TYRION
Dawn was breaking, and pale ripples of sunlight shimmered on the steel tips of a thousand spears like stars in the night sky, shattering when the cloud covered the sun and reforming when the sun joined with the spear. The two thousand Dornish spears who had come from Prince Doran Martell were taking their journey north by the Kingsroad to join prince Aegon Targaryen in the Riverlands.
Three thousand men had come down from the Prince's Pass under the command of Ser Ulwyck Uller to protect the realm against the King in the North and his band of traitors. A thousand of them had stayed back in King's Landing under the command of Prince Oberyn Martell to see to the defense of the capital city of the Seven Kingdoms while the other two thousand left to support Prince Aegon on the battlefield. Tyrion Lannister had accompanied Prince Oberyn Martell to the Mud Gate to send the Dornishmen off to war against the Wolf.
King's Landing is getting devoid of Targaryen power, Tyrion could see. Rhaegar was sending his close friends and allies out away from him, trying desperately to stop the onslaught of the Born King on his realm. The Hand of the King Jon Connigton was had left to the east hoping the get the assistance of his grace's powerful friends from Essos and the Free Cities. Rhaegar's own family was scattered all around King's Landing to deal with Stark and his allies. His eldest son is in Riverlands, trying to push out and lessen the grasp of the rebel faction. His sister, the Princess Daenerys is said to be flying between the Stormlands and the Reach, trying to deal with both Robert Baratheon and the Hightowers all at once. As powerful and fast as a dragon might be, even the majestic creature could not be at two places at once. His youngest son was at the Wall and his brother dead. Things weren't looking so well for the dragons, he could see.
He could understand his father's siding to the rebel faction better now. Lord Tywin never believed in half measures and as such a losing faction was never an option for the Lord of Casterly Rock.
What Tyrion could not understand however was the fact that why his father had chosen him to go to the court. Lord Tywin had always taken a great care to hide his shame, his dwarf son away from the eyes of the court. He had been confused as to why his father might have changed that bearing just for this task alone. He thought that he knew the answer now. No doubt his father must have thought that he would never survive King's Landing by the time this all ends. Small wonder why his father was so ready to send him to King's Landing to attend the crown prince's marriage in his own stead. After all losing Tyrion was not going to hurt or harm his father in any way. Lord Tywin would be more than happy to see him dead.
Prince Oberyn gave certain instructions to the army of the dornishmen under Ser Ulwyck before they left to join Prince Aegon. Word had come from Stormlands that Robert Baratheon had destroyed the reach army under the command of Randyll Tarly and was now moving north to join up with the rebels in Riverrun. The orders given to the dornishmen were straight and simple. They were send to counter the involvement of the stormlords and harass the army all the way.
"Whatever you do, don't try and fight a battle," Oberyn Martell told Ser Ulwyck. "Strike at their camps and baggage train. Ambush their scouts and hang the bodies from trees ahead of their line of march, loop around and cut down stragglers. I want night attacks, so many and so sudden that they'll be afraid to make camp and sleep. Free whatever prisoners you could find. Some of the Reach lords are held as captive in the warcamp."
Ser Ulwyck Uller nodded stiffly, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "All that you said will be done, my prince. We will make sure that they know of our presence."
"This is not Dorne you are going to fight in, and you won't be fighting against mere outlaws like the dragons like to say. The king has been so gracious as to give us such an important duty. Use the covers to your advantage and they'll serve you well."
"We will make them get introduced again to dornish ambushes, Prince Oberyn," the dornishman promised solemnly. And then it was time for him to lead his warhorse to the head of the long four mounted columns of dornishmen. Tyrion watched the dornishmen take off from King's Landing towards the north leaving only a cloud of dust in their wake. He felt a queer twinge in the pit of his stomach as the baggage train of Ser Ulywck's army faded in the morning mist. He had never thought that Prince Oberyn would gladly fight under the banner of the three headed dragon of House Targaryen. After all it was the same banner which claimed the lives of Oberyn' sister and her children, the Princess Elia and Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys who died in the struggle that happened between Rhaegar and Aerys Targaryen for the Iron Throne. It was well known that Prince Oberyn blamed the king for the deaths of himself sister and her children.
Yet the Martells had promised the hand of their daughter to another dragon though. It showed him that the Martells had not yet lost their hope in the dragons. Without the Martells however, Rhaegar would be all alone against the boy and all the great lords on his side.
Rhaegar would no doubt be hoping so hard to find some help from his friends from the east. Even with the Martells, it would not be enough to stop Andrew Stark and Robert Baratheon and Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully and Leyton Hightower. If no reinforcements arrived with Jon Connington from the east, the war might be closing to an end.
Tyrion wondered what he was going to do should the city fall to some enemy force. He still had Bronn and a handful of his hirelings. But Tyrion was not so delusional to think the the sellswords would be so eager to protect him with their lives if things turned sour. The best thing he could hope for was Prince Oberyn Martell to keep him in his good terms.
Half the men who held the city of King's Landing were under the command of the Martell prince. He had near two thousand men in the garrison of the city which almost made up the numbers of the gold cloaks of the city. Like it or not, he had to make common cause with the man for his own benefits. Not just for him, Oberyn Martell was the best hope for the people of King's Landing as well. Of the Five thousand men holding the defense of the city, almost two thousand of them were the dornishmen of Prince Oberyn.
The gold cloaks despite being higher in number were almost as uncertain a weapon as the hirelings he had under his command. Three thousand men in the City Watch, while not a bad number only a thousand or two of them could be relied upon if it comes to battle. The others were mostly boys greener than spring grass, men who joined for bread and ale and safety. No man liked to look craven in the sight of his fellows, so they would fight brave enough at the start, when it's all warhorns and blowing banners. But if the battle looked to be going sour they would break without any doubt, and they would break bad. The first man to throw down his spear and run will have a thousand more trodding on his heels no doubt. And just like that the city will fall which might mean the end of everyone inside including himself.
To be sure, there were seasoned men in the City Watch, the core of the original thousand. Yet even those . . . a watchman was not truly a soldier, Lord Tywin Lannister had been fond of saying. Of knights and squires and men-at-arms, there were only a few hundreds of them were still left in King's Landing after the army that left the city with prince Aegon. Soon enough, he might come to test the truth of another of his father's sayings: One man on a wall was worth ten beneath it.
Bronn and the escort that had come with Prince Oberyn were waiting by the gate of the gods. They rode through the market square amidst swarming beggars, strolling whores, and fishwives crying the catch. The fishwives did more business than all the rest combined. Buyers flocked around the barrels and stalls to haggle over winkles, clams, and river pike. With no other food coming into the city, the price of fish was ten times what it had been before the war, and still rising. Those who had coin came to the market square each morning and each evening, in hopes of bringing home an eel or a pot of red crabs; those who did not slipped between the stalls hoping to steal, or stood gaunt and forlorn beneath the walls.
The gold cloaks cleared a path through the press, shoving people aside with the shafts of their spears. Tyrion ignored the muttered curses as best he could. Anyone in fancy clothes is an enemy to them just for being a highborn and having lavish foods in the castle while they were being sent scrambling for a bowl of brown. Tyrion knew that things were getting better now. Rhaegar had ordered Mace Tyrell to bring in food from Highgarden.
Mounted, he gazed along the streets of the market square. Hammers rang in the morning air as carpenters swarmed over the Mud Gate, extending wooden hoardings from the battlements. They would do well to reinforce the gate sooner rather than later. It would not take long for a ram through break down the gate. A the clutter of ramshackle structures that had been allowed to grow up beside the gate, attaching themselves to the city walls; bait shacks and pot-shops, warehouses, merchants' stalls and alehouses. No doubt they would get off there to reinforce the gate further.
Tyrion led his horse close to Prince Oberyn, Bronn by his side. "Assemble a few hundred men and have patrols continously." Prince Oberyn was saying to one of his men. waved his hand at the clumsy crowd all around them. "I don't want to have an unrest inside the walls of the city."
The black-haired, dark eyed dornishmen turned his head to look around them at the mass of people, considering the task. "It might take more than a few hundred to have a patrol all around the city, my prince."
"Then take the enough men you need to do the job. I want the city under control."
The dornishman nodded his head once and wheeled his horse to go and do his duty.
"I never imagined you would be so happy to help Rhaegar Targaryen out, Prince Oberyn," Tyrion told him when they were riding side by side.
Oberyn Martell laughed. "Why? Do you take me for a traitor."
No, I took you for a man clouded with vengeance. For your sister and niece and nephew. "No, I would never imply such a thing," Tyrion said.
"I may have my differences with Rhaegar," Prince Oberyn said, "but my brother has pledged to take the dragon's side once more. And my niece is supposed to marry the future king. I love Arianne too much to leave her alone and unguarded."
Tyrion gave a misleading smile, looking up at the face of the Martell prince trying to look beyond his words. He found nothing there though, nothing but a smile that hid a lot than he knew. "I would have thought you to do that in some other way."
Prince Oberyn gave a laugh. "Then you don't know me."
"Forgive me for my audacity, my prince," Tyrion said, grinning. "I don't think any man knows the Red Viper truly."
"Ask Ellaria about that," Oberyn said.
Tyrion chuckled. "I only said that no man knew you truly."
Oberyn Martell laughed loudly and Tyrion was left wondering what that laughter might hide from his eyes.