After a failed negotiation—one that left neither side satisfied—the outcome was a decisive battle to be fought before the sun rose the next day.
Once a negotiation failed, war was unavoidable.
After returning to Storm's End, Renly summoned the portion of the Reach's soldiers that Loras Tyrell had brought with him, along with the Stormlands troops who, upon learning that he had abandoned his bid and instead chosen to throw his support behind Kal Baratheon, had once again answered his call.
Although these forces together did not represent the entirety of the Stormlands' military strength, they were more than sufficient to deal with Stannis's army, which in truth had received very little support.
A brief war council was convened. After announcing that a battle would be fought at dawn the next day against Stannis Baratheon, who was besieging Storm's End, Renly gave only a simple assignment of tasks, and those responsible for the various matters then departed to make their preparations.
Faced with Stannis's choice, Renly could not possibly cower inside Storm's End and fight a defensive siege.
Only by pushing the army out could he defeat the rebel Stannis as quickly as possible, and welcome the arrival of his mighty king, Kal Baratheon, at Storm's End.
Thus, without any further delay, the entire war machine of Storm's End was set in motion.
The selected temporary encampment outside the city lay in a stretch of forest directly beneath Storm's End. It was foreseeable, however, that before the sun rose the next day, the trees there would likewise grow sparse.
After the negotiations failed, Eddard Stark no longer involved himself in the fraternal conflict between Renly Baratheon and Stannis Baratheon.
He did not know why Stannis, even now, still could not see the situation clearly—why he so crazily and superstitiously believed that he could win.
Yet when faced with such circumstances, he could only accept the reality.
In the end, he was still unable to do what Robert had wanted of him, even though Robert had never asked him to promise anything regarding his brothers.
"Lord Eddard Stark, what should we do next?"
Barristan and Eddard once again stood upon the walls of Storm's End. Only this time, the object of their observation had shifted—from Stannis to Renly's deployment of his forces.
"Do we need to send word to King's Landing and have troops dispatched from there to support Renly? This war may not end quickly. Stannis's attitude is too rigid, and he is far too confident in his position."
Barristan could also see that something about Stannis this time was out of the ordinary, even though the Stannis Baratheon he usually knew did seem to possess this kind of temperament.
Rigid. Unyielding.
But taken as a whole, it should not have manifested in this manner.
He was merely somewhat rigid—he was not truly foolish.
On the contrary, he was not foolish at all.
At Barristan's proposal, Eddard pondered for two seconds.
Then he frowned and said, "If we were to summon the lords within the Stormlands again, that would indeed be more appropriate. However, it would also cause further delay in terms of time."
"At present, the best way to resolve the issue as quickly as possible is indeed to draw troops from King's Landing."
"And we cannot possibly make no response at all, leaving everything for the king to handle alone."
As Eddard spoke, he could not help but let out a sigh. He raised his head to look at the sky, a trace of powerless bitterness showing in his expression.
Barristan nodded silently.
"According to the information at hand, His Majesty is still staying at the Citadel in Oldtown, but House Hightower has already sworn fealty to him."
"And after defeating House Tyrell, Ser Jon Whitewolf also used this period of time to consolidate the forces in the northern Reach, while House Hightower is likewise mobilizing the forces of the southern Reach."
"If our judgment is not mistaken, the king will soon turn his hand to Renly and Stannis."
"The king's silence toward us is precisely because he wishes to hand this matter over to us to resolve."
"After all…"
Before Barristan could finish his words, even more bitterness appeared on Eddard's face. In his heart, the thought of resigning from the position of Hand of the King after this incident grew ever stronger.
"Later, I will write a letter to King's Landing and ask Lord Varys to try to mobilize some troops to come over. After the failure of the last Lannister war, there are still some forces left in King's Landing that have yet to be fully absorbed."
"And the construction of the King's Army that Lord Varys proposed earlier truly deserves serious consideration now. If we were to build it on the basis of these people, it should be relatively much easier."
"The Gold Cloaks are indeed not very suitable for preserving the king's authority when it comes to external military deterrence. The fragmentation of the royal fleet this time has also exposed certain shortcomings…"
"At the very least, if possible, it would be a good thing to further strengthen the royal power on top of these foundations. As for the matter of expenditures… we can only think of a solution later…"
When the discussion reached this point, Eddard could not help but recall the small council meeting he had organized earlier while still in King's Landing, during which Varys had suddenly raised the matter of forming an additional military force—separate from the City Watch and the royal fleet—to serve as an external army directly loyal to the king.
At the time, Varys's reasoning was that in recent years—especially from the decline of House Targaryen to the present moment, with House Baratheon ruling the Iron Throne—the royal military strength had seemed perpetually stretched thin.
The aftermath brought about by the War of the Three Kings was one such example.
If not for the fact that King Kal Baratheon himself was extraordinarily powerful, and moreover seemed favored by heaven—always managing to escape desperate situations and display miracles—then the king, rightful by all accounts, might well have met with misfortune due to certain additional ambitions.
Varys's concerns were quite reasonable, and many people, including Grand Maester Peyton, could not help but give the matter serious thought.
Yet out of practical considerations—and with the king himself not yet having spoken on such a major issue—Eddard chose to press the matter down and set it aside.
In the past, House Targaryen had no need for such a military force that was directly loyal to the king upon the Iron Throne, because for the Targaryens themselves, the dragons they possessed perfectly embodied such power.
Yet although that power was immense—and when members of House Targaryen rode upon dragonback they were like gods—it was ultimately not a force that belonged to the king alone. Its existence could not truly safeguard the dignity of the king upon the throne.
Instead, it was more often shifted by personal will.
Such circumstances led to tragedies such as the Dance of the Dragons, and later calamities like the Blackfyre Rebellions.
Added to this were the problems Eddard discovered within the Gold Cloaks after taking office under the current king, and now the disintegration of the royal fleet.
Previously, when Kal had been governing King's Landing, he had managed to intervene conveniently in the administration of the Gold Cloaks, barely restraining some of the corruption within.
But now, although the Gold Cloaks seemed outwardly stable, the newly established royal fleet—which should have been firm and reliable—had instead suffered a catastrophic collapse.
It could be said that under such circumstances, forming another army directly subordinate to the Iron Throne was indeed reasonable.
As for why Eddard had previously opposed and pressed down this proposal, aside from the truly enormous additional expenditures required to raise a new army, and the uncertainty regarding the king's own attitude toward the matter, there were also broader considerations involving the surrounding situation, and the relationships among the wardens and lords of the various regions.
After all, politics is sometimes far from a simple matter.
Moreover, the later notice from the Citadel announcing the end of summer caused Eddard to press this matter straight down to the very bottom of his memorandum.
But looking at it now, this matter perhaps truly ought to be brought onto the agenda.
As for Eddard raising the issue once more, Barristan voiced no objection.
The Kingsguard exist to protect the king's personal safety, whereas the formation of a King's Army would be to safeguard the Iron Throne and the king's legitimate rights.
What they do is something the Kingsguard cannot accomplish, so even if there were a King's Army, there would be no conflict between them.
On the contrary, with a King's Army in place, they would be able to carry out their sworn oaths with greater peace of mind.
Thus, for Barristan, whether from a personal standpoint or in consideration of the king's interests, he was in favor of this matter.
"His Majesty has already stripped House Tyrell of its lands, honors, and titles. Added to the defeat of House Lannister, and the current situations at Storm's End, Dragonstone, and elsewhere…"
"As the war comes to an end, one can foresee major changes in the overall structure of the Seven Kingdoms. Coupled with the coming of winter, perhaps the present moment is precisely the best time to put this into practice."
Once he began speaking, Barristan himself increasingly realized that it truly did seem to be the optimal moment to carry out such a plan.
It could be said that so long as this matter could truly be accomplished, even without speaking of forming a posture of mutual adjacency and checks and balances among the newly established King's Army, the City Watch, and the royal fleet—
Simply strengthening royal authority, and further tightening control over the Seven Kingdoms, would both be good things for the realm.
The gloom brought about by a failed negotiation was, at last, somewhat eased by this piece of news—whether it should be considered good or bad was unclear.
This, in turn, noticeably lifted Eddard's mood as he looked toward the impending war outside Storm's End.
"Then I will go write to King's Landing at once to inform them about dispatching troops to support Storm's End. At the same time, I will also notify the small council of this matter, so that Varys and the others can make their preparations."
"I believe that before long, the Seven Kingdoms will welcome peace under Kal's rule. When this harsh winter ends and spring arrives, House Baratheon should also welcome a better future."
"In that case, I suppose I can be considered to have fulfilled at least some of Robert's wishes before his death…"
Beneath the gathering clouds of war, Eddard's face rarely bore so much as a smile.
At the thought that, amid this heap of wretched affairs, he had finally glimpsed a faint light of the future, he could hardly wait to turn and hurry back toward his chambers.
He had to be fast.
For every minute he gained, the Seven Kingdoms would gain one more minute of peace.
Watching him dash off in a blur, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan Selmy, was left standing there, momentarily stunned.
"But, my lord Hand, is there anything I can do?"
Seeing that he was about to disappear, Barristan—suddenly unsure of what role he himself should play—hurriedly called out.
"If possible, you may go outside the camp to look for Lord Renly. I believe he would be very pleased to have you join him."
Leaving those words behind, Eddard turned and jogged away.
Time passed quickly. In the blink of an eye, day gave way to night.
For the sake of this war, Storm's End shifted directly from a half-cold defensive posture into an offensive one. Even so, it still took an entire day to gather the forces and deploy them outside the castle.
And that was achieved without even taking logistics into account.
Night had grown deep. Looking up, the area where Storm's End stood lay shrouded in darkness.
Its black walls reflected none of the starlight of the night.
Across the open plain, at the place where Stannis had made camp, patches of firelight swayed back and forth, torches moving constantly to and fro.
Meanwhile, Renly's pavilion was brightly lit.
Under the glow of firelight, the silk tent seemed to shine, like a magnificent magical castle radiating green light.
Two former members of the Rainbow Guard stood watch at the entrance to the great tent.
Having chosen to abandon his own claim to the Iron Throne, Renly naturally lost everything that belonged to a king.
The crown that House Tyrell had specially crafted for him—adorned with golden roses and set with a carved emerald upon the brow, the stag crown of a king—had long since been thrown by him into a crucible to be melted down. He had then had it reforged and inlaid anew upon a warhammer freshly forged by a smith.
This would be the gift he intended to present when he next met Kal Baratheon.
Inside the tent, Ser Loras Tyrell was helping Renly don his battle attire. Braziers filled with burning coals glowed in more than a dozen small iron basins, providing warmth for the pavilion.
"I have always believed that you were the best king…"
Within the tent, where only the two of them were present, after draping over Renly the silk cloak trimmed with squirrel fur, Loras could not help but speak softly at Renly's ear.
He watched their reflections in the mirror before him, his gaze deep and filled with affection.
Although House Tyrell had brought about its own destruction because of this matter, for Loras himself, he had always felt this way.
Startled by Loras's sudden words of affection, Renly—who had been smiling as he admired his own appearance—paused slightly, and could not help but reveal a look of both emotion and apology.
"I'm sorry…"
Renly raised his hand and gently touched the face of the Knight of Flowers as he leaned against Renly's shoulder.
"No, Your Majesty, you need not apologize to me. This has nothing to do with you…"
Loras shook his head hurriedly.
He knew that Renly was not at fault, and that blame could not be laid upon him.
It was only that Kal Baratheon was far too dazzling—his story was like that of Aegon the Conqueror of old.
No, in some respects, it was even more legendary than the Conqueror's.
He rose to prominence as a bastard. With his very first appearance, he drew the attention of all Seven Kingdoms.
With his sword, he cut down members of the Kingsguard, defending his own dignity.
At Winterfell, he saved the lord's son, exposing the Lannisters' treasonous plot of usurpation.
He revealed his edge in the Riverlands, yet it was in the high mountains and deep valleys that he began to write his own legend.
Until the moment when the kingdom stood on the brink of total collapse, only to be saved from fire and water as if by a god descending from the heavens—single-handedly preserving House Baratheon's rule over the Iron Throne.
It could fairly be said that if one were to view it purely from the standpoint of a knight and as an individual, then for the Knight of Flowers, he would see this man—who repeatedly created miracles—as nothing less than an idol.
He might even fall for him.
But regrettably, he already had someone he loved.
The best king in his heart.
Raising his hand to gently stroke Renly's deep green armor, Loras in turn comforted Renly, telling him that none of this was his fault.
To those words, Renly could only respond with silence, quietly savoring this rare moment of tenderness.
Given Kal's manner of doing things, he did not know whether he would still be able to retain his current position as lord.
After all, if he were in Kal's place, he might also hesitate because of this matter.
He could only hope that, by virtue of blood ties, he might elicit even a trace of compassion from him.
But just at that moment, a guard outside the tent suddenly lifted the canvas aside a crack, and a voice came through.
"Lord Renly, Ser Barristan Selmy has come to call."
The two men inside the tent hastily separated, wiped the corners of their mouths, and each acted as though nothing had happened.
"Let Ser Selmy come in. Dawn is approaching."
As his words fell, the tent flap dropped back into place. Yet in the very next instant, it was lifted again, and a man clad entirely in white—hair and beard alike—stepped inside.
Whether because he pulled the flap aside with too much force or not, a gust of cold wind followed him in.
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