The fields were charred, the farmhouse reduced to ashes, with only a few half-burned wooden boards left twisted and slumped in the foundation.
A handful of crows circled above. Those damned black birds always flocked to carrion. There had clearly been a fierce battle here, though no corpses remained.
The Lannister knights led them through a narrow passage. A mud wall stretched across the gorge, with watchtowers standing on either side. Sentinels stood guard, their eyes sharp and wary. Upon recognizing the Lannister knights, they allowed them to pass.
Beyond the gorge, a massive encampment came into view. A wooden palisade surrounded the camp, reinforced with outward-facing spikes. Spearmen and archers were stationed along the perimeter, their presence a clear indication that the camp was prepared for battle.
Between the tents, cavalry patrolled in steady formations, banners fluttering in the wind. Marching alongside Tyrion were Bolonga Kor and Timett, who never strayed far from Kor's side. The free folk leaders, wary of him slipping away, followed closely—Shagga and Zira among them.
A patrol of cavalry approached, their leader clad in silver armor. An amethyst-inlaid unicorn was emblazoned on his breastplate, his purple-and-silver cape billowing slightly as he rode. A spiral horn was cast into his helmet, marking his identity.
Ser Filament Bar.
The Brax sigil—a purple unicorn on a silver field—was unmistakable. Their seat, Hornvale, made them one of the Lannisters' principal vassals.
He recognized Tyrion immediately. "My lord, we thought you were—"
Tyrion exchanged a few words with him before continuing on his way. His father awaited.
Ser Flement ordered the wooden palisade lifted, allowing them entry. Lord Tywin had requisitioned a tavern at a crossroads, turning it into his headquarters.
As they moved through the camp, the free folk and Cole looked on in astonishment. Nearly twenty thousand men were stationed here, their tents packed tightly together. Common soldiers camped in the open air, while the nobles' tents stood like small palaces. Foot traffic filled the camp, though all made way when the cavalry passed.
Tyrion surveyed the countless familiar banners and could not hide a flicker of pride.
At the far end of the encampment lay a smoldering ruin. Nearly every building had been burned, save for the tavern at the crossroads—clearly the heart of Tywin's command. Stables stood beside it, and stable boys rushed forward to take the horses.
Shagga bared his teeth, sending them scattering in fear. His wild beard and immense size made him a fearsome sight.
Lannister guards in crimson cloaks and lion-crested helms stood watch at the entrance. Upon seeing Tyrion, they saluted without hesitation.
Tyrion turned to Cole and the others. "Wait here." Then, he stepped inside.
Shagga sniffed the air and paced before the door. "Painted Dog chief, what is the half-man doing in there?"
Cole pushed him aside, wrinkling his nose. The brute reeked, his breath foul as rotting shellfish. "Talking to his father, most like."
"Freemen have the right to attend all meetings," Shagga suddenly declared.
Zira and the other free folk nodded in agreement. Their gaze turned to Cole, who simply shrugged. "I'm no freeman, but I'd advise you to wait here."
Naturally, they ignored his advice.
Shagga strode forward, but the Lannister guards blocked his path. That did not stop him. With his sheer bulk, he barreled through them as if they were twigs, sending two men flying.
Inside the tavern, Lord Tywin and Tyrion stood face to face. Tyrion smirked. "Hear me roar."
Though father and son were often at odds, they maintained a semblance of civility—at least on the surface. The world knew the Lannister motto well, but they knew even better: A Lannister always pays his debts.
A commotion erupted at the entrance. Two Lannister guards tumbled to the floor as Shagga forced his way in. The wildling loomed in the doorway, snapping a broken sword in his hands and tossing it aside like rubbish. His sheer presence was that of a beast unleashed.
Cole was the last to enter.
Ser Kevan Lannister, seated beside Tywin, surged to his feet, anger flashing in his eyes. He was Tywin's brother and Tyrion's uncle.
He opened his mouth to chastise them, but Tyrion stepped in front of Shagga.
Tywin's voice was cold, devoid of emotion. "Tyrion, who are these people?"
"Father, they came home with me." Tyrion gestured toward the wildlings. "Can they stay? They don't eat much."
Ser Kevan was less than amused. "And why, exactly, did they disrupt our meeting?"
"The free folk have a right to attend all war councils," declared Conn of the Stone Crows.
Zira, the Black Ears' leader, stepped forward. "Who among you leads the Lions?"
Ser Kevan's hand fell to his sword, but Tywin raised a hand, staying him.
"Tyrion," his voice remained level, unreadable. "Where are your manners? Introduce our… guests."
Tyrion grinned. "I'd be delighted."
He gestured toward Shagga and Conn. "This is Conn of the Stone Crows, and this big brute here is Shagga, son of Dolf."
...
After introducing the free folk, Tyrion turned to Cole. "And as for this handsome lad, he's a famed knight of the Seven Kingdoms—Ser Cole, Lord of the Fire People."
"Not the Lord, just Lord of the Fire," Timett corrected.
Ser Kevan's lips curled in disdain. Lord of the Fire.
Finally, Tyrion introduced Bronn.
Lord Tywin remained still, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he rose to his feet. The shift in posture alone sent a wave of pressure through the room. For the first time, Cole understood what it meant to possess true presence. Every movement from the man carried weight, an authority that could not be denied.
"Even in the Westerlands, I have heard of the warriors of the Moon Mountain Tribes," Tywin said, his voice measured. "So, tell me—why have you come?"
"The half-man promised Shagga armor and axes," Shagga declared.
Before Tywin could respond, a messenger entered hastily. "My lord, Ser Adam asks me to report—Stark's army has begun moving south."
Tywin's eyes glinted like ice. Though his expression remained cold, there was a hint of satisfaction in his tone. "So, the wolf cub finally moves."
Those who knew him well understood—Lord Tywin Lannister never smiled.
"Good," he said at last. "Send word to Ser Adam. He is to withdraw. He must not engage the northerners directly until our main force arrives. Tell him to harass their flanks with cavalry, but under no circumstances is he to face them head-on."
He continued issuing orders, detailing his strategy, when Tyrion suddenly interjected, his tone light. "I've heard it said that the mountain clans boast the bravest warriors in the world."
Shagga thumped his chest. "That's right! Shagga will carve the enemy's second son from his body and roast him over a fire!"
Tywin's golden gaze locked onto Tyrion, cold and calculating. "Fight for me," he said, "and I will see to it that all of my son's promises are fulfilled."
Zira folded her arms. "And why should we believe you?"
Tywin's voice did not change. "I never said you must believe me. You need only believe in my son." A pause. "That was a courtesy. If you wish to leave, you are free to do so. But I have heard that the Northmen are made of black ice. Even my knights fear to face them." He let the words linger before adding, "If you are afraid…"
Before he could finish, Shagga roared, "Free men fear no snowmen! I'll cut off their roots!"
Timett glanced at Cole, whose expression remained composed. The Fire King truly intended to lead them into battle against the Northerners.
Zira stepped forward. "Chief Lion, we will fight for you—but the half-man must ride with us. His life belongs to us until his promises are fulfilled."
Tyrion chuckled. "Of course. The half-man is yours."
At that moment, Cole, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "Lord Lannister, if you want us to fight for you, then you should tell us your battle plan. I don't believe Stark will meet you in open battle."
Tywin's golden gaze sharpened like a blade, but Cole met it without flinching.
"Your friend is an interesting one, Tyrion."
He had seen it at a glance—this boy was no mountain man.
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