The hall of Casterly Rock was brightly lit by dozens of gilded candelabras, their flames casting a warm glow across the golden murals on all four walls.
The light also fell on the ruby-studded three-headed dragon emblem on Aegon's chest, giving it an eerie red gleam.
The commanders arriving one after another noticed that Aegon had changed his armor.
It was still black, but the three-headed dragon on its breastplate looked lifelike, its wings spread wide. It was more striking than his previous suit, and better suited to his status.
A few men murmured among themselves, but none dared ask when His Highness had had this new armor forged.
Aegon paced on the dais, the same crimson cloak still draped over his left shoulder.
It was not to look impressive.
Casterly Rock stood on high ground, where the winds were strong. The cloak merely kept out the cold.
He watched as the last of his commanders gathered.
Leswell Peake of the Golden Company, Luke of the Ashen Company, Henry of the Blood Oath Band-even Malko Soren, commander of the Narrow Sea Fleet, who had been farthest away, had arrived.
He cleared his throat softly, drawing everyone's attention.
"The Westerlands have now largely been pacified. Hornvale, Ashemark, The Crag, Silverhall, Ruinfort, Fair Isle, Cornfield, and the other castles and towns have all been retaken."
He paused. "Tywin withdrew his army from the Golden Tooth and retreated into the Riverlands. But according to our scouts, his army shows no sign of remaining there."
"Now, tell me. What should we do next?"
The moment he finished, a voice rang out.
Malko Soren, commander of the Narrow Sea Fleet, stepped forward, his bright silver plate armor gleaming in the candlelight.
He bowed to Aegon and declared, "Your Highness, I believe we should immediately send