Inside Harrenhal.
Tywin Lannister stood before a map, listening impassively to Kevan Lannister's report.
"Those northerners have started withdrawing north."
Kevan's face was flushed, his voice tinged with excitement. "I've just received confirmation. Roose Bolton has already left with some of his men. The rest are hurriedly packing up the last of their tents. It looks as though they really intend to pull everyone out."
Tywin said nothing in response to Kevan's report. He simply kept staring at the markings on the map.
"Brother, this is an opportunity we may never see again." Seeing no reaction from Tywin, Kevan hurried on. "We could pursue them as they withdraw and catch those northerners off guard."
"No." Tywin finally spoke, his voice calm. "Let them go."
"Why?" Kevan asked, puzzled. "If they're retreating now, their morale must be low. They were short of provisions before this, too, so they can't have much strength left. Isn't this the perfect time for us to strike back?"
"Strike back?" Tywin turned to Kevan and said sternly, "Many of our own soldiers can barely stand. What are we supposed to strike back with?"
Kevan fell silent at that.
Because of the poison Roose Bolton had put in the water, soldiers who drank from the river had suffered vomiting and diarrhea during the first few days, and more than a hundred had died. Tywin had burned the bodies, sealed off access to the river, and ordered everyone to drink only well water.
But there was not enough well water, and Harlon Castle's water shortage had now lasted almost two weeks. Although Tywin had suppressed their panic through forceful measures, the soldiers' physical condition continued to deteriorate.
The few wells already inside Harrenhal could barely meet the daily drinking needs of twenty thousand men, and even then, each