: Strategies from the South and the North

"White Walkers?"

Tyrion spat out a mouthful of saliva.

He pulled on the reins, a mocking smile on his face: "Little Qiao, have you been listening to too many stories about the old nanny?"

"Have you started chanting 'Winter is coming' too?"

Joffrey raised his hand and patted the rump of the docile mare beneath him.

With a startled screech, the beast carried its unsuspecting owner and trotted away.

Tyrion's short frame swayed on horseback, his short curses quickly carried away by the wind.

"You little rascal..."

As he watched that receding figure, a shadow fell over Joffrey's eyes.

These are some of the few intelligent people in Westeros.

Even his first reaction was to treat "pay more attention to what's happening outside the Great Wall" as a bedtime story to coax a child.

Joffrey withdrew his gaze and slowly walked back to the courtyard.

Two full weeks have passed since Bran fell to his death.

The boy remained asleep.

The bitter smell of herbs lingered all day long, and Lady Caitlin stayed by her child's bedside without leaving for a moment, losing weight as a result.

Robert's original return date was repeatedly postponed.

In the first few days, the king visited frequently, offering words of encouragement in his booming voice.

But the initial enthusiasm quickly faded in repeated silences.

Bran did not get better, nor did he wake up; he didn't even twitch his eyelids.

The king's deep-seated aversion to weakness began to surface, and he slowly began to spend his time drinking and complaining.

But Joffrey wasn't idle.

Every afternoon, he would go to the Basil's Tower and spend a few hours in Ruwen's library and apothecary.

The large book borrowed from Pachel came in handy at this moment, containing many recipes for medicinal decoctions.

"I didn't expect Your Highness to have such knowledge."

The grey-robed Maester Luwin blinked his small grey eyes, a hint of surprise flashing in his sharp gaze.

"I just happened to be reading these books," Joffrey wasn't lying.

During those idle afternoons in King's Landing, he did indeed rummage through quite a few things.

Later, it became a habit.

So, on one of the days when she was visiting Bran as usual, Lady Catelyn raised her head, which was unusual for her.

Her thick, reddish-brown hair was tangled up, and her body, sitting in the chair, looked very thin.

"You know more about these things than you seem, Your Highness." His voice was still hoarse.

Joffrey gently placed the medicine packet on the bedside table: "This is just a trivial matter. I'm very satisfied as long as it puts your mind at ease."

That's the truth.

Offering help in times of need is far better than adding to someone's existing success.

Caitlin may always doubt the Lannisters.

But at least for this moment, that instinctive hostility had completely vanished in her gaze as she looked at Joffrey.

At night, Joffrey stood by the window, repeatedly ruminating on his failure.

He changed the time, the place, and even the cause.

But the outcome of the event remained unchanged.

"A horse with a broken leg must be killed, and a blind dog must be slaughtered."

A drunken Robert threw down his cup: "Why are we so weak that we dare not show mercy to a crippled child?"

"What kind of nonsense is this, dragging things out like this!"

Joffrey listened expressionlessly inside.

he was thinking.

Is an assassination attempt still possible?

He was very certain before, after all, he was the biggest mastermind behind it all.

But now he's not so sure.

Extraordinary power has intervened, and will everything he does be pushed back onto its predetermined trajectory by an invisible hand?

Cersei remained silent after hearing Robert's drunken ramblings, but simply held Tommen and Myrcella even tighter.

The two young children had long since learned to remain silent in front of their drunken father, curling up tightly beside their mother like two frightened little animals.

Who else would do it?

Joffrey swept his gaze across the crowd.

The Lannister siblings had absolutely no connection to Bran's fall; he had confirmed this during his probing a few days prior.

It couldn't possibly be her, could it?

He recalled a joke and glanced at the pitiful Mysera.

Then he shook his head, banishing the absurd thought from his mind.

Before leaving, Joffrey went to the Godswood again.

The heart tree still had a frighteningly long face, but when Joffrey faced it again, the initial shock was gone.

"I know you're watching."

"I know you're listening."

He lowered his voice, each word absorbed by the rustling leaves.

"Bran will awaken. He will become your hands, your eyes, and your tools."

"Just like you designed it."

Joffrey stood before the pool, facing Hearttree directly.

"But you should know that tools can also cut the owner's hand when they are used."

"Whether you're fighting the White Walkers or have some other purpose."

"This matter between us is not over."

"Brinden Rivers".

After opening the box in person.

No miracle occurred, and no divine oracle was delivered.

The tree didn't suddenly grow two legs and stomp Joffrey flat on the ground.

Therefore, it can be seen that the Three-Eyed Raven is merely a pawn struggling in another game.

It also has its limitations.

After returning to the courtyard, Robb approached him.

"Have you packed your things?"

The red-haired boy pulled him to a secluded spot near the stable, as if he had something to whisper to him.

Putting aside those trivial matters, Joffrey stayed by his side, helping him get acquainted with the life of the acting city lord.

This experience added a touch of toughness to Robb's face, but as he was about to say goodbye, a crack appeared in his mask, which he had been forcing to maintain.

Joffrey nodded. "That's about it."

"Has Jon already left? I noticed he didn't look well this morning. Why didn't you take better care of him?"

"What's there to look after him for?" Robb muttered, grinding bits of grass in the cracks of the rocks with his toe. "He's going to be a Night's Watchman. He can go to the Wall and fight wildlings."

"I'm the one left here to guard the house now."

He looked up and forced a smile that wasn't really a smile.

"You came all this way, kidnapped my father and two sisters, leaving me all alone in Winterfell. How cruel of you!"

Joffrey didn't speak, he just stared at him silently.

After only a few seconds of eye contact, Robb couldn't hold back anymore.

He stepped forward and punched Joffrey lightly.

"My father has gone to King's Landing and will probably be very busy, with no time to look after my sisters." He adopted a tone of entrusting his children to someone else.

"Arya is still young and has a wild temper, so you'll have to keep a close eye on her for me."

"As for Sansa... sigh." His voice softened for a moment, "You'd better treat her well from now on, or I'll come to King's Landing to settle the score with you."

"I will," Joffrey nodded.

"See you later then." Robb turned around, straightening his back again.

He returned to the center of the courtyard, calmly directing the loading of the carriages, and once again transformed into the young acting city lord.

Not long after, Rickon, dragging the direwolf plushie and followed by "Fluffy Dog," hugged his lap.

He cried loudly, saying that his parents didn't want him.

This directly destroyed the authority that Robb had worked so hard to build.

Seeing all this, Joffrey mounted his horse.

Then they loosened the reins and joined the southbound procession.

The journey to the North is over.

It's time to return to King's Landing.