Rising with Momentum

Two days had passed at Harrenhal.

The massive army remained stalled, utterly inactive.

Inside Suleiman's main tent, the atmosphere was so oppressive it felt like water could be wrung from it.

The lords of the East Riverlands had gathered here like beasts trapped in a cage.

Their faces were filled with anxiety and panic, utterly unable to understand what Suleiman was trying to do.

He neither suppressed them nor marched on King's Landing.

William Mooton could no longer endure it.

His fat face was drenched in sweat, not from the humid heat, but from fear.

"Two days, Lord Suleiman!"

His voice rose sharply with agitation.

"We have done nothing here for two whole days!"

"Every moment of delay is tightening the noose around our necks!"

"What exactly do you want? Give us a clear answer!"

Ser Ronald of House Darry's forces was equally indignant.

"Lord Raymun Darry went to deliver a message to you. Why did you arrest him?!"

"Why have you not released him?!"

A riding-crop scar sunk deep into the flesh of Walter Hean's cheek had already scabbed over, making him look especially vicious.

Gritting his teeth and frowning, he said, "Ever since we gathered our forces, word must have reached King's Landing long ago."

"Jon Arryn will not stand by and do nothing. He must be mobilizing his army."

"We have no way back, Lord Suleiman!"

"If you mean to slaughter us all to atone to the Usurper, then do it!"

The Riverlands lords all spoke at once, spittle flying.

Anxiety and fear had stripped them of their usual composure.

"That's right! We assembled an army! In the Usurper's eyes, we are already rebels!"

"If we stop now, we'll only be sent to the chopping block one by one!"

"We must march on King's Landing at once,