Surprise Attack, Unprepared Defense

The roars over Harrenhal gradually subsided.

The fires of slaughter had not gone out; they had merely gone underground, smoldering within the chests of forty thousand men.

Suleiman stepped down from the platform, and Walter Hean, William Mooton, and the others immediately came forward to meet him.

Their faces were caught between the relief of surviving a catastrophe and a morbid exhilaration.

William Mooton's voice trembled with excitement. "My lord! You truly are an envoy sent by the Seven!"

"What do we do now? March on King's Landing at once?"

Walter Hean quickly followed, the whip marks on his face twitching. "Lord Suleiman! The people are with us! We should take King's Landing!"

Suleiman did not slow his pace.

He walked straight past the lords toward his command tent.

"Return to your respective armies."

His voice was calm, devoid of any emotion.

"Settle the soldiers, take stock of the equipment, and await my orders."

The fervor on the lords' faces froze.

They looked at one another, unable to understand why Suleiman had once again chosen to wait.

But this time, no one voiced a question.

Suleiman had declared before forty thousand men that they would punish the Usurper. They were now all in the same boat; if it sank, they would perish together.

They could only watch Suleiman's back vanish behind the tent flap before dispersing uneasily.

Inside the tent, the lamps burned brightly.

The tidal fervor outside was cut off by the heavy canvas.

It was so quiet here that the crackling of the flames could be heard.

A huge map of Westeros lay spread across the long table, occupying the center of the tent.

Rosso Brune, Bryn, and Toman had long been waiting here, their expressions grave.

Suleiman entered.

He casually removed the Valyrian Steel Sword from his