Roads to Power

299AC

The air inside King Robert's war tent was thick with tension and smoke from a brazier burning low in the corner. The map of Pyke lay spread out on a vast oak table, its edges weighted down with daggers and goblets. Around it stood a number of the influential lords or knights of the realm, their voices filling the space as strategies clashed like the swords outside the keep.

"The south tower is crumbling," Stannis stated, his voice cold and precise. He leaned over the map, his finger tracing the damaged wall. "Another volley or two, and it will fall. We should focus the entirety of our siege engines there."

"And bleed ourselves dry charging into a bottleneck,"Jaime interjected, his tone casual but cutting. His golden hair caught the firelight, and his green eyes flicked disdainfully toward Stannis. "The Ironborn fight like cornered rats. Even broken walls won't make them any less desperate."

Ned's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, his expression unreadable but his thoughts burning. "especially when he has no commanding experience." How dare he speak of strategy with such ease? This is the man who broke his oaths and drove a sword into his king's back, especially when he has no commanding experience except from clearing bandits. Eddard's gaze flicked briefly to Tywin Lannister, standing aloof near the edge of the room. And this one is not much better. He's even worse. His only saving grace is his experience.

"If we do not press the advantage," Stannis countered, his voice cutting through the din, "we risk them rallying within the keep. You'd rather wait for them to starve?"

"Perhaps we should," Jaime retorted with a smirk. "Their pride won't allow them to yield, and when they finally break, they'll be too weak to put up much of a fight."

"A coward's tactic," Stannis shot back, his tone icy. "And one that wastes time and resources we cannot afford."

Jaime's smile widened, but there was an edge to it now. "Cowardice, you say? I suppose that's why you're hiding behind your siege engines while real knights do the fighting."

Damien stepped forward, his calm voice breaking the tension. "Enough. This bickering serves only to delay our victory. Every moment we spend here is a moment the Ironborn could use to fortify or escape."

All eyes turned to him, and Damien could feel Tywin's gaze lingering longer than most. The Lord of Casterly Rock's sharp green eyes darted briefly to the blade at Damien's side—Widow's Wail, his newly dubbed Valyrian steel sword claimed from the dead Lord Hawlaw. Though he could sense Tywin's calculating thoughts, Damien kept his expression serene. He's appraising me. Or the blade. Or both. Let him stare. My thoughts are my own.

Robert's voice cut through the silence like a hammer striking an anvil. "Damien's right. Enough talk. We finish this." He slammed a meaty fist onto the table, rattling the goblets. "Stannis, concentrate the siege engines on the south tower. When it falls, we pour through the breach. I'll lead the main charge myself."

"That would be unwise, Your Grace," Tywin interjected smoothly, stepping forward at last. His tone was devoid of warmth, though carefully respectful. "Your presence inspires, but your loss would unmake the realm. A king has no business risking his life on the front lines."

Robert glowered at him, his broad shoulders heaving. "What use is a king who doesn't fight for his people? I fought at the Trident; I smashed Rhaegar's chest in and ended his rebellion."

"And the realm still pays for the loss of Rhaegar's heir," Tywin replied, his voice like a dagger slipped between ribs. "Think of the stability your living reign brings. Let your bannermen bleed for your crown; that is their purpose."

Ned bristled, his lips pressing into a thin line. He speaks of purpose while the ghosts of King's Landing cry out for justice. Does he even think of them?

Robert turned his gaze to Ned, sensing his old friend's unease. "And you, Stark? Shall I sit in a tent while others do the killing?"

Eddard met his gaze evenly. "No, but a king leads wisely, not recklessly. Let Damien take the vanguard. His reputation grows with every battle."

"That's true enough," Jaime said, his tone light but his eyes sharp as they landed on Damien. "Though I wonder how much of that reputation is earned and how much is rumor. They're calling you the next Barristan Selmy, you know. Some even say you're in my league." His smirk widened, challenging. "A bold claim."

Damien didn't rise to the bait, his face calm and impassive. "Reputation is the result of deeds, Ser Jaime, not words. If you wish to test mine, you'll have to wait. The Ironborn take priority."

Jaime's smirk faltered for the briefest moment, and Tywin's gaze flicked between the two men, his expression inscrutable.

Stannis cleared his throat, steering the conversation back to the matter. "Resources are stretched thin as it is. The spoils of this war will need careful accounting to ensure fair distribution.

Damien said nothing, though his mind was alert. Even now, they measure in terms of what they can take or diminish.

Robert waved a dismissive hand. "Spoils can wait. I want Balon's head. Smashing it will feel almost as good as smashing Rhaegar's helm." His expression darkened, the brief flicker of triumph fading. "Almost."