Chapter 144 — If Nothing Unexpected Happens, the Seven Kingdoms Will Soon Fall into Even Greater Chaos
Ice was soaked in blood.
Along the dark blade—black as curling smoke—thin streams of crimson slid slowly downward.
Podrick flicked his wrist and pulled the greatsword free from the chest of the final Lannister soldier.
He didn't even glance at the corpse as it collapsed to the ground, eyes wide open in death.
At that moment, an elderly man who had been kneeling nearby slowly lifted his head.
His eyes swept over the ground littered with bodies—filled with hatred, grim satisfaction, and fear—before finally settling on Podrick.
"M… my lord…"
His voice was slurred.
His right hand clutched the ragged stump where his left arm had been severed, his face twisted in pain.
Hearing the voice, Podrick turned.
His expression was cold, several droplets of blood still splattered across his face.
This place had once been where the Lannister soldiers tortured and interrogated the farmers of the village.
Now it was piled with corpses.
Among them were not only the bandits from the Lannister force that Podrick had just slaughtered—
but also the lord of this village himself.
In fact, he had been the first to die.
Podrick had no idea who the man was.
The fire had burned away even the family crest from his armor.
All Podrick had gathered from the soldiers earlier was that the man had been a minor lord who had recently returned from Riverrun to defend his lands—a second-tier noble of uncertain allegiance.
Yet despite his insignificance, when faced with the Lannister army, the man had not fled.
He had resisted.
So they killed his entire family.
Then they looted the village that had become their prize.
Looking around, only a handful of houses remained standing.
The rough stone walls still stood, but nearly everything else had been reduced to ashes.
Corpses lay everywhere.
As for the living…
Even counting the elderly and the children, fewer than twenty survivors remained.
Podrick withdrew his gaze from their hollow, terrified faces and turned back to the one-armed old man.
He opened his mouth, but found he had little to say.
Finally, he spoke coldly.
"Organize the people and put out the remaining fires."
"Once you're done, gather whatever property remains."
"Divide it among yourselves—including whatever belonged to your former lord."
"I don't need any of it."
The flames had already burned most of their fury out.
Podrick had seen the smoke from across the Gods Eye River, and by the time he arrived the fire had already raged for quite a while.
Even the nearby forest had been reduced to blackened stumps rising from scorched earth.
As for the houses…
There was nothing left worth mentioning.
Hearing Podrick's words, the old farmer stared at him.
First confused.
Then stunned.
"Th… this… My… my lord… this…"
The man had been a farmer all his life.
In his world, even he himself had been considered the property of his lord.
Yet this terrifying knight before him had just told them to divide the lord's wealth among themselves.
Seeing the old man still kneeling there in fear, Podrick simply raised a hand to silence him.
"Listen."
"When I say something, you follow it."
"I don't want to hear objections."
"Send someone to fetch my companions. They're behind you."
"We'll stay here for the night. Just find us a suitable house."
"We won't interfere with the rest of your affairs."
He paused.
"As for tomorrow…"
"My advice is to take whatever you can carry and leave this place."
"Go as far as you can."
"But don't head south."
"Go north instead—until you find a lord willing to shelter you."
"And one more thing."
"Leave the bodies where they are."
After saying that, Podrick lost interest in continuing the conversation.
Carrying Ice, he walked to a patch of ground untouched by the flames and sat down.
Nearby was a small pond that likely served as the village's water source.
He took a cloth from his cloak, soaked it in water, and began slowly wiping the blood from the blade.
---
The old farmer stared at the knight's back in silence.
This man had slaughtered an entire Lannister detachment as if it were nothing—
yet now he had spoken only a few simple instructions before sitting quietly to clean his sword.
After several seconds, the old man finally came back to himself.
He glanced once more at the ruined village.
Then he looked at the twenty surviving villagers.
Clutching his severed arm, he struggled to his feet.
There was no time left for grief.
He began organizing the survivors.
A half-grown boy was sent to fetch the mysterious knight's companions.
Three village women were assigned to prepare a room for their savior.
One man stayed behind to tend to the wounded.
Everyone else was ordered to gather supplies—food, valuables, anything that might help them survive.
The Lannisters had burned everything they owned.
If they wanted to live, they had to act.
---
Podrick watched briefly as the old man organized the villagers.
Seeing that things were being handled competently enough, he turned his attention back to cleaning the sword.
Not long after, Jalabhar Xho arrived, leading the horses with Sansa Stark beside him.
"L–Lord Payne…"
Jalabhar approached slowly, his voice awkward and strained.
It sounded as though a stone were stuck in his throat.
Sansa, meanwhile, said nothing at all.
Still seated on horseback, she covered her mouth, repeatedly fighting the urge to vomit.
Each time the nausea rose, she forced it back down, refusing to show weakness.
Podrick did not turn around.
His hand moved steadily, wiping the blade along the grain of the steel again and again.
Behind him, Jalabhar didn't dare speak further.
Even as he struggled to steady his nerves, he looked at Podrick with awe—as if gazing upon something almost superhuman.
Only after a long moment, when the noise behind him had quieted, did Podrick finally speak.
Still bent over the pond as he rinsed the cloth, he said calmly:
"We'll stay here tonight."
"I've asked them to prepare a room."
"Sansa—you'll sleep inside."
"Jalabhar, you'll stay with me."
Jalabhar blinked in surprise.
After walking through a field of corpses to reach Podrick, the first thing the knight said was… this?
And he had specifically instructed Jalabhar to stay with him.
Podrick had never said anything like that before.
Still, after a brief pause, Jalabhar nodded quickly.
"Yes, my lord."
Sansa, now feeling slightly better, said she wished to dismount.
Jalabhar hurried forward to help her down from the horse.
After dismounting, Sansa pressed a hand against her chest again, making sure she would not vomit.
Only after steadying herself did she gather the courage to move forward. Lifting the hem of her wide cloak so it would not drag through the mud, she slowly approached Podrick.
But when she reached his side and saw him sitting there quietly—focused entirely on wiping clean the Stark family greatsword—her gaze suddenly froze.
A memory surfaced.
Back in Winterfell, when she was still a child, her father would sometimes sit alone beneath the great heart tree in the godswood.
That enormous weirwood had a deep pond beneath its branches.
Her father, Lord Eddard Stark, would occasionally bring Ice with him and sit beside the water, silently cleaning the blade.
Her mother rarely disturbed him at those times.
Usually it meant one of two things.
Either her father had executed a criminal, staining the sword with blood—
or something heavy weighed upon his mind.
Now, though the great weirwood tree was absent, the sight before her overlapped eerily with that memory.
"Ser… Ser Podrick."
Sansa stopped in place and called out instinctively.
Podrick did not even raise his head.
"Just call me Podrick," he said calmly. "Miss Sansa."
His blunt tone snapped her out of her reverie.
But now she didn't know how to continue.
In the past, she would have happily used such a familiar way of addressing him and felt delighted by the closeness.
Yet the atmosphere now felt entirely different.
Jalabhar Xho glanced between the two of them.
After a moment, he quietly lowered his head and stepped away, leaving the small space to them.
Podrick seemed perfectly aware of his departure.
Only after Jalabhar left did Podrick stop wiping the sword and finally look up at Sansa.
"Before you arrived," he said, "I questioned a few prisoners."
"I learned quite a few things."
"There's one piece of news about your brother, Robb Stark."
"The rest concerns Tywin Lannister."
"So—which would you like to hear first?"
Sansa had been about to say something.
But Podrick's words blocked the sentence before it could leave her lips.
She paused.
Then she glanced back toward the field they had crossed.
The ground was still littered with corpses.
Most of them wore the clothing of common villagers.
Among them were a few Lannister soldiers… and scattered among those, some knights and nobles whose sigils she could barely recognize.
"L–Lord… Pod… Podrick," she said at last.
"I would like to hear about Lord Tywin Lannister first."
Sansa was clever.
She had already understood that the two pieces of news were connected.
Podrick did not seem surprised by her choice.
He set Ice aside to let the blade dry and spoke calmly.
"Tywin Lannister has gathered his forces and is already marching toward King's Landing."
"Because of time constraints, he didn't wait for the scattered detachments across the Riverlands to regroup at Harrenhal."
"Instead, he ordered them to march independently and converge on King's Landing as quickly as possible."
"So… in theory, our journey from here on out will inevitably bring us into contact with Lannister soldiers scattered throughout the Riverlands."
"Oh—and not just them."
"Tywin has also hired a number of mercenary companies."
The implication was obvious.
Their seemingly peaceful road home would be filled with danger.
Sansa swallowed nervously, her face turning pale.
She no longer dared look back at the corpses.
But after a moment of thought, she suddenly realized something.
She lifted her head and looked at Podrick with hopeful, eager eyes.
"Then my brother—Robb…"
"Is he still at Riverrun?"
Their eyes met.
Immediately, Sansa realized something from his expression.
Podrick's lips curled faintly.
"He's been waiting for this opportunity."
"So of course he wouldn't stay there."
"Your mother, Lady Catelyn, was sent by your brother to treat with Renly Baratheon as an envoy."
"The goal was to persuade Renly to attack King's Landing first."
"Because once Renly attacked, Tywin Lannister would have no choice but to return to defend the capital—if he still hoped to claim what he desired."
"And the moment Tywin leaves Harrenhal…"
"That becomes your brother's opportunity."
"So I suspect that not only has Robb Stark already marched south from Riverrun to pursue the Lannister forces…"
"But perhaps Lord Roose Bolton, who currently holds the lands north of the Trident around the Ruby Ford, has also begun advancing south with his army."
Podrick spoke all of this calmly.
But to Sansa, every word was electrifying.
Her blue eyes grew brighter and brighter.
She wasn't foolish.
If the war truly unfolded the way Podrick described—
she understood exactly what it meant.
"I… Podrick…"
"Are you saying I might soon see my family again?"
"And return to Winterfell?"
Her hands trembled as she covered her mouth.
Tears filled her eyes.
But Podrick shook his head.
"No."
"Until the dust truly settles, anything can still happen."
"If the Starks want to become the true victors…"
"In my opinion, they still have a long road ahead."
Then he asked calmly:
"Tell me, why do you think Tywin Lannister didn't wait for the scattered forces he sent to ravage the Riverlands?"
"Why did he rush his main army straight down the Kingsroad toward King's Landing instead?"
Sansa froze.
Her face filled with confusion.
She had already pushed her reasoning to its limit earlier.
To her, the war situation seemed to show that Tywin was on the verge of total defeat.
Yet from Podrick's tone…
that didn't seem to be the case at all.
Her mind felt overwhelmed.
"W… why?"
Podrick didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he reached out and placed his fingers on the blade of Ice beside him.
His fingertips lightly brushed along the sharp edge.
Back and forth.
Sansa's heart tightened instinctively as she watched.
Only then did Podrick speak.
"Because the mercenaries and scattered troops he left behind in the Riverlands…"
"were never meant to win."
"They were meant to delay Robb Stark's pursuit."
"He doesn't need them to succeed."
"He only needs them to buy him a little time."
"And once his army reaches King's Landing…"
Podrick chuckled softly.
"If Renly Baratheon were still alive…"
"Tywin would probably do exactly what he did fifteen years ago."
"He would kneel without hesitation and proclaim Renly king—just as he once did for Robert Baratheon."
"But if…"
"Wait!" Sansa suddenly interrupted, realizing something.
"Podrick… what did you just say?"
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"Which part?" Podrick asked with a faint smile.
"You mean Renly?"
"Of course!" Sansa nodded rapidly.
"You said… if King Renly were dead…"
"Why would he die?"
Podrick stopped stroking the blade.
He turned and looked south.
"Sansa, did you know something?"
"The army that attacked King's Landing that day…"
"didn't actually contain Renly Baratheon at all."
"The man wearing Renly's armor…"
"was Ser Garlan Tyrell of Highgarden, disguised as him."
"The real Renly had already gone to Storm's End."
"And if nothing unexpected happens…"
"his brother, Stannis Baratheon of Dragonstone, will kill him with his own hands—and declare himself king."
Podrick looked toward the distant south.
"So if nothing goes wrong…"
"the Seven Kingdoms are about to become even more chaotic."
He sighed softly.
"What a… remarkable turn of events."
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