Robb Stark arranged for Catelyn's diplomatic envoy to travel with twenty seasoned guards and five nobles whose names and titles would carry authority wherever they went.
Their journey south from Riverrun was long but relatively uneventful.
The Riverlands behind them still burned in war. Smoke rose constantly on the eastern horizon, staining the sky black and gray, but fortunately, no raiders or enemy patrols crossed their path. Compared to the chaos consuming the Riverlands, the southern regions remained far safer.
About half a day away from Storm's End, scouts from Renly Baratheon's camp intercepted them.
Leading the scouts was an elderly knight with a weathered face and a grizzled beard. His cloak bore the blue bird sigil of House Morrigen.
"Lady Stark," the old knight greeted respectfully, "I am Ser Cortnay of Greenpool, at your service. These lands are dangerous. Allow me to escort you safely."
"Our mission is urgent," Catelyn replied calmly. "I come as the envoy of Lord Gendry, the legitimate heir of King Robert Baratheon, to meet Lord Renly of Storm's End."
The old knight remained polite, though his tone stiffened slightly.
"Lord Renly has already been crowned and anointed King of the Seven Kingdoms, my lady. His Grace is encamped below Storm's End. It would be my honor to escort you there."
Catelyn understood immediately that arguing over titles would accomplish nothing.
So she simply nodded.
As they approached Storm's End, Catelyn found herself staring upward in awe.
The great fortress stood atop the cliffs of Durran's Point like a gigantic gray fist thrust toward the heavens, so massive that it nearly hid the sea behind it.
Far below, the angry waves of Shipbreaker Bay crashed endlessly against the rocks.
The scent of salt filled the cold sea wind.
Storm's End was not elegant like Highgarden, nor majestic like the Eyrie.
It was something else entirely.
Powerful.
Harsh.
Unyielding.
The castle looked less like a noble residence and more like a warrior standing against the fury of the world itself.
Even the vast army camped beneath its walls appeared tiny in comparison.
From afar, the soldiers resembled ants carrying colorful banners.
Some nearby forests had already been cut down for siege equipment. Trebuchets and crude siege towers stood half-finished across the muddy ground.
The walls of Storm's End were legendary throughout Westeros.
They rose over a hundred feet high without visible weak points, arrow slits, or hidden entrances. The immense stone blocks were fitted together so perfectly that the surface appeared smooth and rounded, as though shaped by giants rather than men.
The sea-facing walls were nearly eighty feet thick.
For centuries, storms and waves had battered the castle without leaving so much as a crack.
Within the walls, however, the structure was surprisingly simple. Storm's End possessed only a single great tower that housed barracks, granaries, banquet halls, and the noble chambers of House Baratheon.
Catelyn studied the camps surrounding the fortress.
Though Renly had declared himself king and called banners from across the Seven Kingdoms, far fewer lords had answered than expected.
Most of the gathered forces came from the Stormlands themselves.
The banners of Renly's sworn vassals fluttered proudly in the sea wind.
Catelyn recognized the nightingale of House Caron, the quills of House Penrose, and the sea turtle banner of House Tarth.
There were lesser houses as well, along with hedge knights, freeriders, and mercenary companies hoping for glory or coin.
Above them all flew Renly's personal standard.
The crowned black stag of House Baratheon stood proudly atop the tallest siege tower, mounted upon a massive oak-wheeled platform covered in cured hides.
Catelyn gazed at it thoughtfully.
I should not be here, she thought.
I belong beside my children in Winterfell… beside my dying father in Riverrun.
But this mission had been entrusted to her by Robb and by Gendry himself.
If Eddard Stark had still been alive, this duty would have belonged to him.
Ned had once marched south to relieve the siege of Storm's End during Robert's Rebellion.
Now, years later, war had returned once more.
And once again, Stark blood stood beneath these walls.
"These armies seem hastily assembled," one of Catelyn's retainers whispered quietly. "And they lack a proper fleet."
Catelyn agreed silently.
The Stormlands produced fine sailors, yet Storm's End itself lacked an effective harbor for warships. Most Baratheon fleets traditionally docked elsewhere, along the coasts of Cape Wrath, Tarth, or Massey's Hook.
Inside the sprawling encampment stood rows of siege engines, supply wagons, and colorful pavilions belonging to various lords and knights.
Longspearmen drilled beside archers.
Mounted knights rode through muddy paths.
Crossbowmen sharpened bolts near cookfires.
Still, the army was smaller than Catelyn expected.
Many Stormlords clearly remained cautious, unwilling to commit fully until they saw how the war unfolded.
Suddenly, loud cheers echoed across the camp.
"Hah!"
"Strike him!"
The clash of steel rang loudly through the air.
"What is that?" one attendant asked.
Catelyn listened carefully.
Roars.
Horses screaming.
The crack of weapons.
And cheers from thousands of voices.
"A tourney," she realized.
They rode deeper into the camp until the source of the noise finally appeared.
Beside Renly's grand pavilion stood a large jousting field surrounded by temporary wooden stands packed with spectators.
The ground had been churned into mud by hooves and blood.
Broken lances littered the arena.
Two armored riders clashed violently at the center of the field.
One was a red-bearded knight bearing a griffin sigil.
The other wore dark blue armor marked with the sun-and-moon emblem of House Tarth.
The blue knight fought with brutal precision.
A heavy morningstar crashed against the griffin knight's shield, knocking him from his horse.
The crowd erupted noisily.
"Red Roland lost!"
"Damn it!"
"The Knight of Flowers will avenge him!"
Catelyn stared in disbelief.
The Riverlands burned in war.
The Lannisters still occupied much of the realm.
Yet Renly Baratheon held tourneys beneath Storm's End as though this were some grand festival.
Meanwhile, Gendry and Robb fought bloody battles in the Riverlands.
Was Renly truly taking this war seriously?
Or was he merely playing at kingship?
Ser Cortnay leaned closer.
"My lady, if your men wish to remain here, I can escort you directly to His Grace."
"All right," Catelyn replied loudly over the roar of the crowd.
The blue knight removed their helmet at Renly's command.
Only then did Catelyn realize the truth.
The knight was a woman.
Gasps spread through the nearby crowd.
The armor she wore was battered and scarred from countless battles. Dents from warhammers and sword cuts covered the blue steel.
Her cloak hung in tatters.
Yet despite her victory, very few people cheered.
Some muttered mockingly.
Others remained silent.
Catelyn frowned in confusion.
"Why do they treat her like this?"
Ser Cortnay sighed.
"She is Brienne of Tarth. Daughter of Lord Selwyn, the Evenstar."
"Brienne the Beauty," he added bitterly. "Though few dare call her that to her face unless they desire a duel."
Catelyn looked at Brienne carefully.
The woman was incredibly tall, taller even than Renly himself.
Her face, however, was rough and uneven.
Freckles covered her cheeks.
Her nose appeared broken more than once.
Her teeth protruded awkwardly.
Yet her eyes…
Her eyes were honest.
Clear blue eyes filled with loyalty and sincerity.
Renly smiled warmly at her.
"Lady Brienne is among the finest knights in the realm."
"She is worthy to join my Rainbow Guard."
Brienne knelt immediately.
"I will serve you faithfully, Your Grace. I will follow you to the ends of the earth and protect you with my life."
"I accept," Renly declared proudly.
He removed Brienne's tattered cloak and replaced it with a splendid green one bearing the black stag of House Baratheon.
Tears of joy nearly filled Brienne's eyes.
"My life is yours, Your Grace," she swore. "By the old gods and the new, I shall be your shield and sword."
Catelyn pitied her deeply.
To be born an ugly woman in Westeros was a cruel fate.
Yet despite the mockery surrounding her, Brienne still stood proudly.
And perhaps that required more courage than beauty ever could.
At that moment, Ser Cortnay approached Renly.
"Your Grace," he announced respectfully, "Lady Catelyn Stark has arrived as the envoy of Lord Gendry."
"The rightful heir to the Iron Throne," Catelyn corrected immediately as she stepped forward.
The atmosphere instantly grew tense.
The gathered Stormlords exchanged uneasy glances.
If Gendry truly possessed Stark and Tully support, then the political landscape was changing rapidly.
Renly looked genuinely surprised.
"Lady Catelyn. What an unexpected pleasure."
Ser Loras Tyrell, standing beside Renly in gleaming armor adorned with golden roses, offered a graceful nod.
"You have my condolences for Lord Eddard's death."
"Thank you," Catelyn replied politely.
Renly spread his arms confidently.
"I swear to you, my lady, the Lannisters will pay for murdering Robert and Eddard Stark. When I take King's Landing, I shall send you Cersei's head myself."
"Your words are appreciated, Lord Renly," Catelyn answered carefully. "But I believe you should act quickly. Your nephew already marches south with a growing army."
Loras frowned sharply.
"His Grace is king. You should kneel before him."
Catelyn met his gaze calmly.
"The difference between a lord and a king is smaller than you imagine, Ser Loras. Lord Renly wears a crown… but so does Gendry."
Murmurs spread among the Stormlords.
Many had clearly begun reconsidering their positions.
If Gendry gained enough victories before Renly moved, supporting Renly could become extremely dangerous.
Renly, however, merely laughed.
"Well spoken, Lady Stark."
"After the war, perhaps we may debate crowns and claims."
He studied her carefully.
"So tell me… when does my nephew march on Harrenhal?"
Catelyn chose her words carefully.
"The moment his northern forces fully gather, he will march south immediately."
Renly nodded slowly.
"He has done impressive work already. Most of the Lannister armies are occupied because of him."
"But the game is not over yet."
"What of Jaime Lannister?"
"Hiding in the Westerlands," Catelyn answered coldly. "Maimed and disfigured after his defeat."
Loras looked shocked.
"He survived injuries that severe?"
Brienne also widened her eyes.
"Lost a hand… and still lived?"
Renly smirked.
"My bastard nephew is merciful."
"If Robert were alive, Jaime's head would already decorate a spike."
Catelyn's expression hardened.
"This is not a tourney field, Lord Renly."
"Men are dying."
"Gendry and my son face real war while you hold games beneath Storm's End."
For a brief moment, Renly's smile faded.
Then he gestured toward his enormous pavilion.
"You've traveled far, Lady Stark. Come. Rest first."
"Tonight, Stannis and I are expected to meet."
"Perhaps you may witness history."
Later that evening, inside his pavilion, Renly spoke privately with Loras Tyrell.
"I always believed I would make a great king," Renly admitted quietly.
"You will," Loras answered immediately.
Renly gave a bitter smile.
"I spent my life imitating Robert."
"His clothes. His mannerisms. His laughter."
"But never the battlefield."
He stared into his wine thoughtfully.
"I hate war, Loras. I hate blood, mud, and screaming soldiers."
His voice lowered further.
"No matter how much I tried… I was never truly Robert."
"The Stormlords saw Lady Stark today. I could see doubt in their eyes."
"They think Gendry may actually win."
Loras stepped closer.
"I will protect you, Your Grace."
Renly nodded slowly.
"Then we must act quickly."
"I need a victory."
"I need Stannis's fleet."
"And if he refuses to yield…"
Renly's expression darkened.
"Then I will take it by force."
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