Lord Roboute Tyrell

- 263 AC -

(Tywin POV)

The lion on the wall glared back at me. I stood in my solar, folding and unfolding the parchment between my fingers. No Tyrell seal. Just a symbol: a circle that wasn't quite completed, clean, sharp, arrogant. It was sent to us by our spies, finally, after over a year of trying to gather intelligence from the Tyrell-controlled areas. 

The report was longer than most. Not puffed with flattery or courtly pleasantries. It recorded facts, like a ledger of conquest:

- 100 military outposts across the Reach

- A superior class of officials loyal to the different houses

- Tax flow plans from the Lords to Highgarden in preparation 

- Laws enforced by Macragge-trained enforcers—not sworn swords, not kin ready 

- Road construction is 22 per cent completed

- Canal construction has just begun

I read it twice. I did not frown. I did not pace. I do not waste energy on surprise. Kevan stood beside me, another scroll in hand.

"Toll increases on the Roseroad have already taken effect," he said. "Some of our merchants are being stopped as far north as Tumbleton. They send their complaints."

"Let them complain," I muttered.

I walked to the tall window overlooking the Sea of Lannisport. The waves made more sense than the Reach nowadays. They obeyed tides, seasons... rules.

"He's not ruling like before. He's replacing the idea of rule as we know it."

Kevan said nothing, but I heard his breath hitch.

"He doesn't care about kings or banners. He's building something that doesn't need a crown to function. All of it revolves around him."

Kevan moved closer. 

"You think he wants independence?"

"Not just that. From what I have seen... That would be too small a thought for him. He wants the Reach to be immune. Immune to rebellion. Immune to invasion. Immune to weakness. Ready for conquest, most likely."

I turned around.

"You know what those signs mean?" I ask, pointing at the circle. 

Kevan shook his head.

"It's the start of something new. An image they will rally behind, if he gets his way."

Kevan frowned. "What do we do?"

I poured half a cup of wine. Just enough to clear the tongue, not cloud the mind.

"We wait. We watch. When the Reach lords wake up and realise they've been reduced to caretakers in their own keeps, they will bristle. They will rebel, and if they won't, we will make sure they notice soon enough."

"How?" 

"We'll whisper. Spread rumours. We'll crack the foundation the Tyrells are trying to build, one stone at a time."

I took another sip. 

"Roboute Tyrell wants power. But he doesn't do it like the rest of the Lords of Westeros. He starts by addressing his kingdom's biggest weaknesses, and doesn't immediately pursue a bond or connection with King's Landing. And that makes him more dangerous than anyone who ever sat on the Iron Throne. Jaehaerys ruined his house, that much is certain. The second slight killed House Targaryen economically. Roboute took that opportunity and had him sign that ridiculous contract."

Kevan hesitated. 

"So what do we do?"

"We remind him that no system, however perfect, survives the weight of a lion's teeth."

The fire cracked behind us. As if it agreed. I couldn't allow the weakness of Father to give another House, another Kingdom, such an advantage over us. I'm Lannister, and it has been too long since we showed our teeth. 

"He has also still not retreated from the Stepstones or Tyrosh," Kevan glanced at me. "Do you think he intends to?"

"No. That would imply it was never meant to be temporary. Almost two years have passed since the war. Tyrosh was not a prize he took because it just happened; it was one of his goals. And a test of Westerosi reaction. Of the Free City's response. He took it, held it, and is rebuilding it, and the world let him. That tells him everything he needs to know. It was brilliantly done, too, so soon after the war, no one was interested in involving themselves in yet another one, so he had the time."

Kevan frowned. 

"But the Crown—"

"Did nothing. Could do nothing. And now he sits on the edge of Essos with ports, revenue, and legitimacy bought not with Targaryen blood, but with Reach grain and discipline. That's a different type of conquest. That's disrespect for what Jaehaerys did."

I let the thought hang, heavy and sharp. 

"The Reach is growing fast."

"It is. I'll talk to father.... not that that will help. I have a few things in mind, but it would have to be soon. Aeyrs may be the answer to this."

"Should we talk to Braavos? Counter his offer?"

"No. Let them sip Reach wine for now. When he overreaches, and he will as soon as the other kingdoms' greed becomes too much, we'll be ready."

Kevan paused. "And if he doesn't?"

"Then we outmanoeuvre him politically. Not through brute force. We can't do that since I'm not Lord of Casterly Rock yet, and I will not give him the satisfaction of a formal challenge. But we'll quietly pressure his trading partners, outbid his grain contracts, and fan discontent among his allies until the foundation he's built begins to crumble under its own weight. I heard that Lord Hightower is quite unhappy with the current state of things."

Kevan shifted. "Will the other Kingdoms see it?"

I gave a slow nod. 

"Most of them experienced the war. They saw him carve through the Ninepenny Kings with five hundred men. They saw him kill Maelys. They saw him take Tyrosh and ask for nothing. That's what unsettles them. He didn't seek reward. Because he already took it for himself. Once the other kingdoms realise this, they will want something as well."

I tapped the cup. I thought of my father, Tytos. Gods, what a fool. He made us the laughingstock of the realm. Weak. I will have to spend half my life restoring the dignity he pissed away. Roboute never had to restore anything. His father had no say in matters. And somehow, the boy surpassed him without problems, without scandal, without effort.

Yes, I'm jealous. I admit it. But then I remember Olenna. The woman was never anyone's fool. Perhaps he has the mind, but she showed the direction. Or maybe she's the mastermind behind all of it. I set the wine down.

"She raised him like a knife," I said.

Kevan raised a brow.

"Nothing. Just remembering that under every steel wall, there's always a patient mason."

I turned toward the desk, picking up the crumpled message our spy had intercepted last week. The one supposedly leaked from Macragge, filled with strategic updates, grain shortages, and civil unrest among the lesser Reach lords. I shook my head. 

"This letter is a lie," I said.

Kevan blinked. "You think it's forged?"

"No. I think it was planted. Deliberately."

I held it up in the candlelight.

"Too many specifics. Too conveniently flawed. It mimics our expectations. Someone who accomplished all that wouldn't be that careless, not unless he wanted us to read it. And once I saw the phrasing about tax divisions and route failures, I knew. Those are phrases meant to be caught, not hidden. Also, look at the last three lines:

'Signed

Patrek Yoren'

But look again, Kevan. The first letters: S, P, Y... are written with thick ink. They want us to notice what it spells."

Kevan leaned closer, squinting at the signature. Then his eyes widened. 

"SPY! So it's bait. A signature that spells out... spy. Gods, he's toying with us."

"It's bait to flush out our network. I imagine he's already watching which ravens go where and what responses we send. He'll isolate names. He'll tighten the noose. We need to change tactics."

Kevan looked pale. "Then he knows?"

"He suspects. Soon he'll know. Which is why I invited him to my wedding."

Kevan frowned. "To Joanna? You brought him here for—"

"A talk. To get to know him," I said. "Not a celebration. To watch him. To measure him. And to let him know that we are not to be trifled with."

I looked again at the lion on the wall.

"If he is playing the game at this level... then I will play it better."

.

.

(3rd Person POV)

Tywin Lannister was right. The letters they had intercepted were a fabrication and bore no resemblance to the truth. The Reach was no longer just fertile, but unprotected. It was slowly becoming a unity. What began years ago with mere academic lectures and military training had now manifested into an integrated, militarised, and logistically efficient network. Roboute Tyrell's Reach was taking on more and more of the form he had envisioned for it.

As of mid-263 AC, over 52% of the new stonework road network has been completed, not 22%. These weren't the winding, inconsistent paths of the past. They followed a layered design: Four strata of compacted gravel, clay, and cut stone, drainage gutters on both sides, reinforced culverts under critical crossings and elevated banks for smoother travel in all weather.

The roads did not meander meaninglessly; they connected Macragge, Highgarden, and all major regional seats and strategic spots with brutal efficiency. The goal was that a cart or soldier could reach its destination in half the time it once took. Most ominously, troops from Macragge could now be deployed in coordinated columns, moving quickly and in almost all directions. 

Across the Reach, 23 outposts had been completed. Each was nearly identical. A central watchtower with an eagle room, which was used to send messages across the Reach. Roboute had changed the message system from Macragge to him and throughout the Reach, using eagles instead of ravens. Ravens would still be used when writing to other kingdoms, but inside the Reach, eagles were used. Speed and efficiency were what counted. 

Then there were barracks for 20–60 Ultramarines. They were handpicked, Macragge-trained and loyal. Most of them were male, and the few females didn't serve in the same unit as the males did. The success of Rowena Tarly during her time in Tyrosh had led him to adjust his ideas and plans for the women somewhat, and he created an entirely different force for them. 

Next, there was a paper chamber which was where letters were written and sent back to Macragge. That was how they received and sent messages. 

Another part was the agricultural storage and ration vaults, marked by a white and blue banner, not the green rose, but the Omega insignia. 

Every outpost was connected via encrypted eaglelines and horseback courier relays. If even one fell under attack, Highgarden and Macragge would know within minutes. These outposts were not just forts; they were sentinels, linked like nerves across the land. And there was an even bigger part of them, Roboute had planned, which would truly make them like nerves. However, that would require a significant amount of time and resources.

The soldiers stationed at the watchtowers had more responsibilities than just keeping watch. They would enforce standardised law, not local customs, which Roboute had started to create and would surely expand upon. Each one of them was specially trained and checked for mental strengths and weaknesses. Their training was gruelling, their minds broken and rebuilt, and their loyalties tested to extremes. The reason for that was that since they held such authority, they had to refuse all bribes. 

Roboute would not allow corruption in his ranks. So, he broke the soldiers under his command and then rebuilt them. No matter whether they were noblemen or smallfolk, should you make it through the final exams to become an Ultramarine, you would be a different man entirely. 

They are rotated every 100 days. Maintain reports on local disputes, movement, and logistics and send all of this back to Macragge, where Roboute would receive them and then burn the papers. The Lord of Macragge didn't need papers to keep track of everything. His mind seemed limitless in capacity. 

.

Next to the watchtowers, there were three major military Ultramarine garrisons under simultaneous construction. They had just begun being constructed, though, so this will take time. One was between Highgarden and Horn Hill, close to Macragge; the second was between Red Lake and Bitterbridge, near the Roseroad, but not in view of it. The final one was located south of Grassy Vale, where it would serve as protection against Stormlands or Crownland invasions, should they occur. 

Each garrison was planned to house 10,000+ Ultramarines, with a staging ground for cavalry, supply carts, and aerial scouting, attached training fields, civil engineering battalions capable of building bridges, roads, and siege support in emergencies.

Finally, a new aqueduct system, inspired by designs Roboute came up with, was introduced that would reshape rural life. 

They were tiered, gravity-fed channels that fed water directly into rotation plots, reinforced stone troughs run parallel to key fields. Roboute saw great potential in the use of water. He saw potential in using water to grind grain without the need for oxen. The theory had already been created, but he would need some time to make it a reality and then spread it to those truly loyal. Field production had increased by 30% in Highgarden-controlled regions. 

Lastly, the new Reach colonies. 

The Stepstones and Tyrosh were also being transformed, and in time, Roboute calculated that they would generate him and the Reach tremendous amounts of profit. But right now, he was busy fortifying what he had. He kept things hidden from the public eye, preparing for what was sure to come in the future, before expanding later on. He tore down and rebuilt things better. However, the Reach was now a priority, as he saw the unrest growing. 

Some of the Reach Lords were unhappy about the growing centralisation of power. First among them was House Hightower. The old House didn't see itself submitting to House Tyrell more than they already had. And with the very new watchtowers and police system, this displeasure was only bound to increase.