Golden tooth, a fortress set on the western frontier, stood at a vital crossroads and served as the seat of House Lefford.
It guarded the great road that cut through the mountains from the Riverlands into the Westerlands.
Thus, any army that sought to invade the Westerlands had to seize Golden Tooth first.
House Lefford was one of the principal noble houses of the Westerlands, sworn to the Lannisters of Casterly Rock.
Their stronghold was not only a key fortress defending the realm but also rich in gold mines.
This had long aided the Lannisters in securing their place as the wealthiest family in Westeros, making the Leffords indispensable to Tywin.
In fact, even in this war, Lord Lefford himself had been placed in charge of supplies within Tywin Lannister's host. It was a lucrative duty—one that spared him much of the fighting while still ensuring considerable credit when the war was done.
Since resolving to meet the enemy in open battle, Tywin had come to Golden Tooth personally.
Apart from assigning Kevan Lannister and several knightly houses their tasks, he had summoned every loyal bannerman of the Westerlands to gather here under his command.
In his strategy, beyond the secret orders he had entrusted to his brother Kevan and to his sister Genna, now married into House Frey, Tywin meant to shoulder the burden of the direct fight himself.
For Tywin, this place was the keystone of his threefold plan.
If it succeeded, he could break free of the deadlock before him.
Yet, as he carefully prepared for the decisive step ahead, a sealed dispatch of military intelligence was suddenly delivered to his desk.
Reading its contents, Tywin frowned in puzzlement.
After a long moment's thought, he set it aside and summoned his cousin—also his wife's brother—Ser Stafford Lannister.
"Where do we stand with the sellswords?" Tywin asked, his brows knit as he fixed his cousin with a cold gaze.
At the question, Ser Stafford frowned in turn, his face showing faint displeasure.
"Not well. They've grown bold—asking far too high a price."
"Greed is etched into their very bones."
But at this answer, the lord of Casterly Rock's face grew calm once more, even chilled.
He set down the quill with which he had been writing, rested both hands on the arms of his chair, and leaned back against the high backrest, his posture suddenly at ease.
After two seconds of silence, Tywin's fingers tapped twice against the armrest.
"Tell those greedy curs this: as long as they act, nothing they ask will be denied. I care not how wide their jaws may gape."
"Even if they think themselves capable of swallowing a dragon whole."
His gaze, sharp enough to cut like steel, locked onto his cousin as he spoke each word with deliberate weight.
Tywin's gaze shifted again, the pale green of his eyes shimmering faintly, as though ripples spread across water.
"And one more thing, Stafford. You must understand this—what we can offer them now is meaningless. If we fail, then we are left with nothing, so what difference does it make if we give them nothing at all?"
"But if we succeed, then whatever they demand will no longer matter to us in the least."
"Go."
As he finished, the corner of Tywin's mouth tugged coldly to one side.
Hearing this, Ser Stafford Lannister's expression eased somewhat, and a cruel smile spread across his face.
"Yes. I know what must be done."
He gave Tywin a slight bow, then turned to leave.
But at that very moment, Tywin seemed to recall something. The quill he had just lifted froze mid-air, its tip hovering above the golden inkwell.
Without looking up, he stopped his cousin with a sharp command.
"Wait."
"Send Daven Lannister in person. Tell him this—I trust him."
"As for us, we must first deal with the war before us."
With that, Tywin lowered his head once more, returning to the letter he had been writing.
At his side lay seven or eight such missives, their ink still drying.
...
Time slipped by, and more than a week had passed.
Having had his doubts settled by his father, Lord Hoster Tully, Edmure Tully now personally led the assembled vassals of the Riverlands. Urging their horses hard along the River Road, they pressed forward until they came within sight of Golden Tooth.
Given the urgency, his host numbered fewer than 3 000 men.
Though not many, they were seasoned troops, and the royal call to arms had stirred unusual zeal among the lords who answered it.
After all, it was not only House Tully but many others who looked with favor upon this sudden war.
Unlike the usual musters—where lords held back much of their strength—this time the war levy was far fuller than before.
Thus, Edmure Tully felt confident in what lay ahead.
Leading the banners of the Riverlords at full speed, he at last brought them to the fields outside Golden Tooth.
Gazing up at the fortress crowning the mountain ahead, fatigue from the march weighed on him, yet a confident smile spread across his face. He gave the order to make camp at once.
Seizing the moment, Edmure led Clement Piper, lord of House Piper of Pinkmaiden, the Lord of House Vance of Wayfarer's Rest, and several other noble lords who had arrived with him, to the mountain pass, where together they looked up toward the fortress above.
These lords, being closest in distance, were the first to arrive with their levies.
Naturally, their swiftness was due in part to the modest size of their houses—the forces they brought were not large.
But that mattered little. For Edmure, numbers enough to serve his purpose would suffice.
After all, his aim was never to throw these few men away in some foolish assault on Goldtooth. His father's counsel had left him with a clear understanding of his strategic goal.
He had come only to delay the Lannister host and to watch their movements closely.
Put plainly, Edmure's hope was to pen Tywin's host here, bleeding it of time and strength, letting the great army wither in this narrow valley.
So, after weighing his choices, he resolved to fortify the pass beneath Golden Tooth.
From here, not only could he observe every movement of the Lannister army, but he could also bar them from marching down the River Road into the Riverlands.
For House Tully's plans, this was a move that could yield twice the gain for half the effort.
"I believe we ought to send an envoy to ask Lord Tywin Lannister directly why he has stationed his army here," Edmure said, tilting his head back as he studied the fortress above.
The thought struck him as a good one, and he turned to his bannermen.
He knew well enough such a gesture was useless. But was not the point to buy time?
Delay was delay, however it was done.
And besides, the idea might irritate Tywin a little—so why not?
Thus Edmure's suggestion was agreed upon amid the laughter and chatter of the lords.
At once, Lord Vance stepped forward, smiling as he volunteered for the task.
He even returned briefly to camp to don a fine set of courtly dress, then rode out with only two guardsmen. They bore his banners high: the quartered white field with a black dragon, and the black field with a golden eye set within a ring of gold.
Head held high, he rode toward Golden Tooth.
And as Edmure and the others waited with smiling faces for his triumphant return—
From the battlements of Golden Tooth, three heads suddenly came tumbling down.
Then came the roar.
Clash of steel.
Shouts of men. Screams of horses.
...
Edmure Tully and the others, who had been expecting Count Vance to bring some tale, could never have imagined that what awaited them were merely three severed heads, still dripping with blood.
From afar, the heads looked no bigger than beans, hurled from the battlements of Golden Tooth Castle like scraps of bone tossed aside for dogs.
The Riverlords who witnessed this scene with their own eyes were filled with hatred.
Yet before Edmure Tully and the rest could even react to such a bloody spectacle—and to the shock of Tywin Lannister daring to butcher envoys—the fortress gates atop the mountain suddenly swung open. From within erupted a roar like thunder itself.
Amid the cries rang the clash of steel, the mingling of voices with the relentless thunder of hooves, so heavy it made the ground tremble.
Charge!
Charge!!
Charge!!!
They were close—far too close.
With the distance between them, and the attackers' advantage from higher ground, Edmure and the others needed only a glance to know: those riders bursting from the castle would reach their position in less than three minutes.
And in those three minutes, what could they possibly do?
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