Chapter 30 - The 24th day of November, 298 years after Aegon's Conquest
Renly stood on the battlements and watched the six hundred men from House Selmy join the rest of his host outside the walls of Storm's End. It would have been a long march from Harvest Hall, a full month since the ravens had first flown, but the might of the Stormlands was finally gathered around its liege lord. Nightsong was more distant still, and from a few other remote holdfasts men might still have been en route, but they could catch up to the army as it began its advance on King's Landing. Renly had no desire to delay any longer.
Fury was parked in its field, constantly surrounded by a ring of fifty guards and knights handpicked by Renly himself. He had taken the plane up at least twice a week since his return, often accompanied by newly arrived lords, ladies and knights brave enough to take to the skies. They had been short flights, rarely straying out of sight of Storm's End. Every occasion used up some of the special potion the flying machine required. Though he had paid solid gold for the plane itself, since Lord Stark's demise in the capital his sponsors through the Maidenring seemed to grow a touch more generous. They had provided the 'fuel' for free since. A week after his arrival a huge grey plane had briefly appeared and dropped a number of large black barrels via 'parachute'. His men had gathered them up and they were now stored near his command tent, also under heavy guard. Renly was pleased, feeling only a tinge of annoyance that they grey plane had been significantly larger than his own purchase.
Nonetheless, events so far had been proceeding to plan.
Just yesterday they had received a raven from Highgarden. Loras Tyrell's party had finally arrived after a long, swift ride. Mace Tyrell had accepted their proposal at once. Renly smiled quietly to himself. With Cersei out of the picture, Margaery was as good as Robert's wife. All the chivalry of the south would soon ride with them.
Even his brother Stannis had appeared cooperative. Renly had written to him on Dragonstone, where he appeared to have successfully hoarded the bulk of the Royal Fleet. Renly had proposed he prepare to sail his ships to the mouth of the Wendwater. From there they could coordinate their advance on the capital by land and sea. Stannis had sent a raven back, declaring that he had already marshalled two hundred ships and closed off Blackwater Bay to any Lannister shipping. Renly had been relieved. The ships would prove vital in any assault on the capital, given their need to cross the broad Blackwater River to its immediate south.
The sun would be setting soon. Renly took one last look at the sprawling encampment. Close to twenty-five thousand had gathered. Already the local villages and farms were being depleted by their foraging parties. In a few more days it would be time to move on, but where exactly? He was mulling it over as he walked down to the feast hall, ever more packed with his lords bannermen.
Several approached him or called out a greeting as he entered. Lord Buckler demanded to know if he intended to march down the Kingsroad at once. Ser Guyard Morrigen reported that squires were taking bets on which man would be the first to scale the walls of the Red Keep. His own uncle Lord Estermont again praised his remarkable flying machine and relayed a request from his grandson to join Renly on Fury's next flight. Renly smiled and addressed them in turn with his usual courtesy.
Over in one corner of the hall however was the other focus of attention. A small space had been cleared for the Australians to set up their 'projector'. They had been entertaining the lords each night, with their remarkable devices capable of conjuring up such vivid echoes of sight and sound. The whole host would have turned up to watch if they could, but the hall could barely seat two hundred. There were only six of the flying men present and they were revered like members of a royal family. A quartet of pilots and engineers tended to Fury. Renly had given each of them a dozen servants and guards to tend to their every need. The other two, a Mr. Seymour and Mr. Sedgwick, were even more revered. They wore black garments and acted more as diplomats and advisors. Through them, messages could be relayed back to their masters through the Maidenring itself.
Music was playing as the walked over to the pair, a strange melody, with words that made little sense to Renly.
I come from a land down under
Where beer does flow and men chunder
Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder?
You better run, you better take cover…
"My lord" Mr. Seymour said politely, with a slight bow. "So you intend to come to a decision tonight?"
"Yes ser, the host is very close to assembled. We should march it soon, the morn after next I expect. My bannermen continue to argue over our precise course of action, but I mean to enforce a decision tonight."
"Very good, my lord. We shall report to Canberra when you have done so."
The hall was filling up as suppertime approached. Renly ensured the meat and mead was flowing freely. He'd ordered a cask from the Arbor opened that day and they'd slaughtered a steer and been roasting it since the day before.
The feast was a raucous affair. The boasts grew bigger as men's bellies filled with wine. Ser Richard Horpe declared his intention to kill one of Cersei's 'false Kingsguard' and take the position for himself. Red Ronnet Connington mused on who would claim Casterly Rock when the war was done. Ser Cortnay Penrose, the castellan of Storm's End, asked if Renly intended to lead the army himself or whether Robert might resume command on his return.
"This is Robert's army, ser" Renly said with a smile. "All I have done I do in his name. If he wishes to lead it himself, then it is his decision. Knowing my brother, he will not be dissuaded by anything."
After servants had come in to clear the plates, Renly called for silence. He rose, drink in hand, and proposed a toast to the good health of his brother. Another toast went out to Lord Mace Tyrell. There was a great cheer when he announced that the Reach Lord had accepted their offer of alliance and of marriage between Robert and Margaery. Finally, he toasted the Flying Men, and the whole hall joined him, glancing down at the two ASIS agents seated at the high table a few seats down from Renly. The discussion then turned to strategy.
Lord Harwood Fell insisted they should march on King's Landing immediately to "end the war in a fortnight" and further vowed to knock the crown "off the pretty blonde curls of this bastard boy of a king!". There was a chorus of agreement. Lord Buckler pointed out that, although the walls of King's Landing were high, at that moment the queen could not have more than two or three thousand swords to defend them. "The city will never be as weak as it is now!" he declared.
Others urged caution. Lord Estermont advised they head west, to link up with the armies of the Reach. Lord Tywin and the Kingslayer had hosts of their own in the Riverlands. What if they came down on King's Landing while the Storm Lords were in the middle of an assault? It could be a disaster. They would need the Reach to have weight of numbers against the armies of the Westerlands.
Renly sat at the high table, considering the perspective of each lord in turn. At one point, he turned to the ASIS agents and asked for the opinion of the Flying Men.
"I stress that we are here merely to advise and observe, so it is your decision, my lord" said Mr. Seymour with his usual grace. "I would say that this queen has proven consistently hostile to us, despite our best attempts at honesty and friendship. We would greatly prefer for your brother to be reinstalled on his throne, once he recovers, after which we would hope for a profitable trade to resume through the Ring. I would say that we would prefer for that to occur sooner rather than later of course. However, if caution is the best strategy to ensure that victory, then we are willing to be patient as necessary."
"A very diplomatic answer" Renly observed, to some laughter. "But I thank you for your honest counsel." Shortly afterwards the young lord stood, sounding resolved. "Thank you all for your wise words. Having heard all, I must conclude that an immediate march on the capital would be unwise. The bravery of the Storm Lords is talked of across the known world, but combined with the armies of the Reach our victory is much more assured. Besides, what better alliance is there then one tempered in fire?
In three months we could gather a hundred thousand men, while the Lannisters whittle down their strength fighting in the Riverlands. I am told Robb Stark is gathering his strength at Winterfell also, seeking revenge for his father. Twenty thousand Northmen will soon march with us, while Stannis will bring the royal fleet. The noose will tighten around the Lannisters. It may be slow, but it is inevitable. So my friends, I declare we shall march west, to link up with the armies of the Reach!"
There was another chorus of cheers, the loudest of all this time.
######
"Fury?" Stannis Baratheon asked, furrowing his brow. "Does my brother think to mock me? He steals a name already given to my flagship?"
"I am sure your brother meant no offence, my lord" advised Axell Florent, his uncle and Dragonstone's appointed Castellan.
"Yet then he sees fit to issue me instructions, to sail the royal fleet where he would. I have pledged my support, of course, but he mistakes himself for Robert." Stannis looked over his assembled bannermen, seated around the painted table. Maester Pylos sat in the corner, writing notes.
"My lord, does he not speak with King Robert's authority?" Lord Celtigar said cautiously.
"So he claims. Yet my brother remains absent, on the other side of this Ring that just appears miraculously. Why? How? What prophecy is this fulfilling? I have never heard of such a thing."
"Surely you do not still doubt its existence, my lord?" asked Lord Velaryon. "We have had reports from a dozen ships coming out of King's Landing, traders and fishermen both. A great shining Ring, a thousand yards across, in the hills south of Rosby, but on a clear day well visible from the sea. Regardless, we have certainly seen the flying machines that have come forth. My castellan wrote to me of three of them which flew over Driftmark barely a week ago, heading north by east, towards Gulltown or Braavos I suspect."
"No, I do not doubt its existence, but what truly lies on the other side? Some heaven? A hell? Another world such as ours? As a riddle it is still most vexing."
"So are many actions of the Lord of Light" said a deep sultry voice.
Melisandre of Asshai had entered the council chamber, unnoticed by the lords. A number swiveled about to stare at her now. Taller than most knights, dressed all in red down to the ruby at her throat and strangely, fiercely, beautiful, no one objected to her presence at the war council.
"You believe your lord summoned this Ring?"
"Who else?" she asked. The shadowbinder walked around the table, her fingers running lightly along its varnished surface. "The night the Ring opened I felt it immediately. In many years I had never felt such an intense urge to gaze into the flames. I rushed over to the nightfire and I saw them, in all their glory."
"Saw what?" Stannis demanded.
"I saw great cities of light, and great machines of steel and fire. Not just those that fly, but those that roll across the ground unending on great black wheels, and others that sail the high seas with fires burning in their bellies, unperturbed by wind or current. I saw lightning, enslaved and dominated by men, as Valyria once enslaved the fires beneath the earth. Many mysteries lie beyond the Lord's Ring, I am sure, but it was he who opened it."
"For what purpose?"
"For the same purpose as all his actions, to combat the Great Other, and his agents."
Some of the assembled lords shifted at this statement, as if a slight breeze had gone through the room. Some looked at their fellows uneasily, while others responded with more enthusiasm. Two seats down from Stannis, Axell Florent was nodding, following the Red Priestess's words with rapt attention.
"And where are these agents now? Is another Ring going to open up, woman?"
"I am sorry my lord, I only catch glimpses in the flames. I cannot answer that. I do suspect the danger lies north, in the frozen wastes beyond the Wall. You know this, but the precise nature of the threat has not yet become clear."
"You think these Flying Men will stop it?"
"The Flying Men are powerful, yes, but even then, they can only aid Azor Azai in his fight. Alone they cannot stop the coming darkness."
"Then they are irrelevant?"
"No my lord. They possess great power of their own. I have seen it, greater than any of the lords of Westeros for certain. They do not seek to rule, but they will be the kingmakers. Anyone hoping to sit the Iron Throne would do well to win their favor. Your brother has already worked his shallow charms. You must remind them that you are the heir, that it will be your turn when the time comes."
"Robert still lives, if Renly speaks the truth of the matter" Stannis replied, frowning. "They will marry him to this babe from Highgarden. She will produce for him a new heir, provided she can give him a son."
"Robert will never father another child. His time is short. I have seen it."
The lords exchanged further glances at this proclamation. "Surely you jest, my lady?" asked Lord Bar Emmon, a fat boy of fourteen not yet wise enough to stay quiet.
"I do not, my lord" Melisandre said, fixing the boy with such an intense gaze he visibly recoiled from it. "I take no joy in this news, but there can be no doubting it."
"Then the kingdom will be mine, I am his heir. No laws can change that." Stannis said it plainly, with no joy, a mere statement of fact.
"But your brother, he is an ambitious sort" Melisandre said carefully. "He hungers for his own glory, you know this. He will betray you. He will bring many weak-willed men to his cause to deny you your rightful throne."
The assembled lords were now looking back at their liege. Stannis was grinding his teeth. "Renly has assembled his banners yes, but he is not yet calling himself a king. He claims to do all he does in Robert's name. Even if what you say is true, I cannot punish him for a crime he has not yet committed."
"Your words are just, I would expect no less" Melisandre replied. "Nonetheless, you must prove to all, the realm and the Flying Men both, that you are Robert's heir. His only true successor and the Lord's true champion. There are actions I would urge you to take."