Casterly Rock was on high alert.
The simple fact that every raven within the fortress had disappeared two days earlier had already been enough for Kevan Lannister to know that something was about to go terribly wrong. He had spent all that time searching for those responsible, questioning maesters and flogging squires, yet he had failed to find a single feather anywhere in the Rock, and it was driving him mad.
Still, he had to keep his composure. Even after his brother's death, he needed to appear resolute, to project security and control, so that those waiting for his house to fall would see no opening, so that his family's legacy would not end buried in the mud.
That unease became even more tangible when the first messengers arrived with news of the attack on Lannisport. There were only a handful of riders, the few who had managed to escape.
And although Kevan did not know it, Vlad had simply allowed them to flee.
He was shaken. An attack on Lannisport was already a tragedy in itself, but if it had merely been the work of greedy, foolish Ironborn, he could have organized a swift defense and driven them back. After all, the Ironborn had never been feared for their ability to fight on land.
But what was approaching now made the Ironborn seem like nothing more than annoying neighbors.
The Impaler.
Just thinking about the man who inspired so many stories and legends sent a chill down his spine. He did not consider himself a superstitious man, but unlike his brother, who had perfected the art of concealing his emotions and keeping a cold, disciplined mind, Kevan had always been more ordinary.
That was why the rumors circulating about Vlad Drakul only deepened the fear he inspired.
And now, the monster was at his gates.
From the high fortified walls of Casterly Rock, Kevan watched as clouds of dust slowly rose in the distance, drawing ever closer across the plains surrounding the fortress. When he turned toward the coast, his gaze found an even more unsettling sight. The bay was crowded with black ships, each crowned with a prow that gleamed like the cold metal of a sword.
Surrounded, but not defeated, or so he firmly believed.
He kept telling himself that the Rock could withstand any siege; his brother had prepared it for that very purpose. Tywin had heard the rumors about Vlad, about a possible attack on King's Landing, and he had not fallen into the trap of focusing the defense on a single point. As always, he had been methodical.
Before his premature death at the hands of his least favored son, Tywin had fortified the Rock and ordered, in the king's name, that the same be done with all major coastal strongholds: Oldtown, Storm's End, and above all, the Reach.
Tywin had invested a great deal of his energy and the full weight of the Tyrell-Lannister alliance into hardening the breadbasket of the realm, from ditches meant to break cavalry charges to scorpions mounted atop the walls of Highgarden, in what he had mistakenly believed to be the best strategy against dragons.
But despite all his meticulous preparation, there was something he had not accounted for. In fact, had someone pointed it out to him, he would probably have laughed in scorn.
Tywin believed Vlad would be like any other lord: arrogant, inflexible, proud, willing to do anything to elevate the name of his house.
And precisely because of that, he had never anticipated a frontal assault on the Rock.
Vlad was not seeking prestige, nor did he wish to glorify his surname, if it were up to him, he would march straight to the Wall and face the army of the dead on his own… but he could not, he lacked the men, the supplies, and the weapons required.
Not even he, with all his power, would dare enter blindly into a magical domain ruled by an entity he knew far too little about.
That was why he had sent a group of his progeny beyond the Wall: to confirm the information he possessed, uncover anything new they might find, and, moreover, to capture wights as tangible proof that would make it easier to convince reluctant lords to ally with him.
And above all, Vlad was a practical man. He had taken the Dothraki armies because it was the easiest path, and he conquered Slaver's Bay for the same reason: gold, armies, ships. He always sought the route that offered the least resistance.
That was why Vlad would not attack the Reach.
Though it would secure him control of the realm's food supply, it would also provoke every lord in Westeros to fight him to the death.
Nor would he attack King's Landing, despite all the prestige it would bring him.
He would attack the Rock.
Because destroying it meant far more than a symbolic victory. It meant neutralizing the only fortress truly resistant to dragonfire. It meant stripping the Lannisters of their lair.
And above all, it meant establishing an impregnable stronghold of his own, from which he could spread his shadow across Westeros without fear of ever lacking refuge.
But Kevan did not know all of this. He only knew that the enemy was approaching.
And to his misfortune, his brother, for once, might not have been as clever as he believed.
As he watched the dust raised by the enemy army, his son Willem approached, clad in full armor and ready for battle.
—Shall we order the gates closed, father?— he asked, his voice firm. —We must prepare for a siege.
Kevan kept his gaze fixed on the horizon for a few seconds longer before turning to him.
—There will be no siege— he said coldly. —I will not lock our men away like rats while that bastard roams our lands unchallenged. We will fight. We will meet him in the open field… and we will destroy him here and now.
Willem blinked, surprised.
—And if… if he uses magic? Or the dragons?
Kevan looked at him harshly.
—If he has not used them yet, it is because he does not have them— he replied, a hint of disdain in his voice. —They are nothing but tales to frighten children.
Willem nodded, his jaw tight, not daring to contradict him, yet he could not help noticing that in his father's eyes, that statement was more hope than certainty.
Soon after, the sound of horns echoed along the walls of the Rock.
The order had been given.
One by one, the Lannister cavalry battalions began to pour out through the massive gates of the fortress. Ten thousand men, all prepared to fight and win, their red-and-gold banners snapping in the wind, the thunder of hooves on dry earth beating out a deep, steady rhythm. Thousands of riders, lances raised, formed perfectly aligned ranks in the valley stretching before the Rock.
From the walls, archers took their positions with discipline, while the scorpions were drawn back and aimed toward the enemy.
The dust on the far side of the field grew thicker.
And before long, so did the figures emerging from those clouds of earth. Rider after rider, one after another, the Dothraki appeared like an endless tide, led by several horsemen in full black armor, crowned with cloaks as red as blood. And contrary to what one would expect of "savage barbarians," they began to take up orderly, precise formations.
Kevan watched them in silence, his brow furrowed.
His gaze settled on the man at the head of the army: tall, long blond hair, pale skin. Even at a distance, he recognized the proud bearing of Vlad Drakul. He wore black scale armor and a crimson cloak that billowed in the wind alongside his mane and the banners of the black dragon.
The Impaler had come in person.
And here, on the plains of his home, they would fight for their lives and for the realm.
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Hey guys, new chapter, and the fighting begins. I have to say that battle scenes are some of the most complex and, honestly, exhausting things to write, so I hope you enjoy how I handled this small arc of the conquest of the Rock.
I apologize to my P atreon supporters for the continued delay with the next chapter. It's about 90% finished, and I'll be releasing two chapters, but right now I'm a bit stuck. I'm writing important events, and I want to do them justice.
As for my job, you'll be glad to know that I followed several of your suggestions and filed a complaint with HR about my former manager. The problem is that they told me there won't be any real change to my situation, aside from possibly giving her a warning. Multinational companies, as always, covering their own asses. Still, I'm trying to adapt as quickly as possible, so wish me luck.