PinkSnake - Storm of the Stag - 427/428

Chapter 427: The Spear-and-Flower Marriage, the Rose’s Calculations

In the 300th year after the Conquest, a new year began. The War of the Four Kings, sharply judged by historians as a war of succession, had come quickly and scattered just as quickly.

The false king Joffrey had been torn apart by the mob in King's Landing, while “Storm King” Renly Baratheon had been thrown to the Wall in The North.

At sea, Balon Greyjoy, the “King of the Iron Islands and The North,” had been murdered on Pyke, while “Crow's Eye” Euron Greyjoy had his skull smashed in Oldtown.

Across the vastness of Westeros, only a single corner of the Westerlands still clung to the rule of “King Tommen,” resisting the true king. But anyone with sense knew they were beasts trapped in the lion’s den.

What did the lions have to fight all the other realms with, let alone the invincible, unmatched “Dragonlord Storm”? The royal couple had three Dragons that were growing with astonishing speed, as if drinking from the tide of magic itself.

Even the Dragonhorn could not control those three Dragons.

Crow's Eye’s invasion had been the lions’ only chance. Euron had been vicious and cunning, and his power extraordinary, but even after revealing every trump card he had, Crow's Eye still proved no match for Gendry. What hope did the lions have?

Along The Roseroad from Oldtown to Highgarden, the autumn wind was crisp and clear.

The three Dragons, growing stronger by the day, danced high in the sky. The largest, Balerion, “the reborn Black Dread,” now had a wingspan of more than twenty-five feet.

The other two Dragons, the green dragon and the white dragon, were already larger than warhorses, and the sight of them alone was enough to inspire fear.

“The Blood Kraken’s flesh, carrying a touch of magic, really was a powerful tonic,” Gendry thought.

Beneath the Dragons’ shadows, the army escorting King Gendry and his queen looked like a sea of gold, silver, and steel.

The lords, knights, and squires returning victorious from Oldtown rode their fine horses forward, proud and elated.

The king’s golden quartered banners could be seen everywhere, streaming in the wind from long poles.

House Tyrell’s green field and golden rose, and House Martell’s golden spear piercing the sun, hung from shorter poles.

There were also the pebble runes of House Royce, House Tarly’s striding huntsman, House Crabb’s wild ox giant throwing a pine, House Swann’s black and white swans, and more besides.

There was even the sickle banner of The Reader. Rodrik the Reader had volunteered to follow Gendry north to slaughter the lions.

On the sinners’ Longspears in the procession were mounted the heads of “Crow's Eye” Euron Greyjoy, “the First Warrior of the Iron Islands” Andrik, the Iron Fleet commander “the Barber” Nute, “One-Ear,” “the Lame,” and others.

Had Victarion’s head been found, a few more would have been added to the Longspears.

There were also the heads of Crow's Eye’s bastards, mute crewmen, lackeys, Red Oarsman, Left-Hand, and the rest.

“Longface” Jon Myre, “Left-Hand” Lucas Codd, “Harren Half-Hoare,” “Red Oarsman,” “Bastard” Kemmett Pyke, “Freeborn” Rodrik, and “Browntooth” Torwold.

There should also have been the head of “the Knight” Harras Harlaw, who had died earliest.

But Rodrik Harlaw, the first man from the Iron Islands to guide them and surrender, begged bitterly for mercy. The Reader was also a man Gendry valued, the vanguard of the faction opposing the Old Way.

So Gendry returned the knight’s head to The Reader, plunging The Reader back into a crisis of succession.

Clad in black armor and a golden cloak, Gendry rode through the autumn landscape. But with the new year beginning, autumn was coming to an end, and preparing for winter was the true matter at hand.

The army followed The Roseroad through the fertile fields of The Reach, passing estates, villages, orchards, and broad stretches of land.

“The Reach truly deserves its name as the granary of the Seven Kingdoms,” Gendry praised.

The North and Dorne were one cold and one hot. The Westerlands were mountainous, the Stormlands full of forests and hills, the Vale’s lands too fragmented, and the Crownlands too small. The only region that could rival The Reach was the Riverlands, and the Riverlands had been ravaged by war.

“That is true, Your Grace,” Garlan Tyrell said. “The Reach has always had the habit of storing grain as well. But the long summer lasted too long. I fear many have forgotten the Horn of Winter.”

“Yes. It seems we can only gather this final half-season of grain.”

“May the gods bless us with a short winter,” Garlan prayed.

If it truly became a ten-year winter, and everyone stretched out their hands to beg food from The Reach, even emptying Highgarden would not provide enough grain.

Gendry’s gaze swept over the fertile land. Winter was long, and this winter, even The Reach would likely see snow.

The Reach, with its wide plains, fertile soil, plentiful rivers, and lower latitude, had raised the largest population.

From a military standpoint, however, it had little natural defense. The Stormlands at least had the great storms to shield them from invasions across the Narrow Sea and from the Three Daughters.

The Reach, by contrast, had long fought back and forth with Krakens, lions, stags, and Dornishmen from every direction.

Like the Riverlands, The Reach had been attended to by too many great powers at once. That was a blessing no land could easily bear.

Fortunately, House Gardener had once been deeply rooted in The Reach, and The Reach itself had the depth and strength to endure. Otherwise, it might have fallen like the Riverlands, becoming the battlefield of the Seven Kingdoms.

“Long live the king!”

“Long live the king!”

“The invincible light of knighthood, the soul of the Warrior!”

“The Triumphant One!”

“The Triumphant One!”

As the golden army and the Dragons passed by, the small lords of The Reach, landed knights, merchant caravans, and farmers along The Roseroad knelt and bowed to the king and the golden wheelhouse.

The Reach was the birthplace of chivalry, and its people always held the greatest goodwill toward a handsome and warlike king.

Moreover, he had defeated the most loathsome enemy of all, the Ironborn. In the age of the First Men, the Gardener kings had fought Ironborn raiders for three centuries. They were old enemies indeed.

Everyone was excited, greedily searching the sky for the shadows of Dragons.

“Dragons. Those are the king’s Dragons.”

“A black dragon, a white dragon, and a green dragon.”

“Those are real Dragons, not like the last dragon my ancestor saw in King's Landing. That one had shriveled wings, looked sickly, and could not fly at all.”

The people of The Reach had not seen true Dragons flying for one or two hundred years, and they could not help raising their faces to watch this miracle return to the world.

Besides, even when Dragons had been at their height, there had only been a few dozen at one time, and many of them never left Dragonstone.

“Ah, there are Krakens in the procession too. Look!”

“They really are Krakens. It seems those fishermen’s tales were true.”

People pointed and murmured. The onlookers also saw the Kraken bones, including a small Kraken about thirty meters long that had deliberately been preserved as a specimen.

To prevent rot, the other Krakens had been stripped of their flesh, which was roasted and kept as Dragon food.

The huge bones of the Blood Kraken, the bones of the small Krakens that had been stranded and died, the two Sphinxes, and the remains of the stone beast were all carried by wagons north along the road.

These things looked large, but Krakens were mostly internal bone and cartilage, so they were not actually that heavy.

As for the Sphinxes and stone beasts, they were imitations of the flying principles of Dragons and birds. Although their exteriors were stone, combined with crystal and steel, they had Dragonbone frameworks inside that allowed them to fly high, so they were lighter than they appeared.

To ensure flight, these stone beasts inevitably had to sacrifice weight.

All in all, this was a fantastical army.

“We are the guard, blown by the wind to Casterly Rock. We will kill old Tywin, then burn the lion’s den.

“We are the guard. No king escapes our blades and spears. No enemy slips from our grasp.

“We have killed Pirate Kings and beheaded Bloodbeard.

“We have killed slavers and smashed the Black Horselord.

“We have killed toothless tigers and slaughtered golden Krakens.

“We are the guard, the raging Storm. The stars in the night are the stag’s eyes, and the howling wind is their song...”

The guard knights in gold cloaks began to sing, and the song spread through the Stormlands knights and Vale knights until it swept across the whole army.

Garlan listened to the Song of the Gold Cloaks. Victorious in every battle, unstoppable in every assault, shattering countless crowns. The guard deserved such triumphal music.

Garlan saw the knights of The Reach singing along as well, each voice carrying the joy of a warrior’s heart.

On the battlefield, King Gendry had already become a presence no one dared oppose.

At Highgarden, the Queen of Thorns, Olenna, was preparing to take her daughter-in-law, Lady Alerie, out to welcome the victorious army home.

“If only my son had been a little more capable, perhaps this old woman would not have to keep bending the knee to people of her grandchildren’s generation.”

“Mother...” Lady Alerie tried to stop her. “You must not grumble so much in front of the king.”

“I know. As for you, what is done is done. I still do not understand how your father, such a shrewd and capable man back then, could become so obsessed with prophecy the moment he touched it. It was as if he had gone mad like Rhaegar Targaryen...” The Queen of Thorns took her daughter-in-law’s hand and whispered, “Be strong.”

Lady Alerie nodded. Noblewomen understood the workings of power, and she was already counted as one of House Tyrell.

“The Red Viper wrote me a letter. It concerns Willas.”

“The Red Viper? Why would he write to you? How dare he?” Alerie was instantly angered.

“Of course it is about Willas’s marriage. I have been planning for my eldest grandson for years, but after looking all around, the only suitable choice left now really does seem to be Arianne Martell. She is the Princess of Dorne.”

The lions were already rotten beyond bearing, the eagles looked as though they were about to die out, and of the stag’s house there remained only a little girl with greyscale. Looking at it that way...

“But I have heard that girl is somewhat wanton, and a little short. Her looks and figure are not bad, though... Are there not still Sansa Stark and Arya Stark? Arya is too young, but Sansa is just right. House Stark is an ancient royal line, and she seems like a rich, fertile, beautiful lady,” Alerie suggested carefully.

“Now you are being picky.”

“Stop thinking about that Sansa. The girl is always beside the king. She is still a pink young maiden, and Willas is not to her taste. Besides, Lady Catelyn would never agree... Let it be Arianne. Her Norvoshi mother was very fertile. If she had not separated from Doran, she might have had five or six children. That girl is no fool. Once she marries into Highgarden, she will learn to act like a rose.”

“All right,” Lady Alerie agreed reluctantly. “So I am going to have grandchildren with a Dornish flavor?”

“...” The Queen of Thorns glanced at her daughter-in-law. “If I do not mind, what are you objecting to? As for Mace, he will have no opinion.”

“But my sweet girl is still at the king’s side,” Alerie said in a low voice. “Could she also...”

“I have my own plans for that. How far the Rose can go will depend on Margaery,” the Queen of Thorns murmured to herself.

Originally, the Queen of Thorns had not intended to stake everything. She had still kept her own little calculations.

Margaery was a lady, and a beautiful lady carried enormous marriage value.

But judging from Garlan’s letter, the strange, uncanny Battle of Oldtown had been far too steeped in magic.

Crow's Eye, who summoned wind and rain, called forth Krakens large and small, carried the Dragonhorn, and occupied souls, no longer seemed to fall within the realm of “human.”

Then was Gendry, the victor who had beaten Crow's Eye down, not even more like a god? Casting stones into the sea, summoning flames, wielding a magic sword, and commanding Dragons unafraid of the Dragonhorn.

The blood of the “Storm,” the power of gods. That was something worth currying favor with.

The High Tower was sinking, while the Rose still lived and flourished.

At the foot of Highgarden, the Dragons let out roars that frightened the servants and stablehands of Highgarden half out of their wits.

The Queen of Thorns, however, remained perfectly calm. After resting at Highgarden, the royalist army would continue north.

Escorted by five Kingsguards and two female guards, Gendry and Daenerys walked at the front of the procession toward the Queen of Thorns and Lady Alerie.

Beside Daenerys were her two companions, Margaery Tyrell and Sansa Stark. According to the etiquette of the Seven Kingdoms, a princess and a queen had to have female companions.

Since Willas had been left in Oldtown to manage affairs, Highgarden was now ruled by women.

For a moment, the Queen of Thorns was dazed when she saw Gendry. He reminded her of the Storm of Laughter, and of Robert Baratheon in his youth.

Now this young king, with his clean, handsome face and clear eyes, the kind of man young maidens dreamed of, was indeed as beloved as the Storm of Laughter.

Gendry stood six feet nine inches tall, towering like a great pillar, standing out from the crowd.

The Queen of Thorns knew that the king did not merely look like a giant. He had a giant’s strength as well.

The others dismounted one after another, and stablehands from the castle came to tend the horses.

“Your Grace, Highgarden awaits your command,” the Queen of Thorns said, bending the knee.

The Queen of Thorns then kissed Daenerys’s queenly ring.

Gendry immediately helped the Queen of Thorns rise. “You are one of the elders of the Seven Kingdoms, a treasure in your own right.”

The Queen of Thorns was in her seventies, and had lived through several generations of kings. She was an old hand at politics.

The Queen of Thorns looked at the king once more, then said with some unease, “Thank you for Your Grace’s generosity, allowing these old bones of mine to hear the roar of Dragons again.”

The Queen of Thorns then introduced her daughter-in-law, Lady Alerie, and her second grandson’s wife, Leonette Fossoway, a pretty woman with bright eyes.

In truth, they all knew one another already, but this was etiquette.

“You truly do have a sharp tongue,” Gendry said with a laugh, then pointed to the sinners’ Longspears set outside Highgarden. “I brought a fine gift. Ironborn heads.”

“Crow's Eye’s?” The Queen of Thorns looked at the rows of heads. No wonder people said Gendry was a demon on the battlefield, the star of the Warrior and the Smith.

The Sphinxes, stone beast, and Kraken skeletons were also displayed outside the castle.

“Yes.”

“How kind of you to explain it to an old hen like me.”

“Grandmother...” Margaery ran over as well.

Amid laughter and cheerful voices, everyone entered Highgarden.

“I met your grandfather, Great Lord Steffon, many times. He was a good man, only his fate was too poor,” the Queen of Thorns said.

Gendry nodded.

Perhaps Great Lord Steffon truly had only been a good man, without much outstanding talent or much skill at protecting himself. Otherwise, with his status, he could have chosen any high office in King's Landing he pleased.

“When your grandfather was young, he served as a cupbearer in King's Landing alongside Aerys and Tywin, who were of a similar age. They were very close, and fought side by side in the War of the Ninepenny Kings... Later, many people said Steffon’s matter completely broke Aerys.”

Daenerys listened from the side. She had heard these stories many times, and each time they stirred a different feeling.

The past was like smoke and clouds, yet people found it hard to pull themselves free. They were beasts ruled by power.

...

The hall of Highgarden steamed with warmth, filled with the scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread.

The white marble walls of the hall were hung with the banners of various houses. Gold was Gendry’s quartered banner, black was Queen Daenerys’s three-headed Dragon, white was House Stark’s Direwolf of the frozen plains, green was Highgarden’s golden rose on a green field, and there was also House Martell’s sun-piercing spear.

The strangest among them was the Martell banner. The vassals all knew it had not been seen for some years.

On an orange field was a red sun, pierced through by a spear.

“Hahaha!”

The hall rang with laughter, and wine and music followed.

“Godsgrief” praised Durran, who defied the gods. “The Conqueror and His Brother” sang of the Conqueror and his rumored bastard brother, the first Hand of the King, Orys Baratheon, and of the unbreakable bond between men.

“The Guard’s War Song” and “Follow the Storm Closely” flattered King Gendry, while “The Golden Rose” praised House Tyrell.

Tall and imposing, Gendry sat upon the dais, the demon of the Oldtown battlefield, the bravest and most battle-hardened knight in the known world.

Daenerys’s headdress, set with amethysts, matched the color of her hair and eyes. The queen was every bit as beautiful as rumor claimed.

Sansa and Margaery were lovely as well, but beside her, they had no choice but to soften their own colors.

Gendry, changed into a black robe with gold patterns and a golden cloak, was unmatched. He was like a bright, sharp sword. A quartered badge rested on the front of his tunic, and the king’s smile harvested women’s hearts like a blade.

The feast began with pears boiled in strong wine, followed by delicious small fish fried crisp in rolling salt, and roosters stuffed with onions and mushrooms.

The food was exceptionally complete. After all, this was a feast to receive the king. But no one’s mind was truly on the meal.

Everyone knew that after the feast, they would go north to deal with Tywin, the lion the king hated most. Yet seeing the Red Viper and the Queen of Thorns talking and laughing together still felt like watching the sun rise in the west.

“Under the witness of the Old Gods and the New, and beneath the glory of the king and queen, House Tyrell and House Martell have a joyous matter to announce,” the Red Viper and the Queen of Thorns said after rising to salute the king.

All the lords of The Reach and Dorne, the knights, and the servants fell silent. Even the music stopped.

A joyous matter. Could it truly be that Willas Tyrell and Arianne Martell were being put together?

There were not many possibilities to choose from, and once everyone thought about it, they guessed the answer.

Garlan was already married. Loras was determined to become a white knight. Margaery, everyone guessed, had been moving closer and closer to King Gendry, and the value of Dragonlord blood stood above ordinary royal blood.

So it could only be Willas, the heir to Highgarden. Neither Willas nor Arianne was young anymore.

Gendry and Daenerys drank their lemon water. The Red Viper had already explained the matter to him beforehand. This was fine too, a lame man paired with a wanton woman.

Arianne was not within Gendry’s range of taste either.

More importantly, the two seemed to have once been drawn to each other. Arianne had even fantasized about eloping to join Willas, which made the matter rather hard to judge.

“My brother, Prince Doran, has an unmarried daughter, Arianne Martell, the jewel of our house. She admires Ser Willas Tyrell’s wisdom and courage, and has fallen in love with him. I humbly ask Your Grace to approve this marriage, joining two great houses and creating a new peace together.”

The Red Viper skipped over certain details. Arianne had long been rich in feeling, and there was no need to elaborate too much.

Willas was also lame. In a marriage alliance, there was no need to mind too much, so long as they could have children.

A girl from a Great Lord’s house like Arianne was truly rare at present.

Both sides had flaws, and bringing them together was reasonable enough.

The Queen of Thorns added, “This is the glory of the Rose. At today’s feast, we hope to receive the blessing of Your Grace and the queen.”

“This is a good thing for the Seven Kingdoms. Approved!”

Noisy cheers filled the hall.

“The spear and the rose!”

“The spear and the rose!”

Gendry looked over everything in the hall, the joy and the praise.

For Doran and the Red Viper, letting go of their obsession was the best choice.

To take one step back, and choose peace.

...

Chapter 428: War Against the Lannisters, Dragons Burn Silverhill

Highgarden stood at the meeting point of the River Road, The Roseroad, and the Mander.

Whether one traveled to King's Landing, to the Riverlands, or overland toward the Ocean Road, there was no avoiding Highgarden, the key junction of two roads and a river.

Both House Gardener and House Tyrell loved art, music, and culture, and the castle was beautiful, steeped in refinement.

Inside Highgarden’s hall, all was splendor.

Music filled the air, played by the finest singers and musicians.

“What a prosperous green land,” Sansa Stark thought, dressed in a gray-white gown, her eyes opened wide as she tried to take everything in.

Although House Stark of Winterfell was noble in standing, singers and bards might not appear there for a year or more. The North was still comparatively poor in material comforts.

Once, because a bard had left and never returned, Sansa had even cried over the song she never got to hear to the end.

Daenerys was far more at ease. She had wandered through many of the Free Cities and had seen much of the world, far more than Sansa or Margaery.

“Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

Cup after cup of golden wine and Dornish summer red stirred the guests’ spirits.

All kinds of delicacies were carried into the hall one after another. Bison legs, venison pies, honey-roasted chickens, peppered wild boar, roasted lamb chops, roast goose, skewers of chicken and pigeon, and barley-stewed beef.

There were even Dornish-style roasted starfish and snake soup, simmered over a low fire with seven kinds of snake meat, fire-dragon peppers, blood oranges, and a little snake venom.

Fine seafood was spread everywhere as well: white salmon and snails, crabs and shellfish, clams, herring, cod, salmon, lobster, and lampreys.

Alongside them were mountains of turnips, sweet corn, peas, apples, and pears.

“Long live the Storm!”

“Long live the Storm!”

“The golden rose grows ever strong!”

“The golden rose grows ever strong!”

People pressed shoulder to shoulder, celebrating both victory in war and the marriage alliance between Rose Tyrell and Longspear Martell.

Seated upon the high dais were the most distinguished figures of all, the king and queen.

“Ever growing. If nothing else, the roses truly are united.” Gendry looked at the Tyrell kin seated together. The roses were also a great house with countless branches, close kin and distant relatives alike.

At the very least, the roses worked together, while the three stag brothers had each run in a different direction.

“Now all that remains is choosing a good day. I can hardly wait.”

“The septons are ready, and Arianne can hardly wait either.”

On the dais, the Queen of Thorns and the Red Viper were both smiling warmly. Anyone who did not know better might truly think the two were close beyond measure.

Lady Alerie, the tall, dignified wife of Great Lord Tyrell, had jeweled rings bound into her long silver braid.

Lady Alerie looked somewhat awkward. Grandsons and granddaughters with a Dornish flavor might soon arrive.

“These are all my relatives and companions.” Margaery introduced the others to Daenerys and Sansa. Little Rose’s three cousins, who were also her ladies-in-waiting, Megga, Alla, and Elinor, were all about Sansa’s age, roses from the lower branches, distant Tyrell kin.

Another companion, Lady Bulwer, was still only an eight-year-old girl.

Meredyth Crane was always smiling.

“Your Grace, Lady Sansa, we are roses from the lower branches,” Elinor said with a double meaning. She was quick-witted and slender.

Megga was plump and loud. Alla was pretty and shy.

Lady Mina was Paxter Redwyne’s wife. Plump Lady Janna was Great Lord Tyrell’s sister, married into House Fossoway of New Barrel.

Lady Leonette, with her lovely face and bright eyes, was also of House Fossoway, and had married Ser Garlan.

“No, there are more than just these,” Gendry thought. There were also Mace’s uncles.

Gormon was a Maester at the Citadel, Garth was the steward of Highgarden, and Moryn, who had died in battle, had been commander of the Oldtown garrison.

Whatever their talents, House Tyrell arranged its family members very well.

Not only in Highgarden, but in Oldtown too, the roses had put down roots. It was a thriving sight.

“Whether a house has many children or few, unity is what matters.” Gendry looked at the roses in full bloom.

No one cared about the head of the house, Great Lord Mace Tyrell, anymore. His mother, Lady Olenna, made the decisions, and the Tyrell web of marriage alliances had always been driven by the Queen of Thorns.

As for Prince Doran Martell, far away in Dorne, everyone knew that after gout had left him half-crippled, Dornish affairs were usually handled by the Red Viper on his brother’s behalf. The Red Viper represented his brother’s will.

For once, Dornishmen and knights of The Reach did not start a fight at a feast. Under normal circumstances, a gathering like this would have at least cost someone their life.

In marriages between noble lords, the first matter was equality of rank, and only after that came whether the pair suited each other.

Age, height, appearance, and ability had to be roughly matched.

The heir to Highgarden and the eldest daughter of the Prince of Dorne were well matched in status. In a way, both were oddities within the noble circle.

One was a cripple who could never become a knight, and the other was passionate by nature and somewhat short.

It was a little like Jon Arryn and Lysa Tully back then. At least both had belonged to the great noble circle and each took what they needed. Lysa had even gained the better bargain.

Gendry remembered Lysa Tully’s wailing at the Eyrie. The marriages of lordly children were rarely free.

“My father said I should thank the heavens that a great lord as famous as Jon Arryn was willing to marry a woman who had already been deflowered, but in truth, what he wanted was my father’s army. I had to marry Jon, or my father would have shut me out as he did his own brother Brynden.”

Even among nobles, there were ranks.

First came the Dragonlords, then royal houses that had been kings for generations, then the Great Lords of each realm.

House Stark had been kings for generations, as had House Arryn and House Lannister. Even House Baratheon and House Martell were ancient royal lines if traced through the maternal side.

There was also the very ancient House Hightower, the “Kings of the High Tower.”

Only after them came the powerful secondary lords and ancient houses, many of whom had once styled themselves kings.

House Bolton, the “Red Kings”; House Royce, the “Bronze Kings”; House Dayne, the “Kings of the Torrentine”; House Yronwood, the “Lords of the Stone Way”; House Fowler, the “Kings of the Cliffs and the Sky,” and so on.

Garth, the broad and stout steward of Highgarden, gave the order. “On this glorious night, let our king, Your Grace Gendry, offer his blessing to the marriage of the rose and the longspear.”

The hall fell silent.

All eyes fixed on Gendry, dazzling and unmatched.

The women’s gazes burned like fire, Sansa’s and Margaery’s among them. Unfortunately, both had heard that the king was not as unrestrained as the late king.

“In the name of the king, I thank the Old Gods and the New for the victories at the Battle of the Blackwater and the Battle of Oldtown, and for this fine marriage. May this good fortune endure without end!”

Gendry raised the king’s golden cup, and then every guest, every rider, and every squire raised theirs.

A thousand cups struck together, and a thousand voices shouted.

“May this good fortune endure without end!”

“Without end!”

Silver rose cups, white waxed wine cups, clay cups, and iron-rimmed horn cups all clattered against one another.

“My lords, since I set out on this campaign, I have crushed the Ironborn and destroyed the rebel Euron Greyjoy. It grieves me that we lost two venerable elders, the Fletcher and Jason Melisent, but still, we achieved a great victory.” Gendry raised his hand, and every voice fell silent.

“As for the war against the lions, I hope it will be my last war for the throne in the lands of summer. We should be facing more terrible enemies, the Long Winter and the foes beyond the Wall.

“I hope all of you can gather your strength and stand as one. Just as the rose and the longspear are joined in marriage, peace, peace is greater than all things. Under the Long Winter, I do not like anyone dragging us down...”

Originally, many lords had not believed in these strange things from old tales and new horrors. But after seeing the Kraken’s corpse, the Sphinxes, and the stone beast, they had no choice but to acknowledge that the age was changing.

A new era. A magical world.

“Peace.”

“Peace.”

The lords had already begun considering the king’s deeper meaning. In the Long Winter and the approaching Long Night, the king did not want the lords to quarrel again.

Everyone must turn north together.

At the end, the singers joined together in a song praising Gendry, as if they were about to see Tywin the lion’s head at any moment.

“We are the guard, blown by the wind to Casterly Rock. We will kill old Tywin, then burn the lion’s den...”

By the end, nearly everyone in the hall was singing along with the singers, their voices shaking the roof until it rustled.

...

Beneath a clear blue sky, Gendry lingered for several days amid the splendor and beauty of Highgarden while hastening the army’s preparations.

Daenerys, meanwhile, was led by Margaery through the gardens and flowered walks, the intent to please her plain to see.

Within the walls, Highgarden was like a green paradise. Flowers bloomed everywhere, and the whole castle was adorned with gardens, pools, and artificial waterfalls.

“Nothing of real value.” Gendry searched through Highgarden again and again, even checking every corner.

It seemed there truly was nothing interesting there. What Gendry wanted most was something like the legendary “Green Hand” runes, but unfortunately, he found no clues.

The Queen of Thorns had also generously allowed the king into the Tyrell family’s inner treasury.

But Gendry discovered that the Tyrell treasury had nowhere near the depth of Hightower’s vaults. After all, Hightower had been rich for far too many years as the foremost city.

“The sins of the Dornish.”

Gendry also felt that Highgarden’s relative poverty could be credited in part to the Dornish. During the reign of Garth X, a certain Dornish king had led his army across the Mander and taken Highgarden.

The Dornish chopped the Oakenseat, which had witnessed countless Kings of The Reach, into pieces and burned it, plundered all the wealth, and then burned Highgarden flat.

That blow had badly weakened Highgarden. Even if any treasures had once existed, they had likely been lost long ago. Highgarden, after all, was not as hard and stubborn as Storm's End.

How strange the world was. Now the Dornish were seeking a marriage alliance with the rulers of Highgarden.

From one of Highgarden’s towers, Gendry could see every manor and field for several leagues around. The countryside was covered with flowers and golden roses.

“This is the oldest tower, isn’t it?” Gendry asked Garlan.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Garlan nodded. “Most of Highgarden’s buildings were raised during the reign of King Mern Gardener VI, ‘the Successor.’ Only the tallest towers at the center are older.”

“That burning of Highgarden had nothing to do with our House Martell,” the Red Viper joked. “You should probably look for the Gate or the Falcon.”

The Red Viper was referring to two powerful Dornish lords, House Yronwood, the “Lords of the Stone Way,” and House Fowler, the “Kings of the Cliffs and the Sky.”

House Martell could be considered upstarts as well. A thousand years ago, they had attached themselves to Queen Nymeria of the Rhoynar. Originally, the Lords of the Stone Way had been the ones most likely to unify Dorne.

“I had originally planned to go north along The Roseroad and reinforce the armies of House Stark and House Tully, but now I have a new plan,” Gendry said.

“But to reach the Riverlands, you still have to take The Roseroad,” Mychel Redfort said.

“Your Grace means to send a surprise force over the hills north of Goldengrove?” Ser Barristan understood.

“Exactly.” Gendry nodded. “Originally, it was a three-pronged advance, but the force I lead is made entirely of elites. Going through the Golden Tooth to link up would take too much time. Better to go straight north through Highgarden and Goldengrove.”

“But the region around Silverhill is all mountains and hills,” Randyll Tarly warned. “An advance that way will be difficult going.”

“It is risky, but not impossible. We have Dragons, so we can sense danger in advance.

“Speed is the soul of war. Silverhill will not have time to react. Once we take Silverhill, we cut the Goldroad in two.”

“There is another point. Tywin has lost too many men. He simply cannot cover every front anymore.”

“I am willing to be Your Grace’s left arm and draw the lions’ attention from the Ocean Road,” Garlan Tyrell requested.

“Whether left arm or right arm, I look forward to meeting you beneath the castle walls, Ser Garlan.”

A defeated general had no bravery worth speaking of.

Tywin could not replenish the vast number of elite soldiers he had lost overnight. So while he guarded the left and right flanks, Gendry chose to punch straight through the center.

...

The Lannister southern frontier, Silverhill.

A river near Silverhill flowed south past Goldengrove and into the Mander.

But as its name suggested, the castle stood upon a hill. It was the stronghold of House Serrett.

The night was black as ink, but Ser Gerold Serrett could not sleep.

The lion’s position had retreated again and again, while the applause of victory rose for the stag. The next to suffer would probably be the lions.

House Serrett had been watching the south closely. He had only heard from the farmers of Goldengrove that the king was fighting the Ironborn in The Reach, and he had no idea when the king would strike.

“He will probably still come along the Ocean Road. Great Lord Tywin has already laid heavy defenses there.” Ser Gerold thought it over, but he was still afraid House Rowan might suddenly go mad.

Even though many sentries had been placed along the south, it probably would not be enough.

The lions’ strength was stretched too thin. They simply did not have many soldiers to spare. Although a camp had been transferred over, there still were not enough men.

North of Highgarden, great stretches of fertile land belonged to House Rowan, the kings of northern The Reach, feeding a large number of soldiers.

House Rowan’s strength was not something House Serrett could match.

“Young lord!” A household guard of House Serrett suddenly rushed up from below the tower, panting hard.

“What is it?” Ser Gerold asked at once.

“Soldiers. The enemy is here! And the river, the river is full of longships. Soldiers everywhere are already moving!”

“What!”

Ser Gerold collapsed onto the bed.

Not caring that his clothes were in disarray, he rushed out of the tower in a panic.

After climbing the watchtower, he saw flames blazing below Silverhill.

On the river were longships sailing upstream, led by Lord Patrek of Seagard.

On the ridges, climbers carrying torches were scaling the heights, led by Lord Jason and Timett.

They had all been chosen from the Vale and Crackclaw Point, hardy men skilled at climbing.

“Why don’t we surrender?” the captain of the guards asked. “Lord Tywin’s defeat is certain, and he has no strength to help us. We already lost enough men when we followed him last time.”

“No. My father is still in Casterly Rock...” Gerold first shook his head. “And there is also that small squad of reinforcements from Great Lord Tywin.”

“Dragon! A Dragon is coming!”

A Dragon’s roar suddenly came from the sky, shaking the fields in wave after wave.

The soldiers of House Serrett went pale. This was not how war was supposed to be played.

Dragon shadows appeared in the sky. All they could see were winged Dragons, their furious roars shaking heaven and earth.

If the Dragons had appeared, that meant the king had come as well.

“Boom!”

Balerion breathed Dragonfire, black-red flames dancing in fury. Then came the flames of the white dragon and the green dragon.

The gates of House Serrett’s castle were bombarded by fire, and the oak and steel doors began to melt.

“Surrender and you live!”

“Surrender and you live!”

Endless shouts came from the silent wilds. For a moment, it was impossible to tell how many men had come.

“We surrender! We surrender!”

The old, weak, sick, and wounded men of Silverhill collapsed in a single blow. The moment they saw the king’s Dragons, they chose to break apart.

“Protect the young lord, and seize the Lannister reinforcements,” the guards of House Serrett acted on their own.

“You. You are rebelling!” Ser Gerold cursed.

“We are not betraying you. We have no need to follow the lions to death and die in a Dragon’s jaws.”

“But my father is still a hostage.”

“Everyone has their own fate, young lord.”

“Pebble runes, sun-piercing spear, and golden stag. No...”

Ser Gerold went limp on the ground and was dragged out by the guards to surrender. The heights were dangerous. It was all too easy to be burned to death by Dragons.