Intense sunlight illuminated the spacious command pavilion, rendering it bright and warm, as if the very canvas radiated golden luminescence.
Every assembled member stood rigidly at attention.
"House Rowan and House Oakheart will not comply, regardless of whatever price they ought to pay."
Ser Stafford Lannister spoke first, his voice carrying clearly through the tent.
All eyes turned toward Stafford.
He was not merely Lord Tywin's cousin, but also younger brother to the Duke's beloved deceased wife, Lady Joanna. Thus he enjoyed considerable leniency in ordinary circumstances and spoke with less restraint than others.
"To execute His Grace's will," Ser Stafford continued with stern conviction, "there can be no mercy for rebels!"
"That stands without question."
Stafford's son, Ser Daven Lannister, took up the thread of conversation.
"The question becomes: what represents the optimal method?"
Garlan sensed several gazes sweeping toward him, as if expecting him to voice opinions. Yet he remained silent. The council had only just commenced—his moment had not yet arrived.
"With His Grace's divine power," Ser Daven looked toward the three Kingsguard representatives, "Old Oak will naturally possess no capacity for resistance. We can achieve success at any moment..."
"Precisely so!" Ser Robar Royce appeared supremely confident.
"With but a single military command, His Grace's Tenth Regiment can secure victory for our forces while destroying only the city gates—the castle itself can remain intact!" Ser Robar smiled while gesturing toward Garlan.
Garlan could only return a diplomatic smile in response.
"That misses the crucial point," Ser Harys Swyft of Cornfield countered. "The trouble lies not in battle's victory or defeat, nor in casualties sustained, but in the aftermath's impact. We must never damage His Grace's reputation."
Garlan studied this speaker carefully. The wrinkled old man seemed to have perceived the meeting's true purpose, though whether intentionally or inadvertently remained unclear.
The tent stirred slightly at these pointed words.
"How could this possibly damage His Grace's reputation?" Lord Damon Marbrand of Ashemark questioned fiercely. "This represents merely reasonable punishment for a handful of traitors—what honorable family would criticize His Grace for such justice?"
"I concur completely."
"Indeed, what connection does this bear to His Grace?"
"Precisely so."
"..." Momentarily, many voices rose in agreement.
"Of course we would not object," Lord Roland Crakehall snorted meaningfully, reminding them with deliberate emphasis, "yet do not forget—upon whose territory do we stand? To whom have farmers paid taxes for generations? Which castle do they praise and revere?"
As soon as he finished speaking, dozens of gazes turned toward Garlan—some openly, others with calculated discretion. Garlan of Highgarden.
Garlan maintained carefully neutral expression upon his features.
"Regardless, the people still respect their King," Lord Quenton Banefort of Banefort attempted to ease growing tension. "Provided we carefully distinguish between guilty and innocent, showing greater tolerance toward soldiers and civilians coerced by ambitious lords while governing justly in future, the people will sincerely accept new authority."
Govern justly. Garlan would certainly strive to do so.
"Yet we cannot permit any genuine traitors to escape!" Lord Andros Brax of Hornvale declared with stern authority. "Not merely Houses Rowan and Oakheart. Throughout lands our scouts traversed, more than half the castles refused our forces entry! Obviously, they harbor deep hostility!"
"Precisely! They cursed with remarkable vehemence."
"Though scouts deployed in large companies numbering over a hundred, we have suffered multiple casualties thus far."
"While small villages and towns dared not refuse outright, many supplies they provided were deliberately spoiled."
Lord Brax's sons offered supporting testimony.
Garlan dared not credit all such claims entirely.
Heavily guarded castles represented normalcy. Yet the other accusations...
How could weak fortifications and powerless civilians possibly resist the King's army without compelling reason? Unless circumstances forced such choices.
Garlan studied Lord Brax intently. Were these lies, or evidence of systematic slaughter?
"Regardless of other considerations, His Grace has already commanded us to take Old Oak today," Lord Lewys Lydden of Deep Den reminded them. "Moreover, continuously transported grain and supplies cannot remain exposed in wilderness indefinitely."
He bore responsibility for the army's logistical requirements.
"Let us address Old Oak's situation first," Lord Gawen Westerling of the Crag agreed. "Other locations can be discussed after we control the city."
"His Grace requires only that we retake Old Oak and Goldengrove," Ser Daven Lannister clarified.
"The question now becomes: how should we handle House Rowan and House Oakheart's members? How do we deal with other traitors? Spare them all, or execute the ringleaders?"
No option existed for wholesale slaughter of innocents. Yet Garlan knew such would inevitably prove the outcome.
"Spare those who surrender."
Lord Tywin's authoritative voice cut through all debate.
The pavilion fell momentarily silent as every eye turned toward the Lord of Casterly Rock in his position of command.
"The rebels' terms for surrender cannot be accepted," Lord Tywin declared with finality. "We shall launch our assault. Yet this will not constitute massacre. The gods show mercy—anyone determined to have surrendered with genuine sincerity may be spared."
None dared voice objection.
Naturally, Garlan would not either. He simply pondered Lord Tywin's carefully chosen words in contemplative silence. Sincere... surrender. What constituted sincerity? How would it be determined? Who would make such determinations?
Obviously, this represented no true forgiveness.
Far more than Garlan alone understood this reality. The smile gracing Lord Brax's features proved he numbered among them, as did Lord Crakehall...
The southern Westerlands lords generally maintained harder positions.
Having already studied King Joffrey's administrative map, Garlan naturally comprehended their motivations. These Westerlands nobles positioned near traditional Reach territories possessed optimal opportunities for profit.
The newly added crimson band upon the map appeared inconspicuous.
Yet it represented hundreds of villages and towns, dozens of castles, and endless fertile fields throughout the Reach.
All would become Westerlands property, subsequently granted to knights and soldiers who distinguished themselves in warfare—with larger shares flowing to these loyal lords in closest proximity.
Sweet fruits indeed.
To safely claim such rewards without constant fear of future dispossession, the optimal strategy naturally involved completely destroying original owners.
Old Oak and Goldengrove both represented enormous threats.
The more prominent and powerful Houses Oakheart and Rowan appeared, the more they were resented and feared in this moment.
The more people desired their complete extermination.
Garlan studied Lord Tywin, sole occupant of a chair. Such shocking acts as destroying entire bloodlines typically proved unacceptable to nobility, yet this proud Lion King was different—he would gladly permit such measures.
"The Rains of Castamere" was not merely a terrifying ballad, but also Lord Tywin's iron determination.
For any offense, disrespect, or covetousness, Lord Tywin would respond with the most cruel and thorough demonstration of power, using blood to dye Lannister banners and emblems crimson.
Highgarden had escaped such disaster. Yet Old Oak and Goldengrove would find no forgiveness.
...
Once the tone was established, the war council swiftly reached agreement: the Kingsguard Tenth Regiment would serve as vanguard, supported by main army and artillery units in reserve. Royal decrees would be proclaimed, and rebel forces crushed in decisive action.
Only final authorization remained.
Lord Tywin rose to his feet. "Archon Garlan, Old Oak now falls under your authority, as does this campaign. What is your decision?"
Every eye fixed upon Garlan, awaiting the Archon's command.
What choice did Garlan possess?
"Proceed as planned." Garlan even claimed Lord Tywin's former chair in deliberately provocative gesture.
Lord Tywin showed no displeasure at this presumption.
Garlan sighed inwardly, composed himself, and rose once more. "Act immediately. I shall personally proclaim His Grace's decree."