Chapter 9: The Kingswood Gambit and Whispers of Wildfire
The ashes of Felwood and the cowed submission of Fawnton were but the opening lines on Robar's grand ledger of conquest. From his temporary command center, now buzzing with the ruthless efficiency he demanded, the new Lord of Storm's End orchestrated the next phase of his continental takeover. The whispers of Aerys's wildfire plot had added a volatile urgency to his calculations; King's Landing was not just a target, it was a ticking time bomb that needed to be defused before its detonation wiped a significant asset – and its future taxable population – off the map.
While the ultimate prize was the capital, Robar knew that a direct, premature assault was strategically unsound. He needed to secure his flanks, gather more intelligence, and create a diversion. The Kingswood, that vast, ancient forest sprawling south of the Blackwater Rush, became his immediate focus. It was a traditional refuge for outlaws, yes, but also home to several minor Targaryen loyalist houses and a natural screen for any army approaching King's Landing from the south. Clearing it would serve multiple purposes: eliminate local threats, secure a vital timber resource for BCR's burgeoning industries (shipbuilding, construction, siege engines), and provide a covered staging ground for his eventual move on the capital. More importantly, a significant military operation in the Kingswood would draw Targaryen attention away from his covert intelligence gathering focused on the Red Keep itself.
Davos Seaworth, proving his worth beyond his knowledge of coastal smuggling, had taken charge of Robar's burgeoning intelligence network. His agents, disguised as everything from charcoal burners to hedge knights, were already fanning out, with a particular focus on King's Landing. Robar had given Davos specific, near-impossible tasks: detailed schematics of the Red Keep's lower levels, confirmation of tunnel access points, the identities and routines of Aerys's key pyromancers, and, most crucially, the exact locations of the primary wildfire caches. Failure was not an option Davos was keen to explore, given his new Lord's inventive methods for dealing with underperforming assets.
While Davos's "Whisper Fleet" – as his network of informants was becoming known – delved into the capital's underbelly, Robar set the Kingswood Gambit in motion. He wouldn't lead this expedition personally; his presence was required to oversee the broader strategic picture and the meticulous planning for the King's Landing strike. Instead, he entrusted command of the Kingswood clearance to Stannis.
"The Kingswood is a festering wound on the doorstep of the capital, Stannis," Robar had said, his finger tracing lines on the map. "It harbors outlaws who prey on commerce – our future commerce – and petty lords who still cling to the dying dragon. I want it pacified. Systematically. Establish a fortified perimeter, then conduct sweeping operations. Every settlement that resists is to be made an example of. Every tree suitable for shipbuilding or construction is to be cataloged by BCR surveyors accompanying your force. All captured combatants are to be interrogated for intelligence on Targaryen movements and then offered terms of service in our labor battalions. Efficiency, Stannis. Root them out, secure the resources, and prepare the way."
Stannis, his face as grim and unreadable as ever, had accepted the assignment with a curt nod. He was given ten thousand men, a mix of veteran Stormlanders and the newly integrated forces from Fellwood and Fawnton, still eager to prove their reluctant loyalty. Robar knew Stannis's rigid adherence to orders and his grinding determination were perfectly suited for such a difficult, attritional campaign.
While Stannis prepared to march, ravens returned bearing answers to Robar's earlier overtures.
Jon Arryn's reply was, as expected, cautious. The Lord of the Eyrie expressed his continued support for their cause but cited the reluctance of his own bannermen to commit the full strength of the Vale while their own mountain passes remained vulnerable. He offered a contingent of five thousand knights, a significant force, but less than Robar had hoped. However, Arryn was intrigued by Robar's economic proposals. The idea of BCR investing in the Vale's infrastructure, particularly its underdeveloped port facilities and quarries, had clearly appealed to his practical side. He proposed further discussions, perhaps through envoys.
Robar's response was swift. He accepted Arryn's offer of five thousand knights, emphasizing their immediate deployment to bolster the Riverlands front alongside Ned Stark's forces. He then dispatched a team of BCR's sharpest financial minds – men recruited from the more astute merchant families of the Stormlands, now utterly loyal to Robar's vision of a profitable Westeros – to the Eyrie, tasked with negotiating a detailed investment agreement. Robar was confident his men could demonstrate the undeniable financial benefits of a partnership, effectively buying the Vale's deeper commitment. Gold, he mused, was often a more persuasive ambassador than honor.
Balon Greyjoy's reply was delivered by a grim-looking Ironborn captain on a salt-stained longship that had brazenly sailed into Shipbreaker Bay. The Lord Reaper of Pyke was, predictably, interested in plunder. He agreed to unleash his Iron Fleet against Targaryen shipping and coastal holdings, particularly those in the Westerlands and the Reach, to sow chaos and divert Tyrell attention. His price was steep: half of all spoils, exclusive raiding rights in specified zones, and a formal recognition from Robar of the Iron Islands' "ancient liberties" – a thinly veiled demand for autonomy.
Robar, after a brief, chilling negotiation with the Ironborn captain where his Conqueror's Haki had visibly unsettled the hardened reaver, agreed to most of Balon's terms. He cared little for the Westerlands' shipping at this stage; Tywin Lannister was still a neutral party, and any losses he suffered might even push him towards the rebel cause sooner. The "ancient liberties" were words on parchment; true autonomy would be determined by who held the bigger stick at the end of the war. He tasked Davos Seaworth, before his departure for King's Landing, with establishing a discreet communication channel with the Ironborn, to coordinate their "disruptive activities" and ensure they didn't inadvertently target assets Robar himself coveted. The Ironborn were a blunt, messy instrument, but one that could be used to great effect if pointed in the right direction.
With these diplomatic threads in motion, the Kingswood operation began. Stannis's advance was methodical and brutal. The forest, with its dense undergrowth and hidden ravines, was ideal for ambushes and guerrilla warfare. But Stannis's forces, drilled relentlessly and backed by BCR's efficient supply chain, pushed steadily deeper. Robar had authorized the use of controlled burns to flush out entrenched enemies, and the sound of axes echoed as BCR woodsmen began harvesting the prime timber under military guard. Minor loyalist houses like those of Chyttering and Hogg were swiftly overwhelmed, their keeps seized, their lords either swearing fealty and seeing their assets absorbed by BCR, or meeting a grim end.
Robar, back in Storm's End, which was now effectively the economic and military capital of the expanding Baratheon sphere of influence, focused on the King's Landing problem. He had gathered a small, elite cadre of men, fewer than fifty, handpicked for their skills, loyalty, and utter ruthlessness. This was his "Phoenix Team," as he privately termed them – destined to rise from the potential ashes of King's Landing, or be consumed by them. It included some of Ser Harbert's deadliest household knights, a few of Davos's more shadowy operatives who knew the capital's warrens, and even a renegade maester he'd "acquired" who had once studied pyromancy at the Citadel and claimed to understand the properties of wildfire – and how to neutralize it.
He drilled them personally, in secret, often in the dead of night within the deepest dungeons of Storm's End, far from prying eyes. He pushed them beyond their limits, using his own Haki-infused strength and speed as a benchmark. He was forging them into extensions of his own will, a scalpel to excise the madness from the heart of the Targaryen regime. He tested their pain tolerance, their loyalty under duress, their ability to operate in silence and shadow. Those who failed were quietly reassigned to less critical, though invariably unpleasant, duties within BCR's expanding labor force.
His own mastery of his powers was growing daily. He could now consciously direct his Observation Haki with remarkable precision, creating a mental map of his surroundings that extended for leagues. His Armament Haki could turn his skin as hard as iron, his blows capable of shattering stone. And the Gura Gura no Mi… he was beginning to understand its terrifying versatility. He could create precise, localized quakes to cripple structures, or broad, disorienting tremors to shatter enemy morale. He even discovered he could focus the vibrations through his weapons, turning his warhammer into an instrument of truly apocalyptic destruction. He practiced this in the deepest, most remote parts of the Stormlands, far from any settlement, the earth groaning under his ministrations. The power was intoxicating, but he remained its master, wielding it with the cold calculation of a mathematician solving an equation.
Weeks turned into a month. Stannis's forces had secured the perimeter of the Kingswood and were systematically clearing its interior, their progress reported daily by raven. BCR's logging operations were in full swing, ancient trees falling to make way for Robar's war machine. The Vale knights had begun to arrive in the Riverlands, bolstering Ned Stark's forces. The Ironborn, true to their nature, were wreaking havoc along the western coasts, their longships appearing like nightmares from the sea, sacking Lannisport's merchant fleet and raiding coastal towns in the Reach, forcing Mace Tyrell to divert significant forces to protect his own lands.
Then, a coded message arrived from Davos Seaworth, delivered by a seemingly ordinary fisherman who had sailed up the coast. It contained the latest intelligence from King's Landing: confirmations of several tunnel entrances into the Red Keep, the routines of key pyromancers, and a partial map of the wildfire cache locations, sketched from the fearful testimony of a terrified acolyte. It also carried a chilling addendum: Aerys's paranoia was escalating daily. He was rarely seen without his pyromancers, and he spoke openly of "burning them all" if the rebels approached the city. The Hand, Lord Qarlton Chelsted, had recently argued against the King's wildfire plans and had been burned alive for his troubles. Rossart, a renowned pyromancer, was now the Hand.
The timetable had just been violently accelerated.
Robar crushed the parchment in his fist. The Kingswood Gambit had served its purpose, drawing attention and resources. But the whispers of wildfire had become a roar. It was time to unleash his Phoenix Team. It was time to visit King's Landing personally.
He summoned his most trusted commanders. The conventional war would continue, a relentless advance under Stannis and other loyal lords to keep the Targaryen forces pinned down. But the true objective, the decapitation strike, would now be his sole focus.
"Prepare my swiftest ship," he ordered his harbor master, a new appointee from BCR's logistics division. "And my Phoenix Team. We sail for the Blackwater within the hour. It appears the CEO of King's Landing is about to initiate a hostile asset destruction, and that's simply bad for business."
His eyes, cold and calculating, held a glint of something akin to predatory anticipation. The ultimate gamble was about to begin.
Word Count: Approx. 3050 words