In Silverhill, Ser Gerold Serrett had the illusion that today's rising sun seemed colder than usual.
Perhaps it was the dejection of defeat, or the panic of worrying over his father's fate.
House Serrett's banner, a proud peacock spreading its tail on a field of cream, remained as it had always been.
But the defiant red roaring-lion banner that had once flown from the highest tower of Silverhill had been thrown down, cast carelessly onto the ground to be trampled beneath soldiers' riding boots.
Now, a brilliant golden banner flew high from the tallest point of Silverhill.
In the end, power was power. The lion's roar could not match the dragon's.
From the moment Gerold Serrett bent the knee, Silverhill had changed colors.
Every part of Silverhill, from the rookery to the towers, from the armory to the stables, was secured to ensure not a single raven and not a single horse could escape the castle.
Ser Gerold had grown up hearing the cold tales of Great Lord Tywin Lannister. The Rains of Castamere, the ghost stories after the lands of House Reyne and House Tarbeck were destroyed.
"Hear Me Roar."
Every man, woman, old, and young person in the Westerlands understood that Tywin never forgave traitors and would never tolerate threats from others.
Tywin placed great weight on family honor. Lannister honor was not to be trampled.
But Ser Gerold looked at the forest of banners inside and outside Silverhill, nearly the elites of half the Six Kingdoms.
Behind Gendry, the five white knights stood like raised swords. After them came the guard in black armor and gold cloaks, the Crackclaws, the knights of the Stormlands, the silver-armored knights of the Vale and The Reach, Dornish spearmen in light copper armor, and even the foreign, cold Unsullied.
King Gendry's golden quartered banner rose above the other banners like a flame of gold.
There was also the golden tree banner of House Rowan of The Reach, the pebble rune banner of House Royce of the Vale, the sun-piercing spear banner of House Martell of Dorne, the wild ox giant banner of House Crabb of Crackclaw Point, and even Lord Harlaw's sickle banner from the Iron Islands.
The longer Gerold looked, the more he understood that this battle had no suspense at all.
"Now the lion and the ironborn are both like the setting sun. Only the stag's fortune is still at its zenith."
At present, the Iron Islands had already surrendered, and Gendry was leading an elite coalition from many lands to focus their strength against House Lannister.
More importantly, Gendry had three Dragons. Three thriving Dragons far beyond ordinary.
House Serrett had searched every cupboard and chest to provide the expeditionary army with a rich breakfast. The air was filled with the smell of roast beef, bacon, boiled eggs, and milk.
An army without discipline was no different from a pack of beasts. Ser Gerold had worried the king would wage war as Tywin did, but fortunately, King Gendry was not a man who slaughtered cruelly and wantonly.
"Dracarys!"
Gendry looked at the Dragons in the courtyard. After this forced march, the roasted Kraken strips from earlier had nearly all been eaten by the Dragons.
Only the last little bit remained. Once that was gone, the Dragons would have to eat cattle and sheep in the Westerlands.
"What kind of meat strips are those, Your Grace?" Gerold asked softly.
He saw the red chunks of meat the soldiers had carried in, huge boneless pieces, certainly not beef or mutton. The exposed skin was an oily red.
"Blood Kraken. Its original body was probably about the size of two three-hundred-oared sailing ships, though it did not have that much meat."
Gerold's mouth fell open. What a strange and uncanny age.
If such an enormous Kraken was no match for Dragons, then Tywin and the Lannisters were surely only struggling at death's door.
Blue smoke rose from Balerion's nostrils. His molten-lava eyes shone brighter than a polished shield, flickering with the Dragon's own heat.
The black Dragon opened his mouth, and light and heat came rushing together. The huge remaining strips of Blood Kraken flesh were roasted once more.
Balerion spat black-red flames to heat the meat again, then tore into the Kraken strips with black teeth sharp as swords.
Vhagar and Viserion also turned their heads greedily. The Dragons shot out two lances of fire in different colors, and a stench of flame wove through the air.
Roast meat mixed with the reek of sulfur. The smell of Dragons.
"Terrifying." Ser Gerold wiped the sweat from his forehead. Such enormous Dragons, and it had only been about a year?
Even if Tywin grew eight heads, it would be hard for him to handle such a crisis.
Seeing that the Dragons did not eat people, everyone in Silverhill let out a breath of relief.
The king's enemies were still only Tywin's family. As long as they surrendered quickly, they would remain loyal servants of the king.
"Ser Gerold, were you not always loyal to the Lannisters?" the elusive Lyn Corbray asked darkly. "I thought there would be a bloody battle."
"Loyal, yes, loyal. But we are even more loyal to the king, Ser Lyn," Gerold promised everyone, his face flushed red.
"I think you are loyal to armies and Dragons."
"Hahahaha."
The air filled with laughter.
"Tywin inspires far more fear than love. Everyone knows the Great Lord is not a man who smiles often. He would rather be hard than be mocked," Ser Gerold explained.
Although the great and small lords of the Westerlands all admired how Tywin had pushed Lannister power to its height, surpassing even his grandfather, the "Golden Lion."
"That is true enough. He was like that when I saw him before," the Red Viper said lightly, eating eggs and bread.
"Tywin showed the world blood and fire because he had never met true blood and fire."
Ser Gerold looked at the calm king. Perhaps this was Tywin's doom.
A man famous for iron and blood had met a king younger than him, more cunning, more iron-blooded, and yet with greater heroic spirit.
Perhaps. Perhaps this was the end of House Lannister.
"To defend everywhere is to defend nowhere."
Gendry drew a finely detailed map from his cloak, a fine thing seized from the Citadel.
"Tywin has put his fists on both sides. One near the Golden Tooth, the other in the forests along the Ocean Road. He may also have stationed some troops at Deep Den."
The Westerlands were filled with mountains and hills, bordering The Reach, the Iron Islands, and the Riverlands. Because the Westerlands sat higher, they had the advantage in terrain when facing The Reach and the Iron Islands.
The Westerlands extended east to the mountains between the Golden Tooth and Pinkmaiden, west to the Sunset Sea, south to the line of Silverhill, Cornfield, and Crakehall, and north to Ironman's Bay.
In the past, strategic offensives into the Westerlands usually came through the Ocean Road or from the east through the easily defended Golden Tooth. But this time, Gendry's force had crossed the mountains by surprise.
"This is a kind of historical inertia, Your Grace," Rodrik Harlaw the Reader said. "Attacking the Westerlands from the Ocean Road is the fastest and smoothest route. Tywin did not expect the Oldtown war to end so quickly, followed by a crossing of the mountains."
"That is indeed true, Your Grace," recalled Garth Rowan, captain of the Rowan garrison, a distant kinsman and trusted man of Lord Mathis Rowan.
"When King Gyles Gardener III of The Reach went east to campaign against the Storm Kingdom and had not yet returned, Lancel III took the Ocean Road and struck The Reach from behind.
"Later, House Osgrey, which served as the northern frontier commander of the Kingdom of The Reach, sent Ser Wilbert, the Young Lion, to block the Westerlands army. The Young Lion fought the King of the Rock in single combat on the battlefield, and in the end, the two all but killed each other."
Though the noble houses of Westeros were stable, some had also been gradually weeded out.
House Peake and House Osgrey had once both been wealthy and powerful, but now both had fallen sharply. The chequy lion was now only a vassal of House Rowan.
"I heard that war nearly destroyed the Storm Kingdom?" Anguy said.
"There was a great victory, yes, but destruction is too much," Ser Garth said, shaking his head. "Gyles III's reign was the height of the Kingdom of The Reach. He led a great army of knights to war against the Storm Kingdom.
"The Kingdom of The Reach captured every Stormland territory north of the Rainwood except Storm's End, and besieged Storm's End for two years, but could not take it. In the end, they had no choice but to withdraw."
Before Aegon's Conquest, the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros had long existed in an age of tangled war. Three or four kingdoms were usually at war at the same time.
A siege was far harder than a field battle, and Storm's End could already be called the legendary king of endurance under siege. Once the open battle went poorly, one could only retreat into a strong castle and endure.
"Tywin may still hold Casterly Rock," the Red Viper, Oberyn Martell, considered.
"Casterly Rock is only an isolated castle. We will tear apart the heart of the Westerlands first." Gendry looked over the map.
Casterly Rock was also a famous stronghold, carved from a colossal stone mountain beside the Sunset Sea.
Dragonfire could certainly burn steel or wood, but stone resisted Dragonfire best. Even ordinary explosives could hardly consume layers of rock.
That was also the lesson House Targaryen had learned in its past wars with Dorne and in the Stepstones.
But in the Westerlands, or rather in all the Seven Kingdoms, there was only one Casterly Rock. Was a king without people still a king?
"What are Deep Den's defenses like now?" Gendry asked, his gaze sharp as lightning as he looked at Gerold.
"Deep Den guards the Goldroad. Its defenses are much tighter than ours."
By comparison, Silverhill was a flank stronghold that could be abandoned.
Ordinarily, without Dragons patrolling, without longships moving north, and without so many elites, few people would choose to break through Silverhill.
After thinking it over, Gendry realized that Tywin could abandon all of Silverhill, including the troops stationed at the Golden Tooth and along the Ocean Road.
Their final goal was still to turtle up in Casterly Rock. Stationing too many soldiers inside would actually be dangerous. If he withdrew into the stone castle, Tywin could hold out longer.
"I require you to march with us!" Gendry put away the map and immediately spoke to Ser Gerold.
"Your father is in Casterly Rock. We cannot trust you completely," Ser Barristan said, looking at Ser Gerold.
"I understand, Your Grace." Gerold Serrett changed into his armor.
"Then now, we must cross the mountains and continue the attack on Deep Den."
"Will Your Grace's men not rest here for a day or two?" Ser Gerold asked.
"Speed is the soul of war. One night sleeping in armor is enough," Gendry answered confidently.
"Very well."
"My soldiers, forgive me for asking you to cross these mountains with me. Let us go deep into the lion's den and seize the lion's whiskers together. Do you dare follow me forward over the mountains?" Gendry asked, looking at the soldiers in the courtyard.
"Into the lion's den, seize Tywin!"
The soldiers, their spirits high despite the exhaustion in their bodies, cheered one after another and raised the weapons in their hands.
After all, the king was like victory made flesh. The knights and soldiers only had to follow him and charge.
Gendry's fighting style resembled Robert's, leading from the front in a charge, bravery first, but not forgetting the mind of a strategist.
It was just that the king's personal courage overshadowed his plans and calculations.
This was also the knightly spirit the people of Westeros admired most. A true man fought one-on-one.
Tywin and Stannis, meanwhile, were the sort who focused on sitting in the rear and commanding reserves.
"Then now, the target is Deep Den."
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