NOVEL NEXT Chapter 13: Webs of Power
Chapter 13: Webs of Power
The council chamber was quiet, the only sound the faint crackle of the hearth as Ivar sat at the head of the long oak table. Before him, a map of the Riverlands stretched across the polished surface, marked with sigils and notes. The recent victory at Redwater Cove had sent ripples across the region, drawing attention from allies and enemies alike.
Lysa Blackthorne leaned forward, her sharp eyes scanning the map. "The Ironborn will want revenge, but they'll be cautious. Burning their ships humiliated them, and humiliation breeds recklessness."
Timothy Sunrise lounged in his chair, a faint smirk on his face. "Good. Let them come. We'll cut them down again."
Roland Emberhill, ever the pragmatist, shook his head. "We can't rely on the Ironborn making mistakes. We need to anticipate their moves and counter them before they strike."
Ivar raised a hand, silencing the debate. "The Ironborn are a concern, but they're not the only one. Our growing power has put us on the map, and the other lords of the Riverlands are watching. Some will want alliances. Others will see us as a threat."
He tapped the map, his finger resting on Riverrun. "The Tullys will be the key. Their position as overlords of the Riverlands gives them influence, but they're not as united as they appear. The Freys, the Vances, the Pipers—they all have their own agendas."
Duncan Greenfield frowned. "And what's our agenda?"
"Our agenda," Ivar said, his voice cold, "is control. We don't just want to survive—we want to dominate. To do that, we need to weave a web of alliances strong enough to hold the Riverlands together under our influence."
Timothy chuckled. "You make it sound so simple."
"It's not simple," Ivar said, his gaze sharp. "But it is necessary."
Lysa tapped her finger on the map, her voice measured. "The Freys are already wavering. Walder Frey is opportunistic, and our recent success makes us a valuable ally—or a dangerous rival. We could strengthen the deal we have with him or find a way to undermine him."
"Undermine him," Timothy said immediately. "The man's a snake. If we give him an inch, he'll take a mile."
"True," Ivar said, nodding. "But snakes can be useful if you know how to handle them. For now, we'll keep the Freys close. But I want agents embedded in the Twins. If Walder makes a move against us, we'll know about it before he does."
"Consider it done," Lysa said.
Roland shifted in his seat, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "And what about the Blackwoods and Brackens? Their feud is bound to flare up again sooner or later."
"It's already simmering," Ivar said. "Lysa's spies have reported skirmishes near their border. We'll need to step in before it escalates."
"And take sides?" Duncan asked.
"No," Ivar said. "We don't pick a side—we become the side. Offer to mediate, but only on our terms. If they refuse, we let them bleed each other dry, then step in to claim the spoils."
Timothy leaned back, his smirk widening. "You've thought of everything, haven't you?"
Ivar's gaze turned cold. "Thinking ahead is the only way to survive in Westeros."
Later that evening, Ivar sat alone in his study, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the walls. The weight of his ambitions pressed heavily on his shoulders, but it was a burden he had chosen willingly.
A soft knock at the door drew his attention. "Enter," he called.
Timothy stepped inside, his usual cocky demeanor tempered by a rare seriousness. "You're still at it?"
"There's always more to do," Ivar said, not looking up from the map spread across his desk.
Timothy walked over, his boots clicking softly against the stone floor. "You've built something incredible here, you know. The village, the army, the alliances—it's all starting to come together."
"It's not enough," Ivar said, his voice low. "Not yet. The Riverlands are fractured, and the lords only care about their own power. If we don't bring them together, someone else will."
Timothy studied him for a moment, then leaned against the desk. "You talk about control like it's the only thing that matters. But what's the endgame, Ivar? What do you really want?"
Ivar finally looked up, his eyes cold and unyielding. "I want a world where no one can threaten us. Where our people don't have to live in fear of raiders, or rival lords, or anyone else who thinks they can take what we've built. To do that, I need power. Enough to reshape Westeros itself."
Timothy let out a low whistle. "Big dreams, my friend."
"They have to be," Ivar said, his voice steely. "Anything less is a waste of time."
The next morning, Lysa returned with new intelligence. "The Freys have been meeting with representatives from the Lannisters," she said, placing a sealed letter on the table. "It seems Walder is exploring other options."
Timothy scowled. "I knew that snake couldn't be trusted."
"We expected this," Ivar said, breaking the seal and scanning the letter's contents. "The Lannisters want control of the Riverlands, and Walder sees them as a way to hedge his bets. But this gives us an opening."
"How so?" Roland asked.
"If Walder thinks he has leverage, he'll push harder for a better deal," Ivar said. "We'll let him think he's winning, but we'll tie him to us in ways he can't escape. Offer him a trade agreement so lucrative that breaking it would ruin him. And remind him, subtly, of what happened to the Ironborn when they crossed us."
Lysa nodded. "I'll draft the terms."
"And the Blackwoods and Brackens?" Duncan asked.
"We make our move now," Ivar said. "Timothy, take a small force and meet with the Blackwoods. Offer them support in defending their borders. At the same time, I'll send envoys to the Brackens, promising to mediate the conflict. They'll both see us as allies—and depend on us to keep the peace."
Timothy grinned. "Divide and conquer. I like it."
"Conquer, yes," Ivar said, his gaze sharp. "But first, we unite. The Riverlands will be ours, one piece at a time."
As Timothy departed for Raventree Hall, Ivar turned his attention to the next stage of his plan. The Ironborn remained a looming threat, and the scars of their raids still lingered across the western coast. To counter them, he ordered the construction of a fleet—swift, sturdy ships capable of defending Sunblode Isle and striking deep into Ironborn territory if necessary.
Astrid Goldbrook oversaw the construction, her hands calloused from hours spent in the shipyard. "It'll take months to complete the first batch," she told Ivar, wiping sweat from her brow. "But when they're ready, the Ironborn won't know what hit them."
"Good," Ivar said. "Make sure they're fast enough to outrun anything the Ironborn can throw at us."
"They will be," Astrid promised. "You'll have the finest fleet in the Riverlands."
By the time Timothy returned from Raventree Hall, he brought news of success. "The Blackwoods are on edge," he reported. "They're convinced the Brackens are planning an attack, but they're willing to work with us—at least for now."
"And the Brackens?" Ivar asked.
"They're suspicious," Timothy admitted. "But they're desperate to avoid an open war. If we handle this carefully, we can keep them both in line."
"Good," Ivar said. "The longer we control the balance, the more dependent they'll become."
Lysa entered the room with another report, her expression unreadable. "A raven from Riverrun. Lord Tully wants to meet. He's calling a council of the Riverlords to address the growing unrest."
Ivar's lips curved into a faint smile. "A council, is it? He wants to reassert his authority. Fine. Let him call his council. We'll attend—and remind them all who holds the true power in the Riverlands."