In the Riverlands, at House Piper's Pinkmaiden Castle, the lord and his heir had long since fled for their lives.
House Piper's blue, red, and white banner had been cast aside on the ground. Against the blue field, a pink maiden danced with a white silk ribbon in hand, only to sink into the mud. Inside the castle, House Lannister's banners had been raised. Red cloaked lion soldiers were everywhere, and the surviving remnants of House Piper's men hung from the gallows.
Great Lord Tywin Lannister led an army of twenty thousand along the Goldroad, crossing the Red Fork and sweeping through the Riverlands, his advance echoing that of his son Ser Jaime's army.
In the council chamber of Pinkmaiden Castle, Tywin listened to his brother Kevan's report with a deeply furrowed brow. Mummer's Ford was not far from here. The main army of twenty thousand had moved somewhat slowly, but he had never expected the Mountain, who had gone ahead to lay an ambush, to be wiped out to the last man.
"How could the Mountain have been so utterly defeated? They could not even find the body?" Great Lord Tywin asked.
Tywin, who held both Casterly Rock and the office of Warden of the Westerlands, was already past fifty, yet he was still built like a man of twenty.
Even seated, he looked imposing, with long legs, broad shoulders, a flat stomach, and lean but powerful arms. Ever since his once thick golden hair had begun to thin, he had ordered his barber to shave his head bald. Great Lord Tywin was a man of ruthless decisiveness, so he had also shaved away the beard from his upper lip and chin, leaving only the side whiskers on his cheeks, two thick masses of stiff golden beard running from his ears down along his jaw. His eyes were pale green flecked with gold.
"That is indeed the truth. Almost no one survived. By the time the routed men escaped, the Mountain was already surrounded," Ser Kevan said.
As Tywin's deputy, Kevan had always been loyal and dependable. He had grown somewhat stout, his head nearly bald, his chin thick with flesh, and his yellow beard trimmed short.
"Every noble has a good dog, but few have one they can use so well. A man like Ser Gregor is hard to find. In all the Seven Kingdoms, there is no knight better at spreading fear," Tywin said with a sigh. "I will avenge my dog."
"Could the reports from King's Landing have been wrong?" Tywin asked.
"The intelligence from King's Landing is accurate. The Grand Maester took part in Eddard Stark's council from beginning to end. The small force Eddard sent out had only a little over a hundred men. They were no match for Ser Gregor. The key was the unexpected turn. After Lord Beric's forces fell into the ambush, the Mountain had been on the verge of wiping them out, but the enemy suddenly received support from black armored cavalry."
"Cavalry?" Tywin asked, intrigued. "The Riverlands troops were all drawn away by Edmure."
"It is strange, but that is what happened. Those black armored soldiers were well equipped, highly experienced, and skilled in battle. They also carried Myr made five shot crossbows. But they wore no sigils, so there is no telling which house they belonged to. Their leader seemed to fight with a spear, and he was extremely fierce."
"They are Myr sellswords from across the Narrow Sea." A hard flame seemed to burn in Tywin's eyes. "That little brat. I had not even gone looking for trouble with him yet, and he has delivered himself to my door."
"That was my thought as well," Kevan said with a nod. "Their strength cannot be underestimated. But where did they land?"
"The coastline is long. Aside from King's Landing, there is Crackclaw Point and the Stormlands. Myr's cheese merchants and butter merchants have no shortage of smuggling routes," Tywin said with a snort.
"Then we must warn Cersei and the others to be on their guard."
"There are plenty of soldiers in King's Landing. I trust they will know how to deal with it."
"But if Myr keeps landing troops, then I will be facing enemies on two fronts," Tywin said calmly. "I will not allow that little brat such freedom. I intend to cause him some trouble. Pirates, sellswords, former Magisters, whatever can be used."
"Set our envoys in motion, along with our old friend Grand Maester Pycelle. If I remember correctly, there are also merchants and envoys from Lys and Volantis in King's Landing. I doubt they will simply sit by and watch the Twin Cities rise. And have Cersei's spies keep an eye on Crackclaw Point and Dragonstone. They are far too close to King's Landing."
"I will see to it at once," Kevan replied.
"You should also pay attention to that letter. Robert's will has already spread through all Seven Kingdoms," Ser Kevan said, unable to hold back.
"That letter? It is nothing more than something Eddard Stark and Barristan fabricated to smear House Lannister's honor. One day I will make them pay. Anyone who makes House Lannister bleed will be punished. They will not walk away unharmed."
"That may be true, but..."
"As long as we win this war, I believe all these slanders and accusations will come to an abrupt end. Win this war well, Kevan. That is our best answer."
"Any word from Tyrion?" Tywin asked.
"He is on the way. The boy says he is bringing us some gifts," Kevan said.
"Gifts? Hmph. His brother has already won victory after victory. Jaime first shattered the forces of Lord Vance and Lord Piper outside the Golden Tooth, then fought a decisive battle against House Tully's main host beneath Riverrun. In that battle, the Riverlords were routed completely, and many of the bannered knights under Ser Edmure Tully were taken captive. Lord Blackwood gathered a handful of broken men and fled back to Riverrun, shutting the gates and holding fast while Jaime lays siege. Most of the other Riverlords scattered like birds and beasts, each fleeing back to his own seat," Tywin said proudly. "By the time Tyrion returns, I suspect all that will be left for him is a little broth."
"Then for now, we need only worry about the Northmen," Ser Kevan said. "Eddard Stark's son has already begun calling his bannermen."
"It will take the Northmen a great deal of time to march south, and by then I will have nearly finished sweeping through the Riverlands. That Stark boy is still a child. No doubt he enjoys the sound of horns and the sight of banners flying, but war is slaughter in the end. I doubt he can bear it," Tywin said. "We march all the way to Harrenhal, split the Riverlands in two from both sides, Jaime besieges Riverrun, and we pull down the rest of the Riverlands' castles."
"As you wish," Ser Kevan said with a nod.
"I am not worried about those boys for now. The Arryn one is still suckling, and the Stark one has only just stepped onto the stage. The one I worry about is Stannis. He is hard as steel, a famed commander of the Seven Kingdoms, and Dragonstone is far too close to King's Landing," Tywin said. "King's Landing needs a reliable man to hold it. I considered you at first, but on second thought, you need to remain with me."
"Then let it be Tyrion. He needs this chance," Kevan said.
"No hurry. I want to see what Tyrion is truly worth."
"Aren't you worried about that young man from across the Narrow Sea?" Kevan asked. "He fought his way out of battle."
"The worth of any sword is known only after it has been tested. For now, I do not believe those screamers can match our heavy armored soldiers," Tywin said after a moment's thought. "But Ser Gregor's death is a reminder that we must weigh things very carefully."
"And one more thing," Tywin said to Kevan. "That boy is no Baratheon. He is only a bastard, a usurper."
...
In the Stormlands, beyond fields soaked by drizzling rain and hills of jagged stone, Storm's End rose against the sky, so massive it completely blocked out the sea behind it.
Beneath those pale gray walls, Renly Baratheon's army looked pitifully small, like rats waving banners, their camps spread outside Storm's End. Renly's banner flew highest of all, a golden field bearing the black crowned stag of House Baratheon, tall, rearing, and proud.
Storm's End had once belonged to House Durrandon. House Baratheon inherited the blood of the Storm Kings, their sigil, and their seat through the female line. Songs claimed that Storm's End had been built by Durran, the first Storm King, after he won the love of the beautiful Elenei, daughter of the sea god and the goddess of the wind.
Renly's hastily gathered host remained camped outside Storm's End as he gazed up at the immense castle before him. The mighty winds still blew in from the Narrow Sea again and again. Storm's End endured storm after storm, day after day. Ages passed, centuries flew by, and still the castle did not move.
"May my cause be as unshakable as Storm's End," Renly prayed.
He wore a green velvet coat embroidered across the chest with the Baratheon sigil in golden thread.
Storm's End was one of the great fortresses of the Seven Kingdoms. Its mighty outer wall stood a full hundred feet high, with neither arrow slits nor hidden doors. The enormous stones had been fitted together with exquisite precision, smooth and rounded everywhere, with no corners and no seams, untouched by wind or rain. At its thinnest, the wall was said to be forty feet thick, and on the seaward side it was nearly eighty. The wall was built from two massive layers of stone packed around a core of sand and rubble.
Within those towering walls, neither kitchen, stable, nor courtyard felt the least effect from storm or surf. As for towers, the castle had only one, a colossal drum tower. Its seaward face had no windows, and the whole structure held Storm's End's granaries, barracks, feast hall, and noble chambers within it, so vast that it inspired awe. Heavy battlements ringed its summit. From afar, it looked like countless fingers spread atop a giant arm reaching into the heavens.
"My lord, I am sorry," Ser Loras said apologetically. He had already received the letter from Highgarden.
"So Highgarden will not send troops for me after all?" Renly guessed the words Loras had left unsaid.
Renly's gaze swept across the banners in the camp. Caron's nightingale, Penrose's quills, and Lord Estermont's sea turtle, a green turtle drifting on a green sea. But those were nowhere near enough. Renly needed the banners of Highgarden, for Highgarden had men in plenty and lords in plenty as well. Highgarden's golden rose, House Florent's fox and flowers, the green apple and red apple banners of the two Fossoway branches, Lord Tarly's striding hunter, House Oakheart's oak leaves, House Crane's goose, and House Mullendore's swarm of black and orange butterflies.
"Damn it." Renly shook his head. If Highgarden refused to send men, then the Stormlands could gather no more than twenty or thirty thousand troops at best, and had very little fleet strength besides.
But Renly was still Renly. His grace of manner kept him from showing either anger or despair.
"Ser Cortnay, have all my ravens bearing letters been sent out?" Renly asked Ser Cortnay Penrose.
Ser Cortnay was bald, with a weathered face and a red beard shaped like a shovel. When Renly had served as Master of Laws in King's Landing, Ser Cortnay had been appointed castellan of Storm's End in his stead.
"Yes, Lord Renly," Ser Cortnay said.
"And these lords..." Renly sounded displeased. Were the lords of the Stormlands just as slow to move?
"That will has caused quite a stir," Ser Cortnay said, unable to keep silent. "The Stormlands depend on the sea, after all."
"Damn it," Ser Loras said angrily. "A pack of cowards."
"But that letter..." Ser Cortnay said again. "If the king's son truly means to return for vengeance, then perhaps we would do better to wait."
"Hmph." Renly snorted. "They are all weathercocks. Go and see to your business, Ser Cortnay. And think about Edric. The boy is a danger to his brother."
Ser Cortnay said nothing. He simply turned and left.
"What do we do next?" Ser Loras asked.
"I cannot keep waiting while my strength scatters like this. I will declare myself king, and then make Stannis yield. Once my cause gathers momentum, everything will improve," Renly said through clenched teeth.
"And that Gendry?"
"Pay him no mind. I do not recognize that will, though it does give us an excellent reason to deny Joffrey," Renly said. "He is no rightful heir, but a usurper, an ambitious pretender."
"And Lord Stannis. Everyone knows he is your elder brother."
"What right did Robert have to claim the Iron Throne? Yes, there are tales that House Baratheon shares blood with House Targaryen, some marriage from centuries ago, a bastard younger son and the old king's eldest daughter. Who cares about that except maesters? No, Robert won the throne with his warhammer," Renly said firmly. "I have to seize the initiative. Once I win, the realm will know who the king is."