When the Stark family originally arrived in King's Landing, King Robert had spent an absolute fortune to welcome them with unparalleled, extravagant fanfare. Now, House Stark was forced to sneak through the muddy streets like common fugitives, desperately pretending to be nothing more than a wealthy merchant's traveling caravan.
Roman rode at the absolute front of the massive procession. Fili maintained her Apostle link, actively coordinating her spy ravens to scout the skies, while the heavily armored Harrenhal Vanguard flanked the civilian carriages on all sides to form an impenetrable perimeter.
Their designated extraction point was the Dragon Gate, which coincidentally happened to be guarded by a specific detachment of the City Watch whose commanding officers had been heavily bribed by Harrenhal's deep pockets.
The massive caravan navigated the twisting, narrow alleyways, efficiently cutting through the congested streets until the towering stone archway of the Dragon Gate finally loomed into view.
Roman was absolutely not concerned about the Gold Cloaks attempting to halt their escape. The entire capital garrison consisted of barely two thousand watchmen, and the vast majority of them were poorly fed, underpaid, and utterly demoralized.
Because their superior officers openly embezzled the garrison's wages to fund their own lavish lifestyles, the common guardsmen possessed absolutely no desire to risk their lives for the Iron Throne. They were perfectly content to conduct lazy patrols and collect their meager coppers.
Furthermore, the moment the gate guards caught sight of Roman's terrifying silhouette, they instinctively backed away. None of these underpaid watchmen harbored the suicidal delusion that they were stronger than the Mountain or the Kingslayer. If the Lord of Harrenhal wanted to leave the city, the Gold Cloaks were more than happy to pretend they were entirely blind.
Consequently, the massive Stark caravan passed through the heavy iron portcullis without a single challenge. The surrounding Gold Cloaks simply glanced at Roman, completely ignoring his forged travel manifests, and quickly waved the carriages through.
Inside the primary wheelhouse, Sansa and Arya were engaged in their usual, exhausting sibling bickering, while Jeyne Poole and Septa Mordane frantically tried to mediate the argument. The rest of the Stark servants and attendants were entirely relaxed, casually chatting as if they were embarking on a pleasant spring picnic.
However, Syrio Forel, Roman, and Fili remained completely on edge, their hands resting tightly on their weapons. They absolutely refused to relax their guard until the city was miles behind them.
As fate would inevitably dictate, a pursuing detachment of Lannister heavy cavalry finally caught up to the rear of the caravan just outside the city walls.
"Halt!" The leading Lannister knight shouted, pulling his warhorse to a stop. "Lord Roman! The Queen explicitly demands your immediate presence at the Red Keep!"
"I am currently occupied leading this trade caravan out of the city on official business," Roman replied smoothly, turning his horse around. "I am afraid I must politely decline the invitation. Please convey my deepest apologies to Her Grace."
"Is that so?" The Lannister knight sneered, pointing his steel lance directly at the Stark wheelhouses. "Does your 'business' caravan typically include Prince Joffrey's royal fiancée?"
As the Lannister knight leveled his weapon at the Stark retinue, Roman casually gestured with his left hand. The Harrenhal infantry instantly snapped into a flawless defensive phalanx, raising their heavy tower shields to protect the civilian carriages. Simultaneously, the Harrenhal Vanguard cavalry seamlessly deployed into three aggressive offensive ranks, directly facing down the Lannister riders.
The military maneuvers were executed with such terrifying, silent precision that the Lannister commander's face instantly darkened. It was glaringly obvious that the Lord of Harrenhal was fully prepared to fight to the death.
"I apologize, Ser Knight," Roman stated coldly. "Lady Sansa expressed a profound interest in accompanying our logistical operation. She is merely joining us for a picnic in the countryside. I absolutely refuse to let Lady Sansa be harassed. Now, stand aside and let us pass."
"Absolutely not!" The knight roared, drawing his sword. "This is a direct order from the Queen!"
Seeing that the Lannister commander was entirely unmoved by diplomatic warnings, Roman was rapidly calculating the combat variables when Fili rode up beside him and urgently whispered in his ear.
"Lord Roman! A massive column of Lannister infantry is rapidly approaching from the rear! They will reach the Dragon Gate within minutes!"
The time for political negotiation was over. Roman turned to the First Sword of Braavos. "Master Syrio! I entrust the absolute safety of Lady Sansa and Lady Arya to your blade."
Roman reached over his shoulder and unhooked his massive steel warhammer. The surrounding Harrenhal soldiers immediately drew their steel with a synchronized, deafening schwing.
"Attack!!"
The frontline Harrenhal cavalry lowered their lances and charged alongside Roman with earth-shattering momentum, while the flanking light cavalry aggressively pushed outward, harassing the enemy lines with a devastating volley of arrows.
The arrogant Lannister men were caught completely off guard by the sheer, explosive violence of the Harrenhal Vanguard's preemptive strike. They scrambled frantically to organize their defensive lines.
But Roman was already upon them. The arrogant Lannister commander was the very first to die.
Roman swung his warhammer in a brutal, horizontal arc. The catastrophic impact instantly crushed the knight's steel breastplate and shattered his horse's ribs, sending both man and beast violently crashing into the dirt.
The remaining Lannister cavalry were mercilessly shredded. They were pinned down by the lethal accuracy of the Harrenhal horse archers, violently unhorsed by the heavy lances of the Vanguard, and subsequently slaughtered by the advancing Harrenhal infantry before they could even hit the ground.
Standing near the carriages, Syrio Forel watched the flawlessly synchronized, utterly ruthless teamwork of the Harrenhal military machine. The Braavosi master could only sigh in profound respect before sliding his slender water dancer's blade back into its scabbard.
"It appears the brutal, heavy cavalry tactics of Westeros are still vastly superior on an open battlefield," Syrio remarked to himself.
Roman tore through the enemy ranks like a demon of war, wielding his massive hammer with terrifying, fluid precision. He repeatedly shattered the Lannister formations, completely obliterating the enemy's morale within seconds.
After efficiently annihilating the pursuing detachment, Roman rode back to the wheelhouses to assess the casualties.
"Report, Lord Roman!" A Vanguard captain saluted. "We suffered only minor injuries. Absolutely nothing that will hinder our operational mobility. The civilian personnel remain entirely unharmed!"
Roman nodded grimly, turning his gaze back toward the city walls. He looked at Syrio. "I am going to take a detachment back to the Dragon Gate to block the main Lannister infantry column. House Stark's survival rests entirely in your hands now!"
Syrio offered a crisp, highly respectful bow, confidently reassuring Roman to fulfill his duty.
"There is exactly one thing we say to the God of Death," Syrio smiled. "Not today. Do not worry about the little wolves, Lord Roman."
Roman glanced into the carriage, noting the absolutely terrified, paralyzed expressions of the Stark servants. He rode directly up to Sansa's window.
Sansa was trembling violently, her eyes wide with shock as she stared at the bloody carnage littered across the road. Roman reached out and firmly gripped her delicate shoulder.
"Lady Sansa, listen to me," Roman commanded softly. "This exact violence is why I needed to evacuate you from the Red Keep. Queen Cersei intends to hold you hostage. As the eldest member of House Stark currently present, you must show absolute strength. Keep your people calm so we can complete this extraction."
But Sansa was simply a sheltered child. She lacked the profound psychological resilience required for war. Driven by sheer, instinctual panic, she desperately turned her face away, utterly terrified to look into Roman's blood-splattered, glowing blue eyes.
Arya, entirely unable to tolerate the suffocating panic any longer, aggressively climbed out onto the carriage bench and shouted at the paralyzed Winterfell servants.
"Lord Roman just slaughtered those armored idiots to clear a path for us! It is time to move! We cannot fail my father and House Whent by acting like cowards!"
Spurred by the fierce, unyielding courage of the young wolf, the Winterfell retinue finally snapped out of their terrified stupor. The drivers cracked their whips, and the massive caravan rapidly accelerated down the Kingsroad.
"Fili!" Roman barked. "You will remain with the primary extraction force and provide continuous aerial intelligence. We will maintain tactical communication strictly via the ravens."
Fili looked up at him, her blue eyes filled with deep, agonizing concern. "Please be careful, my lord!"
Roman nodded fiercely. He turned his warhorse toward the city and roared to his remaining men. "Heavy infantry! Form a shield wall and follow me to the gates!"
By the time the massive column of Lannister infantry finally reached the Dragon Gate, Roman and his heavily armored Vanguard had already dismounted. They had established a flawless, impenetrable spear and shield wall directly across the stone archway, entirely blocking the exit.
The furious Lannister commander looked around the gatehouse, screaming at the surrounding Gold Cloaks, demanding to know why they were simply watching the treasonous Harrenhal forces instead of actively arresting them.
Hearing the arrogant demands, a seasoned Gold Cloak captain casually touched the heavy, solid gold dragon hidden in his tunic. He looked at the Lannister officer as if the man were an absolute idiot.
When Roman had originally secured the gate, he had offered the City Watch two incredibly simple choices.
First option: They could pretend to be entirely blind, completely ignore the impending battle, and receive a massive payout of pure Harrenhal gold, with the promise of a second payment once the dust settled.
Second option: Roman would massacre them all first, and whether they survived to spend their meager coppers would be left entirely to the mercy of the Seven Gods.
Every single guardsman in King's Landing knew exactly how to calculate those odds. Consequently, the Dragon Gate now presented a completely absurd, almost theatrical scene. The fully mobilized Lannister and Harrenhal armies were locked in a lethal standoff, while the local commoners and the entire Gold Cloak garrison casually leaned against the walls to watch the slaughter.
Roman did not waste his breath trading political insults. He immediately ordered his rear lines to unleash a devastating volley of heavy crossbow bolts into the Lannister ranks, while he personally stood directly behind the primary shield wall, methodically analyzing the enemy formation for a structural weakness.
To their credit, the Lannister red cloaks were not untrained peasants. They rapidly raised their shields, formed a tight, disciplined infantry block, and aggressively pushed forward to engage the Harrenhal Vanguard.
As the two heavy infantry columns violently collided within the narrow confines of the stone archway, there was absolutely no room for complex flanking maneuvers. It devolved into a brutal, grinding meat grinder. Both factions locked their heavy shields together, desperately thrusting their spears through the gaps. For several agonizing minutes, neither side could successfully break the opposing line, and the battle rapidly degraded into a bloody, exhausted stalemate.
Because of the claustrophobic nature of the shield wall clash, a narrow "kill zone" naturally formed directly between the two front lines. This highly contested strip of mud could not be effectively targeted by the rear archers, making it the absolute perfect environment for heavy shock troops.
Realizing the tactical opportunity, several massive Lannister veterans violently broke rank, charging into the kill zone wielding heavy two-handed axes and maces, intending to physically smash through the Harrenhal shields.
Then, they saw Roman casually step out from his own lines to meet them.
Roman's massive steel warhammer was suddenly engulfed in blinding, roaring Pale Flame and crackling arcs of supernatural lightning. He swung the catastrophic weapon in a devastating downward arc, slamming it directly into the chest of the leading Lannister veteran.
The kinetic and thermal impact was apocalyptic. With a deafening, thunderous boom, the Lannister soldier was instantly vaporized. A massive chunk of superheated, charred flesh and molten armor was violently launched backward, acting as a human cannonball that slammed directly into the densely packed Lannister swordsmen.
The surviving Lannister infantry stared in absolute, paralyzing horror at the smoking, incinerated corpse of their comrade. The dead man's eyes had literally boiled and burst within his skull. His flesh was carbonized into blackened charcoal, and his heavy plate armor was violently twisted and melted to his bones.
Roman stepped forward like a mythological demon, effortlessly smashing away every single enemy soldier foolish enough to block his path. He marched directly up to the primary Lannister shield wall and delivered a single, devastating swing of his flaming warhammer.
The kinetic shockwave of the blow violently shattered the interlocking shields. The explosive blast of Pale Flame and lightning surged completely through the enemy lines, instantly incinerating the soldiers trapped in the rear.
Roman stepped through the smoldering breach and began violently slaughtering the terrified Lannister infantry as easily as a butcher culling helpless chickens.
The Harrenhal Vanguard immediately surged through the gap Roman had created, entirely collapsing the Lannister defensive structure in seconds.
Seeing the terrifying, horned lord effortlessly incinerating their commanders with literal magic, the remaining Lannister reserves stationed at the rear of the column completely broke. Driven by sheer, primal terror, they threw down their weapons and frantically fled back into the city.
The Lannister assault force was completely routed, violently divided, surrounded, and mercilessly annihilated by the Harrenhal infantry.
"Do not pursue them into the city!" Roman roared over the dying screams. "Reform the ranks! Mount your horses and ride!"
Roman commanded the Harrenhal Vanguard to mount up and pull back from the gates. Before riding out, he casually retrieved a heavy leather pouch overflowing with golden dragons and tossed it into the mud. He looked up at the awestruck Gold Cloaks watching from the battlements.
"Come down and collect your wages!" Roman shouted with a dark smirk.
By the time the terrified City Watch finally scrambled down from the walls to collect the massive bribe, Roman and his elite cavalry had already vanished down the Kingsroad.
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