulf between zealots and a true army, both in discipline and in arms.
Without his knowledge of the slums and the advantage of the terrain, the Faith Militant would not have lasted even two days.
…
The Red Keep.
"You cannot control the High Sparrow, and you will regret this." Kevan's words carried both warning and disappointment.
With that, he turned away. Tywin's body needed to be carried west for burial.
As Kevan left, Cersei's eyes glimmered. Whether from grief at Tywin's death, or because she had played a hand in it, none could say.
Tywin's funeral was grand, but not in King's Landing. He was laid to rest at Casterly Rock in the Westerlands.
By the end, Tywin Lannister was dead. Cersei seized power once more, while Jaime returned to Casterly Rock to inherit his father's seat.
The power balance in King's Landing shifted again. Cersei served as Hand of the King, as queen regent, rose to the height of authority once more.
House Tyrell of Highgarden was pressed down under her heel yet again.
"Cersei has regained everything she wanted. We must tread carefully," Olenna warned Margaery.
"Do not worry. Tommen adores me, and he is still a boy who has just tasted forbidden fruit." Margaery's tone brimmed with confidence.
"There is little need for concern," Olenna continued, her voice laced with triumph. "The most anxious party now must surely be the Riverlands. We shall have quite the spectacle."
"Shall we send troops to aid them?" Margaery asked curiously.
"A token gesture, perhaps. But remember this, one does not need a lion to be queen. Yet if a lion wishes to sit securely upon the Iron Throne, it must depend on us."
Her words carried unshakable confidence. For Tommen to keep the Iron Throne, he needed the strength of the Reach.
At present, the Stormlands had almost no remaining forces, and the Westerlands had suffered severe losses in their war with the North, while the Riverlands had been largely spared.
The Vale's strength was not to be underestimated. A paradise in Westeros, it was well shielded by natural defenses, but that did not mean its fighting men were weak.
For the Vale boasted a great many knights.
…
February 2
Westeros was struck by an unprecedented storm.
At Pyke Castle, Theon stood near the window, watching the furious tempest outside.
Thunder rumbled across the sky, white and silver lightning split the darkness, and for an instant a monstrous shape seemed to flash across the heavens.
Suddenly, Myrcella rushed up behind him. "What are you looking at?"
"The rain," Theon replied. "Heavy rain always draws the eye. I've always liked watching storms, they make me feel alive."
"But isn't rain the best time to sleep?" Myrcella tilted her head. For her, nothing was more soothing than drifting off to the sound of rainfall.
"Hurry along, Sister Selena has already warmed the bed!" Myrcella tugged playfully at Theon's sleeve.
He laughed. "Very well, I won't watch any longer." Then he led Myrcella back to sleep.
The storm raged throughout the night, tapering to drizzle by morning.
Yet thanks to the cement works, the roads of Pyke were never muddy. Cement production was steady, but every pound had to be carefully recorded.
Nearly all of it went into building roads and city walls, not for private use.
Because of this, some peasants' thatch-and-mud houses collapsed during the storm. Most families could afford to build stone houses, but sudden wealth had made them frugal, stingy even, instead of lavish.
Now, however, repairs could no longer be delayed.
Meanwhile, Pyke's waterproof pipeline system was nearly complete. As Theon's stronghold, the city had already included two expansions in its long-term plans.
Each expansion began with laying new underground ducts.
"Your Majesty," reported Andre, "the New Year's levy has begun in Riverrun. Enrollment this year far exceeds last year's. Judging by the volunteers, most are drawn by the army's benefits."
Theon smiled. "What else did you expect? That men would come out of loyalty to emperor and realm?"
"We are raising soldiers, Andre. Without proper pay, there is no army worth the name."
"The armies of the world can be divided into three kinds," Theon continued, his voice carrying a touch of distant memory. "The lowest tier fights only for another's gain. Such hosts collapse at the first true setback. The second tier fights for its own benefit or from religious zeal. These can endure great losses, even more than half their number, without breaking."
He paused for a moment, as though recalling something long past.
"And the first tier?" Andre asked, curiosity piqued.
"The highest kind fights for belief, not religious deception, but true conviction. Such an army does not yield, even if its last soldier falls."
Andre frowned slightly. He suspected his king was exaggerating. "Majesty, have you ever seen such an army?"
"No," Theon admitted. "But the elders once told me of a kingdom."
"A kingdom?" Andre twitched at the odd remark. Theon often spoke of strange things no one else could grasp.
By now Andre was used to it and quickly changed the subject. "Shall we expand this year?"
"Of course. War is coming," Theon replied firmly. "Tell Tyrion to raise the strength to one hundred thousand. Recruit fifty thousand more this year."
One hundred thousand was the maximum Riverrun could presently support. But with the gradual spread of disaster-resistant wheat, grain yields in Riverrun had risen by at least thirty percent this year.
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