Outside Daintings City, the air was thick with the scent of tension and sweat as Arthur's army assembled.
Soldiers excitedly checked their equipment, horses pawed restlessly, kicking up fine dust and a hazy mist.
A chilling atmosphere rapidly brewed outside the city walls.
Lymon Lannister stood in the gateway, his gaze complex as he watched the troops outside, but he eventually stepped forward and walked to Arthur's horse.
Lymon Lannister lowered his voice, as if sharing a dangerous secret: "Arthur."
"I advise you, it's best not to punish the vassals of Daedings Family too severely."
Arthur reined in his horse, turning to look at the haggard, half-awake old noble, awaiting his next words.
"For noble lords, preserving strength on the battlefield, or even backstabbing, are unspoken rules.
You can punish them today, gaining temporary authority and fear, but you would be breaking everyone's tacit understanding."
"What's more, they did nominally fulfill their obligations to Daedings Family."
The old man paused, his tone growing heavier.
"The entire noble class of Westeros will view us as outsiders because of this, two madmen who don't understand the rules.
They will ostracize us, guard against us, and eventually, they will hate us."
"This will absolutely not benefit your plans."
Arthur listened to the old man's well-intentioned advice, his face showing no sign of being persuaded.
Instead, he smiled, a meaningful smile that sent an inexplicable chill down Lymon Lannister's spine.
He looked at the old man and spoke, his voice steady yet possessing a strange penetrative power: "Lord Lyman, for us to win at the gambling table, we must first clarify one thing."
"Who are our friends, who are those we can cooperate with, and… who are those we should consider our enemies."
Arthur gave Lyman no time to react, changing the subject to an unrelated yet incredibly sharp topic.
"In Westeros, a person born a commoner is destined to die a commoner.
The entire system, from top to bottom, offers them no ladder to climb upwards."
These words were like a stone thrown into still water, instantly furrowing Lymon Lannister's brow.
Arthur's words made him feel extremely confused and uneasy, as if Arthur had touched upon some sacred and inviolable taboo.
Lyman almost instinctively retorted: "Why should commoners be given channels for advancement?"
"The Faith of the Seven also teaches us that commoners should live like sheep, content and obedient to the Shepherd's guidance and the rule of nobles.
This is the order of the world, the law set by the gods."
Arthur dismounted, tossing the reins to a nearby soldier, and walked to Lyman's side, standing shoulder to shoulder with the old man, both looking out at the army forming up to depart.
He raised his hand, pointing to his own liege soldiers in the ranks, whose eyes held no fear, but instead were filled with ambition and desire.
Then, his hand pointed to the other side, where nearly forty landless Knights, mercenaries, retainers, and sworn Knights belonging to House Leicester and Daedings Family stood.
They led scrawny horses, wore worn-out armor, and some didn't even have retainers.
"Lord Lyman, these wandering Knights, mercenary Knights, retainer Knights, and sworn Knights who have no land to divide."
"Those minor nobles with barren territories, meager taxes, and no hope of further advancement—what essential difference is there between them and commoners who have no upward mobility?"
He had never considered the problem from this perspective.
In his deeply ingrained beliefs, nobles were nobles, and commoners were commoners, separated by an unbridgeable chasm.
Now, this question struck Lymon Lannister's heart like a heavy hammer, shaking his confused mind.
The old man's eyes widened, his lips slightly parted, but no sound escaped.
Yes, what difference was there between these landless Knights and minor lords and those commoners?
Their paths to advancement had also been blocked by the great nobles.
Arthur's words, like a sharp blade, cruelly cut through this splendid facade.
How could these people not resent the great nobles who possessed vast lands, countless riches, and blocked their upward mobility?
Arthur didn't stop.
He turned his head, his gaze burning as he looked at Lyman, his voice lower and more seductive, as if answering the old man's inner thoughts:
"Do you think there are no nobles who resent the great nobles of Westeros?"
"Throughout the Seven Kingdoms, those who truly hold power are merely the hundred or so most powerful great families."
"They are like greedy lions and tigers, perched at the top of the food chain, monopolizing the best and most extensive lands in Westeros, with countless gold dragons and wealth hidden in their private chambers, possessing the noblest marriage alliances and the most prestigious titles."
"They have formed a circle, an unbreakable inner circle that belongs only to them."
Every word of Arthur's pierced Lyman's ear like a needle.
He took a step forward, moving closer to Lyman, his eyes as sharp as an eagle's, as if to see through Lyman's soul:
"And us?"
"You and I are the same, Lord."
Arthur's voice was cold and clear.
This sentence made Lyman tremble all over, a current of electricity shooting from his spine to the top of his head.
He remembered his deceased son, and the family's increasingly declining predicament.
"The standing of House Leicester in Westeros is no different from my standing as Arthur of Stinkfort in the Riverlands."
"We are both outsiders, excluded from the core of power."
The old man fell completely silent.
The humiliations he had always attributed to bad luck, to enemies being too powerful, were at this moment redefined by Arthur with a new, cruel theory.
They were not not working hard enough, nor were they unlucky; they were simply born outside the circle.
Arthur retook his warhorse, swung into the saddle, and looked at the distraught Lymon Lannister: "So, Lord, we need to clarify one thing."
"Who we should be enemies with, whose support we need to gain, and with whom we should cooperate."
He pointed his riding crop towards the vast army.
"We must win the support of all the commoners in the Riverlands, because they have nothing, so they yearn for land and sustenance.
They will fight with their lives for land and bread, for the clear opportunities for advancement we give them."
"We must also win land and the right to advancement for those landless Knights and minor lords, to give them hope, to make them understand that by following us, they can obtain what the great lords will never bestow upon them.
They will become our most steadfast allies."
At this point, Arthur's voice suddenly turned cold, filled with undisguised chill and killing intent.
"And the price for all this will be the great lords, those who are high and mighty, unwilling to share land, any power, or wealth."
"Their demise!"
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