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The seven great gates of King's Landing and the walls between them were full of Gold Cloaks standing ready.
Under the command of a small number of Lannister riders, they patrolled back and forth, forbidding anyone from approaching the gates.
"Your Grace. Lord Lancel."
While the Gold Cloaks were patrolling, they came upon Cersei, who was inspecting the walls with Lancel and a team of Lannister guards. They immediately bowed and greeted her respectfully.
"Mm. Continue the patrols. Remember, before I give the order, no one leaves King's Landing."
Cersei had endured the grief of losing a son. Her beauty remained bright, and in the way she issued commands, she had begun to show something of a queen's manner, as if everything lay in her grasp.
"As you command."
The Gold Cloaks moved on.
Lancel, dressed in splendid armor, adjusted the hilt of the sword at his waist and carefully asked, "Your Grace, how much longer will King's Landing remain sealed? It has been nearly half a month since the Hand led the army out.
"The nobles and smallfolk in the city are already objecting. Some have even begun drafting petitions."
Cersei turned her head and stared at him.
"Were you not present then? My father's meaning was clear. When he returns, King's Landing will open."
Then her tone grew meaningful.
"My father and Uncle Kevan are fighting for House Lannister. I hope you will not do anything stupid for a little profit.
"Otherwise, if you are punished for it, I will find it difficult to explain matters to Uncle Kevan."
"Ah? Your Grace, I meant nothing else. Truly. A great lord only asked me to inquire."
Feeling the threat in Cersei's cold words, the handsome Lancel immediately bowed in panic and tried to reassure her.
"Good. As long as you understand."
"Right. Your Grace, when we sent the fleet off on the Blackwater, I noticed... on the warship he was riding, there were two unfamiliar youths and a strong man following beside him."
Frightened by Cersei, Lancel seemed eager to show his usefulness. He lowered his voice and told her something she did not know.
Cersei thought for a moment, then nodded in satisfaction.
"That should be one of my father's arrangements. You did well, Lancel. It may not be valuable information, but you knew to tell me on your own.
"Very good. When we finish the inspection here, come to my bedchamber and speak with me."
As she said the last words, her eyes grew seductive and color rose in her face.
"Yes."
Lancel's heart stirred at the sight, and his answer came with obvious eagerness.
After exchanging a look, Cersei turned and continued her inspection, with Lancel and the Lannister soldiers following behind.
King's Landing had become a city under siege. Many people inside wanted out, while many outside wanted in.
Beyond the seven gates, commoners, traveling merchants, sellswords, and people of every sort had gathered into makeshift camps of worn tents.
Since armed Gold Cloaks guarded the walls, these makeshift camps stood outside bowshot.
Inside them, every kind of service had appeared: food, lodging, clothing, transport, and certain entertainments. They proved the old truth that wherever people gathered, a market soon grew.
Outside the Gods Gate, in one of the temporary camps, a large tent with a boar sign hanging over the entrance served as a tavern.
Groups of drunkards sat around tables inside, shouting as they drank large cups of ale.
A swordsman wrapped from head to foot in a cloak lifted the tent flap and walked straight to the counter.
A silver stag rang sharply as it flicked from his hand and landed on the counter.
"A cup of strong Dornish wine."
"Sorry. We do not have the wine noble lords drink here."
The male barkeep caught the silver stag and shook his head in surprise.
"Then what strong wine do you have?"
The cloaked man did not lift his head.
"Plum wine."
"Then one cup."
"One cup?" The barkeep laughed. "Guest, that silver stag is nearly enough to buy a barrel."
Seeing that the cloaked man did not seem to know the price of plum wine, the barkeep was honest enough to speak.
Only then did the man lift his head.
"One cup of plum wine. Then talk to me about what has happened recently in King's Landing. The rest is your tip."
The barkeep had not looked closely before. Now he finally saw the man's face.
It was a terrible face.
The right side was covered in red scars and lumps of burned flesh. The left side seemed to have been struck recently by some blunt object and was covered with black scabs. Half his left ear was gone, leaving only a small piece of earlobe hanging alone.
'Gods, ugly.'
The barkeep swallowed at the sight of that terrifying face and cursed silently. Then he answered in a low voice, "Thank you for your generosity. What would you like to know?"
"Do you know why King's Landing has been sealed? Has anything happened recently with the king or the queen regent?"
Far away, nearly ten thousand soldiers bearing the direwolf and trout banners marched along the river road. Lord Tytos and Lord Jason commanded the combined army.
When Robb learned that Kevan had led the army from Harrenhal to King's Landing, he wrote to Brynden at Riverrun and told him to take advantage of the enemy movement to attack the weakened Harrenhal.
Even in the worst case, they would still recover the Riverlands.
So after receiving news that Tywin had reached Deep Den with a large army, Brynden ordered Lord Tytos and Lord Jason to lead ten thousand men gathered from Riverrun, Raventree Hall, and Darry against Harrenhal.
"Lord Jason, you should command this battle. I will obey your orders."
Brynden's letter had made the two of them responsible for attacking Harrenhal but had not named an overall commander. As they neared the castle, Lord Tytos took the initiative and yielded command.
"No, no. Lord Tytos, if you ask me to command against ironborn, I have no problem.
"But for this kind of battle, you have more experience. You should command."
Jason Mallister's tone was firm. After he spoke, he patted the long-hafted axe on his saddle and continued with a grin.
"Compared with commanding from the rear, I prefer standing at the front and chopping enemies with an axe."
"Very well," Tytos said. "But Harrenhal is difficult to attack and easy to defend. We must prepare for a long siege. And the enemy still has a monster like the Mountain. When the time comes, only you can lead part of the elite men to deal with him."
Seeing that Jason was not pretending to decline, Tytos accepted.
"Mm. You have considered it thoroughly. We will do as you say.
"Sigh. I only wonder how the fighting at Deep Den is going. My son insisted on following His Grace. He already worships him like a god."
"Ha. With the divine might His Grace showed outside Riverrun, worshiping him like a god is not unreasonable. Relax. With His Grace there, your son will be safe."
"Heh. True enough."
While Tytos and Jason laughed and marched toward Harrenhal, Beric watched them from a nearby wood with Thoros, Brienne, Sandor, and more than a dozen members of the Brotherhood Without Banners.
"It seems this Stark and Tully army is going to Harrenhal," Beric said with certainty, his single eye fixed on the road. "Their target is also the Mountain."
"Then that is good," Brienne said at once. "We have fewer than five thousand, our equipment is worse, and our men are not as strong as theirs. Since our goal is the same, we can join forces and attack Harrenhal together to kill the Mountain."
"I disagree."
Thoros, rarely stopping his drinking, rejected the idea at once.
"We have not heard evil deeds from these two great houses yet, but in essence they are no different from the Lannisters.
"I hear these two houses have just occupied the Westerlands. What they have done there is likely no different from what the Lannisters did in the Riverlands.
"The Brotherhood Without Banners exists to protect all the suffering smallfolk below. I will not fight beside their abusers."
"Thoros, that is too one-sided," Brienne said, frowning. "Some great nobles are kind and merciful to the smallfolk. King Renly was certainly not the sort of abuser you describe."
"Enough. Do not quarrel."
Beric stopped them before the argument could grow. He had once been a noble too, and he gave his view more fairly.
"Neither of you is fully right. But one thing is certain. If we attack with them, our brothers will become fodder."
Then he looked toward Sandor, who had been watching coldly from the side.
"Hound, what do you think we should do?"
"Either way." Sandor's face was hard. "I came with you because you promised I could kill my beloved brother with my own hands."
Beric looked at Thoros, Brienne, and Sandor, then pressed his lips together and decided.
"They will not take Harrenhal quickly. We return first and ask every member of the Brotherhood. Then we act according to what most of the brothers decide."
In the Reach, inside Old Oak's council hall, Lord Mace sat in the main seat and burst into laughter after reading the raven letter in his hand.
"Good. Very good. Tywin Lannister's nearly forty thousand men have trapped that little wolf at Deep Den. At last, the time my mother spoke of has come."
Mace had been stuck in the narrow halls of Old Oak for half a month. Long eager to cover his name in glory, he could hardly wait to attack Cornfield.
"Lord Hand, I think we should wait a little longer," said the hard-faced man seated to Mace's right, bald and with a short gray beard. "Wait until the fighting at Deep Den reaches its fiercest point before we move.
"We cannot attract the northern army's attention too early, or our losses will be much higher than expected."
"Lord Randyll, are you questioning my mother's judgment?
"She told me long ago that once Tywin Lannister and Robb Stark truly began fighting, we could move."
Mace was clearly displeased that Randyll had contradicted him so bluntly. He immediately brought up his mother to challenge him.
"Of course I do not question Lady Olenna's judgment. But the battle at Deep Den has only just begun. In my view, the time to move has not yet arrived."
Randyll looked at Mace, who was putting on a show of authority, and answered calmly.
"Hmph. Best that you do not.
"My mother has an agreement with Tywin Lannister. Since they have already handed over Nightsong, Blackhaven, and other lands to us, we should act according to the agreement.
"Otherwise, the nobles of all Westeros will laugh at House Tyrell for breaking faith."
Seeing Randyll yield somewhat, Mace did not continue pressing him. He accepted the advantage and went on.
"Besides, as far as I know, Cornfield has only six or seven thousand defenders. We have fifty thousand elite warriors of the Reach. Taking Cornfield will be as easy as crushing an ant."
"The Lord Hand is right. Under your command, I believe everything from Cornfield to Casterly Rock will fall easily before you."
As soon as Mace finished, a middle-aged noblewoman with her hair bound up immediately flattered him.
"Ha! Lady Oakheart has sound judgment. Do not worry. Since we stayed in Old Oak for so long, once this war ends, I will reward you handsomely."
Mace was very pleased by Lady Oakheart's honeyed words and answered with a loud laugh.
Lord Oakheart of Old Oak had died many years earlier, and Lady Oakheart had ruled in his place for years. During this time, feeding fifty thousand Reach soldiers had exhausted her.
She wished more than anyone that Lord Mace would march out and leave Old Oak.
"Then I thank you for your generosity in advance."
Mace laughed again.
Randyll watched the two trade praise and saw the other nobles following Mace's lead. Inwardly, he let out a heavy sigh.
The next day, the fifty thousand Reach soldiers who had stayed at Old Oak for half a month marched under Lord Mace toward Cornfield.
Six thousand against fifty thousand.
A battle between forces of utterly unequal strength was about to begin.
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