Organizing Local Militias, Total Military Mobilization

The night over Duskendale was dark as ink, and the air still hummled with an unsettling restlessness.

Suleiman stood before the enormous parchment map of Westeros.

Candlelight flickered, stretching his shadow long across the vast map.

He raised his head and swept his gaze over the East Riverlands lords before him.

Their faces still bore the greedy flush from earlier, when they had heard that their second sons would "divide up the Stormlands."

Their eyes glittered with boundless hopes for the future.

"Your fantasies should end now, my lords."

Suleiman's voice was not loud, yet it instantly shattered all their pleasant illusions.

His fingers lightly tapped the tabletop, producing a steady knocking sound.

"The cake may be exciting, but whether you can get it into your mouths depends on whether you can survive the first year."

William Mooton rubbed his hands together, the fat on his face bunching up with his smile.

"Lord Suleiman, with your bounty proclamation, the entire Seven Kingdoms will descend into chaos. Lords in every region will raise their banners against the Usurper."

Suleiman sneered and cut him off.

"Shut up!"

He suddenly planted both hands on the table and leaned forward, staring down every person present with overwhelming pressure.

"This will be a long war. Do not expect to win it in a single battle."

"You told me that The Reach and Dorne would rise up, yet I have seen no sign of it."

The lords' faces paled slightly as reason began to return.

Seeing that the moment was right, Suleiman gave his first order.

"Send word at once. Have your men return to their respective lands immediately."

"Bring your wives, children, even your mistresses, all to the Crownlands."

A low murmur of unrest rose through the hall.

Lymond Guburk frowned and spoke hesitantly. "My