At dawn, the sea wind from Shipbreaker Bay still swept across the land, the air carrying a salty dampness that seemed even heavier than yesterday.
The site of the negotiations was chosen on a hill not far outside Storm's End. Across the blue-green grassland were scattered gray-white mushrooms, while freshly felled tree stumps seeped "blood" from their wounds.
Dried.
Scabbed.
The Stark direwolf banner was the first to arrive, snapping loudly in the howling sea wind.
"I only hope things do not move in the worst possible direction…"
Standing alone between the two armies, Eddard said this as he spoke with Barristan, who was at his side.
There was a trace of worry in his voice.
Hearing the Hand of the King speak, Barristan could not help but turn back toward the direction of Storm's End, lifting his hand to adjust the shaft of the spear from which the Stark banner hung.
This time, aside from serving as a witness, he was also present as Eddard Stark's banner-bearer.
Once they had taken their positions, the gold-and-black crowned stag banner representing Renly was raised from within Storm's End.
Yet on the other side, there was still no movement.
"Prepare for the worst. The letter you sent to the king earlier received no reply. It seems His Grace King Kal intends to leave this matter to you."
"For him, that is not a bad way to handle it."
Barristan spoke plainly, stating the facts, while his free hand came to rest on the hilt of the sword at his waist.
His words made Eddard feel the pressure weigh even more heavily upon him.
"If Stannis still refuses to let go of his obsession, I will resolve this matter before the king arrives. Renly has already abandoned his illusions, and the nobles who once supported Stannis have likewise given up their intentions."
"If even this cannot settle the matter properly, then I would have no right to wear this pin. At that point, I might as well submit my resignation to His Grace King Kal and return to my North."
Barristan had not expected Eddard to say such a thing, and he turned his head in some surprise to look at him.
After a moment's thought, he felt that as for returning to the North, the Lord of Winterfell had likely planned it long ago.
Once the matter at hand was concluded, he probably would not remain in the south any longer.
Only the North truly belonged to this man; he was utterly out of place in the south.
However, though he had his suspicions, Barristan did not speak further. This was not something a Lord Commander of the Kingsguard ought to concern himself with.
Before long, Renly arrived on horseback at Eddard's side, accompanied by Loras Tyrell.
The guards behind them kept their distance; negotiations required the proper bearing of negotiations.
Aside from the mediator, Lord Eddard Stark, and Ser Barristan Selmy, each side in the talks would be represented by only two principals.
"He is still playing that childish game of kings."
After giving a slight nod of greeting to Eddard and Barristan, Renly looked toward the orderly yet distant encampment beneath the castle walls not far away.
A mocking chuckle escaped his lips.
Compared to the weary, unshaven appearance he had worn when Eddard saw him the day before, Renly had now regained his usual vigor. His chin was clean-shaven, and his hair appeared to have been carefully groomed.
Noticing his expression, Eddard knew that Renly had truly let go of the illusions in his heart, which allowed him to set aside a great deal of his own worry as well.
As Renly's words fell, the distant camp seemed almost as though it had heard what he said. Two riders emerged and began moving toward their position.
The arrival of Stannis announced that the negotiations had officially begun.
Yet before the talks commenced, those present could not help but raise their eyes to the banner Stannis had brought with him, and to the crown resting upon his head.
The crown was forged of red gold, its edges shaped like flames.
His belt was set with garnets and topaz, and a large, square-cut red ruby was embedded in the hilt of his sword.
Aside from this, however, the rest of Stannis Baratheon's attire was extremely plain: a padded tunic, a studded leather vest worn over it, a pair of boots worn down by long use, and coarse brown trousers woven with crude workmanship.
Accustomed as he was to dressing in splendor, Renly took in his second brother's attire at a glance.
For instance, today he wore a green velvet doublet, with a silk cloak trimmed in squirrel fur draped over his shoulders, looking exceptionally resplendent.
At last, his gaze settled on the banner whose color was as vivid as blazing sunlight.
The crowned stag was still there, yet an additional fiery red heart had appeared, encircled by a ring of orange flames.
Moreover, the image of the crowned stag had been greatly reduced in size and was enclosed within that heart of fire.
"Brother, is that your banner? I do not recall the banners of House Baratheon ever bearing other devices."
Seeing that Stannis still could not grasp the situation and continued to carry himself like a king, the now clear-headed Renly could not help but mock him.
Of course, he knew what the heart of fire on that banner represented. As for what had happened on Dragonstone, Eddard had already told him of it.
Thus, as he spoke, his gaze shifted at once to the standard-bearer Stannis had chosen.
It was a woman—not only a woman, but one dressed entirely in red. Her features were well hidden beneath a crimson hood, and Renly could not make out her face.
A red-robed priestess from beyond the Narrow Sea, a servant of the Lord of Light, R'hllor.
As if noticing Renly's gaze, the woman whose face was hidden beneath a hood lifted her head and looked over.
Yet Renly's attention was no longer on her.
At his younger brother's mockery, Stannis frowned and said coldly, "Then who else should it be—Kal Baratheon?"
Renly did not mind Stannis's attitude. After all, he was well acquainted with his elder brother.
"From a distance I could not be sure, so whose banner are you flying, exactly?"
"As for the Kal Baratheon you mentioned, I know his banner well enough—after all, he is the champion of the tourney of arms."
Renly's words were as light and careless as ever.
At this moment, however, the red-robed woman spoke up: "His Grace the King's sigil is the blazing red heart of the Lord of Light!"
As for the exchange of barbs between the two brothers, when it came to the matter of banners and sigils, Melisandre felt it necessary to remind everyone present.
But at her words of address, a dissatisfied voice cut in at once.
"King?"
"By law, the Iron Throne belongs to Kal Baratheon!"
Eddard interjected, his tone firm and forceful.
Immediately after, his sharp gaze swept toward the red-robed woman who had beguiled Stannis, and his voice grew exceedingly cold.
"Witch, you have no place meddling in this matter. You have already brought chaos, so I warn you—take your faith in your god and leave this place at once, or I will punish you according to the laws of the realm."
"To divide the kingdom is a crime worthy only of death. What awaits you is execution."
Yet as Eddard's threat fell, before Stannis could speak, Melisandre let out a cold laugh.
"Execution—what a dreadful threat."
"But, my lord, the followers of the Lord of Light have never feared death. As for you…" Melisandre continued, just as a gust of sea wind swept past, carrying a chill with it.
"You are the one who should have died, yet you live now only by chance. Even so, the fate that belongs to you has not escaped you, and so it is yourself you ought to fear."
"I have seen in the flames that your head was meant to be set upon a spear and raised above the walls of King's Landing. You should cherish the fact that it still rests upon your shoulders."
Melisandre's undisguised words caused everyone present—save Stannis—to frown.
"Are you threatening me? Do you know what you are doing?"
By law, insulting or threatening a noble was no trivial matter.
Yet given that the three parties were still in the midst of negotiations, Eddard phrased his words somewhat more cautiously.
Melisandre merely let out a cold laugh.
"I am not threatening you, nor am I cursing you. I am only stating a fact."
Melisandre knew these people would not believe her, and she did not care.
Seeing that a negotiation which should have proceeded smoothly was about to be derailed by such petty matters, Stannis lost his patience. He stepped forward and shouted sharply.
"Enough!"
"I do not wish to waste any more time on these pointless issues. Renly, I made my purpose here clear in the letter I sent you. Now tell me your answer."
As he spoke, Stannis looked at Renly, his gaze stern. Dispensing with all courtesies, he forced the negotiations straight to their conclusion.
After that, Stannis turned his eyes once more toward Eddard and Barristan.
"And I must also remind you that, according to the law, I am the true and lawful heir to the Iron Throne. I do not wish to hear any further affronts on this matter."
"Otherwise, I will punish your crimes in accordance with the law. That, too, carries the sentence of death."
As his words fell, the air seemed to congeal. The low, howling sound carried by the sea wind was like the sea itself whispering a joke into men's ears.
For a moment, even Renly did not know what to say.
In the end, it was Eddard who broke the silence.
"Stannis, put aside your pointless sophistry. By every measure, Kal is more suited than you to be king."
"And if you insist on clinging to bloodline alone, I can think of nothing more persuasive than a dragon."
Eddard suppressed the anger in his heart and offered this reminder in measured terms.
At the mention of a dragon, the pupils in Stannis's previously stern eyes could not help but contract.
He knew well of the Battle of Highgarden, and it was precisely because he knew that he had hurried here in such haste.
As Eddard's words fell, Renly followed with a laugh and took up the thread.
"I fully agree with what Lord Eddard Stark has said, and I repent of my former delusions. Stannis, it is time you woke up."
"Enough!" Stannis roared. He suddenly drew the longsword from his waist and raised it high overhead.
Under the pale daylight, the blade flickered with an eerie light—now red, now yellow, and at times flaring into a blazing white radiance.
Even the surrounding air seemed to sense the heat spilling from the sword's edge, warping and shimmering with light.
Stannis's sudden shout and the act of drawing his blade startled the horses, which reared and whinnied.
Seeing this, Barristan, who served as the banner-bearer of Eddard Stark, and Loras Tyrell, banner-bearer of Renly Baratheon, both drew their swords in unison and moved to stand between the two sides.
"Put the sword down, Stannis!"
Barristan shouted sharply. Age had not diminished the commanding presence about him in the slightest—if anything, it only made him more imposing.
But how could Stannis heed his words? He still held his gleaming sword aloft, pointing it straight at his younger brother, Renly.
"Renly, you actually retreat? You are abandoning the blood that runs through your veins. You are disgracing the honor of House Baratheon, allowing a lowly bastard to ride over the heads of the Baratheons."
"Since you no longer possess 'courage,' then lower the rebel banner and hand over everything that belongs to House Baratheon."
"I am not a harsh and heartless man, nor do I wish to stain the blade of 'Lightbringer' with the blood of my own brother."
"In the name of the mother who raised us both, I will give you one final chance. Hand over everything you now possess, and when this matter is concluded, I will still grant you the title of Lord of Storm's End and retain your seat as a senior minister on the Small Council."
"Even before my son is born, I will still name you as my heir."
"But if you refuse, then do not blame me for being merciless!"
With his sword leveled at his own brother Renly, Stannis delivered his final ultimatum.
Seeing that he remained so obstinate—actually raising his sword against his own kin—Eddard's face turned livid with anger.
"Stannis Baratheon, Robert's will was perfectly clear. And even before that, Kal had already been formally and lawfully legitimized by Robert as his heir. Only Kal Baratheon is the true king!"
"If you continue down this path of madness, then do not blame us for showing you no mercy!"
"His Majesty King Kal has already shown you more than enough tolerance, but that is no excuse for you to provoke him again and again."
Faced with Eddard's warning, Stannis seemed not to hear it at all—he did not even spare him a glance.
His gaze was now fixed upon his brother, blazing with fury.
Seeing matters descend into such an absurd farce, Renly could not help but glance once more at the red-robed woman.
Then he burst out laughing.
"Stannis, your sword is very fine, but I cannot help wondering whether its glare has affected your eyesight—or perhaps your mind."
"For over two hundred years of Targaryen rule, the persuasive power of dragonfire was far greater than that of your few bits of scrap metal."
"I do not know what kind of bewitching potion this woman has fed you, or whether she has made you unable to leave her bed, but at the very least you should understand one thing clearly: you cannot become king by words alone."
"The sword of House Tyrell once gave me fantasies of my own, but what was the result? I am still forced to stand here sparring with you, just to try to obtain the mercy of that so-called lowly bastard you speak of."
"Then we shall see, brother!"
Stannis sheathed his sword and turned away, leaving only a single sentence behind.
"Until the sun rises tomorrow, this is the last of my tolerance."
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