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Ned gave a bitter smile and shook his head.
"I've been reading that book for days now, but when it comes to things like this, my mind still struggles to think that way."
He let out a quiet sigh.
"You're right, Perhaps I was never meant to play their games in King's Landing."
Jimmy set the bottom of the chest aside.
"The truth is, it's not that you weren't meant for it. It's that you were completely unsuited for it."
His voice remained calm, almost indifferent.
"Right now, your head is probably mounted on a spike outside the Red Keep."
Ned closed his eyes briefly.
"Thank you for saving my life," he said quietly. "If you could deliver word to my wife and son that I'm alive, I would be even more grateful."
"I already told you," Jimmy replied casually. "Beat me, Beat me once, and I'll do it."
He leaned back slightly.
"And I'll even give you one chance to switch sides, You command the Northern army. I'll take the Lannisters. You get one opportunity."
There was a hint of challenge in his voice.
Jimmy overturned the chest and dumped its contents onto the table.
A pile of gold dragons spilled out, mixed with silver stags. Jimmy barely spared them a glance. Coins meant nothing to him.
But a few unusual objects immediately caught his attention.
One in particular.
A small golden statue, hooded and faceless, clutching a skull in its hands. Two more skulls rested at its feet.
Jimmy picked it up, studying it curiously.
"That's the Stranger," Ned said. "One of the Seven. I never would have guessed Ilyn Payne worshiped the Stranger. I thought he'd follow the Warrior."
Jimmy snorted.
"Useless."
He clenched his fist.
Crunch.
The solid gold statue collapsed into a misshapen lump in his grip.
Ned stared at him in surprise. Though he himself did not worship the Seven, he would never have shown such casual disrespect.
Jimmy tossed the crushed gold aside without a second thought and continued rummaging through the pile.
Ned pointed toward a bundle of letters.
"Jimmy, may I see those?"
Jimmy waved a hand dismissively, granting permission without looking up. He was too busy examining the Valyrian steel lock he had cut apart.
Ned unfolded the letters and began reading.
His face turned pale.
They were from Tywin Lannister.
From their contents, one truth became painfully clear.
Robert Baratheon had no allies left in King's Landing.
The Gold Cloaks. The city watch. The servants. Even the maids and septas within the Red Keep.
All of them answered to the Lannisters.
Robert was king in name alone.
His life and death depended entirely on Tywin's will.
Tywin even knew the truth of Joffrey's parentage.
In one letter, he referred to Joffrey as "a lion wearing the stag's crown."
Another revelation struck even deeper.
The gold mines beneath Casterly Rock were exhausted.
The Lannisters' legendary wealth had already begun to dry up. Their reputation remained intact, but the foundation beneath it was crumbling.
Tywin had wagered everything on Joffrey.
Once Joffrey secured the Iron Throne, Tywin intended to manipulate the realm's economy and restore House Lannister's power.
His original plan had been quiet and bloodless.
To place a lion upon the throne beneath the guise of a stag.
But something had gone wrong.
…
"Seven hells…" Ned whispered.
Jimmy glanced over briefly and skimmed a few of the letters before tossing them aside.
"So Robert's reign was this hollow."
Ned said nothing.
Jimmy leaned back.
"It was inevitable," he said flatly. "Neither of you was raised to rule. You weren't groomed for power. All you needed was honor and strength."
He paused.
"A wolf pack cannot have two alpha leaders."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"The Mad King killed the one meant to lead. That left you, unprepared and unwilling, to inherit something you were never meant to carry."
He shrugged.
"And Robert."
Jimmy let out a faint, humorless breath.
"He was a great warrior. Just like you."
His voice hardened.
"But neither of you was ever meant to be king."
He looked directly at Ned.
"When faced with rot like this, he didn't fight it. He drowned himself in wine and denial."
Jimmy's gaze turned cold.
"And this is where that path leads."
As Jimmy spoke, he finished dismantling the Valyrian steel lock. To him, the material was hardly impressive. At best, it could be reforged into a tiny blade for trimming nails or shaving.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
With a few casual punches, he smashed the wooden chest to splinters and tossed the debris into the cave's least valuable feature. The fireplace.
It wasn't entirely useless. It served two purposes. Burning trash and keeping the damp at bay.
The Summer Sea made sure the heat was never lacking.
Jimmy dusted off his hands and glanced at Ned.
"Old Wolf, I want to buy a massive amount of grain. Know any way to make that happen?"
"Grain?" Ned replied. "If you want grain, you go to House Tyrell. Their harvests could feed half the Seven Kingdoms."
He paused, his expression darkening slightly.
"Once, I might have been able to help you. Now…"
He shrugged helplessly.
Jimmy chuckled.
"Even before, you couldn't have helped."
He leaned forward slightly.
"You think Highgarden sells its grain freely? They sell to allies. And the Starks were never their allies."
He waved a hand dismissively.
"Forget that. Let's focus on something useful. Figure out how to use the Lannister army to beat me. Or you can switch sides, if you'd prefer."
Ned shook his head.
"No. I'll keep the lions."
He frowned at the board between them.
"But this isn't fair. Robb wouldn't have access to this many tricks. He doesn't think the way you do."
Jimmy laughed.
"And the Lannisters don't have as much gold as you think."
His tone turned sharp.
"If they spent at this scale, they'd be borrowing coin before long."
He tapped the board.
"The Lannisters are treated like gods of gold. Their power, their reputation, all of it rests on the belief that their wealth is endless."
He looked directly at Ned.
"But the moment people realize that god can bleed…"
His voice dropped.
"They stop fearing it."
"And when fear disappears, the god dies."
Both men believed they were right.
Ned couldn't understand Jimmy's methods. They lacked honor, lacked dignity.
Jimmy, on the other hand, couldn't tolerate Ned's obsession with honorable warfare.
Since neither could convince the other, they returned to the war board.
Jimmy unleashed strategy after strategy.
He ordered scorched earth tactics, denying resources to the enemy.
He recruited mountain clans, using the Neck's treacherous terrain to neutralize Lannister cavalry.
He placed elite forces in ambush along the roads leading back to Casterly Rock.
He even promised the Ironborn free rein to plunder the Rock itself, provided they helped cripple its defenses while he pinned down the Lannister army elsewhere.
His philosophy was simple.
Never fight alone if you can overwhelm the enemy together.
Never face them head-on if you can strike from the shadows.
Let mercenaries die first. If necessary, let allies fall before your own strength is spent.
Preserve your core forces above all else.
Even in defeat, his strategy ensured the North would grow stronger.
By his design, the Riverlands would be consumed by war, forcing its people, wealth, and noble houses to migrate north for safety.
The Riverlands would become both shield and sacrifice.
And that was only the beginning.
If war engulfed the Riverlands, the Vale could not remain neutral. The conflict would rage at their doorstep. Should the Vale intervene, the Lannisters would find themselves trapped between two fronts.
Jimmy's war was fought not just with swords, but with inevitability.
Ned watched, over and over, as his forces fell.
And yet, under Jimmy's command, the North survived.
It endured.
It prospered.
His people lived.
His coffers grew.
Silence settled over him.
This was not honorable warfare.
It was ruthless. Cold. Calculated.
But it worked.
Jimmy had won.
Again and again.
Ned stared at the board, his thoughts heavy.
Was this… what war truly was?
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