"Tyrion, you'd better have a good reason for this." Lord Tywin's displeasure was evident as he glared at his son for yet another interruption.
"Well, you said it yourself." Tyrion gestured toward Cole, pushing him forward. "Now that the man is here, let's hear him out."
Tywin settled into his chair at the head of the table, his expression cold and calculating. "Is that so? I hear you wish to marry into House Lannister."
Cole's brow furrowed in confusion. What did that mean? He shot a questioning look at Tyrion—what exactly had he told Lord Tywin?
"Ahem, Father, perhaps you should hear Cole's advice first," Tyrion suggested, his golden eyes gleaming.
Tywin turned his piercing gaze on Cole. "Very well. What does this 'Fire King' think?"
Cole stepped forward, moving toward the map laid out before them. "Lord Lannister, please look here."
He pointed to Riverrun. "You can cross the Green Fork from this point, then follow the Trident straight into the heart of the Riverlands. If the Stark cavalry moves from here, they can reinforce Riverrun or strike at our rear."
"You believe that old Frey of the Twins will aid the Stark boy?" Tywin scoffed. "He lacks the courage."
Cole's finger shifted on the map, now resting on White Harbor. "Then consider this."
For the first time, a flicker of doubt crossed Tywin's face—subtle, but not imperceptible.
Cole continued, "The ships here provide direct access to the Vale of Arryn. Messengers from the North can set sail from this port, and if the Bloody Gate opens, the knights of the Vale will come pouring down behind us. My lord, you are well aware that those who rule the Vale are Stark kin."
Tywin's voice was sharp. "Lannister scouts will keep us informed." He was not a man to be caught unawares by such possibilities.
"If that is all you wished to say," he added dismissively, "then I suggest you take your rest. The battles ahead will be fierce, and I have high expectations of you."
"No, Lord Lannister." Cole shook his head. "I understand that you intend to use us as bait—to draw out the Stark forces—but I must tell you, Tyrion, the hill tribes, even the Mountain, are merely small bait."
He let that settle before delivering the crux of his argument. "The true bait is your eldest son, Ser Jaime."
Tywin's expression remained unreadable, but the room felt heavier.
"The northern host is advancing from the North. Even if they suffer defeat, they can retreat to the Neck and fortify Moat Cailin. Once they take position there, even with ten times their number, we would be hard-pressed to dislodge them."
Cole's gaze swept over the gathered lords before he asked, "And what of the Lannister army?"
"If another force appears to the south, our retreat will be cut off entirely—whether by Stark cavalry, the knights of the Vale, or even Stannis Baratheon's host.
Should they reinforce Riverrun, with forces attacking from both within and without, Ser Jaime—besieging the castle—will be doomed.
Meanwhile, we will be locked in battle with the northern forces and unable to send aid, with the Green Fork River standing as an impassable barrier."
"Forgive me, my lord," Cole said, his voice steady, "but one should not place too much trust in his own foresight. Perhaps you learned that lesson in King's Landing ten years ago."
Tyrion inwardly winced. Oh, no. Very few dared to bring that up in Tywin's presence.
As expected, Tywin's eyes turned cold as ice.
"You claim that the North will send forces through the Twins, that the Vale and Stannis will rally to aid Riverrun. And how, precisely, are you so certain?"
"The Vale has long been aligned with the North, and Lord Stannis—possessing keen strategic vision—will surely recognize where his true enemies lie."
Of course, Cole was bluffing. The Vale lords had no stomach for war, and Stannis lacked the forces to make any bold moves. But the northern cavalry crossing the Twins—that, he was sure of. The Young Wolf was nothing if not audacious.
"Someone once told me," Cole said smoothly, "that in war, every factor must be accounted for, every hidden threat eliminated. Otherwise, victory and defeat are left to the whims of the gods."
For the first time, Tywin's expression shifted ever so slightly.
"How certain are you?" he asked.
Cole smiled. "Ninety percent." He left the last ten to the gods.
A smile appeared on Tywin Lannister's face. The sight of it shocked Tyrion to his core. What was this? His father… smiling? He couldn't recall ever seeing such an expression on him before.
"Take your men with you," Tywin said. "I will send Kevan with a thousand cavalry to reinforce Riverrun. If an attack comes, you will command the defense and hold your ground until I arrive with the main force."
His voice was steady, absolute. Then came the reward.
"I will grant you land, a title, and a wife."
Cole was stunned. So was Tyrion.
"Father, why not send Cole with me?" Tyrion asked, still trying to process what had just happened.
Tywin barely spared him a glance. "Take your friends and go. I need to rest."
Back in the tent, Cole was still in a daze. He had only meant to warn Tywin about the possibility of the Walder Freys switching allegiance to the North and to make himself useful.
Tywin's victory over Roose Bolton—the old skinner—was all but certain. All Cole needed to do was fight bravely in the coming battle, lead his flame-wielding warriors with valor, and earn his place in Tywin's favor. Then, when the war was won and Tywin marched to King's Landing, Cole could prove his worth and claim his reward.
It was the same path Bronn had taken. And Cole was confident he could do better.
But holding back the Young Wolf with only 3,000 men? Was Tywin serious? Oh, right—there was also Kevan Lannister's 1,000 cavalry.
Still, wasn't it Robb Stark's brilliant military mind that had drawn Cole to his side in the first place? Even if Robb had never acknowledged him, it was undeniable—the Young Wolf had talent. Yet, as gifted as he was, Robb was still no match for Duke Tywin, a seasoned warlord. And Cole? This would be his first time commanding troops.
With a bitter expression, he turned to Tyrion. "Can't this task be given to someone else?"
Tyrion looked puzzled. "This is a great opportunity. Trust me, it's far more comfortable serving alongside my brother Jaime than being stuck with my father. Just tell him you're my friend—he'll welcome you."
"Don't worry. Believe in my brother. He's the youngest Kingsguard in history."
The youngest Kingsguard, yes. A master swordsman. But leading an army? That was another matter entirely. And soon enough, Jaime would be a prisoner of the Starks—just like Tyrion himself. Of course, Cole kept those thoughts to himself.
The next day, Ser Kevan Lannister arrived, his face dark with indignation.
His elder brother, Tywin, had ordered him to follow some barbarian boy to Riverrun—and worse, to let that boy take command. It was an insult. A seasoned warrior like him, forced to take orders from a green recruit? Kevan had already argued with Tywin over it, but his brother's word was law.
Now, looking for someone to take his frustration out on, he stormed toward Cole.
"Ser Kevan," Cole greeted, just as he was about to leave the tent.
Kevan stepped forward, shoving a hand against Cole's chest, attempting to force him back against the wooden railing.
Cole didn't budge. He simply met Kevan's gaze with an amused half-smile.
"I don't believe we have any quarrel, Ser."
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