The Game of Cyvasse

Scourge of Harrenhal

"Fire! Fire!" the voices shouted, their united cry creating a mighty echo that reverberated off the ancient walls of Harenhall in the hour of owl. Tywin rose from his seat, abandoning the pile of papers scattered on the desk, and strode towards the balcony of the northern tower. There, he gazed down at the south wing of the castle, where the stores of his army's supplies were housed, now engulfed in flames. A brilliant, ominous green glow emanated from every window, its radiance piercing through the thick smoke that billowed from the same source...

....

Two armies near each other, Lannisters at Harrenhal and the Targaryens at Maidenpool, yet no one dared to make the first move. A silent game was played, with scouts who tried to catch every movement of the enemy, and spies eagerly anticipating any shift in the adversary's camp. They lingered there like elusive shadows beneath the sheltering canopy of the forest trees.

For three long months, uncertainty hung in the air like an untamed beast, gnawing at the hearts of the soldiers. An army that merely stood still was as unhappy as the one retreating from the battlefield; the tension was palpable, and something had to give.

The spider knew that the waiting was over; the dragon would soon make its move on the board, seizing the trebuchets, catapults, and heavy cavalry from the hands of the golden lion. Step by step, over the years he built his web, touching every wall, every tree, every alley, understanding that a spider's web is resilient, enduring fierce winds and arid days. The key is to remain unseen, for only a men can dismantle the woven spiral.

Dark corridors beneath King's Landing lay forgotten, trodden only by rats. A feeble candle's glow illuminated the spider's path; he moved like a shadow within shadows. After deftly counted steps, he paused, his hand finding the wall, meeting the rough touch of rusted stairs.

Shogovhar awaited him in a cramped room, just enough space for two chairs and two men. "You're late," he smiled, revealing rotting teeth and a missing eye; his face and clothes were dirty, looking worse under the dim candlelight than Spider's.

"And you're early," spider retorted, displaying his own ruined smile. The stench of King's Landing was present; they were close enough to the surface.

"Are the boys ready?" Spider inquired.

"Four boys and a girl. The circumstances of the task didn't exactly attract candidates," Shogovhar replied, "although they're all willing to die."

Spider removed a small box from his back and handed it to Shogovhar, saying, "Tell them not to open it, shake it, or place it near fire. When they get there, all they need to do is throw the contents on the ground, and the rest will take care of itself."

"And the other box. They're sacrificing themselves for their families," Shogovhar prepared to leave.

That spider knew; gold coins were never the issue, but trust and willingness were. Shogovhar was among the few who could find such desperate souls, those willing to endure the worst and capable enough to carry out the desired task.

The other box is in the wall, he pointed out a crack, it was hardly visible in the dim light.

....

Dragons

"The enemy attempted to ford the Red Fork of the Trident, but the Tullys repelled them. Their movements suggest they aimed for Golden Tooth. This Stark has done us an immense favor," Lysono Maar said, tracing the maneuvers on the map, though most knew the terrain by heart.

The circle of captains sat within Harry Strickland's large tent, the warmth of braziers pushing back the chill of the autumn evening.