The Wall, Castle Black
Since the sudden mutiny, Castle Black had effectively fallen under the control of the Lannister brothers—Tywin Lannister and Kevan Lannister.
Aside from the soldiers who had accompanied them north, most of the remaining members of the Night's Watch had eventually joined the rebellion. Few had done so willingly. Faced with overwhelming force and the threat of death, most had simply chosen survival over honor.
As for those brothers of the Watch who refused to betray their vows, Tywin had not executed them.
Instead, they were imprisoned within the Spear Tower.
The ancient structure stood nearly two hundred feet tall, its weathered stones cracked by centuries of harsh northern winds. Though only a third the height of the Wall itself, it remained the tallest tower in Castle Black.
There were not many prisoners. A handful of chambers was more than enough to hold every loyalist.
Tywin was unconcerned about them causing trouble.
The tower was isolated, heavily guarded, and impossible to escape unnoticed.
Meanwhile, the Lord Commander's Tower had become Tywin's personal residence and command center.
Inside his chambers, the Lord of Casterly Rock sat alone in a high-backed armchair.
Several letters lay scattered across his desk.
Some had arrived from King's Landing.
Others had come from Winterfell.
None currently held his attention.
Instead, Tywin stared silently into the dancing flames of the fireplace.
The firelight painted his stern features in shades of crimson and shadow.
His expression revealed nothing.
No one could have guessed what thoughts occupied his mind.
A letter rested in his hand.
The flickering light obscured its contents.
Then a knock sounded from the door.
The sharp noise pulled Tywin from his thoughts.
"Enter."
His gaze remained fixed on the letter as he spoke.
The heavy wooden door creaked open.
A blast of icy air swept into the room.
Kevan Lannister stepped inside, one hand holding the door while the other kept his cloak from billowing in the wind.
After shutting the door firmly behind him, he crossed the room and placed a tray beside the fireplace.
"The cook prepared stew, fresh bread, and a pie filled with onions and boar meat."
The rich aroma quickly filled the chamber.
Tywin finally glanced toward the food.
Yet instead of commenting on the meal, he asked a different question.
"How much food and winter clothing do we have left?"
Kevan's expression immediately darkened.
The question struck directly at their greatest weakness.
He had recently completed an inventory of every available supply within Castle Black and Mole's Town.
The results had been far from encouraging.
"Not much," Kevan admitted. "If we intend to act, we must do so soon."
He shook his head.
As a Lannister, he had participated in countless campaigns.
Never before had he fought under such miserable conditions.
The meager stockpiles left behind by the Night's Watch were pitiful.
Even now, he struggled to understand how the brothers of the Watch had survived year after year in this frozen wasteland.
Tywin merely nodded.
His expression did not change.
His fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest.
After several moments of silence, he finally spoke.
"You needn't worry too much about supplies."
A faint glimmer appeared in his eyes.
"Someone else will solve that problem for us."
With those words, he handed the letter to Kevan.
Then he rose from his chair and moved toward the table beside the fireplace.
Sitting down, he picked up a wooden spoon.
Even indoors, the utensil felt freezing cold.
Leaning closer to the warmth of the flames, Tywin began eating.
Meanwhile, Kevan lowered his eyes toward the letter.
The red wax seal immediately caught his attention.
Stamped into the wax was the flayed man of House Bolton.
His eyes narrowed.
This letter had come from the Dreadfort.
Quickly breaking the seal, Kevan read its contents.
According to the report, a mounted force from House Umber of Last Hearth would soon travel to Castle Black.
Robb Stark had ordered several northern houses to investigate the situation at the Wall.
House Bolton.
House Karstark.
House Umber.
All had received summons.
As Kevan continued reading, his grip tightened.
He immediately flipped to the final page and checked the signature.
A special symbol had been included.
One known only to a select few.
The moment he saw it, he released a quiet breath of relief.
The letter was genuine.
Looking up, he asked eagerly:
"Has House Bolton accepted our proposal?"
Tywin calmly swallowed a spoonful of stew.
Then he cut a piece of pie with his dagger.
Only after taking another bite did he answer.
"If you were Roose Bolton, could you refuse an offer to become King of the North and the Iron Islands?"
Despite speaking while eating, his voice remained steady and composed.
Like a mountain unmoved by storms.
Kevan couldn't help smiling.
After weeks of uncertainty, this was the first truly encouraging news they had received.
"It seems our gift was well received," he remarked.
"The roasted suckling pig with the apple in its mouth sent a clear message. Perhaps Bolton has harbored such ambitions for years."
Tywin shook his head.
"Roose Bolton is ambitious."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"But he is not reckless."
"Continue reading."
Kevan's smile faded.
Returning to the letter, he carefully examined the remaining pages.
The deeper he read, the heavier his expression became.
Several moments later, he lowered the parchment.
"He doesn't trust us."
"No," Tywin agreed.
"He doesn't."
"This is a test."
Kevan frowned.
"If we fail, he'll expose us immediately."
Tywin gave a cold snort.
"The Iron Bank behaves no differently."
"If they see no chance of success, they will abandon us without hesitation."
He placed his bowl aside.
"To gain allies, we must first prove our value."
His eyes hardened.
"Which means we must change our plans."
Kevan immediately understood the implication.
"You mean abandoning Winterfell?"
Silence settled over the room.
Only the crackling of burning wood disturbed the stillness.
After nearly two minutes, Tywin finally spoke again.
"Winterfell is too far away."
"Our forces are not suited to prolonged operations in the North."
"The terrain, climate, and logistics all work against us."
He pointed toward the map hanging on the wall.
"Instead, we take Last Hearth first."
Kevan's gaze followed his brother's finger.
The ancestral seat of House Umber.
"It is closer."
"It is vulnerable."
"And most importantly, it offers practical advantages."
Tywin continued.
"After House Umber falls, we move against House Karstark."
"We must secure the northeastern region."
A grim determination settled over the room.
Neither brother needed to say what they were both thinking.
They had no path of retreat.
Only victory awaited them ahead.
Or death.
Yet despite the danger, Tywin saw opportunity.
"If we succeed," he said, "Roose Bolton will have no choice but to treat us as equals."
"And once Bolton commits fully to our cause, the Iron Bank will follow."
Kevan studied the map carefully.
Last Hearth.
Karhold.
The Dreadfort.
Three strongholds forming a rough triangle across the northeastern North.
If all three came under their influence, everything would change.
Supply routes.
Defensive positions.
Strategic mobility.
Suddenly, the future no longer seemed hopeless.
The Lannisters would possess room to maneuver once again.
For the first time since arriving at the Wall, Kevan could envision a path toward victory.
But before any of that could happen, one obstacle stood in their way.
House Umber's investigation force.
"We must eliminate them."
Kevan's voice was firm.
"This force cannot be allowed to return home."
Tywin nodded.
"Agreed."
"According to Bolton's report, only thirty mounted men have been dispatched."
"That makes them dangerous."
"But also vulnerable."
Kevan moved closer to the map.
His finger traced a route south of Mole's Town.
A dense forest covered the area.
"This is where we'll trap them."
"They must disappear completely."
"No survivors."
"No witnesses."
Tywin studied the location.
After several moments, he nodded approvingly.
"Make the necessary preparations."
"Keep casualties to a minimum."
Then a faint smile appeared on his face.
"Afterward, we march directly toward Last Hearth."
His eyes gleamed.
"And perhaps our guests from House Umber can help us gain entry."
Kevan immediately understood.
A grin spread across his face.
"Yes."
"That would be very helpful."
The letter in his hand suddenly seemed more valuable than gold.
It represented opportunity.
A chance for House Lannister to rise once again.
Perhaps even reclaim its former glory.
Tywin stood.
"So, prepare the men."
"This time, brother, we fight together."
For a moment, something stirred within Kevan's chest.
A feeling he had not experienced in years.
Excitement.
Determination.
Faith.
Looking at his elder brother, he declared:
"We will restore the glory of House Lannister."
Tywin's gaze remained fixed on the direwolf symbol marking Winterfell.
His voice was cold and resolute.
"We will make the Seven Kingdoms hear our roar once more."
"And we will remind them exactly what it means when a Lannister pays his debts."
Suddenly—
Knock! Knock! Knock!
The sound echoed through the room.
Unlike before, this knock was urgent.
Almost desperate.
The two brothers exchanged glances.
Their expressions hardened immediately.
Kevan turned toward the door.
"Enter."
The door burst open.
A Night's Watch ranger rushed inside, snow clinging to his cloak.
His face was pale with panic.
"My lords!"
He struggled to catch his breath.
"We've found bodies in the forest beyond the Wall!"
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