The Mountain of Ice and Fire

Soon, Ser Jacelyn Bywater led his men to Dragon Gate, followed closely by Strong Belwas and his Brave Companions.

With a command from Jacelyn Bywater, the soldiers moved in pairs, kicking open doors and ordering the inhabitants to evacuate and move into the city. Any resistance was met with fists and slaps.

It must be said that the soldiers were remarkably efficient. There were no flowery announcements or ideological education, nor any causal analysis of the horrors of war. When swords were drawn, even the most valiant locals obediently packed their valuables, took their sons and daughters by the hand, and headed into the city.

The Mountain rode a tall warhorse, while the Hand, Tyrion, rode a small pony. They stood by the roadside, observing. The chaos or popular uprising that Tyrion had anticipated did not materialize. Ser Jacelyn Bywater drove the people out, and then Strong Belwas and his brothers demolished the houses.

The demolished houses left behind a lot of debris, with piles of wood and bricks forming small mountains.

The Mountain said to Tyrion, "Hand, order the construction workers to move this wood into the city. I have a use for it."

Tyrion instructed a nearby guard to relay the order. The official in charge of the city wall construction quickly arrived, bowing and scraping, his eyes darting around, afraid to look at the Mountain.

The Mountain said, "Hand, I need three hundred carpenters today."

"Didn't you bring carpenters with you, my Lord?"

"I brought a hundred."

"I can only give you two hundred carpenters."

"Very well, then I'll also need a hundred stonemasons."

"The stonemasons are busy reinforcing and raising the city walls. I'm afraid I can only give you fifty stonemasons at most."

The Mountain looked at Tyrion. "Hand, if you can't provide the numbers I need every time, you're not fit to be the Hand."

"There are many refugees, my Lord. Why don't you go and recruit carpenters and stonemasons from among them? I believe you'll have more success than I would."

"Oh? Why do you say that?"

"The people hate me!" Tyrion chuckled. "They hate me as the king's treacherous advisor, a deformed monster. I also suppressed Littlefinger, causing the food supply to King's Landing to be disrupted."

"I hate you too!" The Mountain laughed loudly. "I've heard a story about a true national hero who was eventually torn apart and eaten by the people. Would you like to hear it?"

"No, thank you!" A shiver ran down Tyrion's spine.

Beside the Mountain and Tyrion, the procession continued steadily, the sound of hooves echoing as they slowly entered the city. The citizens driven out of their stone huts, tent dwellings, and wooden houses dragged their families along, carrying blankets and valuables, and entered the city along the sides of the procession.

Crash, crack, bang! Strong Belwas led his Brave Companions in their violent demolition of the houses.

"Captain Alyn, pass down the order. Get a hundred carpenters up here to sort out the good lumber and stone. I need to build catapults."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Get the stonemason captain up here. I have a job for him."

"Yes, my Lord." Captain Alyn immediately left.

"What are you planning, my Lord?"

"Don't ask. You'll find out soon enough." The Mountain glanced at Tyrion. "Hand, order all the blacksmiths in the city to gather on the Street of Steel. All the ironwork should be collected and piled up there. I have something to make."

"What are you going to make?" Tyrion's eyes lit up. "If you tell me, perhaps we're thinking alike."

"Why would I tell you?"

"I have the same idea: to collect all the ironwork in the city and concentrate it on the Street of Steel, and have all the blacksmiths work together to forge something. I think our ideas should be the same."

"Since they're the same, what more do I need to say?"

A while later, a hundred carpenters and fifty stonemasons from the army came before the Mountain.

The Mountain pointed to the protruding layers of rock on both sides of the Blackwater Rush, where the river eroded the distant rocks: "Stonemason masters, I want you to build two stone towers on the narrowest part of the Blackwater Rush's estuary. Do you see them? One tower on each side, where the river is narrowest. They don't need to be too high, three meters is enough. As for the width, twelve meters of open space inside should be fine."

"The main thing is to install winches inside, large winches that can be powered manually, and also driven by oxen or mules." Tyrion's mismatched eyes gleamed.

The Mountain looked at Tyrion with surprise, and Tyrion returned his gaze with 'appreciation', as if they had found a kindred spirit.

"How did you know?" The Mountain finally couldn't hold back and asked, "You were thinking the same thing?"

"Yes. Why the hell were you thinking the same thing?" Tyrion asked, staring at the Mountain.

The Mountain glared at Tyrion, and Tyrion glared back. The Mountain extended his massive palm towards Tyrion. "Hand, we're on the same page."

Tyrion reached out his small hand and slapped the Mountain's large hand forcefully. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Best partners!" The Mountain said, using a phrase from Earth's civilization. He smiled. This military strategy and idea wasn't his, but Tyrion's. That was the benefit of being a transmigrator. But what Tyrion couldn't accomplish, what he couldn't do, he could.

"Hand, shall we go to Cobblers' Square together?"

"What for?"

"You'll see when we get there!"

"Alright!" Tyrion felt a sense of closeness to the Mountain. He had thought he would have to 'spend a lot of effort to persuade the Mountain' to listen to his perfect military strategy, but who knew that without him saying a word, the Mountain's arrival and his opening remarks – demolishing houses, building catapults, constructing stone forts, gathering blacksmiths and ironwork – all coincided perfectly with his own military strategy. From this, he was very certain that the Mountain's brain was as developed as his muscles – because it was almost catching up to him!

The Mountain and Tyrion rode into the city, entering through the Dragon Gate, followed by his hundred guards, Captain Alyn, Ser Gladden Wylde, and a wagon loaded with flour. The rest of the soldiers entered the city in order, guided by officers to the barracks.

At the Dragon Gate, Mud Gate, and King's Gate, Tyrion had arranged three barracks for the Mountain's army to reside in. These three gates were the most likely points of attack for the Baratheon army coming from the south. The other gates were either in the wrong direction or too far away.

The Dragon Gate faced the port of Blackwater Bay, making a naval attack inevitable. The Mud Gate was the most convenient place for the navy to land and split up their forces to attack. And for the Baratheon army crossing the river from the south, the closest and most convenient gate to attack was the King's Gate near the training grounds.

Tyrion had repeatedly 'practiced' the scenario of Stannis and Renly attacking together in his mind countless times, and finally decided to strengthen the defenses at these three gates, so he set up three new barracks not far from these gates.

Tyrion had been uneasy, afraid that the Mountain would ignore his brilliant and perfect military commands and suggestions after entering the city, and would act recklessly and brutally, disrupting King's Landing. But the result 'disappointed' Tyrion. Without him needing to use his silver tongue, the Mountain had clearly repeatedly thought about all the possibilities of this war along the way, and had come up with a brilliant military strategy – all his ideas, it seemed, coincided with the ideas that Tyrion himself had practiced in his mind many times.

It was the first time in Tyrion's life that he had encountered the feeling of a 'kindred spirit', which was very strange – because this person was actually the Mountain – but for the moment, everything was – great!

*

Cobblers' Square.

The Mountain and his party arrived at the square, immediately attracting people's attention.

The Mountain was already tall enough, like a giant. When he stood on the wagon, he became the tallest person in the entire square, visible to everyone.

Cobblers' Square was packed with refugees, overcrowded. Many people were sitting on the ground, some sleeping on the ground, with straw mats underneath them and blankets of indistinguishable colors covering them.

"Who is a carpenter?" The Mountain's voice boomed like thunder across the square. "Whoever is a carpenter, this bag of flour is theirs, but they must come with us."

"I am!" Someone immediately raised their hand. This person had a wife and children. The child didn't know if he was too hungry or sleepy, but he kept drooping his head.

"I am!" More voices rang out, and hands were raised high as people surged towards the Mountain.

"Don't pretend to be a carpenter if you're not, or you will be severely punished," Alyn said loudly. "Now, those who are carpenters, stand over here and line up. Those with families will be given a bag of flour first."

Without the guards maintaining order, as soon as they heard there was flour to be given out, people lined up and dared not push.

Tyrion was surprised to find that the Mountain's ferocity and the banditry of his soldiers were actually the best forces for maintaining order. Anyone else would not have been able to achieve such a situation.

He could see that the refugees feared the Mountain and the soldiers around him.

The imposing and murderous aura of these people standing here was completely different from the King's Landing city watch, and could not be compared to the queen dowager's red cloaks.

"My Lord, can you give those of us without artisan skills some bread?" A refugee shouted.

"Quiet. Bread will be given to you, but we must first select some skilled and capable people to join the army, and then distribute the bread. Remember, this is bread that the Mountain has brought for you."

Alyn's clear voice echoed throughout the square.

Bread brought by the Mountain, not bread from the royal family. Was there a point in making this distinction?

Of course there was a point, because the refugees who were lying down immediately got up in unison, their eyes glowing green, and someone even shouted 'Long live the Mountain'.

The Mountain wasn't long live, the Mountain just had a few loaves of bread at the moment – Tyrion thought unhappily. He had been in King's Landing for a long time, and had never heard a single 'Long live the Imp', 'Long live Tyrion', or 'Long live the Hand'.

More voices rang out. Hearing that there was bread, the refugees in Cobblers' Square surged, their eyes full of anticipation.

"Maintain silence and order, don't make a mess. If there's a mess, you'll get nothing!" The Mountain said in a deep voice.

His words were strongly threatening, but precisely because of this, the refugees who had experienced riots and were no longer afraid of death were quiet and maintained order.

Tyrion didn't understand why the refugees were so receptive to the Mountain's words and actions. The Mountain's words seemed to have a certain magic for them.

It must be related to the Mountain's ferocity and his large, terrifying physique – these external, magnificent conditions were something Tyrion was naturally lacking.

It didn't seem to take much time to select the carpenters, because the Mountain promised to give out bread, and many people withdrew from the carpenter's queue. These people were fake carpenters, and their purpose was to trick a small bag of flour for their families first.

Before long, the Mountain got fifty-eight carpenters. This was just Cobblers' Square. There were also Mud Gate Square, Training Ground Square, and other places. As long as the news spread, more carpenters would come to the Mountain's barracks themselves, seeking a meal, a place to live, and a sense of security.

"Brothers, the Mountain's barracks are recruiting carpenters long-term. Brothers can spread the word throughout the city. Brothers with carpentry skills, come to the barracks early. There's bread, bacon soup, ham, and roast meat, and there's also a monthly salary. Those with families can use the salary to support their families; those without families can use the salary to go to the brothels." The Mountain's words boomed across the square. Before long, this news would spread throughout the city.

"My Lord, I'm a stonemason. Does the army need stonemasons?" A burly man squeezed over and said. He looked up at the Mountain, his eyes full of hope.

"Stonemasons, blacksmiths, carpenters, we need them all, as many as we can get. Those who join the Mountain's army have bread to eat, roast meat and bacon soup, and a salary. And no rogue or villain will dare to bully you again. I, the Mountain, guarantee to everyone in the name of the old and new gods and the honor of House Clegane: the Mountain protects the safety of all the artisan masters under his command."

Boom!

A rare cheer rang out throughout the square.

This made Tyrion very puzzled and couldn't understand. Most people were definitely not artisans, so what was there to be happy and excited about?

"My Lord, I can cook." A mother holding a boy squeezed close and shouted to the Mountain.

"I want to join the camp followers, my Lord." A woman stretched out her hands and waved to the Mountain. "Give me a chance, let me join your camp followers."

Joining the camp followers was safer and more secure than just entering a brothel, earned more money, and if there was a chance to win the favor of a knight...

"I can sharpen swords, my Lord. I sharpened my father's sword." A little boy crawled out from between the adults' legs, reached out and grabbed a corner of the Mountain's cloak, and shouted up.

An hour later, Tyrion saw that the Mountain had obtained more than a hundred stonemasons; more than a hundred carpenters who had rushed over from other places upon hearing the news, totaling more than two hundred carpenters; more than a hundred blacksmiths and apprentices; and carefully selected about three hundred maids – including those who could cook, those who could sharpen swords, those who could mend leather armor, those who could make arrow shafts, those who could read, those who knew mathematics, and even a hodgepodge of women who wanted to be camp followers.

With money and food, King's Landing was not short of artisan talent. This was Tyrion's deepest realization. There were also some artisan masters on their way, such as the batch of refugees at the training grounds outside the city. In fact, other refugees without any skills had also come upon hearing the news, hoping that the Mountain could distribute a round of bread to them.

After this logistical team of more than six hundred people left under the leadership of Ser Gladden Wylde, the Mountain said, "Now, before giving out the bread, who dares to come up and punch Captain Alyn? Or use a sword. Whoever can use a sword, come up and slash Captain Alyn."

Alyn jumped off the wagon. "Who has the guts, come up and punch me."

No one came up. Everyone looked at each other, their faces puzzled and uncertain.

A guard took out a copper star from his pocket and said, "Whoever dares to come up and punch Captain Erlin, this copper star is theirs."

"I'll do it!" A burly man stepped out, his face rugged, his arm muscles looking decent.

"Brother, as long as you hit Captain Erlin with a punch, this silver stag is yours." Seeing that the crowd's response wasn't enthusiastic enough, the Mountain decided to up the ante. He took out a silver stag, flicked it with his finger, and the silver stag flew over. The burly man reached out and caught it.

Little Devil, with his innate cleverness, immediately understood. His eyes darted around. Why didn't the garrison use this method to select soldiers when recruiting? To find soldiers with good physiques, qualities, and combat awareness, this method is the simplest when the war is urgent!

The Mountain is already such a massive guy, and he suddenly became so resourceful. It's really damn annoying.

The burly man carefully put the silver stag into his close-fitting pocket, as if it were precious jade or pearls. Suddenly, his hand came out of his pocket, and he punched the unsuspecting Erlin.

"Good!" The guards cheered loudly for this guy's despicable sneak attack.

Little Devil stole a glance at the Mountain, who also had a smile in his eyes.

Using despicable sneak attacks is actually positively encouraged in the Mountain's army, which made Little Devil feel... soldiers trained like this are very insidious, and of course, even more difficult to deal with.

Erlin took half a step back, sidestepped, and the punch grazed his face. He stepped forward, his right leg hooked the opponent's left leg, and his shoulder slammed into the man's chest. The man staggered backward, but didn't fall.

"Good!" The guards cheered again.

This man almost got knocked down by Erlin with a sneak attack, looking embarrassed, but he actually received cheers.

"Hit him with a punch, and the silver stag is yours," the Mountain said with a smile, reminding the man.

The man steadied himself and suddenly swayed left and right, but Erlin didn't move. The man's feint failed, and he suddenly bent over, opened his arms, and pounced on Erlin, looking like he might be good at wrestling, wanting to grab Erlin and knock him down.

Erlin allowed the man to hug his waist. Before the man could exert force, Erlin roared, pulled his legs back, and pressed his body down suddenly. The man couldn't budge him. Erlin's hands reached into the man's waist, and he used his arms and waist together, roaring again, flipping the man upside down, then falling backward to the ground.

Bang!

The man was slammed to the ground by Erlin. Before the man could react, Erlin had already flipped over, pinning the man down, and raised his fist, gently touching the man's head: "You lost, kid."

Erlin got up, and the man, filled with shame, struggled to get up, his face flushed red. It seemed like this man was the shy type. Amidst the laughter of the crowd, he awkwardly reached into his underwear pocket to take out the silver stag to return it to the Mountain.

"Brother, would you like to earn a silver stag a month?" the Mountain asked, "And have enough roasted meat, bread, and bacon soup every day."

The man stared blankly at the Mountain.

"It doesn't matter if you don't want to, brother, you can keep the silver stag," the Mountain said, "No need to return it to me. Captain Erlin, when you distribute the bread later, give this brother an extra loaf."

"Yes, Lord Mountain."

"I'm willing! Lord Mountain." The man suddenly had tears in his eyes and knelt down on one knee with a thud. "I'm willing, Lord Mountain, I'll do whatever you want me to do."

Little Devil was once again stunned as he watched a complete stranger become one of the Mountain's die-hard followers in such a short period of time! He could tell that no matter what the Mountain wanted this man to do, this man would definitely do it.

This kind of... mysterious ability made Little Devil silent. He would never be able to learn this in his entire life! His brother Jaime also had this ability, able to make soldiers' blood boil and fight for him in a very short time.

"Come, brother. Come and be a Clegane soldier," the Mountain said, "With training, you will become the best soldier. I guarantee that to you with my honor."