Casterly Rock – Solar of Lord Tywin Lannister
The chamber was gold and stone, silent save for the crackle of fire. Lord Tywin Lannister sat behind his great desk, reading slowly through a missive delivered from the Red Keep. Ser Kevan stood nearby, stiff and uncomfortable.
"He is building a northern trade empire," Tywin said flatly, folding the parchnt. "And no one is stopping him."
"They say the North calls him Lord Froststark," Kevan said. "Unofficially, of course."
"Officially or not, nas have power. The boy has amassed wealth, a loyal army, and access to materials rare even in Old Valyria."
Kevan hesitated. "You an this... wolfsteel?"
"It's more than steel," Tywin replied. "It's loyalty. The North adores him. He builds, he protects, he fights. Even Ned Stark cannot contain him now."
"Should we act?"
Tywin rose slowly, eyes like twin gold coins. "We watch. Carefully. And begin tightening our own trade routes. Offer discounts on Westerlands ore. Increase gold flow to the Free Cities. Undercut the wolf's grip."
He turned, facing the carved lion behind him. "Wolves should not be allowed to grow fat."
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Highgarden – Garden Terrace
Lady Olenna Tyrell plucked a rose from its stem with her usual grace, thorns and all. Her granddaughter Margaery sat beside her, fanning herself in the Reach sun.
"The Starks grow bolder," Olenna mused. "And one of them now deals in trade and steel. Who would have thought?"
"This Cregan Stark sounds... interesting," Margaery said with a smile.
"Dangerous, is what he is," Olenna snapped. "But clever. A Stark who understands coin is a Stark to be feared."
"Should we reach out to him?" Margaery asked.
"No," said Olenna, tossing the rose aside. "We wait until the Reach is needed. Let the lions bleed first. Then we show flowers have thorns."
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Sunspear – Tower of the Sun
Prince Doran Martell lay reclined in the solar, a cool breeze blowing in from the sea. He read through the report with a thoughtful expression.
"This one, Cregan Stark, he is no fool," Doran murmured.
"A Northern princeling with a head for war and coin," said Areo Hotah. "Unusual."
"Not unusual. Tid," Doran said. "The realm is cracking. And the wolves prepare."
"Should we fear the North?"
"No," Doran replied. "We should rember them. And make sure they rember us. Send quiet feelers to Frosthall. Let them know Dorne respects strength."
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King's Landing – Red Keep, Tower of the Hand
Jon Arryn stood by the window, watching the city breathe.
King Robert slouched in a chair behind him, guzzling from a goblet.
"Damn lad ran off to Essos and ca back with a bloody army," Robert muttered, amused more than concerned. "Reminds of myself in my pri."
"He's not you," Jon said. "He's careful. Quiet. And dangerous because of it."
Robert grinned. "Let the wolf build his frost palace. The North is far, far away."
"And growing stronger," Jon countered. "It would be wise to bring him closer—remind him of the realm he serves."
"How?"
"Invite him to King's Landing. For Joffrey's naday tourney. Extend the sa to Lord Stark. It's a gesture—a courtesy. But it gives us a look at him."
Robert leaned back, stroking his beard. "A northern wolf in the south, eh? Could be fun. Fine, send the ravens. Let's see what sort of beast Lord Froststark truly is."
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