Game of Thrones: Oath of Iron and Fire-Chapter 68: The Dawn of Chaos

Year 298 of the Conquest, the dawn of a new era.

The two major events at the beginning of the year were the rise of a new power across the Narrow Sea and the death of Jon Arryn, who had governed Westeros for fifteen years.

After Jon Arryn's death, his wife, Lysa Tully, fled back to the Vale with their son, Robert Arryn, in the dead of night. Stannis Baratheon, the Lord of Dragonstone, also retreated to his seat. King Robert was baffled and powerless in the face of their escapes, as he had little interest in the politics of King's Landing. The Red Keep, the court, and the Gold Cloaks were as porous as a sieve.

In the Westerlands, at Casterly Rock, in the Hall of Heroes, Tywin Lannister strolled with his younger brother, Ser Kevan Lannister.

This hall was lined with the precious armors of hundreds of Lannister knights, lords, and kings. The Hall of Heroes was renowned throughout the Seven Kingdoms and even across the Narrow Sea. Any Lannister or close kin who died heroically might be buried here.

"Poor old Jon, he died too quickly, too suddenly," Tywin said to his brother. Tywin was tall and lean, with broad shoulders, just past fifty.

Since he began to lose his hair, he had shaved it all off, leaving only thick golden sideburns. His pale green eyes were flecked with gold.

Since his wife's death, Tywin had rarely smiled. After all, for Tywin, fear was more reliable than laughter.

"Now that Lord Jon is dead, and you, as King Robert's father-in-law, are with the crown so much in our debt! Not to mention these are troubled times, with the king's bastards and the Targaryen remnants entangled and ready to strike back!" Ser Kevan said hopefully.

For years, Ser Kevan had served as Tywin's most trusted right-hand man, his loyalty well-known. Ser Kevan was somewhat portly, nearly bald, with a square jaw covered in fat, a short-trimmed beard, round shoulders, a thick waist, delicate skin, and golden hair and beard.

"Out of the question, Kevan!" Ser Tywin replied. "That war was waged by the eagle, the wolf, the stag, and the fish. Robert didn't dare to invite me into his court! He trusted old Jon and his childhood friends more."

"Still, your abilities and talents as Hand were clear to the gods! The king chose to look elsewhere!"

"Poor Robert wasn't entirely foolish!" Tywin snorted. "The gods wouldn't allow anyone to stand above the king."

"Cersei's letter says that fat Lysa Tully and Stannis both fled!" Kevan said.

"That's the tricky part. With Jon dead, we become the prime suspects! After all, it's plain to see: Stannis fled, Jon died, and half of King's Landing is Lannister territory now!" Tywin analyzed. "Even if we didn't do it, it looks good for us on the surface!"

"It was old Jon who kept things together," Kevan acknowledged the late Hand's contribution.

"Yes, old Jon's so-called maintenance was just being the peacemaker! He didn't dare offend the Martells or the Tyrells. He couldn't intervene in the king's entertainments and indulgences, letting the king run wild!"

"Lysa's just a woman, mad as a hatter. But Stannis is formidable, not easily cowed. And then there's the Narrow Sea, the Targaryen remnants, and the king's bastard, that one's a tough customer!"

"Alas!" Kevan sighed. The Lannisters had indeed been ruthless to the Targaryens back then.

"I can already sense the chaos! I have to win this war. I've spent years restoring the family's glory, and I won't let the Lannisters fall!"

As the tide came in, thunder rumbled beneath the Hall of Heroes, as if echoing the uneasy times.

Tyrosh, one of the nine Free Cities, is not far from the coast of the Disputed Lands.

Tyrosh is a fortress city protected by high walls, located at the northeastern tip of the Stepstones. Its inner walls are made of fused black dragonstone.

The Archon of Tyrosh, with a face etched with worry, stood on the high watchtower of the black inner city, gazing at the Wolfpack fleet patrolling the sea. Those beautiful Myrish warships had now replaced their Myrish flags with the howling banners of the Wolfpack.

Beside the Archon were a group of Tyroshi senior magisters, nobles, some Tyroshi mercenary captains, and a handful of Myrish exiled nobles.

This chapter is updated by freēwēbnovel.com.

Without exception, the hallmark of the Tyroshi people is their flamboyance. The Tyroshi people favor bright colors, dyeing their hair and beards in vivid hues, including blue, green, chestnut, pink, purple, scarlet, and crimson. Their hats are also quite distinctive.

"I am willing to offer half of my wealth and my warships if you help me retake Myr!" the exiled Myrish magister promised, feeling as if his heart was bleeding.

"Do it! Archon, many things are not about whether they can be done, but whether one dares to do them!" a Tyroshi magister suggested.

"The Wolfpack fleet, from the Myrish Bay to the Stepstones, has effectively blockaded the entire sea route. Our slave ships now dare not go out to capture slaves, and our merchant ships are also restricted by the Wolfpack fleet's blockade! If this continues, Tyrosh will sooner or later collapse!"

"How to do it? Relying on the Tyroshi alone?" the green-bearded Archon of Tyrosh sighed.

"I naturally know that Tyrosh is in a bad situation, with slaves in the city brewing rebellion, the estates and towns in the Disputed Lands being taken over, and now the sea route is also about to be locked down! But the reinforcements from Lys and Volantis are long overdue, and now we can only hold on!"

"How about hiring the Unsullied?"

"The price is too high, and the time is too long. Moreover, Braavos is also against slavery, I don't think it will work!"

"Of course, it is difficult for us to match them with our strength, but we do have allies! Lys and Volantis are both slave-holding city-states, and there is the Slavers' Bay. Will they allow the trend of liberating slaves to continue to rage?"

"Now it is the king's bastard and the exiled Targaryen princess who are together. They also have many enemies across the Narrow Sea! The wealthy Lord Tywin is one of them!" The magistrates and nobles chattered away, each analyzing the situation eloquently.

"Let me mention one disadvantage first! The old Hand trusted by the whoremonger king is dead, and the Iron Throne probably has no interest in getting involved across the Narrow Sea."

"Water from afar won't quench our thirst! My lords, how long do we have to wait for reinforcements here?" The Archon of Tyrosh asked. No one understood the structure of the Free Cities better than he. Elections and democracy made them like horses pulling in different directions, making it very difficult to make decisions.

"If only your mouths were as sharp as swords, why don't you go to war on the ships?" The Tyroshi admiral with purple hair sneered.

"We only have about two hundred warships, while that mercenary king has two hundred mixed warships, one hundred and forty Myrish warships, and his land forces are well-trained!"

"The Pentoshi are weak, the Braavosi are ambiguous. The most hopeful Lyseni reinforcements are hesitating; the Volantene election year has not arrived yet, and this year is still the year of the Elephant Party. As for the Golden Company, they are also trying to win the favor of the mercenary king!"

"So we have no way out?" Despair began to spread, and some magistrates looked despondent.

"We are not without a way out!" The Archon of Tyrosh waved his hand. "The Khals, those greedy Khals, will probably not like Myr to become independent and refuse to offer wealth."

"Now is the time for us to unite and face the crisis of Tyrosh, which is more terrible than Silver Tongue. My lords, donate your wealth. On the one hand, we hire swordsmen and knights, and on the other hand, we send envoys to tempt the Khals to send troops!"