Chapter 285: The Hidden Dagger

Along the banks of the Trident River, the clash of swords and the cries of war filled the air.

Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, stood on a hill overlooking the battlefield. His sharp gaze swept across the chaotic scene, his expression darkening with each passing moment.

Behind him, the sound of footsteps approached. It was Roose Bolton, the Lord of the Dreadfort, and Lady Anya Waynwood, the matriarch of Ironoaks in the Vale.

"What's going on? Why has the battle started ahead of schedule?" Tywin demanded, turning to face them.

"Walder Frey betrayed us," Roose replied with a note of irritation. "The old man married his granddaughter to Robb Stark and leaked our plans to the lords of the Trident. If I had acted even a moment later, we'd have lost this entire army to desertion."

"Frey!" Tywin spat, his voice filled with contempt. "He was offered the title of Warden of the Riverlands, and yet he chose to align himself with the Starks. What in the Seven Hells is that weasel thinking?"

Anya Waynwood spoke up calmly, "We may have been fortunate. Lord Bolton acted swiftly, and the Riverlands forces have already suffered heavy losses. The Stark army is also weakened. As for the Vale, I assure you, I can maintain control."

Roose added, "Winterfell is already in my grasp. My bastard, Ramsay Snow, holds it securely, and we've taken Moat Cailin. The North is far from lost. Focus your attention on the South, Lord Tywin. That dragon is your concern."

"There's no need to worry about the dragon," Tywin replied coldly. "We march North together. Before winter arrives, I will have both Walder Frey and Robb Stark kneeling before me."

Anya hesitated. "You're sure we can leave the South unattended?"

Tywin's golden eyes gleamed. "Victory doesn't always require swords and spears. Sometimes, pen and parchment—and a few ravens—are all that's needed."

---

"Where are our ravens?"

In the maester's tower of Highgarden, Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns, was furious.

"They're dead," the maester reported grimly. "A rare avian plague has struck. It hasn't been seen in over a century, but after extensive research, I found its symptoms recorded in the archives. Rest assured, my lady, the disease only affects birds and poses no threat to humans."

"No threat?" Olenna's sharp voice cut through the air like a blade. "Without our ravens, Highgarden is blind and mute! The Tyrell family is cut off from its vassals, and you expect me not to worry?"

The maester stroked his long, greying beard, trying to remain calm. "The disease will pass once the infected birds die out. I can travel to Oldtown to procure new ravens, but it may take a month…"

"A month?!" Olenna exclaimed, her anger mounting. "You expect the Tyrell family to spend an entire month as deaf and dumb fools? In a month, the lords of the Reach might forget who their liege lord is!"

"We could send messengers on horseback instead," the maester suggested cautiously, knowing full well how inefficient that would be.

Olenna's icy glare bore into him. "This is no accident. Someone is targeting the Tyrells!"

"If this was deliberate," the maester mused, "then whoever did it must have an extraordinary understanding of avian diseases…"

"Has anyone from the Citadel been in Highgarden recently?" Olenna asked abruptly, her voice sharp with suspicion.

"Archmaester Marwyn accompanied Lord Hightower to attend Lord Samwell's wedding," the maester replied. "He left just two days ago."

"Marwyn? The so-called Mage?" Olenna's heart sank. "The Hightowers… the Horse Faction ."

She stormed out of the room, issuing commands to the guards outside. "Inform Mace: the Horse faction may be plotting against us. Summon our bannermen and prepare the army for conflict!"

"Yes, my lady!"

"And send patrols across the Reach. I want any suspicious activity reported immediately!"

"Yes, my lady!"

Despite the flurry of orders, Olenna could not shake a gnawing sense of dread. Something vital was missing from her calculations.

Halfway down the corridor, she halted abruptly. Her voice trembled with urgency. "Send riders to Oakheart and Cider Hall. I need reports from both immediately!"

"Yes, my lady!"

---

In Highgarden, tension was palpable.

Servants tiptoed through the halls, fearful of making noise that might attract the ire of the Queen of Thorns. Her recent foul mood had resulted in more than one unfortunate servant being dismissed—or worse.

Even Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden, had taken to avoiding his mother's presence.

But today, he had no choice but to face her wrath.

"What? Randyll Tarly is attacking Cider Hall?"

"Yes!" Ser Jon Fossoway exclaimed. "He claims to be acting on your orders, seeking retribution for the rebellion. He's also demanded that Lord Fossoway answer for past betrayals. But my lord, didn't you promise amnesty after the rebellion?"

"I did!" Mace shouted, his face flushing with anger. "Tarly must be mad! I gave no such orders!"

"Then why didn't you respond to my letters?" Jon asked, bewildered.

Jon Fossoway, a cousin of the Fossoway family of Cider Hall, had come to Highgarden to seek clemency for his relatives. He had expected resistance but not outright denial of responsibility.

"I didn't receive any letters!" Mace's face turned pale. "The plague—damn the plague! Highgarden's ravens are dead. That's why I never received your messages!"

Jon stared in stunned disbelief. "Could it really be mere coincidence?"

"It's no coincidence!" Mace snapped. "This is the work of those Horse blinded fools!"

Without wasting another moment, Mace rushed to find his mother. He found her in the garden, pacing furiously.

"Mother!" he called out, breathless. "Randyll Tarly is attacking Cider Hall!"

Olenna didn't look surprised.

"Are Randyll and his men betraying Highgarden?" Mace Tyrell roared. "Why would the Horse faction be willing to follow him in such madness?"

"He's definitely doing it under the banner of suppressing a rebellion," Lady Olenna said in a low voice, her expression devoid of surprise, as if she had anticipated this outcome.

"Suppressing rebellion? What rebellion?" Mace still hadn't grasped the situation. "The internal strife ended long ago! I've already promised not to hold the Stag faction accountable. What gives Randyll the right to act on his own?"

"Not the previous rebellion, you fool! A new rebellion!"

"A new rebellion? When did the Stag faction betray us again?"

"As long as the Fossoway's kills Garlan Tyrell, they are rebels."

"Why would the Fossoways dare to kill…" Mace finally understood.

Randyll Tarly was forcing the Fossoway family to kill Garlan.

Under the pretense of quelling a rebellion, Randyll was attacking Cider Hall. The Fossoways would likely think the Tyrell's had broken their agreement and were exacting retribution.

Naturally, Lord Fossoway wouldn't immediately execute Garlan; he would first try to send a raven to Highgarden for clarification.

But the key issue was that Highgarden was plagued by an avian disease—ravens couldn't fly in, and none could fly out!

The Tyrell's couldn't respond to clear up the misunderstanding.

And once the misunderstanding grew, who could guarantee that the Fossoways wouldn't retaliate in desperation?

"Raymond Fossoway wouldn't kill Garlan, would he?" Mace whined, panic etched across his face. "Garlan is his son-in-law, after all!"

Olenna snorted coldly. "Even if the Fossoway family resists killing Garlan, once Cider Hall falls, Randyll will kill him himself. As long as Garlan dies at Cider Hall, the Fossoways are finished."

"No! This can't happen!" Mace cried out. "I'll send troops to Cider Hall immediately to stop Randyll Tarly!"

"It's too late." Olenna sighed. "We've delayed for too long. Randyll has probably already taken Cider Hall."

"It shouldn't have happened so quickly…"

"Hmph! Randyll Tarly captured Bronze Gate in a single day! How long do you think it would take him to capture Cider Hall?"

"The Bronze Gate… but that was because of Caesar's white dragon, wasn't it?"

"The white dragon?" Olenna sneered. "When has a dragon less than a year old ever been so powerful? If dragons grew that quickly, why did the Targaryens spend over a century brooding on Dragonstone before invading Westeros?"

"Then how did he take the Bronze Gate?"

"It was the maester Qyburn from Eagle's Point. He developed something called gunpowder, capable of blowing open castle walls."

Mace turned deathly pale. "If that's the case, then Cider Hall…"

"It's probably already lost. And not just Cider Hall—there's Oakheart as well."

"Oakheart! Willas!" Mace let out a shrill scream. "They're targeting Willas too?"

"Don't expect mercy from your enemies," Olenna said, refusing to entertain false hopes.

Oakheart was even farther from Highgarden than Cider Hall, so no news had reached them yet. But Olenna was certain: if the Hightower faction had made its move, they would never spare Oakheart—it housed Mace's eldest son after all.

"Why? Why are they doing this?" Mace was on the verge of tears. "I gave my daughter to Caesar in good faith! Why are they still attacking us?"

"Shut up! Crying won't solve anything," Olenna snapped. "We plotted Caesar's assassination. Of course, he would retaliate."

"We… we're going to kill Caesar?" Mace finally grasped the full extent of his mother's plans.

"Yes," Olenna said gravely. "It seems Caesar has learned of my intentions to kill him. Otherwise, the Hightower faction would never have reacted this fiercely. But the question is, who leaked the plan?"

Mace stared at his mother, his expression complex. After a long pause, he asked:

"Mother, why must we kill Caesar?"

Olenna didn't answer her son's question. She simply gazed eastward into the horizon, murmuring:

"We still have a chance. As long as Caesar dies. If Caesar dies during the coronation, the Horse faction will crumble…"

(End of Chapter)