LGHTNOVELBOOK Chapter 49: The Gathering Storm
Chapter 49: The Gathering Storm
The Riverlands hummed with tension, the fragile calm after Lysa's encounter with Darnel Rivers masking the growing storm ahead. Ivar Sunblode's council prepared for the next stage of their resistance, but whispers of doubt and uncertainty lingered. The smaller houses remained uneasy, and Tywin Lannister's shadow loomed over every decision.
In the war room of Riverrun, the council assembled again. The map before them had grown increasingly crowded with markings, indicating supply routes, fortified crossings, and key locations under threat. The air was heavy with unspoken fears, but Ivar's voice cut through the weight of the room.
"Darnel is neutralized for now," Ivar began, his tone sharp. "But we can't let his hesitation infect the rest of the Accord. Tywin will use every tool at his disposal to divide us. We need to make sure our lords understand that unity isn't just an ideal—it's survival."
Roland Emberhill frowned, his arms crossed as he leaned against the edge of the table. "Darnel might be quiet for now, but he's not the only one we need to worry about. There are rumors that Tywin's emissaries are moving through the northern Riverlands, looking for more cracks in our alliance."
Lysa Blackthorne, seated with her legs crossed and her sharp gaze fixed on the map, nodded in agreement. "Roland's right. Tywin doesn't need an army to win this war—he just needs enough lords to falter. If we lose even one key house, the others could follow."
Ivar placed both hands on the table, his fingers splayed as he leaned over the map. "Then we cut off his influence before it spreads. Lysa, I want you to send your spies into the northern Riverlands. Find these emissaries and eliminate them. Quietly. We can't risk open conflict with our own lords."
"I already have agents in place," Lysa replied, her tone measured but resolute. "They'll take care of it."
Timothy Sunrise, lounging against the wall with his usual grin, spoke up. "While Lysa's dealing with Tywin's whispers, what's the plan for his army? We've bloodied him a few times, but he's still out there. And he's not getting weaker."
"That's why we're going to force his hand," Ivar said, straightening. "We've been playing defense for too long. It's time to make Tywin come to us—on our terms."
Roland raised an eyebrow. "And how do you plan to do that?"
"We'll give him a target he can't ignore," Ivar said. "We'll fortify the crossings at the Red Fork and the Tumblestone, but we'll make it look like our focus is elsewhere. If Tywin thinks we're leaving a gap in our defenses, he'll take the bait. When he does, we'll be ready."
Duncan Greenfield, seated at the table with a thoughtful expression, spoke hesitantly. "That's a bold plan, Ivar. But if Tywin sees through the deception…"
"He won't," Ivar interrupted, his voice firm. "We know how he thinks. He'll see a chance to strike, and he won't be able to resist. This is our opportunity to turn the tide."
As the council deliberated the details of the plan, Lysa slipped away to prepare her agents for their mission. The corridors of Riverrun were quiet as she made her way to a small chamber where her most trusted spies waited.
Inside, a group of five men and women stood at attention, their faces obscured by cloaks and shadows. Lysa addressed them with her usual calm authority.
"Tywin's emissaries are moving through the northern Riverlands," she began, her voice low but commanding. "They're sowing doubt and fear among our allies. Your job is to find them and eliminate them. Discreetly. No loose ends, no witnesses."
One of the spies, a wiry man with piercing blue eyes, stepped forward. "Do we have any leads on where they are?"
Lysa handed him a small scroll. "These are their last known locations. Start there, but be prepared to adapt. Tywin's people are clever—they'll change their patterns if they sense they're being followed."
Another spy, a woman with a scar running down her cheek, nodded. "And what if we encounter resistance from the lords themselves?"
Lysa's gaze hardened. "Avoid direct confrontation if you can. But if it comes to it, remind them that loyalty to the Accord is not optional. Do whatever it takes to secure their cooperation."
The spies departed without another word, their footsteps silent as they disappeared into the night. Lysa watched them go, her expression unreadable.
Back in the war room, Ivar and Roland reviewed the defenses along the Red Fork and Tumblestone. Roland traced the lines on the map with a gloved finger, his brow furrowed.
"The crossings are strong, but they're not invulnerable," Roland said. "If Tywin brings his siege engines, he could breach them eventually. We'll need to hold long enough to lure him into our trap."
"That's why we need to be strategic about where we place our forces," Ivar replied. "The goal isn't just to defend the crossings—it's to force Tywin into overextending himself. If we can spread his forces thin enough, we can hit him where he's weakest."
Timothy entered the room, his grin widening as he approached the table. "Sounds like you've got a plan. Care to share it with the class?"
Ivar gestured to the map. "We'll station the bulk of our forces at the crossings, but we'll keep a smaller, mobile force hidden nearby. When Tywin commits to the attack, we'll use the hidden force to strike his flanks. Roland's archers will provide cover, and Timothy, your enhanced soldiers will lead the counterattack."
Timothy's grin turned predatory. "Now that's more like it. Nothing like a good flank strike to ruin a lion's day."
Roland, ever cautious, glanced at Ivar. "What about the reserves? If the flanking force is discovered too early, it could jeopardize the entire plan."
"That's why we'll position them carefully," Ivar said. "They'll remain hidden until the moment is right. If everything goes as planned, Tywin won't even see them coming."
The council spent hours refining the details, their voices blending with the crackling of the fire and the distant sounds of the castle. By the time they adjourned, the plan was set in motion, but the weight of its execution loomed large.
Later that night, Ivar stood alone on the battlements, staring out over the darkened countryside. The faint glow of distant fires marked the camps of displaced villagers, their lives uprooted by the war.
Lysa joined him, her approach quiet but purposeful. "It's a good plan," she said, breaking the silence.
"It has to be," Ivar replied. "If we fail, the Riverlands won't survive another blow like this."
"We won't fail," Lysa said firmly. "You've led us this far. You'll see it through to the end."
Ivar turned to her, his expression softening. "It's not just about me. It's about all of us—about what we're fighting for. If we lose, everything we've built will fall apart."
Lysa placed a hand on his arm, her gaze steady. "Then we don't lose."
As the first light of dawn crept over Riverrun, the castle stirred to life. Soldiers donned their armor, archers prepared their bows, and messengers rode out with orders. The storm was coming, and the Riverlands would be ready.
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