The common folk watched the departing army, a mix of awe and aspiration filling their hearts. To be knighted by Lord Jason... what a dream that was. What great deeds would a man have to perform to earn such an honor?
Jason himself, clad in full steel plate, rode at the head of the column. He was flanked by Dicken, Kent, and more than fifty guards, each man armed and armored from head to toe. The banners of Starfire City, bearing the emblem of his house, snapped in the wind. He glanced back one last time at the city walls before lowering the visor of his helmet, shielding his face from the cold morning air.
"Set off!" he commanded.
His order was echoed down the line by the sergeants, and the army moved as one.
The thunder of a thousand hooves shook the ground, a rhythmic drumming that announced their march south. The earth itself seemed to hum with the power of the cavalry charge.
From the city gate, Maester Qyburn watched them go. He turned to the men left in command of the city's defense—McCann, Bud, Rubin, and Chris.
"You're to patrol the lands around Starfire City diligently," Qyburn instructed. "Lord Jason expects the north to grow restless now that war has come to the south. From this day forward, the safety of this city is in your hands."
"Yes, Maester," McCann affirmed with a solemn nod.
Chris rested a hand on the pommel of his sword. "I wish I were marching south with them. It's a shame to be left behind."
Bud offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. Lord Jason said there will be plenty of fighting to come. Why else would he order us to keep recruiting?"
"He's right," added Marbu, swinging himself onto his horse. "It's better to train the men we have now. If we take them into battle and they perform poorly, the Lord will hold us responsible." Marbu had been overseeing the assembly of flintlocks and the production of gunpowder at the armory. After seeing Lord Jason off, he had to hurry back to his duties.
Meanwhile, in the Riverlands, the war had already begun with brutal swiftness. The Lannister army had launched a sudden, overwhelming assault, smashing through the defenses of Pinkmaiden and Acorn Hall.
A few members of House Piper and House Smallwood managed to escape with their lords, but the rest were captured by Ser Jaime Lannister.
Jaime, resplendent in his golden armor, rode proudly through the shattered gates of Acorn Hall. The siege had been short and fierce. The main gate was splintered in two, lying useless on the ground. The Smallwood banner had been torn down and thrown into the mud, where the victorious western soldiers now trampled it underfoot.
The Kingslayer gave the captured members of House Smallwood a brief, dismissive glance before ordering them to the prison camp to join the captives from House Piper. He then dispatched a dozen cavalry squads with a simple, ruthless order: burn everything. They were to set fire to the wheat fields, destroying the coming harvest and crippling the Riverlands' ability to sustain a long war.
It was the same strategy they had employed at Pinkmaiden. By destroying all food and supplies, they sowed chaos and weakened their enemy's resolve. They stormed through small towns and villages, burning fields and granaries, forcing a tide of refugees to flee toward Riverrun.
These desperate people would become a burden on House Tully, slowing their response and consuming their resources. To amplify the terror and crush any hope of resistance, Lord Tywin Lannister had unleashed his most fearsome weapon: Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain.
Standing nearly eight feet tall, with arms as thick as another man's thigh, the Mountain was a giant of a man, an unstoppable force of destruction. He led his cavalry across the riverlands, and no one could stand against him. Towns and holdfasts were put to the torch, leaving nothing but scorched ruins in their wake. The ferocity of the Lannister invasion caught the river lords completely by surprise. Many were killed or captured, and the legend of the western army's brutality spread like wildfire.
In King's Landing, news of Lord Tywin's campaign brought immense relief to Cersei and Joffrey. They had been living in fear of an attack from the north, but with the Lannister army sweeping through the Riverlands, that threat seemed distant. Lord Tywin was marching toward Harrenhal, a strategic position that would allow him to protect the capital. If Renly or Stannis Baratheon dared to attack King's Landing, Tywin could swiftly strike their rear, trapping them between his army and the city walls.
With his fears assuaged, Joffrey's cruel nature was fully unleashed.
"That insolent wolf pup dares to call his banners!" he seethed. "He plans to march south against his king! I am the king, yet he refuses to swear fealty. I will execute Eddard Stark, and I will make his whelp understand the meaning of a king's wrath!"
Varys's little birds had confirmed the news: Robb Stark had gathered the northern lords and was marching south to fight the Lannister army. It was open rebellion. Sansa's letter, which Joffrey and Cersei had coerced her into writing, had failed completely.
Furious, Joffrey ignored his mother's pleas for caution and demanded Eddard Stark's immediate execution. He was determined to answer this treason with iron and blood.
Cersei, too, had lost her patience. Eddard Stark was stubborn, refusing to acknowledge Joffrey's claim to the throne. Her anger finally boiled over, and she consented to her son's command.
They decided to make it a public spectacle. Eddard Stark's head would be struck off in the square before the Great Sept of Baelor, a grim warning to anyone in the Seven Kingdoms who dared defy the Iron Throne.
On the day of the execution, the square was packed with tens of thousands of citizens from King's Landing. The announcement that the former Hand of the King, Eddard Stark, was to be beheaded as a traitor who had conspired with Stannis Baratheon had thrown the city into a frenzy. It was the most sensational event in over a decade, and no one wanted to miss it.
The City Watch, in their golden cloaks, formed a line to hold back the surging crowds. Soon, guards from the Red Keep cleared a path for the royal procession. The king and the queen mother arrived in their litters, followed by the carriage that held the condemned prisoner.
Joffrey was dressed in a magnificent red velvet doublet, a blood-red cloak draped over his shoulders. Four knights of the Kingsguard, in their traditional white robes, stood as his honor guard.
The young king ascended the high platform and took his seat. He looked out at the massive crowd, his expression a mixture of excitement and arrogance, eager to see the traitor's head fall and prove to the world that the king's justice was absolute and terrible.
------------------------
For Advance chapters visit : patreon.com/Mythic_Muse