Above the towering walls of the Red Keep, the royal banner of King Joffrey Baratheon fluttered proudly in the wind.
The sigils of House Baratheon and House Lannister stood side by side upon the crimson banner—the crowned stag and the roaring lion glaring at one another as though even the symbols themselves could not coexist peacefully.
Standing atop the gatehouse, Tyrion Lannister watched the soldiers below with narrowed eyes.
Beside him stood the Commander of the Gold Cloaks, Ser Janos Slynt—though in this altered world he was more commonly called Ironhand Jacelyn due to the iron prosthetic attached where his right hand once had been.
The square beneath them bustled with activity.
Groups of Gold Cloaks moved with surprising discipline, carefully carrying heavy canisters filled with wildfire. Others connected hoses and spraying nozzles while engineers supervised every step.
Green liquid splashed inside reinforced containers, glowing faintly like poisonous emerald fire.
The men worked cautiously.
They had to.
Even a single mistake with wildfire could destroy half the city.
"Their training has improved considerably, my lord," Jacelyn remarked while observing the soldiers below.
The commander was a tall man with deep-set eyes, a broad jaw, and streaks of gray running through his brown hair. His iron prosthetic gleamed under the sunlight as he folded his arms.
Tyrion nodded slightly.
"It's not enough to simply look impressive," he replied calmly. "They must achieve mastery."
"You and I both understand how dangerous wildfire truly is."
Jacelyn immediately lowered his head.
"Yes, my lord."
Tyrion leaned against the battlements and looked toward the distant Blackwater Bay.
"Our weaknesses are obvious," he said quietly.
"Our navy is insufficient. Our infantry is barely adequate. The Gold Cloaks are city guards, not seasoned battlefield veterans."
"The only real advantages we possess are the walls of King's Landing… and wildfire."
The words hung heavily in the air.
Most of the Royal Fleet remained trapped near Dragonstone, while the city itself lacked enough experienced troops.
The Gold Cloaks were useful for maintaining order and defending streets, but few among them had ever fought in a true war.
As for his father's forces…
Tyrion's expression darkened.
Tywin Lannister still held Harrenhal, but maintaining such a position had become increasingly difficult. Supplies were dwindling, and the Riverlands had become a nightmare of burned villages and endless raids.
In Tyrion's opinion, his father's army should abandon Harrenhal entirely and retreat westward before their position collapsed completely.
Keeping thousands of soldiers trapped in the Riverlands while King's Landing starved was simply foolish.
Still, convincing Tywin Lannister of anything was nearly impossible.
Jacelyn straightened his posture.
"War belongs to the brave, my lord," he said firmly.
"Even if we are weaker, we cannot show fear. The moment soldiers lose courage, the battle is already lost."
Tyrion chuckled faintly.
"You sound like a bard singing heroic songs."
"Perhaps," Jacelyn answered, "but men fight better when they believe someone still stands firm."
Tyrion glanced at him.
"Then tell me something honestly. If the war reaches the walls of King's Landing…"
"Will Joffrey have to fight personally?"
Jacelyn did not hesitate.
"Yes."
"The king must appear on the battlefield."
"When banners rise and war horns sound, soldiers need something to believe in. Seeing their king stand among them would strengthen morale immensely."
"Men do not fight for cowards hiding behind palace walls."
Tyrion sighed.
"A harsh truth."
Still, Jacelyn was correct.
The kings of Westeros had always fought personally in war.
Robert Baratheon had fought at the Trident.
Rhaegar Targaryen had died upon the battlefield.
Even older kings and princes had led armies personally.
Westeros respected warriors above all else.
A king who refused to fight would forever be labeled a coward.
But Tyrion understood another reality.
Kings also died in war.
If Joffrey fell during battle, the Lannisters would need another claimant immediately.
That meant Tommen Baratheon needed protection.
Originally, Tyrion had considered sending Tommen elsewhere, but now he believed Harrenhal might actually be the safest option remaining.
If King's Landing fell, Tommen could still be crowned elsewhere.
Jacelyn interrupted his thoughts.
"My lord, you need not worry excessively about the king's safety."
"The Hound and Ser Meryn remain close to him."
Tyrion snorted softly.
"The Hound…"
Ever since losing his brother, Sandor Clegane had changed drastically.
He still fought fiercely, but something inside him seemed hollow now—as though the fire keeping him alive had begun to fade.
"As for the Kingsguard," Tyrion continued bitterly, "their quality has certainly declined."
Jaime had already returned west.
And the old knight, Barristan Selmy, had abandoned the capital entirely.
The remaining White Cloaks were competent fighters, but hardly legendary.
Tyrion looked down once more at the Gold Cloaks conducting their wildfire drills.
Without facing enemies directly, the men still possessed confidence.
Perhaps some courage would remain once real bloodshed began.
Though Tyrion doubted it.
The defense system he envisioned for King's Landing was built upon layers.
The Blackwater Rush protected the southern side of the city, forcing any invading army to attack both land and sea simultaneously.
If properly defended, King's Landing could become a fortress nearly impossible to breach.
Tyrion had spent weeks preparing.
First, he expanded the army.
The number of Gold Cloaks had nearly doubled, while hundreds of mercenaries had been hired to strengthen the defenses.
Jacelyn commanded the Gold Cloaks.
Meanwhile, Bronn led the mercenaries and mountain clansmen.
Even the Red Cloaks serving within the royal court now answered to Tyrion's authority.
Second, Tyrion reinforced the city itself.
The docks beyond the Mud Gate had been burned to deny landing zones to enemy fleets.
Entire streets and abandoned homes near vulnerable areas had been demolished to create open kill zones.
He had also ordered every merchant ship and ferry within Blackwater Bay confiscated.
If enemies wished to cross the river, they would have to build their own vessels under fire.
The Street of Steel worked day and night forging weapons, armor, and massive iron chains.
Those chains would soon stretch across the Blackwater Rush itself.
Tyrion smiled faintly at the thought.
If enemy fleets entered the bay carelessly, they would find themselves trapped between fire and steel.
But none of those preparations mattered as much as two things.
Wildfire.
And the mountain clans.
With support from the Alchemists' Guild, wildfire production had increased dramatically.
The substance was horrifyingly unstable, but devastating in war.
As for the mountain clansmen, Tyrion intended to use them as raiders during battle—striking supply lines, attacking scouts, and harassing enemy camps relentlessly.
They were crude and savage, but useful.
"So long as we endure," Tyrion muttered quietly, "victory may still be possible."
Jacelyn turned toward him.
"My lord, regardless of whether Stannis or Storm attacks first, you must protect yourself as well."
"You are essential to the city's defense."
Tyrion smirked slightly.
Hearing genuine praise always felt strange.
Still, Jacelyn truly admired him.
The commander viewed Jaime as the embodiment of martial skill, while Tyrion represented cunning and strategy.
Compared to the corrupt officials before him, Jacelyn was infinitely more reliable.
The Spider had chosen well.
Tyrion exhaled slowly.
"These are dangerous times."
"Originally, I believed either Stannis or Renly would attack from the south."
"But now…"
He looked toward the north.
"Our rear is also under threat."
That was Tyrion's greatest fear.
Not direct assault.
Starvation.
If the enemy simply surrounded King's Landing without attacking, the city would eventually collapse from hunger and panic alone.
With enemies threatening the capital from Maidenpool, the Stormlands, and Blackwater Bay simultaneously, survival would become impossible.
Jacelyn remained silent.
Neither of them truly controlled the flow of war anymore.
No matter how carefully Tyrion prepared, the enemy still dictated the battlefield.
Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed along the battlements.
Bronn appeared moments later holding a sealed letter.
"My lord," he said quickly, "there's good news and bad news."
Tyrion immediately took the letter.
As he read, his face slowly darkened.
After Stannis sailed from Dragonstone, he had confronted Renly near Storm's End.
Renly attempted a surprise night assault but failed when Stannis anticipated the attack.
Then came the true disaster.
A fleet led by Gendry—the so-called blacksmith king—appeared behind both Baratheon brothers.
The fleets of the Two Cities sailed through the Stepstones, circled Tarth, and completely trapped both armies.
Renly lost everything.
His crown had been stripped away, and he was sent to the Night's Watch.
Even worse…
Stannis surrendered.
Not only that, but he had apparently accepted a position under his nephew.
Tyrion nearly crushed the letter in his hand.
"What?!"
His face became pale with disbelief.
This changed everything.
Gendry now effectively controlled the support of four kingdoms:
The Stormlands.
The Vale.
The North.
And the Riverlands.
Not to mention naval forces stretching from the Stepstones to the Free Cities.
The balance of power had shifted overnight.
The entire war suddenly seemed absurd.
Renly, despite possessing overwhelming numbers, failed completely.
His own rear betrayed him.
His army mutinied after the failed assault.
And Stannis—the proudest and most stubborn man in Westeros—had surrendered.
Tyrion could hardly believe it.
"How could Stannis surrender so easily?" he muttered.
"And Renly…"
"That fool couldn't even defeat his brother despite holding every advantage."
He handed the letter to Jacelyn.
"Read it."
The commander quickly scanned the contents.
From Gulltown to Maidenpool… from Dragonstone to the Stormlands…
Nearly the entire eastern coastline had fallen under enemy influence.
Only Dorne and the Reach remained independent.
Which meant enemy fleets could now blockade King's Landing from every direction.
Jacelyn frowned deeply.
"This war is madness."
"Renly truly was a fool."
"But this blacksmith king…"
"His rise is far too fast."
Tyrion clenched his jaw.
"No."
"I need to speak with my sister immediately."
This was no longer a distant threat.
The storm was coming directly for King's Landing.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)