The Six Kingdoms' Harshest Father, the Summit at King's Landing

Inside the tent.

Suleiman stood alone before the map, his back to the others.

His finger moved slowly across it.

Riverrun's fall had been unexpected, almost too dramatic to believe.

A noble house that had endured for thousands of years had fallen overnight, its male line extinguished.

He did not blame Patrick Morrison for acting on his own.

One night. One formidable castle.

That flawless victory had given him an immeasurable strategic advantage.

And after careful thought, he decided it might even be a good thing.

Patrick Morrison had wiped out House Tully, one of the Seven Kingdoms' great houses. That severed him from the Usurper's faction for good.

With no way back, he could safely be entrusted with governing a region.

A septon stood beside Suleiman, his quill poised over parchment. Ink gathered at its tip, but he did not dare rush him.

"Send envoys to The Reach and Dorne."

"To House Tyrell of Highgarden and House Martell of Dorne."

"Invite them to send representatives to a summit in King's Landing."

"We will discuss the future of Westeros."

Suleiman did not speak loudly, yet his words carried unquestioned weight.

The Riverlords of the Riverlands remained composed, their expressions unchanged.

To decide the fate of Westeros.

The words came from a young man who was not a king, but no one thought them arrogant.

Victory after brilliant victory had proved he had the right to say them.

The septon's quill immediately flew across the parchment with a dry scratch.

"Send another envoy across the sea to the Iron Islands to meet His Grace Robert Baratheon."

"Tell him I will yield Seaguard so he can land in the Riverlands."

"I will await him there. We will meet in battle and settle this."

The septon's hand faltered, as though the sheer provocation