Chapter 35 – The 28th day of December, 298 years after Aegon's Conquest
There were cheers from below, as Fury flew up and down the length of the Roseroad.
The Tyrell host below was vast. More than fifty thousand men had assembled at Highgarden. Such a large body of men could not march in one column of course. The army would take so long to unfurl from its camp that by evening fall the rearguard would still be waiting to depart. As such, Lord Mace had split his host into three groups, each following several days behind the other. Thousands more had gone up the Mander via barge. Other levies were joining them en route.
Spotting the golden rose banners, Renly ordered the pilots to put down in a nearby field. Fury bounced along the grass, coming to a stop half a mile from the village around which the men of the Reach were setting up their encampment for the night. Riders from the Tyrell host came forth, dodging startled sheep fleeing the other way. A cursing shepherd boy followed in the wake of his flock.
The door opened and Renly Baratheon strode out, followed by a score of Stormlords and prominent knights. The first of the riders were soon upon them, but even from a distance Renly recognized the Tyrell brothers. Garlan was five years older than Loras, bulkier and bearded, but otherwise greatly resembling his younger sibling. Renly wondered idly if he was looking at Loras's future and decided it wasn't bad at all. His thoughts turned to Robert and Stannis for a moment and he inwardly frowned. He hoped no one would be making the same judgement about him!
"My lord" Loras said, dipping his head. His brother followed half a moment later. "It is good to see you again. Half my kin did not believe my tales of a flying machine."
"Once we march on King's Landing. I'm sure you can buy one of your own, or perhaps one for each Tyrell? The Reach has a great bounty to trade."
Garlan was looking over Renly's shoulder. Mr. Seymour and Mr. Sedgwick had just appeared at the top of the stairs that folded out from Fury's side. Even without any modern technology on their person, they stood out immediately. The identical black suits they wore were like no other garments in the Seven Kingdoms. Who else dressed that dark and plain? Renly had cause to wonder.
Renly made some quick introductions. A Tyrell squire handed Renly the reins of another horse. Seymour and Sedgwick and the accompanying Stormlands nobility had soon mounted up as well. They trotted across the field and down a nearby track between rows of pumpkins. Closer to the village, foraging parties were already stripping the ground of anything edible. The smallfolk watched on silently. A lucky few had silver coins tossed in their direction by sympathetic soldiers. The others merely sat there sullenly as months of work was torn up and confiscated by bigger men wielding better steel.
A few outriders challenged them as they approached the Tyrell camp, but all hostility evaporated upon seeing Loras, Garlan and Renly. There was no perimeter ditch, not this deep into the Reach. There were cheers as Renly's party was escorted in. The young lord saw the banners flying from the greatest tents – the golden tree of Rowan, the striding huntsmen of Tarly, the black stripes and yellow beehives of Beesbury, the fox head and flowers of Florent, both the red and green apple Fossoways, having joined the march just a few days earlier, and three score lesser banners. There were only a few glaring omissions. The Redwyne grapes were absent, the heirs to that house still held captive in King's Landing, but near all the chivalry of the south was marching up the Roseroad.
They were soon before the huge tent of the lord of the Reach. After some consideration, lord Mace Tyrell himself had chosen to join the march, bringing both his daughter and his mother with him. Loras rode ahead, ducking inside to summon his family. Renly and his companions dawdled outside for a moment. Soon enough, the tent flap opened, and the Lord Paramount of the Reach strode out.
Mace Tyrell was just past forty, and not quite as fat as Robert Baratheon himself. His curly brown hair and pointed beard were now speckled with white. "My lord of Baratheon" he called out jovially, as Renly dismounted in front of him.
"My lord of Tyrell" Renly replied graciously. "It is good to see you, my lord! I feared you would remain in Highgarden."
"I had half a mind to, but the tales come down from the north…Flying men and Maiden's Rings? I thought I must see to all this myself". At that point the Reach lord spotted the two Australians. Quick introductions were made. Mace shook both their hands enthusiastically, asking pointed questions about Fury. He quickly extracted a promise from them to be allowed to purchase a plane of his own. The Australians granted this; on the condition it wait until after the fall of King's Landing when the lord could come look upon the Maidenring for himself. Troop dispositions were then discussed. Renly's host had just arrived at Bitterbridge. The Tyrell vanguard still had a fortnight to march. It would be another three to the capital, if they continued without pause.
"Are these the flying men, they speak of?" interrupted a voice sharply.
The Lady Olenna Tyrell was thirty years past her son and a foot shorter. She had hobbled out of the tent on a cane. Clutching her other arm was her granddaughter Margaery, a fair maid of fifteen.
"I'm afraid they are my lady" Renly answered, with a polite bow. He raised Margaery's hand and give it a light kiss.
"I don't see wings. How exactly do they get off the ground?" Olenna went on.
"Its not them grandmother. Their machines can fly" Margaery chided her gently.
"What machine then? I don't see one."
"It flew over not an hour past, we all saw it."
"My eyes are weak, you should know that."
Margaery sighed, but she flashed Renly a small smile which he returned.
"You won't have to wait long to see another my lady. The Australian's ambassador is flying to us as we speak. And if any doubts remain, I could take you for a flight tomorrow" Renly offered.
"Oh good heavens no! I'm far too fragile to fly. Even a horse causes these old bones to ache!"
The party had soon entered the tent. The levies of the Arbor may have been absent, but their main export had come along all the same. Wine was soon flowing as the men of the Reach, Stormlands and the pair of Australian representatives discussed the coming campaign. Renly's promise turned out to be correct however. Barely half an hour later they heard another roar of noise. Renly, Loras and nearly everyone else except Olenna headed back outside the tent.
A quarter mile away the Australian's big brown and green 'Chinook' was coming in to land. Tent canvasses flapped in the unnatural wind. Horses whinnied, but most had already been tied up as part of their making camp. Men stood and stared. Most had spied at least one of the flying machines by this point, but only as tiny shapes soaring high in the sky. Up close, they were as downright noisy and fearsome as a dragon of legend.
As the machine's rotors swirled to a stop the rear door opened and a small procession came out. Two dozen of the green men spread out in a loose circle, two of them bearing the Australian banner. Half a dozen figures in black suits followed before marching into the Tyrell camp, where Renly met them alongside Loras and Garlan. "Ambassador" Renly nodded at Fifield, "Minister" he said to Mr. Dutton and Mr. Downer.
The newcomers were soon gathered in Lord Tyrell's tent. Twoscore of the more prominent Reach bannerman had soon gathered as well, Lords Matthis Rowan, Alester Florent and Randyll Tarly among them. The former two soon asked about purchasing their own flying machines and had a long and animated discussion with ambassador Fifield about the different types. Lord Tarly was quieter, sipping his wine and throwing sullen looks at the foreigners, like they were teenage boys hounding after a daughter of his. When he asked questions about their machines, it related more to their speed, height and range. He seemed unhappy with the answers. Renly thought he could understand the lord's consternation. No matter your marksmanship, what huntsman could hit a target at thirty thousand feet?
Other representatives were present as well. Loras took Renly aside at one point and introduced him to two men wearing maesters robes. The younger was a few years older than Renly and named Yandel. The elder wore a heavier chain about his neck and turned out to be Loras's great uncle Gormon Tyrell. Renly greeted the two men pleasantly.
"The flying men possess vast knowledge. I knew this would attract the attention of the citadel soon."
"Indeed" replied Gormon "we are most keen to meet these men, those who have come through this…Ring riding flying machines. When we first heard the reports we dismissed them out of hand of course. Then some workers down by the docks saw one flying high above Oldtown, much higher even than the Hightower. After that we kept a lookout. My eyesight is grown poor, but Yandel here has seen them three or four times, have you not?"
Yandel nodded. "It is the talk of the city. The Seneschal bid us head north and find the truth of these matters. Then we hear of chaos in King's Landing, the High Septon denouncing the Flying Men and Lord Tyrell calling his banners. It seemed prudent to join their march north."
"Some of the Most Devout are afoot you know" Gormon said quietly, glancing around to make sure they were not being overhead. "They are also heading north. You should watch for them Lord Renly. They are whispering in the ears of certain pious lords. I mean no offence my lord but…some have called you a puppet of the Flying Men."
Renly stiffened at that. He had heard such talk a few times and generally dismissed it. He did not need such dissension in their ranks.
"I am sorry to hear that maester. The Faith…they are one of the pillars which holds up the world, alongside the crown. But the High Septon, I fear his judgement has been twisted by the queen's lies. I have known nothing but friendship and kindness from the flying men. I think you will see that too. They have already shared much knowledge with me, and others. I am sure they will do the same for learned men like yourself."
"I would hope so. Our trade is knowledge. If we lack that…" Gormon trailed off, suddenly looking pained.
As dusk fell food was brought out. Renly noted the roasted lamb and pumpkin requisitioned from the surrounding fields. Mace Tyrell announced a toast to their new friends from Australia, before the conversation turned to military strategy. The Australians unfurled a large map of the continent, with an accuracy that put the local cartographers to shame. They handed out several to the Reach lords as gifts and presented a delighted Lord Mace with a globe of their own world. Regarding Westeros, Mr. Dutton began pointing out the positions of the various armies.
"As you may have heard, we met with Lord Tywin a week past, here at Stone Hedge" Dutton explained. From a binder, he pulled out several large aerial photographs of the encamped Lannister armies and detailed their movements. After smashing Edmure Tully's host below the walls of Riverrun, Jaime had captured his opponent and now laid siege to the castle on three sides. Tywin had resumed his march west and the bulk of his host was now encamped near Harrenhal, while his outriders ranged as far as Darry and the Ruby Ford. The Reach lords picked up the photographs gingerly, as if they were delicate works of art.
"We explained our position to him" Dutton went on "that what we desire most is peace and stability here in Westeros. We advised him to end his campaign in the Riverlands and return home, so as not to prolong the war, but the old man is stubborn. He seems to think he can achieve victory. He told us…" Dutton glanced up at the assembled Reach lords "…that he doesn't fear wolves or stags or roses."
Mace Tyrell gave a great laugh, one his lords and knights were quick to follow. "I think the day will come soon when a hundred thousand flowers will bloom from Casterly Rock!" the lord proclaimed, to more laughter. "Aye, watered with Lannister blood!" cried young Ser Tanton Fossoway, thumping his fist on the table and knocking over a gravy boat in his enthusiasm.
"It seems to me, Lord Dutton" Lord Tarly spoke up at this point "that with your flying machines and other devices, could you not defeat Tywin Lannister's host in a day?"
Dutton frowned, glancing at Renly.
"My lord Tarly, I understand your point" said the young Stormlord diplomatically. "This has been discussed at much length. The flying men did not come here to make war. They are here to trade, to share their knowledge and seek friends among us. Could they interfere in our affairs? Certainly, but I think we should be relieved they do not. Consider this, if they were to help us smash Lord Tywin, who would the victory belong to? Us or them?"
Dutton was nodding. "Well put Lord Renly. Yes, we could interfere, but why should we? Is this our war? My people, in all fairness, have no particular vendetta against the Lannisters. The queen has become hostile to us yes, after we revealed her deceit, in betraying the king and attempting to murder him, but nonetheless…"
"No spawn of incest should sit the Iron Throne!" cried out Ser Mark Mullendore suddenly. The little black and white monkey on his shoulder chattered its agreement. There was more laughter. "Bruthafucker!" someone shouted out, though Mace Tyrell cast a stern gaze around the room, calling for silence. There were ladies present after all. After the tent had quieted again, Dutton continued.
"We were quite content to simply withdraw from King's Landing to avoid further bloodshed, but we'd prefer this situation does not go on forever. Two entire worlds, now linked and ready to trade? The possibilities are endless. Open it up for us again, and we will be thankful. I believe both our worlds will prosper."
There were more calls of agreement. Dutton went on.
"As for why we don't interfere. We are interested in the longer-term stability of Westeros. The land is vast. For it to be ruled by one dynasty is quite frankly impressive, given the level of your technology. I am told the Targaryens managed it for close to three hundred years, but apparently, that was with dragons. Then the dragons died out, their power fell, and they were eventually replaced with the Baratheons. Robert won the war with battles, but he kept the peace with marriage. He married Cersei Lannister, while I'm also told his uh…Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, married a Tully bride, as did Eddard Stark. These alliances between the great houses kept the realm stable for the past fifteen years.
I suppose our goal here is to repeat that process. I can see along the Roseroad a vast army has been assembled. It is heartening to see. We have observed your movements from the air, of course, I make no secret of that. We were told that the Stormlands and the Reach together could field close to a hundred thousand swords, and that promise appears to have come true." Dutton nodded at lords Renly and Mace. There were more calls of agreement.
"So, even without our interference, it is our hope that this alliance can bring order to the realm, at least for another generation or longer. When this war is done, and hopefully it is done with all haste, though all due diligence as well, then rather than the Lannisters we shall see a new ruling union between houses Baratheon and Tyrell. This is correct?"
Dutton glanced over at Margaery as he spoke, seated two seats down from her father. The girl smiled as the eyes of the tent switched to her, blushing slightly. "I will be the wife Robert always deserved" she proclaimed proudly. "I promise to perform my duties as queen. I shall share his bed and bear his children and rule by his side. Of course, I will have to be careful not to repeat the previous queen's mistakes" she glanced at Loras and Garlan as she said this.
Even the lady Olenna laughed.