Late autumn in King's Landing always brought an impenetrable morning mist. The stained-glass windows of the council chamber were blurred by the fog, and only candlelight flickered on the bronze candelabra, casting shifting shadows of the figures at both ends of the long table.
Tyrion stood in the center of the long table, leaning on his oak cane, his fingertips caressing a thick roll of parchment—this was the "Westeros Anti-the cold god Conscription Order (Draft)" he had drafted over three sleepless nights.
The edges of the parchment were frayed from his fingers, and beneath the key clause, "Each territory to contribute 10% of troops to form a united army," there were still charcoal smudges from his repeated revisions.
On both sides of the long table, representatives from various territories had arrived, but the atmosphere was tenser than the cold winds of the Wall.
Lord Jason Lannister of the Westerlands sat at the head of the left side, the lion emblem on his red brocade robe gleaming under the candlelight.
He toyed with a bronze ring in his hand, his eyes occasionally scanning the parchment in Tyrion's hand, a barely perceptible sneer hidden at the corner of his mouth.
Edgar Frey of the Riverlands sat beside him, his fingers tapping lightly on the table in a chaotic rhythm, revealing his inner anxiety—House Frey had suffered heavy losses in the war and was now most unwilling to commit more troops and deplete its strength.
On the right side, Sansa wore a dark gray wool dress with a Direwolf embroidered on the collar.
She had just arrived from Winterfell, and her cloak still carried specks of snow from the North.
Yara leaned back in her chair, a kraken-emblazoned battle-axe hanging from the waist of her black leather armor, her gaze fixed on the direction of The Vale outside the council chamber—Drogon's roar had been exceptionally loud last night, and she guessed that Arya and Illyrio's dragon evolution fluid had made progress, which gave her more confidence in conscripting against the cold god.
Daenerys sat by the throne at the head of the long table, not in her usual dragon-scaled leather armor, but in a plain linen robe, with a dragonblood jade belt tied around her waist.
She looked at the silent lords below, her fingertips tapping lightly on the armrest—since Melisandre initiated the R'hllor Warriors training and Arya sent news of the dragon evolution fluid, the alliance's confidence in fighting the cold god had grown.
However, "insufficient troops" remained the biggest shortcoming. Bran's Greensight had repeatedly warned of "the cold god's Wights army exceeding a hundred thousand." If a united army was not formed soon, the Wall would likely not hold.
"My lords," Tyrion cleared his throat, tapping his cane lightly on the flagstones, breaking the silence in the hall.
"I have called you all today to finalize the troop deployment for the united army against the cold god.
Bran's Greensight shows that the Wights from the Arctic ice fields have begun to gather at the Wall.
The Night's Watch's dragonglass arrow are only enough for ten days, and food transport to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea is also hindered by the ice mist—we have no more time to delay."
He unrolled the parchment, his voice clear and strong: "The core of the 'Westeros Anti-the cold god Conscription Order' draft has three points: First, each territory will contribute 10% of their existing forces to form the 'United Army against the cold god,' commanded by Jon, with Illyrio as tactical advisor.
Second, the contributing territories must also provide 10% of their food supplies, and the alliance will allocate additional supplies from the granaries of King's Landing and White Harbor to cover any shortfall.
Third, the united army's dragonglass weapons will be supplied uniformly by The Citadel, and the R'hllor equipment will be blessed by Melisandre's priests."
As soon as he finished speaking, Jason Lannister immediately stood up, slamming his bronze ring heavily on the table: "Lord Tyrion, you are emptying the Westerlands!
After Cersei's downfall, the Westerlands' forces have only recovered to sixty percent.
10% of the troops means three thousand men, plus food, the common people of the Westerlands will starve!"
His voice carried a deliberately amplified anger as he scanned the other territorial representatives, clearly intending to incite opposition.
Edgar Frey immediately echoed: "Lord Jason is right! The Riverlands have just experienced war, the fields are barren, and there aren't even enough seeds.
How can we supply the united army with extra food?
Furthermore, if 10% of the troops leave, what about the territory's defense?
If the cold god doesn't attack, but we're first plundered by bandits, who will be responsible?"
The hall instantly stirred, with minor lords from the Westerlands and the Riverlands nodding in agreement, and even some representatives from The Stormlands showed hesitation—The Stormlands, being close to Blackwater Bay, worried about coastal defenses being empty after sending troops, leaving them vulnerable to surprise attacks by Qarthian Merchants.
Sansa frowned, unconsciously clutching the hem of her wool dress.
She knew the North had to support the conscription order, but she also understood the concerns of other territories.
If these worries couldn't be properly addressed, the proposal would likely die in its infancy.
Tyrion was not flustered by the opposition.
He pulled out another roll of parchment from his embrace, densely covered with data on each territory's military strength and food supplies—this was compiled jointly by The Citadel and the King's Landing quartermaster, precise down to the number of soldiers, granary reserves, and even the number of mobilizable artisans for each territory.
"Lord Jason, the Westerlands currently have thirty-two thousand troops, so 10% is three thousand two hundred men," Tyrion's cane pointed to the Westerlands data on the parchment.
"And the Westerlands' granary reserves are one hundred fifty thousand stones, 10% is only fifteen thousand stones, which, calculating two catties of food per person per day for the united army, is enough to support three thousand men for four months—and this doesn't even include the alliance's supplementary allocations.
How could the common people starve?"
He paused, then turned his gaze to Edgar Frey: "Lord Edgar, the Riverlands currently have eighteen thousand troops, 10% is one thousand eight hundred men, and food reserves of eighty thousand stones, 10% is eight thousand stones.
The alliance has coordinated with House Manderly of White Harbor to supplement the Riverlands with five thousand stones of food, and will also send fifty Maester agronomists to the Riverlands to guide spring plowing—your concerns about food and territorial defense, we already have contingency plans."
Tyrion walked to the center of the council chamber, holding up a Greensight map hand-drawn by Bran, on which the movements of the Wights army were marked in red.
"Please look, my lords, the cold god's Wights have split into three routes: the eastern route points to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, the central route targets Castle Black, and the western route heads towards Shadow Tower—if the Wall is breached, the ice mist will first engulf the North, then spread through the Riverlands and the Westerlands.
In less than three months, all of Westeros will become an ice field.
By then, let alone troops and food, even your territories, castles, and families will become food for the Wights."
His voice was deep yet powerful, and the commotion in the hall gradually subsided.
Yara then stood up, the metal buckles of her black leather armor clinking crisply: "The Iron Islands support the conscription order.
We currently have twenty warships and five thousand troops, and are willing to send five hundred men, plus five warships to assist the united army in patrolling the coastline—the cold god's Wights can attack from the sea, the Iron Islands cannot stand idly by."
Sansa followed suit, her gaze sweeping over the hesitant lords: "The North supports the conscription order.
The North currently has fifty thousand troops and is willing to send five thousand, supplying twenty thousand stones of food.
The North is closest to the Wall and knows the threat of the Wights better than anyone—if the united army cannot stop the cold god, the North will be the first to suffer, and by then, your territories will not be safe either."
Obara Sand, the Dornish representative, also stated: "Though Dorne is far, we also understand the principle of 'when the lips are gone, the teeth are cold.'
We currently have twenty-five thousand troops and are willing to send two thousand five hundred, and also provide one thousand catties of sunflower oil—this oil can resist severe cold, and perhaps help the united army fight in the ice mist."
Maester Sam's messenger then walked into the council chamber and handed over a secret letter.
Tyrion opened it and a hint of joy flashed in his eyes: "Maester Sam has sent word that The Citadel's dragonglass mine has resumed full-scale mining, producing three hundred catties of dragonglass daily, enough to forge two hundred dragonglass spears.
Melisandre's r'hllor powder has also been mass-produced, allowing every soldier of the united army to be equipped with a R'hllor-blessed dragonglass dagger—we have weapons, we have equipment, all we lack are troops."
Jason Lannister's expression was somewhat grim, but he still refused to give up: "Even if food and weapons are not an issue, who will be responsible for the casualties of the soldiers?
If our men die at the Wall, what about the troop vacancies in our territories?
Can the alliance compensate?"
This was the most pressing question for all the lords—sending troops meant casualties, and no one wanted to damage their territory's strength for the sake of fighting the cold god.
Tyrion had anticipated this question.
He walked to the long table and placed a supplementary clause in front of Jason: "This is the 'Conscription Order Supplementary Agreement,' which states—all contributing territories will receive three compensations after the war: First, a three-year tax exemption.
Second, the alliance will prioritize the supply of dragonglass and R'hllor equipment for territorial defense.
Third, the families of fallen soldiers will receive a ten-year pension from the alliance, and their children will have priority for positions in The Citadel or the Night's Watch."
He paused, then added: "In addition, the alliance will form a 'Territorial Defense Support Team,' composed of Unsullied and R'hllor Warriors, to be stationed in vulnerable areas after each territory sends its troops—such as Casterly Rock in the Westerlands and Riverrun in the Riverlands, to ensure your territories' safety."
These words precisely struck the lords' weak points.
Edgar Frey picked up the supplementary agreement, repeatedly confirming the clauses on "pension" and "defense support," and the hesitation in his eyes gradually dissipated: "If the alliance can fulfill its promises, the Riverlands are willing to send one thousand eight hundred troops and supply eight thousand stones of food."
The representative from The Stormlands also relented: "The Stormlands are willing to send two thousand troops and dispatch three warships to assist in patrols."
Jason Lannister watched as the surrounding lords defected one after another, knowing that further opposition would be futile, yet still wanting to secure more benefits: "The Westerlands can send three thousand two hundred troops, but the alliance must prioritize equipping the Westerlands' soldiers with R'hllor weapons, and also send artisans from The Citadel to repair Casterly Rock's defensive fortifications."
"No problem," Tyrion readily agreed.
"The soldiers of the Westerlands, along with those from the North and the Iron Islands, will be prioritized for R'hllor equipment.
The artisans from The Citadel will go to Casterly Rock within a week, and the necessary materials will be borne by the alliance."
The atmosphere in the hall finally eased, and representatives from various territories began to discuss the specific details of troop deployment: the five thousand men from the North would be led by Wyman, son of Lord Manderly, departing from White Harbor in three days.
The three thousand two hundred men from the Westerlands would be led by Jason's nephew, Cleo, assembling in King's Landing within ten days.
The one thousand eight hundred men from the Riverlands would be personally commanded by Edgar, and after converging with the two thousand five hundred men from Dorne, they would travel overland to the Wall.
The five hundred men from the Iron Islands would accompany Yara's warships, responsible for the united army's maritime supply line.
Daenerys watched the scene before her, a sigh of relief in her heart.
She stood up and walked to the center of the long table, her voice carrying an undeniable authority: "Since you all have reached a consensus, I announce that the 'Westeros Anti-the cold god Conscription Order' officially enters the deliberation phase.
A council will be held in three days for the final vote.
During this period, each territory must confirm the number of troops and food List, and report them to the King's Landing quartermaster.
Lord Tyrion is responsible for coordinating with The Citadel and Melisandre to ensure the supply of weapons and R'hllor equipment.
Lady Sansa and Lord Yara, you are responsible for overseeing your territories' troop preparations, and if any lord delays, report it to the council promptly."
The lords stood up and assented, and the council concluded in a pragmatic atmosphere.
Jason Lannister was the last to leave.
As he passed Tyrion, he whispered: "Imp, don't think this will make the Westerlands completely submit to the alliance.
If the alliance fails to deliver on its promises after the war, the Westerlands will show you what Lannister revenge is."
Tyrion responded with a laugh, "Lord Jason, the Lannister always 'pays his debts,' and the alliance is no different. As long as the Westerlands sends troops according to the conscription order, we will fulfill our post-war promises down to the last coin."
Jason snorted, turned, and left. Tyrion watched his retreating back, a flicker of vigilance in his eyes—he knew Jason would not easily give up the struggle for power; the passing of the conscription order was merely a temporary calm.
After the council, Jason Lannister did not return to the Westerlands. Instead, he secretly gathered several minor lords from the Westerlands and the Riverlands for a clandestine meeting in a tavern in King's Landing.
In the private room of the tavern, the candlelight was dim. Jason pushed a mug of ale towards Edgar Frey: "Do you really think the alliance will keep its promises? Tyrion's words are just for show. Once the allied army defeats the cold god, Daenerys will only prioritize the Unsullied and the Dothraki. No one will care about the interests of us nobles."
Edgar took a sip of ale, his eyes full of hesitation: "But the alliance's supplementary agreement is very clear, and there's Queen Daenerys's promise..."
"Promises? They're just empty words!" Jason interrupted him, pulling a secret letter from his Huai. "This is news I got from a Qarthian Merchants. Daenerys is negotiating with the Thirteen of Qarth, hoping to exchange dragonglass for their magical support—once the cold god is defeated, the Qarthian Merchants will definitely establish strongholds in Westeros. By then, our territories will be infiltrated by their magical forces, which is even more terrifying than the council system!"
A minor lord from the Westerlands echoed, "Lord Jason is right! We cannot let Daenerys and Tyrion control all power. We can agree to the conscription order, but we can delay the deployment of troops and reduce food supplies, causing difficulties for the allied army's preparations—by then, the alliance will have no choice but to rely on us, and only then can we secure more benefits."
Jason nodded with satisfaction: "Exactly. On the surface, we'll prepare according to the conscription order, but secretly, we'll slow down the pace—the soldiers of the Westerlands can delay their departure on the grounds of 'insufficient training,' and the food supplies from the Riverlands can be reduced due to 'transportation difficulties.' When the alliance gets desperate, we'll propose our conditions: after the war, the Westerlands must control the dragonglass mines of Casterly Rock, and the Riverlands must have House Frey's titles restored—if they don't agree, we won't send troops."
The few men reached a consensus and raised their cups in an oath, unaware that outside the private room, a Northern scout sent by Sansa was quietly recording their conversation. The scout quickly returned to the Winterfell outpost in King's Landing and reported what he had heard to Sansa.
Sansa sat in the study of the outpost, her brows furrowed as she read the scout's report. She walked to the window, gazing at the Red Keep in the distance, a hint of worry in her heart—if Jason's plot succeeded, the allied army's preparations would fall into chaos, and the defense of the Wall would also be hampered.
"Immediately send a raven to White Harbor," Sansa told her attendant, "Tell Lord Manderly to prepare the North's forces and provisions in advance, to depart punctually in three days. At the same time, send five hundred Northern rangers to secretly monitor the deployment of troops from the Westerlands and the Riverlands. If any delays are found, report back immediately."
She paused, then added: "Also, write a letter to Jon, inform him of Jason's plot, and tell him to prepare at the Wall. Even if the allied army is delayed, the Night's Watch must be able to hold out until reinforcements arrive." The attendant acknowledged and left. Sansa walked to the bookshelf and pulled out a copy of 'The Northern Defense Manual,' a relic left by Ned, which contained instructions on how to deal with allied betrayals and delays. She gently caressed the pages, her heart firm: "The North cannot let Jason's plot succeed. The allied army fighting the cold god must not make any mistakes."
At the same time, Tyrion was in the military quartermaster's office in King's Landing, working with the quartermaster and Citadel craftsmen to formulate the allied army's material allocation plan. The stone walls of the quartermaster's office were covered with lists of provisions and weapons from various territories. Tyrion used a red pen to mark the lists of the Westerlands and the Riverlands: "The food from the Westerlands must be transported in three batches, five thousand stones per batch, escorted by Northern rangers; the soldiers from the Riverlands must be mixed with the soldiers from Dorne in combined units to prevent them from delaying if they act alone."
A dragonglass craftsman from The Citadel then reported: "Lord Tyrion, based on the troop strength calculated from the conscription order, we need to forge twenty thousand dragonglass spears and fifty thousand dragonglass arrows. Currently, The Citadel's inventory only has ten thousand spears and thirty thousand arrows, and it will take another month to complete the remaining forging."
"Not enough," Tyrion shook his head. "It must be completed within twenty days. I will have The Citadel transfer fifty more craftsmen, and at the same time, have the Forges in King's Landing also join in the crafting of dragonglass weapons. All participating craftsmen will be paid double by the alliance." He turned to the quartermaster and said, "Food reserves must also be increased. In addition to what is supplied by each territory, King's Landing's granaries must reserve another one hundred thousand stones to prevent delays in supply from the Westerlands and the Riverlands."
To prevent the lords from feigning compliance, Tyrion also established a "three-tier oversight mechanism": the first tier consisted of a "Conscription Oversight Committee" made up of council representatives, which would inspect the progress of troop deployment in each territory weekly; the second tier consisted of "Material Verification Teams" made up of Unsullied, who would physically count provisions and weapons; and the third tier consisted of "Mobile Patrol Teams" made up of Northern rangers, who would supervise the assembly and departure of forces.
"The Oversight Committee must include representatives from each territory," Tyrion told the council secretary who had arrived. "The Westerlands will send one representative, the Riverlands one, and the North, Iron Islands, and Dorne each one, to ensure fairness in oversight—only by having them supervise each other can delays and concealment be reduced."
The council secretary finished recording and asked with a puzzled expression, "Lord Tyrion, did you anticipate that the lords would delay?"
"After spending enough time in Westeros, you learn that the interests of the nobility always come first," Tyrion said with a smile. "We cannot expect them to truly care about the alliance; we can only use systems and oversight to ensure the implementation of the conscription order. the cold god will not give us time to bicker; we must complete the assembly of the allied army within a month, otherwise, it will be too late."
Outside the military quartermaster's office, the lingering rays of the setting sun cast long shadows of the quartermaster's office on the walls of King's Landing. Tyrion leaned on his cane, watching the busy figures of the craftsmen, his heart filled with urgency—he knew that the deliberation of the conscription order was only the first step, and subsequent implementation would encounter more difficulties, but as long as the allied army against the cold god could be formed, it would secure a glimmer of hope for Westeros.
Three days later, on the eve of the final vote on the conscription order, the streets of King's Landing were unusually quiet. The common people, knowing that the conscription order was crucial to the success or failure of the fight against the cold god, gathered outside the council hall, holding banners that read "Support the Allied Army" and shouting slogans of "Defeat the cold god."
Daenerys stood on the Red Keep's terrace, looking at the common people below, a warmth rising in her heart—the people's will was united; as long as the nobles did not interfere, the formation of the allied army could proceed smoothly.
Tyrion came to the terrace, holding the final version of the conscription order and the supplementary agreement: "Tomorrow's vote, more than half of the territories should support it. The North, Iron Islands, Dorne, and some lords of The Stormlands will all support it. Even if the Westerlands and the Riverlands oppose it, it won't change the outcome."
"But Jason's plot cannot be ignored," Daenerys said with concern. "Sansa sent word that Jason is secretly colluding to delay the deployment of troops. We must be prepared to respond."
"I have already made arrangements," Tyrion nodded. "The oversight mechanism has been activated, and Northern rangers are secretly monitoring the Westerlands and the Riverlands. If they dare to delay, we will use the alliance's provisions and weapons to support other territories, making them isolated. Additionally, Melisandre's R'hllor Warriors training is progressing smoothly and can be sent to the Wall in ten days. Even if the allied army is delayed, the Night's Watch will be able to hold out for a longer time."
Daenerys looked at Tyrion, her eyes full of relief: "With you here, I feel much more at ease. The path to defeat the cold god is difficult, but as long as we are united, there is no difficulty we cannot overcome."
The wind on the terrace gradually picked up, and Drogon's roar came from The Vale in the distance, carrying with it anticipation for the future. Tyrion knew that tomorrow's vote would be a new game of chess, but he was confident that the conscription order would pass—because it was not only the alliance's need but also the need of all Westeros.
As night deepened, the common people outside the council hall gradually dispersed, leaving only the patrolling Unsullied and R'hllor Warriors. Tyrion, leaning on his cane, walked down the terrace towards the military quartermaster's office—he still needed to confirm the material allocation one last time to ensure that preparations for the allied army could begin immediately after tomorrow's vote passed.
The lights of King's Landing gradually lit up, like stars of hope, illuminating the path against the cold god. Tyrion knew that the passing of the conscription order was only the first step for the alliance against the cold god; more challenges awaited in the future. But as long as the territories could unite, and as long as the common people remained steadfast in their support, they would surely defeat the cold god and bring true peace to Westeros.
The next morning, the council hall was packed, with representatives from various territories sitting solemnly on both sides of the long table. Tyrion stood in the center, holding the final version of the "Westeros Conscription Order Against the cold god." The ink on the parchment was dry, and the terms were clear and concise.
"Now, let the voting begin," Daenerys announced. The council secretary walked to each representative with the ballot box. Representatives from the North, Iron Islands, and Dorne cast their votes in favor first. The representative from The Stormlands hesitated for a moment, then also voted in favor. Representatives from the Westerlands and the Riverlands voted against, while most other minor territories' representatives voted in favor.
The council secretary finished counting and announced loudly: "Twelve votes in favor, five votes against. The 'Westeros Conscription Order Against the cold god' is officially passed!"
A warm applause erupted in the hall. Daenerys stood up, her voice filled with joy: "From today onwards, each territory must complete troop assembly within twenty days and arrive at the Wall within thirty days; the quartermaster is responsible for material allocation; The Citadel and Melisandre are responsible for the supply of weapons and R'hllor equipment; and Lord Tyrion is appointed as the Allied Army's Quartermaster General, overseeing all preparatory work."
Jason Lannister's face was ashen, but he had no choice but to accept the outcome. He stood up and left the council hall, secretly vowing that even if the conscription order passed, he would create trouble for the alliance during the deployment process. Sansa watched Jason's retreating back and nodded to the Northern scout beside her. The scout immediately followed Jason, continuing to monitor his movements.
Tyrion walked to the long table and raised the parchment: "Let us unite, for Westeros, for the common people, for our future, to defeat the cold god and usher in peace!"
The representatives cheered in unison, their voices echoing to the heavens, intertwining with Drogon's roar from afar, forming an uplifting force. The sunlight of King's Landing pierced through the mist, casting a rainbow of light on the stained-glass windows of the council hall—the formation of the allied army against the cold god had finally taken a crucial step, and Westeros's hope against the darkness became even brighter at that moment.
As night deepened, the common people outside the council hall gradually dispersed, leaving only the patrolling Unsullied and R'hllor Warriors. Tyrion, leaning on his cane, walked down the terrace towards the military quartermaster's office—he still needed to confirm the material allocation one last time to ensure that preparations for the allied army could begin immediately after tomorrow's vote passed.