GAME OF THRONES: AEGON THE AVENGER

The Red Keep, the Throne Room.

Aegon sat atop the hideous iron throne.

The hall was already filled with people.

Core generals like Jon Connington, Laswell Peake, and Luke, along with various high officials of the Small Council, stood in two rows.

Margaery Tyrell, in her capacity as the plenipotentiary envoy of Highgarden, stood slightly further back.

Aegon was still dressed in simple black casual clothes, but sitting on this throne forged by Aegon the Conqueror from a thousand blades of the defeated, his presence had become cold and intimidating.

"How is the reorganization of The Crownlands progressing?"

He spoke, his voice carrying clearly through the empty hall, his gaze falling directly on Jon Connington at the head of the line.

Jon stepped forward and bowed to answer, "Your Highness, the purge by the Ash Company and the Golden Company is nearing its end. On the surface, there are no longer any forces in The Crownlands that dare to openly resist."

The Crownlands Garrison System is being implemented. The takeover of military authority at various castles, personnel counts, and defense handovers are proceeding step-by-step. However... full implementation will still take time."

He paused before continuing, "As for the many recovered towns, villages, and the currently vacant lordly castles, I have a proposal..."

"We can draw a group of reliable personnel from the auxiliary troops we brought from the Three Cities of the Narrow Sea, as well as from the subsequent craftsmen and laborers, to garrison key strongpoints and conduct preliminary control and defense."

"Once the framework of the garrison system is stable, we can gradually replace them with trained garrison troops. This will prevent vacant castles from falling into chaos or being occupied by others while also freeing up the main combat troops."

Aegon listened, his fingers lightly tapping a section of a blade on the throne's armrest, producing faint metallic rings.

"Feasible," he nodded. "After the auxiliary troops are reassigned, how will the transport of provisions and maintenance of armaments for the army's expedition be arranged? We cannot have the combat troops carrying their own baggage while fighting."

"This is not difficult to solve," Jon clearly had a plan. "The Crownlands have just been settled, and there are no small number of refugees and landless farmers. We can issue a recruitment order to hire laborers for transport with fair pay and food. As long as the compensation is appropriate and management is orderly, there is no worry about not finding hands."

"This move can also appease a portion of the refugees and stabilize the local situation."

Aegon did not press for further details; Jon had always handled such execution-level matters reliably.

His gaze swept over the generals in the hall, and his tone shifted, becoming calm yet carrying an indisputable decisiveness:

"Next, our army's spearhead points directly at The Riverlands."

A low murmur of discussion rose in the hall, showing little surprise but rather an expected understanding and a sense of eagerness.

The Riverlands had always been a land of four-way conflict, with dense water networks and fertile soil; it was the hub connecting the North, the Vale, and the Westerlands.

Taking this land would be equivalent to driving a hard wedge into the heart of Westeros, completely seizing the strategic initiative.

To the east, it could threaten the Vale; to the north, it could point directly at The Neck and the North; to the west, it faced the gateway of the Westerlands. The choice of subsequent offense or defense would be entirely in their hands.

"A brilliant vision, Your Highness!"

Laswell Peake was the first to speak. Now the actual commander of the Golden Company, his voice was booming: "The Riverlands have always been a territory worth fighting for. Taking it means holding the initiative entirely in our hands!"

Luke also nodded slightly, his tall frame accentuated by the black armor of the Ash Company, his tone very certain:

"The lords of The Riverlands were recently hit hard by the Lannisters and have grown resentful towards the North; their hearts are scattered. Marching now will meet the least resistance."

The generals chimed in one after another, and the atmosphere in the hall gradually heated up.

For these generals who craved military merit and believed in force, offense was always the best choice, and The Riverlands was undoubtedly a succulent and easy target.

Aegon's gaze returned to Jon Connington.

"What is the state of combat readiness?"

Jon was prepared and reported in a deep voice, "In response to Your Highness, after the recent series of battles, there has indeed been some wear and tear on armaments and armor."

"However, with the arrival of the last supply Fleet, a large number of brand-new suits of armor, weapons, and crossbows from the Three Cities have been fully replenished and replaced."

"Now the entire army is well-equipped with sufficient armaments and high morale, ready to be deployed into the next battle at any time."

Now, the Three Cities of Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr had become giant workshops dedicated to the Western Expedition, churning out armaments, armor, and arrows day and night, which were continuously shipped via sea routes.

The reason the finances of the Three Cities had been tight previously, even requiring Aegon to personally go to Braavos for a loan, was because all resources were prioritized for military needs.

Jon continued: "Regarding troop strength, although there were casualties in the early operations, since Your Highness took command in King's Landing and won successive battles, many Free Folk, Hedge Knights, and even bastards seeking a way out have come to join the army. Not only have the vacancies been fully filled, but our strength has also slightly expanded."

"Furthermore, after Count William Crab, Governor and Warden of Claw Isle, returned to his fief, he and the lords of Claw Isle jointly assembled a force of two thousand men. Most are brave and battle-hardened men of Claw Isle, and they arrived in King's Landing a few days ago to await orders."

Hearing this, Aegon's finger tapping on the blade paused slightly, and his brow twitched almost imperceptibly.

He had explicitly ordered the consolidation of military power and the implementation of the garrison system, strictly forbidding lords from privately mobilizing troops. Crab's move was already a violation of the rules.

However, the system was newly established and far from reaching every corner of The Crownlands; Claw Isle was situated in a remote corner where old customs were deeply rooted. Since the other party came to serve and showed overt submissiveness, he didn't need to be overly critical at this moment.

Thinking of this, Aegon did not speak to reprimand him, only withdrawing his gaze as a silent acquiescence.

"Overall, our available troop strength has increased rather than decreased compared to the start of the Western Expedition."

Finally, he spoke of the most critical item: "Provisions and baggage are even more abundant."

"Not only are the supplies brought by the Fleet piled high as mountains, but the grain provided by Highgarden on schedule alone is enough to support the army's long-term expenses, and subsequent supplies have not been interrupted."

Hearing the word "Highgarden," Aegon's gaze naturally turned to the side of the hall, landing on Margaery Tyrell, his brow twitching almost imperceptibly.

Highgarden, House Tyrell.

They could be considered sensible, in a way.

After he captured King's Landing and displayed invincible power, Highgarden was the first Great House to send a formal envoy and had actually provided grain; this was far better than those families who played deaf and dumb while harboring secret hostility.

But this kind of procrastinating and ambiguous attitude, refusing to fully pick a side, was truly unpleasant.

He remembered what Highgarden had done during the War of the Usurper.

At that time, the Duke of Highgarden, Mace Tyrell, led a hundred thousand men to besiege Storms End, but stalled under the stubborn resistance of Stannis, watching as Robert united the North, the Vale, and The Riverlands to grow his power.

The intention to preserve their strength and see which way the wind blew was self-evident.

Loyalty that is not absolute is absolute disloyalty.

If it weren't for the fact that House Tyrell had not directly raised arms against the Targaryen royalty back then, and only surrendered to Robert after Rhaegar died, King's Landing fell, and the tide had turned, Margaery Tyrell would not have the qualification to stand in this Throne Room at all.

In Aegon's violet eyes, a flash of cold sharpness flickered.

He looked at Margaery, his voice not loud, yet clearly drowning out all the small noises in the hall, carrying the distinct weight of an ultimatum:

"Lady Margaery."

Margaery, upon being named, trembled almost imperceptibly, but immediately steadied her mind. She stepped forward and performed an elegant curtsy, her posture flawless and her face wearing a respectful expression.

"Your Highness's grace and patience are remembered by Highgarden," she looked up at Aegon with clear eyes, attempting to state her position with earnest words.

But Aegon directly interrupted her unfinished sentence, his tone still flat, yet revealing an iron-like hardness:

"My patience is limited."

With those five short words, the atmosphere in the Throne Room suddenly turned cold.

Everyone held their breath, their gazes shifting between the iron throne and the Rose of Highgarden.

"If Highgarden continues to waver and hesitate..." Aegon paused, each word hitting the stone floor like an ice bead, "the consequences should be known to you..."

This was not a discussion; it was a warning.

An ultimatum laid out in the open: either submit completely and take practical action.

Or be regarded as an enemy and swept into the dust of history together.

The perfect smile on Margaery's face froze for a moment. She dug her fingernails hard into her palm to barely maintain her surface composure, her heart filled with bitterness.

During these days, she had exchanged many secret letters with Highgarden.

Under her strenuous persuasion and analysis, her grandmother, the Queen of Thorns Olenna Redwyne, was finally moved, deciding that attaching themselves to the already soaring Aegon Targaryen was Highgarden's best, and perhaps only, way out.

Her grandmother had promised to support her within Highgarden and suppress Duke Mace's ill-timed hesitations and fantasies.

But the true difficulty lay not within Highgarden, but in the entire Reach.

Although House Tyrell was the liege lord of The Reach, their control over their vassals was far inferior to that of the Lannisters over the Westerlands or the Starks over the North.

The lords of The Reach had ancient lineages and deep-rooted power; they lacked reverence for the Tyrells, whom they saw as liege lords who rose through opportunism.

Some even considered their bloodlines more noble than the Tyrells', being descendants of Garth Greenhand and thus more qualified to inherit Highgarden.

After the news of Aegon abolishing noble hereditary privileges and implementing The Crownlands Garrison System spread, the nobles of The Reach fell into great panic and resistance; these were measures that shook the very foundations of their rule.

Strong lords like the Redwynes, Hightowers, and Tarlys were extremely dissatisfied with Highgarden's inclination to serve Aegon, even openly feigning compliance while privately organizing resistance.

Highgarden could make a choice, but it could not force the entire Reach to swear fealty together.

Without the support of the overall power of The Reach, Highgarden's value in Aegon's eyes would be greatly discounted. How then could they exchange it for status and power comparable to the past?

Bitterness surged in Margaery's heart, but under Aegon's cold gaze and the silent scrutiny of the generals in the hall, she knew she had no room for any excuses or delays.

"Your Highness's meaning, Margaery understands," she bowed deeply, her voice still steady but hiding a trace of imperceptible tension. "Highgarden's loyalty to House Targaryen has never changed."

"Margaery will, with the fastest speed, report Your Highness's expectations and will to my grandmother and father. I implore Your Highness... to grant a little more time."

Aegon looked at her, neither agreeing nor refuting.

The sense of pressure in his gaze did not diminish, but he finally looked away.

Margaery secretly breathed a sigh of relief, but her back was already soaked in a thin layer of sweat.

She knew that this "little more time" would definitely not be long; Highgarden had been pushed to the edge where they must immediately decide and take action.

Aegon's gaze swept over the generals in the hall, his tone calm yet carrying an unquestionable majesty as he directly issued orders:

"In three days, the entire army will set out and assemble at Antlers on the border of The Crownlands."

His gaze first fell on Laswell Peake, his voice clear and certain:

"Laswell Peake, you will lead the Golden Company north from Antlers into The Riverlands, heading straight for Maidenpool and attacking Harrenhal."

Then he turned to look at Luke, his military order giving no ground:

"Luke, you will lead the Ash Company from Antlers, heading west via Sows Horn to approach the shores of the Gods Eye, seize Milkstone, and lock down Harrenhal's retreat."

Sitting atop the iron throne, Aegon's gaze was cold as it spread throughout the Throne Room, finalizing the strategy:

"The two armies will converge and completely trap the garrison of Harrenhal."

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