The final decision of the meeting was thus settled by Karl.
And with that decision, the fate of the Brackwood Family—and the land under their banners—was effectively determined.
For this, Hoster Brackwood felt genuine gratitude toward Karl. He clasped Karl's hands firmly, repeating again and again that the Brackwood Family would never forget this assistance, nor the blood and effort Karl was willing to invest on their behalf.
Karl merely smiled faintly.
Such words were pleasant to hear, but he did not take them too seriously. Gratitude, after all, was something that could fade with time, power, or necessity. Only strength and results endured.
Once the direction of the war had been confirmed, Karl immediately turned his attention to the next—and far more critical—matter.
Strategic planning.
With their current forces and geographical position, Karl knew very well that there was no room for carelessness. As he had said earlier during the meeting, relying on Crow Tree City—a small, lightly defended town in the Riverlands—was nothing short of foolish.
They had barely two hundred men.
And more importantly, those men were cavalry.
Cavalry that were fast, flexible, and lethal in motion—but utterly unsuited to being locked behind walls and waiting for an enemy siege.
If he truly chose to defend Crow Tree City head-on, then once the scattered Lannister forces reacted and gathered two or three thousand men to surround them, Karl would be left with very few options.
Perhaps then he would have to swallow several alchemical potions, unleash his full strength, and personally slaughter every enemy on the battlefield.
That would indeed be impressive.
In the distant future, bards might even sing songs about such a battle, calling him a human dragon or a walking calamity.
But Karl was not interested in legends.
He was interested in winning—with minimal cost.
"We must seize the initiative."
Karl's voice was calm but resolute as he spoke to the men around the table.
"If we rely on Crow Tree City for defense, the situation will only grow more constrained and dangerous."
"Only by abandoning our dependence on fixed positions can we force the enemy to dance to our tune."
As he spoke, Karl reached for a handful of small wooden figurines—crudely carved horses, infantrymen, and banners. He placed them carefully on the map spread across the table, marking roads, forests, rivers, and hills.
"We possess superior mobility," Karl continued. "That alone is enough to change the nature of this war."
"We will turn passivity into initiative."
"By then, we will no longer be prey."
He moved several cavalry figurines across the map, encircling the enemy markers.
"We will become wolves."
He paused, then corrected himself.
"No—more than that. We will become a wolf pack."
A low murmur rippled through the room.
"We will be hunters," Karl said, his finger tapping the map with measured rhythm. "We will chase them, harass them, bite them again and again."
"We will deny them rest, deny them supply, deny them safety."
"And the moment the enemy reveals a flaw—"
Karl pushed a figurine forward sharply.
"—we will tear out their throat in a single strike, and send them back into the Stranger's embrace."
Karl spent nearly twenty minutes explaining the details of his plan.
He described routes of movement, fallback paths, ambush points, and communication methods. He explained how to strike supply lines rather than main forces, how to avoid pitched battles, and how to use speed to maintain absolute initiative.
As his explanation continued, the expressions of those present changed.
Eyes that had once held worry and hesitation now burned with understanding and excitement.
No one sitting in that room was foolish. Karl had not allowed fools to participate in this meeting in the first place.
Once the logic was laid bare, the superiority of this strategy became obvious.
"If the enemy attempts to move against Crow Tree City," someone said slowly, "they will expose themselves to our attacks."
"And if they turn their attention toward us," another added, "they won't even be able to catch us."
"The ghosts of the First Men will be floating above the heads of those Lannisters," a veteran knight muttered grimly.
Jon Snow listened with growing excitement. His face gradually flushed red, his eyes shining so brightly that it almost seemed he had stepped onto a battlefield rather than remained in a meeting hall.
Yet no one laughed at him.
Anyone with even a shred of military common sense could recognize how powerful this method was when executed properly.
Seeing that everyone had grasped his intent, Karl felt a rare surge of satisfaction.
"Yes," he said, nodding. "All we need now are a few guides familiar with the surrounding terrain, and this plan can be executed smoothly."
His gaze shifted to Hoster Brackwood.
"The Brackwood Family will give you its full support, Ser Karl Stone!" Maize Scholar quickly interjected, clearly worried that Hoster might react too slowly.
"The Brackwood Family will provide guides, supplies, and anything else you require."
Hoster, though still somewhat slow to process matters of strategy, nodded vigorously.
"I can also assign the remaining soldiers in Crow Tree City to assist you," he said earnestly. "They will all obey your orders!"
With unity of purpose and shared resolve, what obstacle could not be overcome?
Karl had applied pressure, reason, and foresight throughout the meeting for precisely this outcome.
Seeing his objective achieved, Karl reached out and patted Hoster's shoulder with a smile.
"Eat more meat, Hoster," Karl said lightly. "Perhaps one day, I'll have the honor of laying my longsword upon your shoulder."
At that, everyone's gaze drifted toward Hoster's thin, bony frame.
"I'll wager that if 'Tall' Duncan were still alive and met you," Kesi said with a grin, "he'd seriously consider changing his name to something more fitting."
The room erupted in laughter.
Hoster laughed as well, spreading his hands helplessly.
"Perhaps before that," he said, "I should first learn how to face an enemy armed with nothing but a twig."
The laughter grew even louder.
For a brief moment, the looming war felt distant, and the atmosphere in the meeting room became warm and harmonious.
As the laughter subsided, Jon Snow stepped closer to Karl.
"Lord Karl," Jon asked earnestly, "does this tactic have a name? I've never heard anyone describe warfare this way before."
Karl paused, then replied calmly, "You may call it guerrilla warfare."
"When the enemy advances, we retreat."
"When the enemy camps, we harass."
"When the enemy grows weary, we attack."
"And when the enemy retreats, we pursue."
Seeing the thoughtful expression on Jon's face, Karl added with a faint smile, "If that sounds complicated, just remember this."
"Fight when you can win."
"And run when you can't."
There was a trace of approval in Karl's eyes as he looked at Jon. He reached out, patted Jon lightly on the head, then turned and left the room.
Jon Snow remained standing, lost in quiet contemplation.
Crow Tree City — Early Morning
The next morning, the cavalry assembled outside Crow Tree City.
They were lightly equipped, but meticulously prepared. Each horse carried at least one bundle of quivers, their feathers swaying gently in the morning breeze.
These arrows represented half of the Brackwood Family's total arsenal. The remaining half was left behind to arm the city's defenders.
This time, Karl chose to personally lead a detachment of roughly one hundred men.
Each soldier was assigned three horses to ensure uninterrupted mobility. Their equipment was nothing short of extravagant.
Fully enclosed helmets that could not be flipped up. Sturdy shields. Longswords and spears. Two longbows per man. Double-ring chainmail, each ring interlocked with two others for maximum durability.
They were, without exaggeration, armed to the teeth.
"We have enough ravens to maintain communication," Karl said firmly. "At minimum, we exchange messages once per day."
"I will return every three days to rotate forces—five days at most."
"If I fail to return by then," Karl's gaze hardened, "you will implement the contingency plans I have already explained."
Hoster Brackwood stood stiffly, listening with utmost seriousness. Though still young, he tried his best to carry himself like a true lord.
Maize Scholar stood beside him, silent but visibly hopeful.
After finishing his instructions, Karl turned to Kesi.
Looking at this former brothel pimp and dockside thief who had followed him all the way from King's Landing, Karl felt a rare trace of emotion.
"I never imagined," Karl said, "that one day you would become a man defending a city."
"Neither did I, my lord," Kesi replied honestly.
His expression relaxed, then his eyes reddened slightly with emotion.
Karl smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I look forward to the day you become my captain of the guard," Karl said. "When that day comes, my sword will rest upon your shoulder as well."
Kesi straightened instinctively, his chest rising with pride.
The cavalry soon moved out, hooves striking the earth in unison as they vanished into the Riverlands.
The war had begun—not with banners and drums, but with silent movement and sharpened intent.
And from this moment on, the Lannisters would learn what it meant to be hunted.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)