The Mountain of Ice and Fire

“If the blacksmith dares to vouch with his life, I can't think of a reason for him to lie.” Eddard didn't say these words aloud, but he made his judgment.

“These… let's call them bandits for now… how many are there, blacksmith!”

“At least two hundred.” The blacksmith said.

From the crowd of villagers, someone shouted, “Your Grace, there are at least three hundred of them.”

“Several hundred! Your Grace, they are practically a real army.” An old woman cried out with a sorrowful tone.

“Yes, Your Grace, they are definitely a real army!” The villagers echoed, their emotions agitated.

“Alright, my people, I believe you are correct.” Duke Eddard said, “I also believe the blacksmith's accusation against Amory Lorch. The villains who attacked the Riverlands people are indeed a real army, flying the banner of Lord Tywin of the Westerlands. Amory Lorch, wearing his family's sigil, led soldiers under the cover of night, carrying out cruel burnings and killings in several villages and towns bordering the Riverlands and the Crownlands.”

Eddard concluded the matter.

He believed everything the villagers said was true.

After Eddard expressed his decision, murmurs arose from the right side of the hall, filled with courtiers below the Iron Throne, and from the corners far from the Iron Throne, including the corridor outside the hall, crowded with people seeking petitions.

If Amory Lorch was confirmed to be true, then he was a vassal of Lord Tywin, obeying Lord Tywin's orders.

Although the murmurs were difficult to understand, Eddard sensed the courtiers' worries and unease about the matter.

Eddard looked at the villagers. They were not happy that Eddard believed them; they were still fearful, terrified, uneasy, and at a loss. The villagers all knew that the person they were accusing this time was no small figure. His lord was Lord Tywin, and Lord Tywin was the King's… father-in-law. They were family!

Grand Maester Pycelle became somewhat agitated, and the different metals on his Grand Maester's chain clinked and clanked: “Your Grace, are you so certain that the tragedy in the Riverlands was caused by Ser Amory Lorch?”

“Yes, I am very certain of this. Does Grand Maester have a different opinion?” Eddard waved his hand, including hundreds of villagers: “If you think one or two of them are lying, I think it's possible, but it's absolutely impossible for so many people to lie together. Everyone has confirmed that it was an army of several hundred people, Grand Maester Pycelle.”

“However, why would Ser Amory go on a burning and killing spree?” Pycelle said tremulously, “He has his own castle, his own territory, and he is a knight who has been anointed with holy oil and formally knighted.”

“The honor of a knight is indeed not to be defiled, but we also know that some knights are very hypocritical. They violate their knightly vows as casually as drinking a cup of summer red.”

At the council table below, Petyr Baelish once again revealed his trademark mischievous smile: “Your Grace, which lord is protecting these villages? When the massacre occurred, each lord had his own guards and garrison. So, where were the lords of these villages and their armies?”

Marq Piper said: “Lord Petyr, when Lady Catelyn captured the Imp, Edmure issued a call to arms within his territory to prevent a sudden attack from the Westerlands. All the vassals of the Riverlands, upon receiving the order, led their troops to Riverrun. I think Ser Amory Lorch did not encounter the armies of the Riverlands lords during the massacre precisely because those lords had already taken their troops to Riverrun.”

“Your Grace is correct.” The blacksmith said, “The great lord of our village is Lady Ryger. The Lady led her family guards and thousands of soldiers under her command to Riverrun a few days ago. When soldiers came to me to fetch swords and armor before their departure, they told me that war might break out soon. Lord Edmure Tully had sent a messenger to Golden Tooth in the Westerlands to question Jaime Lannister, asking why he was summoning the vassals of the Westerlands and gathering a large army at Golden Tooth. He asked what Jaime intended to do with the gathered army.”

Littlefinger shrugged: “Well, blacksmith, your omniscience leaves me speechless. I admit that what you said is flawless.”

Ser Marq Piper said: “Ser Edmure has sent troops to garrison all villages and manors within a day's ride of the border.”

“This is likely exactly Lord Tywin's true purpose.” Ned thought to himself: “Edmure is young, with more courage than wisdom. He wants to defend every inch of land and protect every man, woman, and child within his territory, but he is falling right into the trap of the shrewd and experienced Tywin Lannister. Tywin wants Edmure to defend everywhere, thereby effectively dispersing the Riverlands' forces. Once the war starts, Edmure's full-line defense will be easily breached.

Grand Maester Pycelle stood up again: “Your Grace, even if Ser Amory Lorch did indeed burn and kill these villagers, these villagers should go to see Ser Amory's liege lord, Lord Tywin, to report the crime to Lord Tywin, and then Lord Tywin should punish Ser Amory. Amory's crimes have nothing to do with our royal family, nor with our King.”

The Grand Maester's skill in shifting blame was also first-class, shameless, and masterful. In short, he tried every excuse to prove that this matter had nothing to do with the people of the Westerlands. If that didn't work, he would push it to Lord Tywin and say that Lord Tywin should handle it.

Ned resisted the urge to strangle Grand Maester Pycelle. He said calmly: “Grand Maester, any crime and invasion that occurs on the continent of Westeros is of course related to the King. Whether it is the Westerlands, the East, the North, the South, Dorne, or the Iron Islands, we act in the name of King Robert.”

“Alright, Your Grace, since you say it is related to the King…” Grand Maester Pycelle said tremulously, “Then we should wait for the King to return before discussing this matter further…”

“The King is currently hunting in the Kingswood across the river, and no one knows when he will return.” Duke Eddard said, “I am the Hand of the King, and the law stipulates that I act on behalf of the King… but I agree that we should report to the King.” His gaze swept across the courtiers, and he saw a familiar face, “Ser Robar.”

Ser Robar Royce (his brother was the young knight who received his box lunch in the first episode of the TV series) stepped out of the courtier ranks and bowed at the foot of the Iron Throne: “Your Grace, at your service?”

“Your father is hunting in the Kingswood with His Majesty,” Eddard said, “I order you to report the Riverlands tragedy to the King.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Eddard stopped looking at Grand Maester Pycelle's hypocritical face and his feigned trembling. He had made up his mind and would definitely not convene a meeting of the high council to hold a vote. He would exercise the rights of the regent and directly announce military action.

“People of Stonebridge, Oaktown, and other places, I cannot return your burned houses and property, nor can I bring the dead back to life. But in the name of King Robert, I will give you a belated justice.”

Every eye in the hall was on him. The whole place was quiet, waiting attentively.

Eddard slowly stood up, his gaze sweeping across the room: 'The First Men believed that those who sentenced people to death should wield the blade themselves. We in the North have retained this ancient tradition. I personally carry out any death sentence and look the condemned in the eye.'

“Originally, I should personally go to the Westerlands to arrest Amory Lorch, but I have very important matters here that must be dealt with! Now, I need a warrior to lead an army to the Westerlands to arrest Amory Lorch and bring him to justice for trial. Which general is willing to volunteer to go?”

“Your Grace!” Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers, stepped out of the ranks. He was only sixteen years old, dressed in light blue silk and wearing a belt strung with golden roses, “I beg you to grant me the honor of fighting in your place. Give this task to me, Your Grace. I swear I will not disappoint you.”

Littlefinger chuckled. “Ser Loras, Ser Amory Lorch will not surrender obediently.”

“I am not even afraid of Ser Gregor Clegane, so how can I be afraid of him? I will definitely capture Ser Amory and bring him back to face trial before the court.” Ser Loras said proudly.

Eddard slowly sat back on the cold, hard iron plate of Aegon's deformed throne. His eyes scanned the faces on the walls one by one, looking for a reasonable candidate. Behind him, Ser Ilyn Payne, the King's Justice, stared coldly at Prime Minister Eddard's back. The matter of arresting Amory was his duty.

He was the King's Justice!

“Lord Beric,” he called, “Thoros of Myr, Ser Glendon, Lord Roose.” Those whose names were called stood at the foot of the Iron Throne, “Please each take twenty soldiers and deliver my orders to the Amory Lorch family's castle. I will send my own twenty guards to accompany you. Lord Beric Dondarrion, you will command this mission because your title is the highest.”

Beric Dondarrion was the lord of Blackhaven in the Stormlands, with the title of Lord.

The young Lord with golden-red hair was twenty-two years old, in the prime of his life. He immediately bowed and said: “Your Grace, Beric will follow your orders.”

Eddard raised his voice so that everyone in the throne hall could hear. “In the name of the King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Robert I of House Baratheon, I, Eddard of House Stark, Hand of the King, hereby order you to immediately raise the King's banner, cross the Red Fork of the Trident River at full speed, enter the Westerlands, and, according to the King's law, arrest the false knight Amory Lorch and all his accomplices. I hereby declare that from now on, he is stripped of all ranks and titles, all fiefs, taxes, and properties are confiscated, and he is sentenced to death. May the gods have mercy on his soul.”

The Knight of Flowers standing under the steps looked puzzled: "Your Grace, what is my mission?"

Eddard looked at the sixteen-year-old Knight of Flowers who was eager to try, Loras Tyrell looked as young and naive as Robb: "Ser Loras, no one doubts your bravery, but for this matter, Ser Beric Dondarrion is more suitable." He turned to Earl Beric and said, "Depart tomorrow at dawn, this matter needs to be dealt with as soon as possible." After speaking, he raised his hand. "Today's petitions are adjourned."

Eddard calmly faced the teenager's angry glare. He was still a child, and arresting Amory in the Westerlands was not a martial arts contest. The boy glared at Eddard and left angrily.

Below the Iron Throne, the courtiers left one after another.

Eddard instructed the duty courtiers to properly arrange for the food and accommodation of these petitioning villagers, and then ordered the city guard squad to escort them out of the city. He comforted the villagers and told them to go back and rebuild their homes. He promised to contact the great lord of the Riverlands, the Tully family, and their direct great lord, Lady Ryger, via raven, and ordered the lords to send troops to protect them from a second attack by the Westerlands.

When Eddard finished dealing with the matter and watched all the villagers leave, he realized that Littlefinger and Grand Maester Pycelle had left sometime earlier. Varys was sorting out the documents on the council table: "Your Grace, you are much bolder than I am." The eunuch said softly.

Lord Eddard was really too poor in terms of strategy and tactics.

He was too kind. If Ser Loras was sent, and Ser Loras happened to be killed by the people of the Westerlands, then the Northerners would definitely win this war! In just such a short period of time, the Northerners foolishly missed a great opportunity to win over the Tyrells from their fingers.

“Lord Varys, why do you say that?”

“If it were me, I would probably send Ser Loras. Look at how eager he is to try... Besides, to be an enemy with the Lannisters, what could be more important than winning over the Tyrell family?”

“Ser Loras is still too young.” Ned said.

“What about Ser Ilyn?” The eunuch gently stroked his powdered, plump cheeks. “In any case, he is the King's Justice, asking others to do what is his duty... it may be interpreted as malicious insult.”

“I have no intention of offending Lord Ilyn Payne, but the Payne family has been a vassal of the Lannisters for generations. I think it is more appropriate to choose someone who has not sworn allegiance to Lord Tywin to go. Beric Dondarrion swore allegiance to Lord Renly Baratheon.”

Varys gave the northerner a strange and cautious look, “Your Grace, I happened to see Ser Ilyn standing behind your throne staring at your back, he didn’t look happy at all. Your Grace, I think you should at least ask for his opinion first, instead of skipping him directly. Alas, I hope Lord Ilyn Payne can forget about this matter as soon as possible!”

Happy Chinese New Year, I'm drunk from drinking, visiting relatives every day, on the verge of discontinuing updates! Pacing around, pacing around, pacing around!