Two black-armored standard-bearers rode at the front of the procession as they entered Gulltown's docks. Their warhorses thundered across the stone road, hooves striking like drums of war. Raised high in their hands were golden battle banners that snapped violently in the sea wind.
Upon those banners were symbols now feared and admired across Westeros—the proud stag, the three-headed dragon, the direwolf, and the mark of the Free Folk.
The Storm had arrived.
Behind them rode Gendry Baratheon, known throughout the realm as Gendry the Storm. At his side were Ser Barristan Selmy, called the Dauntless, and Anguy, famed for his deadly aim.
Gendry's sharp blue eyes swept over the dockyard.
Littlefinger's supporters had already been subdued. Bound and kneeling, they lined the road under heavy guard. None dared raise their heads. Every one of them had seen what happened to the first man who resisted.
Earlier, Gendry had hurled his longspear with terrifying force, pinning a rebel clean through the chest and driving both body and weapon deep into the white stone road below. The corpse still hung there like a grotesque warning.
Blood stained the dockside stones.
The rebellion was over.
The soldiers of Gulltown's three ruling lords had quickly suppressed the remaining resistance. Those who had followed Petyr Baelish now found themselves trembling prisoners.
Gendry rode past the impaled body without even glancing at it again.
The display had served its purpose.
Power needed courage.
Rule needed wisdom.
A man might win a kingdom on horseback, but governing it required something more.
Yet even Gendry knew there were storms no spear could stop. Winter was deepening. Harvests were shrinking. Hunger and war would soon become the song of the Seven Kingdoms.
Still, today belonged to him.
The Welcome at Gulltown
Ahead stood the assembled nobles of the Vale, knights in polished armor, wealthy merchants, and officials who had wisely chosen not to tie themselves too closely to Littlefinger.
As Gendry approached, they dropped to one knee.
"Long live the Storm!"
"Long live the Storm!"
The cry spread like wildfire.
Vale soldiers banged swords against shields and raised their weapons high. Even hardened knights stared at Gendry with open admiration.
The Knights of the Vale had always believed themselves the finest cavalry in Westeros—honorable, pious, unmatched in battle.
But even they were awed by the young prince.
He had slain a khalasar leader, broken Lannister forces, saved the Riverlands, crushed House Frey, entered the Bloody Gate, and cleared Jon Arryn's name.
His victories were already becoming legend.
Gendry removed his great horned helm and smiled warmly.
"Long live the Eyrie."
The soldiers roared even louder.
His smile was bright and open, but everyone present understood something important:
The Storm was no mere warrior.
He knew how to win hearts as well as battles.
Thoughts of the Vale Lords
Among the gathered nobles stood Jellico Grafton, Lord of Gulltown, and several other prominent Vale lords.
One older noble sighed quietly.
"This reminds me of years ago," he murmured. "Another young storm once rode through these lands."
He was remembering Robert Baratheon during the rebellion.
Another added softly, "The first storm overthrew the dragons. Now the second storm has come. Where will this one lead the realm?"
Many of the older men shared the same thought.
Years earlier, Gulltown had been the site of fierce fighting during Robert's Rebellion. House Grafton had initially remained loyal to the crown, but Robert himself had stormed the walls, slain the royalist commander, and turned the tide.
Now history seemed to echo itself.
Meeting the Lords
Gendry dismounted and walked toward the nobles.
"You have all worked hard," he said. "Your efforts in securing Gulltown will not be forgotten."
He personally greeted Lord Jellico Grafton, Essenba Arryn, Ser Uther Shett, and the other major figures one by one.
Lord Jellico bowed his head.
"It was Your Highness's foresight and strength that made victory so swift."
Another lord added eagerly, "That single spear throw alone will be remembered for years."
Gendry accepted the praise with an easy nod.
Then his gaze moved through the crowd and landed upon a young girl with auburn hair.
Sansa Stark.
She stood silently among the nobles, elegant despite the simple dress she wore. Her Tully features were striking—clear blue eyes, high cheekbones, and thick reddish-brown hair.
She was young, still on the edge of childhood, yet already carrying the burdens of war and betrayal.
Gendry stepped toward her.
"Lady Sansa," he said gently, "I grieve deeply for the death of your father, Lord Eddard Stark."
"The Lannisters have wronged the realm. Their crimes will be answered."
He continued.
"Your brother Jon is at the Eyrie, and Robb remains in Riverrun. Soon, your family will be reunited."
Sansa barely heard the words.
She was too busy staring.
The young prince stood tall and broad-shouldered, his short dark hair neat, his blue eyes bright like a mountain lake. He carried himself with the confidence of a king and the wild force of a warrior.
To Sansa, he looked like one of the heroes from old songs.
"Th-thank you… Your Highness," she whispered.
Her cheeks flushed.
Suddenly, she regretted not dressing more grandly.
She had wanted to tell him about the lies and corruption of King's Landing, but there were too many eyes upon them. Another time, perhaps.
Rewarding Loyalty
Gendry next approached Lothor Brune.
The hardened sellsword had played a vital role in turning events against Littlefinger.
Gendry took his hand and raised it before the crowd.
"Hundreds of ordinary birds are not worth one eagle."
"A warrior like Lothor Brune is a true hero."
The gathered knights murmured in surprise.
Recognition from Gendry himself was worth more than gold.
Lothor grinned broadly.
"You honor me, Your Highness."
"Now that I'm back," he said, "I ask to remain at your side. I am a warrior of the Storm."
Gendry laughed.
"You were my arm once."
"And now you are my sharp sword."
He paused.
"From this day forward… you are the Finger Slayer."
The crowd burst into laughter and cheers.
Since Petyr Baelish was called Littlefinger, the title was both fitting and humiliating.
Lothor stood straighter than ever.
Littlefinger's Fall
At last, Gendry turned toward the broken man lying nearby.
Petyr Baelish.
Littlefinger's fine clothing was dirty and torn. His face was bruised, and he curled on the ground like a beaten animal.
For the first time in many years, his clever tongue had failed him.
"Lord Petyr," Gendry said coldly, "I told you we would meet again."
Littlefinger trembled.
He had escaped death many times before—through lies, manipulation, and luck.
But luck had limits.
And before him stood a man who could not be bribed, charmed, or fooled.
"I was a fool," Littlefinger whispered hoarsely.
For once, he meant it.
Judgement
Gendry gathered his closest allies and the leading men of Gulltown to discuss what came next.
"Guard Petyr well," Gendry ordered. "He will be executed—but not here."
Littlefinger should die at the Eyrie, under the shadow of the house he betrayed.
Lord Jellico nodded.
"It is fitting. Only then may Lord Jon Arryn's spirit rest."
"What of his followers?" another lord asked.
Gendry's face hardened.
"Those involved in poisoning Jon Arryn, embezzling funds, extortion, and treason need not be sent to the Eyrie."
"They may be judged here."
The meaning was clear.
Executions would begin immediately.
The customs officials who had stolen coin.
The brothel keepers who sold information.
The corrupt guards and hired blades.
All would answer.
Counting Coin
Gendry then turned to Lord Jellico and Essenba.
"Do either of you understand finance?"
Both men nodded quickly.
"Good."
"I want every one of Littlefinger's books seized and examined."
"Find his hidden taxes, false accounts, shell businesses, bribes, secret loans, and buried coin."
"Even magicians leave footprints."
The two lords exchanged impressed glances.
They had expected swords.
Instead, the prince wanted ledgers.
That frightened them more.
Littlefinger's greatest weapon had never been a dagger.
It had been money.
Final Cleansing
Ser Uther Shett stepped forward and knelt.
"Your Highness, Lord Jellico and the others have handled the city itself. Allow me to lead the cleanup."
House Shett had long despised Littlefinger.
Gendry nodded once.
"Granted."
That single word sentenced many men.
Lothor Brune was ordered to assist.
"When dealing with Littlefinger's filth," Gendry said dryly, "you are the expert."
Laughter followed again.
Then soldiers moved.
Littlefinger and all remaining prisoners were blindfolded and dragged away toward the harbor dungeons and prison ships.
Cries filled the air.
Then faded.
Soon the docks were quiet.
As he was taken away, Littlefinger muttered one final name.
"Cat…"
Whether prayer, regret, or madness, no one knew.
The Grain Order
With bloodshed underway, Gendry turned to another matter.
"From this moment," he declared, "grain exports from Gulltown are restricted."
Lord Grafton blinked.
"Restricted? Merchants will protest. Lords will demand sales."
Essenba frowned.
"The prices are rising already."
"Exactly," Gendry said.
"King's Landing nearly tore itself apart over bread riots."
"If the whole realm faces famine, gold will not save them."
He stepped closer.
"It is autumn."
"Winter is coming."
"Grain will soon be worth more than silver."
"We hoard now—or starve later."
The lords slowly nodded.
It was ruthless.
It was practical.
And it was the kind of thinking that won wars before swords were drawn.
Gendry then quietly sent Anguy away with urgent raven letters to grain-rich holdings in the Crownlands.
He meant to secure every bushel he could.
A Prince of Storm and Steel
By sunset, Gulltown belonged entirely to him.
Traitors arrested.
Accounts seized.
Executions begun.
Supplies secured.
The nobles looked at the young prince with new eyes.
He was not merely another warrior in shining armor.
He understood fear.
He understood loyalty.
He understood coin.
And he understood winter.
As sea winds swept across Gulltown's harbor, banners of stag and storm snapped above the walls.
The realm had gained something dangerous.
A king who knew how to rule.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)