Chapter 184: Setting the Plan at Casterly Rock
"First, let me clarify: all of the following plans are predicated on the condition that you, Father, have a way to take Robert 'out of the game'."
Tyrion spoke with absolute confidence, though he felt a faint sense of irony. A year ago, he never would have imagined discussing regicide in such a casual tone. The mind grows sharper with use; managing a gargantuan entity like the Night's Watch industries had not only honed his abilities and intellect but had also profoundly reshaped his temperament and way of thinking. To Tyrion now, a King was merely a noble one step higher than a Lord. If Robert intended to destroy House Lannister, then regardless of his title, he had to die!
"Before we begin the plan, we must secure our retreat—we need to be prepared to flee across the Narrow Sea."
"Lannisport is full of ships," Tywin let out a sharp breath of displeasure. "Are you suggesting we start loading our treasures onto boats before the fighting even begins? If the plan goes poorly, we can flee at any time. That is my guarantee."
"I believe you, Father. Since the retreat is secured, our next task is to define the strategic goal. It's clear we cannot win a conventional war; our objective is to buy time—to stall until our people in the Red Keep successfully remove the King and chaos erupts in King's Landing." A map lay on the table, but Tyrion's short limbs couldn't reach it. He had to climb onto the chair, standing while the others sat, just to point at the parchment. "The ultimatum gives us ten days. Nominally, it's for us to deliberate, but in reality, it's to give the six kingdoms time to react. The rebellion in the Vale just ended, so re-summoning their armies won't take long. Time is short. The first question is: if we strike first, who is the target, and how do we proceed?"
"The Riverlands and the Reach both border the West and are the major granaries of the Seven Kingdoms. Raiding either would disrupt their mobilization and logistics," Kevan said, frowning. "If we must choose one, it has to be the Riverlands... Though parts of the Reach can harvest three times a year and their abundance far exceeds the Riverlands, their strength is too great. If we provoke them, we risk drawing a fire that will consume us even faster."
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"Uncle has considered this well. We must not touch the Reach." Tyrion leaned over the map, pointing to Ashford on the eastern edge of the Reach. "Robert made that mistake when he rose against the Targaryens. He could have marched straight north to attack the capital or join his allies, but he insisted on heading west into Tyrell territory to show off his strength... thinking a great victory would keep the Reach's royalist army from marching east to Storm's End. Instead of achieving his goal, he was routed by Randyll Tarly's vanguard and nearly lost his life. He became a laughingstock for a time."
It was indeed a joke, but Robert had won in the end—and now he was coming for the Lannisters. No one in the room felt like laughing, letting the dwarf continue.
"The Reach is a curious place. Its area, produce, resources, and manpower rank first among the Seven Kingdoms; it is the undisputed, uncrowned king of Westeros. Aegon Targaryen likely saw this, which is why he chose to almost humiliate the region by making the stewards of the extinct Gardener Kings the new Lords of Highgarden—ensuring the Reach would be internally divided. It was a masterstroke of cold calculation. The Reach lords, who claim the blood of 'Garth Greenhand,' have never truly accepted the Tyrells. They've formed numerous factions and treat their liege lords with outward compliance but inward defiance. This results in the Tyrells holding several times our paper strength while being arguably weaker in overall unity." The meeting hall of Casterly Rock had become Tyrion's stage. "But these descendants of the Reach Kings share one trait: they are exceptionally xenophobic. They can fight amongst themselves all they like, but outsiders are not allowed to interfere. Every time a non-Reach outsider tries to step in, they unite instantly. If we don't touch them, we only face a House Tyrell motivated by a future crown. But if we strike them, we offend the entire Reach. A unified Reach is a terrifying force... even if the other five kingdoms just watched, they alone would be enough to finish us."
"The Riverlands, however, are different. All the families, including the Tullys, have mediocre strength. They lack both a formidable army and a charismatic hero to lead them. Hoster Tully has only kept his vassals in line because he found good matches for his daughters. Even the troublesome Freys recently gained a satisfactory son-in-law in Robb Stark, so they certainly won't oppose their liege lord and in-law now. This means that whether we strike first or not, the Riverlands will exert themselves in the coming siege of the West. Rather than waiting for them to gather and threaten us, it's better to strike first and cripple them. This disrupts the logistics for the North's arrival, weakens the Wolf-Fish-Falcon alliance, and paves the way for the next stage."
Striking the Riverlands first was exactly what Tywin had in mind. He nodded, signaling Tyrion to go on.
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"In striking the Riverlands, we must be clear about what we want. The West lacks for nothing except men and time. Striking first is not about capturing territory; it's about 'sabotage'," Tyrion said. "We send only elite, fast-moving cavalry. If they encounter small units, they annihilate them; if they meet the main force, they bypass them. We avoid pitched battles. Meanwhile, burn as many ripening crops and granaries as possible, but kill as few people as you can—especially women and children. When the armies of the Vale and the North arrive, they will find a scorched and ruined Riverlands filled with countless hungry mouths to feed. They won't be able to forage for supplies; instead, they'll have to bring in grain to feed their allies' smallfolk. That alone will buy us a great deal of time!"
Cersei disliked Tyrion. Seeing him hold court like the master of the house at this inner-circle meeting made her brow furrow with impatience. In contrast, Jaime's eyes shone with a strange curiosity. He had heard rumors of Tyrion's wit but had rarely experienced it. He had been startled by the idea of an offensive, but as his brother spoke, it actually sounded feasible.
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Tywin gave a cold nod. "Well thought out. Anything else?"
Tyrion stared at his father, the corners of his mouth curling. "I imagine sellswords aren't as easy to find this time, are they?"
"In the past, when House Lannister called, wandering knights and free riders from across the kingdoms flocked to us. But this time... facing a war no one expects us to win, even with promised double pay, we have only half the usual numbers," Kevan said with a helpless shake of his head. "By the time war breaks out, our only mobile main force will be the core Lannister troops expanded from the Lannisport guards and reserves, plus a few thousand foreign sellswords. Even if we start training peasants now, there isn't time. Skirmishes we can handle, but once the main forces of the six kingdoms enter the field, we will be helpless."
"New levies should be trained, but don't count on them for this war. If the six kingdoms break through the Golden Tooth and Crakehall while Robert is still alive, we'll be heading for the ships. No amount of fresh meat will save us then," Tyrion said decisively. "We must stall as long as possible on those two lines of defense. Beyond defense, we need harassment. Send silver-tongued men to the Stepstones and the Free Cities of Essos to hire pirates and mercenary companies. They might not be willing to face the six kingdoms in the West, but for enough gold, they'll happily burn, kill, and plunder the eastern coast of Westeros."
Tyrion leaned in, tracing his finger along the map of the Narrow Sea from north to south. He traced from Last Hearth along the Northern coast to the Three Sisters, then to Gulltown, Dragonstone, and down to the Stormlands, ending at Dorne before circling the southernmost tip of Westeros to pass Oldtown and the Shield Islands. "From north to south, our mercenaries and pirates will harass every coastal family and castle of the North, the Vale, the Crownlands, and Dorne. Leave the Reach alone for now—it's too far and too dangerous. Whatever gold is in the treasury, bring it all out. If we keep it, it will only follow us into our coffins. we will fund the largest pirate and mercenary war in history. Thousands of brigands will land on every beach. They might not take a single castle, but their presence alone will be the greatest distraction and headache for our enemies."
Tyrion paused, gauging the reactions of the other four, before adding a final point: "And of course, we never admit these pirates and mercenaries were hired by us."
Anyone with a brain could guess the mastermind; what did denial matter? Kevan felt a chill, terrified by his nephew for the first time. What had happened to Tyrion in the last year to turn him into such a ruthless player?
"If we do this, there is truly no turning back." The second-in-command of House Lannister wiped sweat from his brow and looked worriedly at his brother. He felt it might be better to just hand over Jaime and Cersei. "Tywin, I think this plan... is a bit... too risky."
Tywin looked repeatedly at the serpentine curve Tyrion had drawn on the map, his expression darkening.
The world thought him cold-blooded, brilliant, and calculating—but that was merely the armor Tywin wore. He knew he wasn't as omnipotent as people believed. Faced with this crisis, Tywin felt panic and tension; he even wanted to yield to settle things... but as the patriarch, he could not show it. A deadpan face that never smiled was his best shield.
Looking back at his life, he had represented House Lannister in the War of the Ninepenny Kings before he was twenty. Relying on talented friends, loyal guards, and excellent sellswords, he gained experience and glory. Back in the West, he used that baptism of war to ruthlessly exterminate the Reynes and Tarbecks. As The Rains of Castamere was sung, only he knew the truth: he hadn't intended to commit genocide when the war began.
Once you ride a lion, it is hard to dismount. He simply decided to play the part the world assigned him—the extremely powerful and cold Lord of Casterly Rock. Based on his war record and his stabilization of the West, he was named Hand of the King a year later.
As a young man, he lacked the ability to rule the realm, but by listening to his aides and advisors, he became a capable Hand. As the kingdoms grew stable and prosperous under his tenure, the labels powerful, proud, and cruel became inseparable from him.
To live up to these labels and maintain his authority, the cold shell became his life. Yet deep in his heart, a flame burned: having witnessed the humiliation his father's weakness brought to the family, Tywin had a pathological pursuit of family honor. He could not imagine the scene of handing over Jaime and Cersei. Tywin without pride or a Lannister family mocked by the Seven Kingdoms was worse than non-existence!
Tywin's expression did not change, but he gritted his teeth inwardly. "We can muster less than a million gold dragons at most. Half is needed for war preparations. Is fifty thousand enough for this 'largest scale harassment'?"
"Clearly not. A million might not even do it. But we can use an enticing deposit to trick the pirates and sellswords into acting first. As for domestic costs, use promissory notes where we can... and for what we can't, I have other ways to raise funds." Tyrion climbed down from the chair and sat back. "A certain man of the Night's Watch from across the Sunset Sea taught me the principles of the 'Money Game.' After practicing for months in King's Landing, I believe I have mastered the basics. If you give the word, Father, I will open the first bank of Westeros. With our reputation for 'always paying our debts,' we are the best suited to play this game. I've even thought of the name: The Bank of Lannister."
Open a bank? Tywin had considered it but knew nothing of the mechanics and had no talent to run it. Now Tyrion said he could?
"If you have doubts, Father, we can talk by candlelight tonight about this game of money." Tyrion saw Tywin's concern. "Striking the Riverlands buys us days; pirate harassment will slow the enemy's mobilization and morale. Whether the Golden Tooth and Crakehall can hold is unknown... but no matter how we stall, what is coming will eventually arrive. The ultimate survival of House Lannister depends on whether the assassination of Robert succeeds... and our strategy after his death."
Kevan looked skeptically at his brother. He had always been Tywin's loyal shadow, but now he wavered. "Tywin, you said that once Robert dies, Stannis and Renly will fight for the throne. I doubt it—with Lord Stark sitting on the Iron Throne as Hand, would Renly have the courage?"
"If he doesn't have the courage, I will give it to him," Tywin said expressionlessly. "I will go to negotiate with Renly with the protocols usually reserved for a King. I will swear fealty and ask for Jaime to be spared by taking the black. Then, I will tell him I will do everything in my power to pin down the armies of the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale that follow Eddard Stark, creating his opportunity to seize the throne."
Jaime clenched his fists, shame flooding his heart. The once-proud Lannisters, because of his and Cersei's foolishness, had fallen to this—gambling everything just for the chance to be exiled to the far North. What irony!
Kevan frowned. "No matter how Robert dies, the blame will fall on Jaime—on House Lannister. Renly would never ignore the eyes of the realm to cooperate with the family of a Kingslayer to take his brother's throne."
"A reasonable concern, but easily handled," Tyrion said with a smile. "Father only needs to tell Renly clearly: whether he agrees or not, we Lannisters will do our best to pin down the Wolf, the Fish, and the Falcon. With the Vale and Riverlands weakened by war and the Northern army tied down by us, if Renly—who has many friends in the Crownlands—still doesn't eye the Iron Throne, I'll doubt if he's a man at all."
The plan was set. Tywin sat in his high seat, mentally merging his own plans with Tyrion's suggestions. House Lannister seemed to have found a perfect way to break the siege. The final problem was: what price and conditions would it take to get that mouse-hearted Pycelle and those small attendants in the Red Keep to agree to kill Robert?
"One more thing; it's amusing just to think about." Tyrion's face was flushed, an internal voice cheering: After all these years, finally a chance to do something for the family and prove myself to Father! "When those Ironborn hit a wall in the West and find nothing, once Robert is dead, will they head south to raid the Reach, or north to bite the Starks, who hold their heir? Perhaps, at the right time, we can reach out to the Greyjoys."
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