In the Vale, the mountain lords were still squabbling amongst themselves, vying for the hand of Lady Lysa Arryn and the power that came with it—the titles of Warden of the East and Lord of the Eyrie.
With Robb Stark dead and Stannis Baratheon defeated, it looked as though the Lannisters had won a decisive victory. It seemed Joffrey's claim to the Iron Throne was finally secure.
But then, news arrived from the North. Roose Bolton had been defeated and captured by the army of Jason East, the Earl of Starfire City. The northern forces were resurgent and continuing their march south.
This news poured cold water on the Lannisters' victory celebrations in King's Landing. The great families gathered in the capital, the Lannisters and the Tyrells, turned their attention to the foreign earl who had risen so suddenly.
"Who is this Jason East?"
In the small council chamber in the Red Keep, Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, looked suspiciously at the other lords present. "I've heard he's a merchant who sells unique goods in Highgarden. Where did he get an army of tens of thousands?"
The Reach was in the south of Westeros, thousands of miles from the North. Mace Tyrell knew very little about the man who was now making waves across the continent.
Varys, the Master of Whisperers, clasped his soft, powdered hands together. A regretful look crossed his face as he spoke in his smooth, soft voice. "Lord Tyrell, you've spent your time in the south, so it's understandable that you wouldn't know much about the Earl of Starfire City."
"My little birds tell me that months ago, when Robb Stark was fighting Ser Jaime at Riverrun, this Lord Jason proved instrumental in the war. His cavalry were equipped with protective gear superior to traditional iron armor, and the steel bows they carried were said to be incredibly powerful and accurate."
As he spoke, Varys glanced at the man sitting at the head of the table, the Hand of the King, Tywin Lannister.
Tywin's face was a mask of stone, his blue eyes cold and calm. "Continue."
Varys bowed his head slightly. "Lord Jason recruited hundreds of thousands of refugees from the Riverlands and brought them to a large tract of wasteland he leased from the Starks. There, he built a new city, Starfire City. Using the immense profits from his monopoly on unique trade goods, Jason East has raised a standing army of at least twenty thousand men!"
"Twenty thousand standing soldiers?" Lord Mace exclaimed. The number was terrifying. Not even the wealthy House Tyrell would dare to maintain such a force. For one, it was too expensive, and for another, it was simply not necessary. The way of war in Westeros was for a lord to field his elite household guard and summon farmers and levies from his lands to follow. No one kept a professional army of that size.
Jaime Lannister, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, was also shocked. In his memory, the young Jason East was just a clever merchant who sold exotic goods. How had he suddenly become one of the most powerful lords in the Seven Kingdoms?
"Though it sounds unbelievable, the news from my little birds is never wrong," Varys said with a shrug, though he was just as shocked on the inside. It was incredible that a foreigner with no roots in Westeros had built such a powerful force in only two years.
"Now that he has captured Roose Bolton, the Starks' rule in the North is more secure than ever," Grand Maester Pycelle fretted, his old face lined with worry. "With Jason East's support, he is a major threat!"
Varys thought for a moment. "It is also said that Lord Jason's soldiers use a weapon never before seen—one that makes a loud noise and produces smoke and fire. Perhaps that is also something that warrants our attention."
"Smoke, fire, and a loud noise? What kind of strange weapon is that?" Jaime asked, completely baffled.
Tywin Lannister's eyes narrowed. He filed the information away. "Jason East's support for the Starks is a problem for us, that is true," he said, his voice cutting through the discussion. "But his strength also presents an opportunity. He is now the most powerful man in the North, yet he rules from a city built on leased land. A man like that won't be content without a fiefdom of his own. We can use that."
Tywin's plan was simple. He intended to offer Jason East the Bolton lands and the title of Lord of the Dreadfort, all in the name of the Iron Throne. This would drive a wedge between the ambitious foreigner and the Starks he supposedly served.
For now, Tywin could not send an army to the North. He needed to remain in King's Landing to solidify his power, and his forces needed time to rest and recover. So, he would resort to his preferred weapon: political manipulation.
The other members of the council agreed with the plan. Of course, the council was small. The Master of Coin, Littlefinger, had been sent to the Vale to persuade Lady Lysa to submit to the Iron Throne.
When the meeting ended, Tywin Lannister was the first to leave the chamber, with Jaime following closely behind.
Since his triumphant return to King's Landing a fortnight ago, Tywin had resumed his duties as Hand of the King. He had immediately sidelined his son Tyrion, who had been serving as the acting Hand. Tywin had always despised his dwarf son, unable to forgive the "little monster" who did not look like a Lannister and whose birth had cost his beloved wife her life.
With himself in King's Landing, Tywin was confident he had no need for Tyrion's cleverness. All Tyrion got from his father was a curt, "You've done your duty," before being unceremoniously dismissed and forgotten.
The injustice burned in Tyrion. He had worked tirelessly to stabilize the city and had single-handedly orchestrated the defense that saved King's Landing from Stannis. Now, he had been cast aside like a clown, while everyone flocked to his powerful father.
He was supposed to be the hero who saved the city. But no one cared about Tyrion's feelings. They had already forgotten who led them through the fire and fear of Stannis's assault. They only saw Lord Tywin, the man with the power and the army.
It was unfair. So terribly unfair.
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