Game of Thrones: The Road to Pirate King

Chapter 253 War - The Eve

After two days of planning and discussion, and military reorganization, a general direction was finally reached.

Jon Arryn's finger tapped heavily on the parchment map spread across the table. His voice was steady and resolute, outlining a clear trajectory for the storm that would soon engulf the Seven Kingdoms: "The first step is to eliminate internal threats and secure our rear. Our banners will be raised high at Gulltown—we must take it as quickly as possible and wipe out the Arryn branch, Lord Grafson, and all their royalist forces entrenched there. We must not allow a dagger to remain at our back."

"The second step," he said, turning his gaze to Eddard Stark, "is to sail back to the North immediately after Gulltown is pacified. The Manderley family of White Harbor will provide assistance. Your task is to gather all the Northern vassals and bring the direwolf banners together once more beneath Winterfell. The Northern army must march south as soon as possible."

"The third step, Robert," Jon said, looking at the Duke of Storm's End, his tone leaving no room for argument, "is that you must return to Storm's End immediately. You are not only the commander, but the soul of Storm's End. You must personally return to stabilize morale and suppress those wavering vassals. Afterward, join forces with Prince Oberyn's Dornish army at the Frontier to wipe out the royalist forces entrenched around Summerhall and eliminate the enemies behind us."

"Fourth step, Euron," he finally turned his gaze to the Iron Islands leader, "your fleet is of paramount importance. I want your longship fleet to blockade Blackwater Bay and even the mouth of the Vines like ghosts, exerting immense pressure throughout the Narrow Sea. Intimidate Highgarden, so that Tyrell and Redwyn will not easily commit their massive fleets and armies to the battlefield, buying us time."

Jon Arryn's gaze sharpened, his finger moving slowly across the map before finally landing heavily on the vast shadow at the border between the Riverlands and the Royal Country—Harrenhal.

“And there is the crucial fifth step,” his voice deepened, carrying an undeniable urgency, “Harrenhal. Since the tournament, the daughter of House Riveran has been held hostage at the Red Keep. Now, the Earl of Riveran has been forced to pledge allegiance to the Mad King, but this castle—the largest and most fortified stronghold in the Seven Kingdoms—is too strategically vital. It guards the throat between the Kingsroad and the Lake of God's Eye, the most formidable obstacle on the march to King's Landing, and perhaps our strongest shield.”

He looked up, his gaze sweeping between Euron Greyjoy and Lord Horst Tully.

"We must take Harrenhal as quickly as possible. The allied forces will assemble there. We must either make the Earl of Heinz realize the situation and defect again, or—crush all the defenders loyal to the Iron Throne and tear the Black Dragon Banner from its towers. We must take this dagger to our throats!"

Finally, Jon Snow's hand covered the city depicted on the map, the one with the fire-breathing dragon. "Finally, all armies—the fleets of the North, the Vale, the Riverlands, the Stormlands, Dorne, and the Iron Islands—have assembled here!" His finger pointed at the map: "Conquer it—King's Landing!"

Jon Arryn spread out a thick sheet of parchment, his quill pen dipped in ink as if it were congealed blood and endless rage.

Outside the window, the cold moonlight shone over the Eyrie; inside, his face was as resolute as a rock. With powerful strokes, he penned a manifesto, word by word, declaring war on the Mad King, proclaiming Aerys II's numerous crimes—betraying divine favor, burning nobles, and trampling the law—before the Seven and the world. At the end of the document, he solemnly signed his name, followed by the signatures of Hoster Tully, Eddard Stark, Robert Baratheon, and Euron Greyjoy—the alliance of the five great houses officially declaring war on the Iron Throne.

This document of rebellion, carrying both justice and fury, was carried by the fastest ravens and the most loyal messengers to every corner of the Seven Kingdoms, stirring up enormous waves in every court and castle of Westeros like a boulder thrown into a calm lake.

Tomorrow is the beginning!

Inside the Red Keep of King's Landing, shadows grow rampant in the throne room.

Varys, the eight-legged spider, approached the Iron Throne like a silent ghost and whispered his report to Aerys II, who sat high above. His voice was soft yet clear, each word like a cold needle piercing the suffocating air.

"Your Majesty, the news has been confirmed," he said softly, his hands carefully folded in his sleeves. "Those traitors are currently gathering at the Eyrie—that towering, impregnable fortress in the sky."

He paused slightly, as if taking stock of those unsettling names: "Jon Arryn, Hoster Tully, Robert Baratheon, Euron Greyjoy, and—Ned Stark. The five powers have formed a formidable alliance."

Varys looked up, his eyes flashing with a complex and unreadable light: "And they have openly elected Robert Baratheon, Duke of Storm's End, as their common rebel leader."

"The banners they raise, Your Majesty," his voice lower but clearer, "are twofold: first, an accusation that Prince Rhaegar kidnapped Lady Lyanna Stark; and second—a condemnation of your treatment of the Stark father and son."

Finally, he dropped the most imminent threat: "According to the latest intelligence, their military might is not truly aimed at King's Landing."

At this moment, they are mobilizing their troops, intending to first attack and purge Seagull Town in the valley, in order to eliminate Your Majesty's loyal supporters there and secure their rear.

The words echoed in the cold throne room, awaiting the unpredictable wrath of the true dragon.

Aerys II's rage, like that of his ancestor "Cruel" Maeger, erupted instantly in the throne room. His pale fingers dug into the sharp blade of the Iron Throne, the blood seeping out staining his pale skin, but he seemed to feel no pain.

"Traitors! A bunch of damned, ungrateful wolves!" His shrill roar echoed beneath the dome, filled with the rage and fanaticism of betrayal. "They dare—they dare unite against the true dragon!"

As Varys cautiously added, the most fearsome maritime threat—Euron and his Iron Fleet—was not currently ravaging the familiar seas, but rather in the Eyrie, a twisted and excited glint suddenly appeared in the king's madly burning eyes.

"Good! Excellent!" he hissed, as if he had grasped a turning point in fate. "That wretched sea monster has left his ocean! This is a golden opportunity bestowed by the gods!"

He abruptly turned to the waiting royal minister, his voice sharp and shrill with urgency: "Immediately! Issue my orders! Have the royal fleet assemble, set sail, and provide full-speed support to Seagull Town! While Euron Greyjoy is away at sea, crush those rebel ships and bring victory to Earl Glad! Let all traitors know that those who oppose the true dragon will only meet a fate of being burned to ashes!"

This fervently hopeful decree was quickly passed down, and warships flying the three-headed Targaryen banner began to sail out of Blackwater Bay amidst the running and shouts of their sailors, cutting through the waves towards the distant East. Little did they know that what awaited them ahead might not be an easy victory, but rather another meticulously planned destruction.