Chapter 437: Crossing the River

"Lord Hand, the enemy forces across the river are mobilizing. It seems they're preparing to cross."

Hearing this, Tywin Lannister's expression did not show fear—instead, he seemed almost pleased.

"Where are they crossing?"

"At Ram's Ford upstream."

"Send word to Tormo Fregar. Order him to lead the Sea Lord's fleet back to the Blackwater River."

"Yes, my lord!"

"Inform Ser Lancel Lannister that, as Hand of the King, I appoint him as vanguard. He is to immediately lead 3,000 Westermen cavalry to Ram's Ford."

"Yes, my lord!"

"Summon Roose Bolton, Lady Anya Waynwood, and Ser Edwyn Frey to prepare their forces to march."

"Yes, my lord!"

"I appoint Tyrion Lannister as acting Hand of the King. While I'm away, he will oversee all governance in King's Landing."

...

As his attendants helped him into his armor, Tywin rapidly issued commands.

One by one, his orders breathed life into the dormant war machine formed by the alliance of the northern and western realms, awakening it into motion with a fearsome roar.

"... Remember, ensuring the army's food supply is your most critical responsibility," Tywin said to Tyrion in a final directive. Though he disliked his son, Tywin could find no one more capable to maintain order in King's Landing during his absence.

Tyrion had his flaws, but his competence was beyond dispute.

"I'll leave you with 3,000 troops, in addition to the city's garrison. That will suffice to maintain control. Remember: at the first sign of unrest, suppress it with an iron hand."

Tyrion listened to his father's instructions with a distracted air.

"Did you hear me?" Tywin pressed.

"I did," Tyrion replied, nodding. Then, unable to resist, he asked, "What about Jaime? You said he'd return soon."

Tywin's face twitched ever so slightly, his control visibly strained as he suppressed his anger.

"He still refuses to return."

"Didn't you send someone to bring him back by force?"

"He escaped midway and returned to where he was."

Tyrion sighed. Jaime had clearly resolved not to break his vows again.

"I don't have time for such nonsense now," Tywin said, regaining his composure. "Nor should you. Just maintain order here. Once we've defeated Caesar, everything will fall into place."

Lowering his head, Tyrion swallowed the pointed remark that had nearly slipped out. Instead, he replied, "Understood."

---

Leaving the Red Keep, Tywin rode to the army camp outside the city walls.

There, he gathered the lords of the Four Kingdoms, swiftly delegating their tasks before leading a cavalry force to the front lines.

By the time Tywin reached Ram's Ford, the sight before him was grim. Across the river, the enemy's banners stretched like a dark cloud, the orderly ranks of their army extending for miles, seemingly endless.

"My lord," said Ser Lancel Lannister, pointing upstream, "the enemy is building a floating bridge."

Looking up, Tywin saw over a dozen peculiar vessels connected by iron chains drifting downriver.

The boats were broad with deep hulls, their decks raised into triangular frames covered with awnings. Strung together, they formed a narrow corridor across the river.

When the vessels reached the ford, anchors were dropped. The boat nearest the southern bank cast out two thick iron chains, which were hauled ashore and driven into the ground by waiting soldiers.

Thus, the floating bridge was completed—though only anchored on one side, it swayed with the current like a restless serpent.

The bridge also fell short of the northern bank by several dozen paces.

Building bridges for river crossings was a common wartime tactic. In the context of Westeros, it was far from a revolutionary strategy. No one doubted that Caesar's Craftsmen could complete the bridge.

Sure enough, as soldiers on both sides watched, another large vessel floated downstream. Its deck bristled with shield-bearing, armor-clad soldiers, clearly tasked with filling the final gap.

Tywin would not allow the enemy to complete their work unopposed.

"Attack!" he commanded.

The deep sound of war horns reverberated across the northern bank. Archers raised their bows, unleashing a volley of arrows that rained down on the floating bridge.

Yet the enemy soldiers were well-armored and shielded, and the volley caused little damage.

As the floating bridge neared completion, it became clear: a battle across the river was imminent.

---

From the southern bank, Samwell watched the proceedings with satisfaction.

"Sound the drums," he ordered. "Give the signal to cross the river."

The deep thrum of war drums echoed across the battlefield, marking the prelude to violence. The twin-eagle banners of Samwell's army began to advance.

The vanguard soldiers roared as they marched in orderly lines onto the floating bridge, progressing steadily toward the northern bank.

Despite its swaying movements, the bridge held firm. The tented awnings covering its length protected the advancing soldiers from enemy arrows.

At the far end, heavily-armored infantry disembarked, wading through the shallows to secure a foothold on the northern bank. Builders hurried to anchor the bridge's northern end to the ground.

But the northern army was not idle. Cavalry charged the shallows, and a fresh volley of arrows struck down many of the vanguard soldiers.

Though their shields provided some protection, the southern army's foothold was precarious, and the northern forces quickly compressed their lines, forcing them back toward the river.

Despite reinforcements streaming across the bridge, the limited space on the northern bank made it difficult to establish a solid front.

Sensing an opportunity, the northern army pressed their attack, aiming to drive the southern soldiers back into the Blackwater River.

Then a thunderous roar pierced the battlefield.

All eyes turned south as a massive white dragon took flight.

"Shoot! Shoot it down!" panicked voices cried from the northern ranks.

But arrows were no match for the immense creature.

Cleopatra, the white dragon, soared across the river, her mighty wings producing deafening booms.

As she descended upon the northern bank, fire spewed from her gaping maw, engulfing men and horses alike in an inferno.

From his vantage point, Tywin Lannister watched with narrowed eyes as fiery bolts from the dragon incinerated his soldiers.

The dragon was larger than he had anticipated—a detail Varys had warned him about.

Faced with this monstrous force, Tywin realized the planned assault had to be abandoned.

"Order the vanguard to retreat!" he commanded.

Even as the northern forces pulled back, Tywin knew the battle was far from over.

Though the southern army was gradually ferrying reinforcements across the river, their numbers on the northern bank remained limited. Tywin still held the advantage of numbers—for now.

Moreover, his siege engines and ballistae were on their way. Once they arrived, Caesar's dragon would not fly so freely.

And then, there was the promise of the Braavosi fleet…

Turning his horse away from the river, Tywin retreated to regroup, his icy gaze fixed on the white dragon circling above.

"Caesar," he murmured. "Our war has only just begun."

(End of Chapter)